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smoshyourheadin · 4 days

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spencer’s funeral and his partner is the special guest and roasts spencer so hard and than revels that they are getting a cat together but everyone thinks it’d a baby announcement lmaoooo or however you wanna end it

Special News

pairing: spencer agnew x f! reader

a/n: anon i love this idea so much!! guys please don’t come at me for these terrible jokes i’m just a girl really 😜 also i’m posting sm rn go me

requests are open <33

“lebron james inspired us with his baller moves. steph curry inspired us with his words. spencer agnew inspired us by being a piece of shit, so we would never follow in his footsteps.”

you’re stood at the podium of the funeral, spencer in the coffin next to you holding a bouquet of plastic flowers as he tries not to laugh.

“spencer is a gamer, and we all know that. but if he spent as much time with me as he does on world of warcraft, i’d be the happiest girl on earth, but hey, at least he has a high gear score to keep him company whilst i cook.”

you see everyone laugh as you switch the paper, angela cackling over what you thought was a pretty shit joke.

as the laughter dies down, you continue on. “spencer and me only ever disagree over stupid things, and i think to myself, he must know he’s short when he has to look up to see eye-to-eye with someone who's shorter than him, because i’m always right. i’m sure courtney feels the same about shayne.”

at this, courtney yells “FACTS!” from behind one of the cameras, and you shoot her a wink.

shayne then stares you down, and all you say is “shayne don’t worry, i’m a short king ally!” which he just smirks at.

“i have some pretty bad jokes here, so let’s quickfire some.“ you mutter to everyone.

“if sleeping on my arm were an olympic sport, he’d have more gold than michael phelps.” this earns a giggle from spencer, as you have a folder on your phone of him asleep in the most awkward ways possible, always lying on your arm somehow.

“he’s so obsessed with video games, even his posture looks like it's from a character model that hasn't loaded properly yet.“ this makes everyone cackle, spencer opening one eye to glare at you, and you just laugh him off.

“your gamer boy posture is so bad, chiropractors have your picture on their vision boards on what to improve on.”

“do you guys think that,” you exhale through your nose at what patrick has written on your prompt card. “spencer’s idea of sitting normally the same as a pretzel’s idea of being straight?” which is so bad it’s good, making you crouch down to laugh.

you stand back up after a moment, your stomach twisting over what you’re about to do. it’s going to be so worth it, but gosh you feel bad.

“spencer, my lovely boyfriend, is a mt dew kickstart addict, certified gamer girl, and a soon to be father” and at this last statement, everyone gasps, and spencer’s eyes shoot open and he sits up. he looks at you intently, and you see him experience about a hundred emotions at once

you smile at everyone, turning to a camera, pulling out a printed off certificate of adoption, a picture of a tiny ginger cat taped to it.

“we got a cat!” you say, almost proud of how shocked everyone is

as you turn to look at spencer, you hear shayne’s laugh, and you look at spencer with sympathetic eyes, mouthing ‘i love you’ to him over all the laughter. he just smiles, knowing that this cat is going to be so loved by you both. especially you. because you love him so much.

as you sit back down, spencer sits up. having come back from the dead, he has some things to say. he goes through everyone at his funeral; alex, shayne, damien, tommy, selina, and then, you.

“and finally, my beautiful girlfriend, y/n. my bundle of sunshine, blinding and hard to look at directly.” you scoff at this, and he looks at you with a look that says this is a joke please don’t kill me when we’re home.

“i mean, come on, you cry at surf's up? i guess even animated penguins have higher emotional intelligence than you.” he manages to say through a fit if giggles. spencer always teases you for this, even though he cries at the NGE film. loser.

after wrap, courtney comes over to congratulate you on your cat, and just catch up generally.

“so, cat parents hey? proud of you girl” she says with a grin.

“yeah, i kinda feel bad scaring everyone into thinking spencer gets game in bed.” you reply, earning a laugh from her.

“don’t be mean to me! i’m a player you know?” spencer says coming up behind you.

“okay, sure you are mr ‘i cry at anime’.” you snap back.

he throws his hands up in defeat, and you kiss his cheek, going off to see amanda.

“she’s so cool.” courtney says

“yeah,” spencer replies. “she’s not that bad.”

she elbows him in the ribs, and he clutches his side

“i mean, she’s the best!” he says through strained teeth, courtney doing a proud nod before catching you up.

#smoshyourheadin #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #arasha lalani #courtney miller #shayne topp #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh #alex tran #tommy bowe #damien haas #my sillies #i love them

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nights-at-crystarium · 2 months

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. B A S I C S ∙ ✦

Name: Vivien Rell Nicknames: Vivi Age: 23 ARR - 26 ShB (he lives and ages further, his story just spends years of real time in ShB) Nameday: 9th Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon Race: Wildwood Elezen Gender: Male Orientation: Gay Profession: Warrior of Light

. P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S ∙ ✦

Hair: Ash blonde Eyes: Cold whitish yellow, naturally glow in the dark Skin: Fair Tattoos/scars: None (My addition: Abnormally short for an elezen, slim, funky long limbs)

. F A M I L Y ∙ ✦

Parents: Elezen mother and father, alive and well, but wip Siblings: Older sister Grandparents: tbd/wip In-laws and Other: None Pets: Red chocobo Paprika

. S K I L L S ∙ ✦

Abilities: Standard dragoon stuff, monoclass. In ShB he starts testing custom spells that look like stars and inky darkness, based on his own aether Hobbies: Reading tales, novels and other fiction, keeping a journal, fishing, tailoring/designing outfits. Vivi has a personal tailor/designer that's stationed in Gridania, therefore isn't always available, so he had to learn the basics for himself

. T R A I T S ∙ ✦

Most Positive Trait: Sincere, emotionally intelligent Most Negative Trait: Fickle, unreliable

. L I K E S ∙ ✦

Colors: Black, white, grey, muted browns Smells: Grass, forest, lumber, sun-heated straw (scent from his childhood when he'd wallow on the roof of his home), sea breeze, bread and pastry, cosmetics, freshly printed papers Textures: Smooth rocks and glass pebbles polished by water, grains and beans in a bag, soft young leaves, fabric of his own clothes, metal accessories like buttons, spikes, necklaces, chains Drinks: Fruit-flavored teas, coffee with milk or cream, iced drinks, smoothies and juices

. O T H E R D E T A I L S ∙ ✦

Smokes: Tried once, didn't like it Drinks: Has a rather high alcohol tolerance, enjoys it in company, or to cope alone after a shitty day. Not addicted. Drugs: Definitely tried some stuff out of curiosity, not addicted Mount Issuance: Paprika is still wip, due to her being a red chocobo she's unlikely to have come from a grand company, probably a special gift Been Arrested: Probably been. I genuinely haven't thought about it yet, so wip

Tagged by @tinygamertris , thank you :> Tagging @just-a-nerdd @backseatfishing @absolem0 though only if you want. Anyone else who sees and wants to do this, go for it!

#vivien rell #text post

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siena-sevenwits · 5 months

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As a recovering reader myself, I am here to remind you that if you want to read more but are struggling, you have full permission to do any and all of the following:

Read the ending first, or look up the big spoilers.

Read a summary first, or scene by scene.

Skip around passages/come back to them when you're more ready

Watch the movie/read the graphic novel/look at the fanart first to pique your interest

Write/draw/highlight/scrapbook in the book itself (YOU ARE ALLOWED, assuming the book is yours! THIS MAKES IT A LOVED BOOK! You can also tip in pages specifically for this if you want more room - literally run some glue along the edge of a piece of paper, wedge it as deep as you can between two open pages, close the book and let it dry for a couple of minutes, and voila! Blank pages! I promise you ,you will not accidentally glue your book shut.)

Take the book up again even if it's been "too long" and guilt is telling you that you need to start over for some reason.

Listen to audiobooks only - it's real reading!! Reading is absorbing the words the author wrote, whether through a page recreated by a printing press or a page recreated by the sounds of a human voice!

Speed up or slow down the audiobook

Read at your own speed without regard to challenges or comparison

Use a device

Read the words out loud or under your breath

Have fifteen books on the go at once, or just one

Give up on a book that's not working for you at all, and find a fresh one that works better

Never track your reading

Track your reading meticulously and become addicted to your stats

Make reading more social by reading aloud to someone else, blogging your reading, obnoxiously talking your friend's ear off - whatever you like!

And yes, you can also keep your experience spoiler free, read straight through, keep your book in pristine condition, track your stats meticulously etc. etc.! Those are wonderful too. The point is, don't sabotage your reading with "shoulds," be gentle with yourself, and set yourself up to enjoy it. I'm three years into my recovering reader project, and I still have to be gentle with myself about habits I want to embrace but am not quite there yet.

#recovering reader #coreander's old books #Some of these I have done and others are just things I think it might be useful to consider #reading #books

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fortheloveofhens-zine · 9 months

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Hello!

This is an introduction post explaining this project and hopefully garnering some attention!

🥚 What's this about?

This is a fanzine by Shane fans, for Shane fans. It's a fan project to appreciate this character, his story, and his growth, and how much it means to a lot of us who have been through similar things.

🥚 How will this work?

Like most other zines! The project will begin on a certain date, and artists and writers will have several months to complete a piece of their choosing for the fanzine. We will use discord to communicate, schedule, and smooth out any issues.

🥚 When is the projected release?

I think aiming for spring 2024 would be nice! It'd be nice to release the zine around when Shane's birthday would be.

🥚Will this be a paid zine?

This is a charity zine to raise money for the mental health charity Samaritans! Samaritans is a charity that operates free and confidential phone lines for people to reach out and talk to someone whenever they're having a difficult time. They provide a listening service for those who may be suffering from suicidal thoughts or otherwise unpleasant feelings. Donations will be raised via ko-fi during a certain fundraising period and after that's over, the zine will go free to download.

🥚What format is this zine in?

The zine will be formatted to A4 paper size, HOWEVER this zine will only run digitally and will not have a print release as things stand. (Mod honestly can't afford a print release as cool as that would be...)

🥚Who can join?

Almost anyone can join! There is no requirement on skill, online following, previous zine experience etc. If this is your first zine, that's awesome! We welcome you with open arms. This is a zine for anyone who has ever struggled with their mental health, and has felt comforted by a certain stardew valley character. I do require that contributors be at least 13+. Not only would it be against discord terms of service to have under 13s on the platform, but mod here, as a fully grown adult, would also be uncomfortable with it - sorry!

🥚Are there any other rules right now?

There are a few! Let's list them, and please read carefully.

We have a zero-tolerance policy for racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, fatphobia, and anything else that falls into similar categories. ZERO. This is non-negotiable. This is a safe space and anyone displaying any of the above will be kicked off the project.

That said, proship, comship, darkship etc are not welcome on this zine. This is a safe space for everyone, including minors, survivors, and everyone else.

This is a SFW zine. There will be no NSFW art or writing included.

Every artist and writer is free to depict Shane as they like. If they choose to depict him as trans, POC, mlm, or anything else for the sake of representation, that is their choice and you must respect it. See the first bullet point about zero tolerance.

Ableism also extends to bigotry toward those suffering with mental illness, and addicts. We are trying to promote empathy and acceptance. Ableist comments will be warned (e.g. complaining about Shane's room being messy).

Your piece must include Shane as the focal point! That should be clear already, but just in case! So long as he's the focal point, you can draw or write anything! Ships are allowed.

🥚How do I get involved?

For now, I have an interest check form that I plan to run until the end of September! After that, contributor sign ups will open. Remember to follow this blog to see updates on the zine! You can also send questions to my inbox and I will do my best to answer them. For now, here is the interest check:

#for the love of hens #stardew valley #stardew #sdv #sv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew shane #shane #stardew valley zine #stardew valley fanzine #fanzine #mod post

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simemeoww · 7 months

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Obsessive artist is in love

Author's note: This is based from my character Mateo, who happens to be a yandere. I made a visual novel where he is one of the main characters. If you wanna play my game(to what i will be really happy) here is the link: https://simemeow.itch.io/love-stuck

What does it feel like when an artist is in love with you? What is it like to be depicted in his paintings? It's definitely a nice feeling when he invites you to pose for him so that he can once again dedicate one of his works to you…

His works, one after another, capture you, your youth, your small changes. Here you are smiling, showing your teeth, because of his joke. As usual, you sit in front of each other in comfortable positions, showing your true selves, since you have nothing to hide from each other. Such a cozy atmosphere, who would portray this moment of your quiet but comfortable solitude? After all, Mateo is completely busy with you, recreating not only your outer, but also your inner shell. Your light glances, small imperceptible movements: like quietly sitting closer to each other, moving away unnecessary objects that prevented you from quietly touching your legs, it all screamed about how busy you were with each other.

He was addicted to his muse… to you. His works are good, it is clear that he is a master of his craft… however, the paintings dedicated to you, there was much more love in them. Something that only an attentive person can notice, because such a charming attitude towards you will be hidden from the human eye.

If Mateo becomes a famous artist, the first thing he will do is hide all the portraits of you. After all, they were not created for anyone to admire them, their original intention was to keep their strong feelings for you on paper. It was another excuse for Mateo to admire you while you were painting, so he could get closer to you.

It was a vicious cycle that he would never stop. His eyes greedily devoured your face, your body, your habits, your emotions, your expressions, all of you. Mateo performed his task like a printer, copying your image and printing it on countless papers, not sparing his ink.

He was sure that his existence depended on you. You were everything, oxygen for his lungs, something without which he would die in a minute, you were a sweet dream through which he received energy to live the next day, you were the meaning of life, thanks to which he found the strength to be joyful, to be complete, be happy. That's why he drew… he painted you. To somehow pay you for everything you do for him. However, you will not understand this, and if it does become clear to you, it will be at a later time.

“I’m very interested in how this portrait will turn out!” - Mateo says happily. Something you heard often, but the value of these words did not decrease. After all, you were glad to see his work, something for which you will always be grateful to him, for the fact that he loves you.

#lovestuck #lovestuck mateo #lovestuck loren #male yandere #soft yandere #tw yandere #visual novel #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere visual novel #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere

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gotham-ruaidh · 5 months

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14C: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Where do we go now?

Where do we go?

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

AA met every Thursday in a church hall not far from the studio. She’d borrowed Bobby’s Trans Am to drive Jamie, holding his hand the whole way, hearing about his chat with Alec – who had graciously agreed during their January trip to New York to be Jamie’s sponsor.

She kissed him when he went inside. Needing some peace and quiet of her own, in the car, as she waited.

She had tried NA off and on, but it hadn’t really clicked. She was so very happy that AA really worked for Jamie – it was always much easier for him to open up to perfect strangers – and she was grateful that he could get the support he needed, at a moment’s notice, in any city.

Not to mention that the Friends of Bill took the “anonymous” in Alcoholics Anonymous quite seriously – meaning, in those meetings Jamie was just Jamie the alcoholic, not Jamie Fraser the frontman of Print, not the rock star. Just a man who fought daily battles with addiction, who was trying to be better, who just so happened to have the number six record in the country today.

It was hard. It was always going to be hard. But he was worth it. The life they had together was worth it.

She pulled out the folded envelope. Smoothed the creases against the steering wheel. Reading and reading and re-reading the return address.

Listening to Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard and Poison and Cheap Trick on the radio.

She didn’t see Jamie cross the parking lot. Jumped when he slid into the passenger seat, smiling, with a kiss.

“Hey.”

She offered a tight smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better.”

His gaze found the envelope.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She couldn’t say anything.

But now that he was here, she opened it.

Held out the single sheet of paper.

They read.

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

via Colum Laird, Broch Productions

Dear Dr. Beauchamp,

Thank you for your letter and providing a forwarding address. Three months ago, the BMC board unanimously voted to terminate your employment. For legal reasons we will not provide further details, and the board’s decision is final.

However, we have communicated to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that your medical license should be restored, with the provision that you no longer practice medicine in any kind of high-stress environment. You may contact the medical board at the below address to request a copy of…

Jamie watched Claire read and re-read and re-read.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine” played softly on the radio.

A long, long moment.

The song shifted to the bridge.

Where do we go now, sweet child? Axl Rose murmured.

Jamie took a breath. “Where do we go now, Claire?” he whispered.

She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Laid it on the dash. Reached beneath her shirt to pull the long chain up over her neck. Settled her left hand on Jamie’s thigh, skin hot through his jeans.

Jamie unclasped the chain, letting his grandmother’s engagement ring slide free. He slipped the ring onto her finger. Brought her hand to his lips, kissing so softly.

“I’d like us to have an extra day in Boston when we’re there next week. So that we can pack up my apartment.”

She was looking through the windshield, face turned to him in profile.

“Yes. What else?”

“I’d like a little house in the mountains of North Carolina. Not too far from The Ridge. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there. I’m sure Dougal and Gillian can help us find something.”

Gently he bit her knuckles. “Something small. Kitchen and living room. Bedroom for us. A room I can use for music. And a room for your medicine.”

She nodded. “I’ll transfer my license – I’ve already looked into how to do that. I can file the paperwork when we get to Boston. I don’t know if I want to be in a private practice, or just volunteer in a clinic, or maybe something else. We’ll get settled, and then we’ll decide.”

“We will. I – are you happy, Claire?”

She smiled tightly. “More…relieved. And yes, I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to be free. Happy to be marrying you.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Listening to the final notes of Slash’s guitar. And then the first two minutes of INXS and “New Sensation”.

Memory flared – the last time she heard this song was the one time she’d seen Jamie nude, changing into his leather pants backstage in Orlando, when she’d entered his dressing room without knocking.

She swallowed. “I want the house to have at least one spare bedroom.”

He laced their fingers. “Of course – for guests.”

She flushed. Finally met his eyes.

“Yes. And for children.”

He released a suddenly shaky breath. “Oh, my love. Yes.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m never taking this ring off again.”

He leaned across the console and kissed her. Kissed her. Kissed her.

#outlander #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be #outlander fanfic

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year

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cinnamon | a. targaryen

Description: A love story progresses between you and the stranger from the coffee shop.

Genre: social media story w/ one-shot

Rating: Teen

Author's Note: outing my bmw addiction (i see these cars in my school and i can't help but be obsessed)

His eyes remind you of hardcore Swedish porn. There's something delectable about him - a forbidden fruit if you may. You couldn't stop thinking about him - couldn't focus on anything else except his hands wrapped around your throat. Fuck. You sound like a pervert.

He takes a step in your direction, hands settling atop the hood of your closed laptop. "I couldn't help but notice you staring at me," he began with a cautious smile. Hm, maybe he found you hot too. "I'm sorry, does that bother you?" you frown - you didn't want to get into a fistfight in the middle of noon.

He keeps staring at you - licking his lips while his eyes trailed back and forth between your lips and your eyes. "Call me crazy, but I kinda like it." he smiled - eyes not taking a second off you. He points at the chair in front of you. "Is this seat taken?" he asks and you shake your head. "Can I sit here?" he questions and you nod.

Fucking hell.

"It isn't everyday that I get the attention of a very beautiful girl," he enunciates the last part - body moving closer towards yours. You could smell his perfume - a mix of something manly and cinnamon. "I find that hard to believe," you reply while taking a sip of the iced espresso (something that would put an Italian into cardiac arrest.)

His hands slowly graze your left palm that was laid on the table. "Well, believe me." he rubbed comforting circles, tickling you slightly. You look around the shop slowly - making sure that no one was looking at the both of you.

"What are you doing here? Normally the only people who visit here are corporate workers - casually there's writers, but coffee is too expensive and ineffective." you inquire, curious about what job he had. He leans on his chair slowly.

"I own the shop." he explained in a humble way. Your eyes widened - does that mean free coffee? "Cool, I've never seen you here before." you chuckle, feeling his hands return to settle atop yours.

"Came back from studying overseas, but don't worry. You'll be seeing a lot of me in the future." he whispered in a flirty tone.

A giggle escapes your mouth. "That comforts me," you hum - feeling his cold fingers play with your warm ones. You take a piece of paper from inside your coat - it was a gift from one of your friends to help you seem 'cool' but you've never really used it before.

"Innovative," he compliments, holding the cigarette that had your number printed on the sides. "I'll see you again, let's have dinner in the future." you smile - standing up and exiting the cafe.

YOURTWITTERUSERNAME (🔐) Lawd have mercy 🥴

vodkaginsoju22: who is this miss girl?? - YOURTWITTERUSERNAME: there was a hot guy in the cafe today ACK - vodkaginsoju22: what cafe? drop the lick 👅 - YOURTWITTERUSERNAME: i just found my husband btw

Jace_Velaryon1 (🔐) @aegontargaryen I SAW THAT 🤣

Jace_Velaryon1: Aegon "the Rizzler" Targaryen - aegontargaryen: 😎

Aegon couldn't believe that he was going on a date for the first time in five years. His heart couldn't stop beating - his lungs were heaving for breath, and there you were - standing in front of him with all of your glory. "You look beautiful," he complimented - helping you down the steps. "You look handsome," you returned the compliment.

His hands inched towards your waist - finding that his palms fit perfectly. "Where are we going?" you chuckle while he led you to his car. It was a beautiful 2018 BMW - he figured that it would be best to stay humble while he measured what kind of person you were.

"Somewhere nice," he answered vaguely - and you didn't worry at all. You already sent your location to your friend. The last thing to do was sit back and relax. "I'm intrigued," you hum while placing the seatbelt properly.

The steakhouse was amazing - one of the only five star restaurants in the county. You've been here a couple time with your friends - and the food was top notch. "I'll have the shrimp and avocado salad," you smiled - ordering your favorite meal. "I'll get the Fillet Mignon, do you want any drinks, my dear?" he smiled at you - and your eyes carefully browsed the drinks section.

"Negroni please, barrel aged." you hum, placing the menu down. "I'll have the same - I trust her with the drinks." he thanked the waiter before turning his attention back to you.

"I've never really asked you this before but - what do you do for work?" he asked with piqued interest. "I work in the hospital as one of the residents, I just finished school a few years ago - used to be hell at first since I was always on call but everything was smooth sailing after." you answered with a smile.

"How about you? Is the Cafe the only business you dabble in?" you inquired, eyes twinkling as you kept staring at his features. He was handsome - his facial expressions were a little mean - but he was handsome. "The Cafe was something my grandmother left me, I actually want to be a marine biologist - but I'm still looking for a job in that department. My parents want me to take a gap year." he continued, reaching for your hands again.

"Gap years are nice - especially since you already have the coffee shop. It's really hard to navigate around a new place." you advice. "You aren't from around here, aren't you?" he questioned - smiling too. "Nope, only came here for the job." you inform.

"I was born and raised here - I was scared for a second that I missed such beautiful face." he cooed, admiring your features.

aegon_targaryen: too good not to share

30 comments 160 likes

Jace_Velaryon1: heheheheeheheheh

yourinstagram: who could that be? - aegon_targaryen: a goddess probably 🤷🏻‍♀️

yourinstagramuser: with mr. cupid

90 comments 829 likes

aegon_targaryen: second pic was from the second date - yourinstagramuser: the pics from the first ones are filled with you doing the 'wacky' face 😆

@pearlstiare @sweethoneyblossom1 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @cheri-ladyy @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @fan-goddess

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon fanfic #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon fic

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stellaluna33 · 4 months

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Some of you may remember my obsessive posts about violets, my frustrations with finding a violet fragrance that actually smells like violets, and feeling heartbroken that I had gotten scammed in a prior attempt to replace my current favorite, which was a very obscure souvenir fragrance from France. Well... soon after I made that post, the lovely @parfoisendecembre contacted me and, being a French speaker, very kindly asked if there was anything she could do to help me find my beloved perfume again. And guys... It's here. 🥺😭 It arrived yesterday, and it's exactly as beautiful as I remembered! Here it is next to my old one (It's decanted into a vintage bottle. I'll be doing the same thing with the new one when I run out, haha)

As you can see, the packaging is nothing fancy! The paper label was obviously printed on an inkjet printer, haha! The company's website (colineparfums.com) where I purchased it is very basic and simple. They're obviously a very small company with no marketing budget, and I haven't tried any of their other scents, but OH, this one is... Divine. How do I even describe it? Pure Violet, rich and elegant, with nothing distracting over it. Freshly sweet, but never cloying. Just enough of the "powdery" component to keep it grounded with a rich, bittersweet earthiness, but never too much (which can be a problem with some violet fragrances). It's perfectly balanced (in my personal opinion). I can see why this scent was so popular at the Turn of the Century, as it's really an aromatic expression of Art Nouveau... I wanted to listen to Debussy and Eric Satie while wearing it... something spare and elegant and delicate. The only drawback is that it fades significantly after a few hours, but it's so gorgeous I don't care! As far as comparisons to violet candies go, it's more elegant than C. Howard's and more like Flavigny pastilles, which is fitting, as that's how my obsession began...

I found these in a gift shop when I was a kid (I use the tin to store hairpins now!) and how could I resist the Belle Époque packaging? The taste was strange but addictive, and... I've been obsessed ever since. I kept stopping during the day to sniff my own wrists yesterday, and I'm so, SO happy!

(Ordering from the company's website was fairly straightforward. The products themselves are very inexpensive, but I- alas!- had to pay more in shipping than I did for the actual perfume itself! That said, I was very impressed by how quickly it arrived.)

#Violets #Perfume review #I am not a perfume connoisseur AT ALL #All I know is that I love violets haha #This probably all sounds very pretentious but I'm actually just extremely emotional and sincere.#😂

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yikesharringrove · 1 year

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He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.

It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.

His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.

He’s in a fucking hospital.

He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.

He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.

Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”

“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”

There was a rustling of paper.

“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.

“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.

So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.

“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”

Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-

“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”

Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.

Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.

Steve felt like he could vomit.

“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He knew the guilt was written all over his face.

“How long?”

“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.

He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.

It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.

Hopper sighed.

“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”

“Tortured. I got tortured.”

Hopper sighed again.

“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”

“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”

He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.

“It’s stupid-”

“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.

“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”

“I’m not addicted!” Lie.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Steve glared at Hopper.

“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”

“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”

Steve gulped.

“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”

It was embarrassing.

Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.

Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.

“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”

Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.

But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.

And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.

There was a pause.

“Have you been snorting or shooting?”

“Snorting.”

“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”

“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”

Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.

“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”

“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”

Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.

“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”

He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.

He’s such an idiot.

Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?

Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.

He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.

Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.

Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.

It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.

But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.

He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.

His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.

He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.

“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”

#tw drug abuse #tw drug addiction #tw substance abuse #ask to tag #steve harrington #Jim hopper #harringrove #it’s mentioned a bunch #yikes writes #I don’t like this but *shrugs*#zest of lemon #again #mentioned in a few places #billy Hargrove

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oceanlipgloss · 1 month

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LIPSTICK

SATAN.

+ warnings: strong language, suggestive themes.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

It’s said to be an art, choosing the right shade of lipstick. Perhaps it is so!

Think about it this way, now; paint—the palette painters create, to be precise—it does not matter much once it is smeared across a canvas, for a canvas is normally white (like ghosts and lightning, leeched sugar and whipping cream), and there is not one colour, be it shade or hue, that such a white fails to suit, though it will not always look good. With lipstick, however, the matter differs.

Of course, a painter does very much choose the most proper canvas for their creation, but that is only in terms of material and dimension. Similarly, it’s probably important for a woman to not merely choose the prettiest colours for her lips, but also the greatest matches for the smooth skin of her interest, who in this case is not quite her lover yet, and may never really be.

Who could possibly know how destiny is painted? Whoever can guess which swatches shall make the future up?

Back to the subject: it is pivotal to decide on a lipstick’s colour for the...aesthetic, if you will. Sometimes, you must understand, the lovelier a sight is, the more sensual it becomes. Beauty, when the time is right and the person is, too, can be an exciting thing. A dangerously exciting thing.

That was not strange advice, she thought. There were times when those erotic magazines and adult films of hers made as equal sense as science. This was one of them.

Her lips had stamped each soft muscle. His body was a hued mess. It was as though one had given a curious child dissimilar paints and a chalk-white paper to print their imagination on with no regard for the basics of art. A child would not know about those rules. At the same time, she was not an artist in the traditional meaning of that shimmering word, so she did not know anything about art’s foundations, either. Yet, she did know how to make the colourful garble on this man’s figure look like art, if only by rubbing her wine-red lips against the peach stain of a kiss to blend the two colours together. What would the result look like?

She could be impatient and quick-paced, in the hot moments often forgetting the artistic aspects and details, vivid with flowing rage, but she was still that sort of artist.

How surprising that she could even manage to know what to do next, at the minute!

The Devil was dreamily handsome. Lipstick gemmed the corner of his lips. His eyes were the colour of strawberries or hearts. His pale skin and purple veins were smudged with a range of popping colours. Some were matte, others glittered. Red Delicious. Tangy Tangerine. Raspberry Dream. Glam Brown. Burgundy Velvet. Electric Violet. Black Decay.

Her favourite? It had to be the last one. Black Decay. Pale skin, dark lipstick. The contrast! The impact! It looked stunning. And goodness, it made it seem like his wet horns had somehow melted at the red tips, mixed into the Red Delicious kisses, and dripped blackly onto his tense muscles. It was so cool.

Standing in front of mirrors again. Playing with fire is fun. Fun is never-ending. Beauty doesn’t last forever. Souls don’t necessarily go to Hell or Heaven. Humans are bound to die. Some people never find a haven. But this man, this man was the Devil. That changed everything; looks are forever, youth is eternal, the heart beats for ever and ever. So, what the fuck is death? What does time mean, then?

Immortality gives time a different flavour, kind of like how certain lipsticks taste nothing alike: one is ‘cherry,’ the second is ‘candy,’ and the third is something else entirely. Maybe ‘chocolate’? Who knows.

Anyways, it’s all very addictive. Being young. The electric sparks of attraction. Admiring a beautiful face. Worshipping a sculpted body. Burning in the fires of desire. Bloody rage.

It can be very pretty, put together in one painterly picture: a horned devil, a beautiful young king, dotted all over with the kisses of a human on her knees before him. The throb of bruises, the pulse of scratches, they aroused him. Because her anger tasted like it spread out from the purest depths of Hell. It was what a dream would taste like, feel like, be. It was what a dream would be.

His eyes were glowing a frantic red, a red redder than those hell flames from fiction’s silly little tales. The petrine crosses, they were like ink on a heart. That rage inside her, it was heroin and honey in his veins. He could not have enough of it. He wanted more. Double the dose. It boiled his blood and made his heartbeats insane!

Fuck, oh, fuck. The kisses weren’t cutting it. The pretty marks on his skin wasn’t cutting it. The colours weren’t cutting it. He wanted her breakable fingers to push his flesh in, turn him purple and blue, make him bruise. He wanted those dainty nails to dig into his skin, carve into it tiny bloody crescent moons. He wanted that delicate palm to scar his face, let it sting like a crimson wound.

It will, it will, it will, it will.

He could be a freak like that, but so what? He was sweet, too. She wasn’t sweet, but she could be his match. She was. So often their hearts and bodies played on the same frequencies. Down for a helping hand. Down for murder. Down for anger. Down for roughness. Down for Hell. Down for sex.

So, you see, ladies and gentlemen, the right colour of lipstick may very well do wonders.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#Whb #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb satan #what in hell is bad satan #the story factory

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inkaddict1978 · 3 months

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June. June was supposed to be nice. It was supposed to be “take Baby for a long drive, windows down, with no destination in mind for once” nice. Instead it was cold, 40’s at best, and the pattering of drops on the windows didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. It was starting to get on Dean’s nerves. The 4 friends were lounging around in their cozy little living room, “Ramble On” playing softly from the speakers in the far corner.

Sam was in the recliner, scrolling on his laptop. Dean didn’t need to see the screen to know he was searching for their next case. Always the diligent one. Cas was on one end of the couch, nose deep in some new “book of the week” that he had become addicted to. The sight made Dean’s stomach flutter, something he was still trying to get used to. Eileen was on the loveseat, watching tv, surely some reality show that Dean would pretend not to be interested in, but secretly be sad when it ended. Dean was currently propped up in the corner of the couch, opposite Cas, with a magazine in hand, not really focusing on the print, mind distracted.

He was fidgeting, too. He knew it, but he hoped no one else had noticed. He wasn’t used to sitting still, at least not for long periods of time, and his hands itched to be doing something, other than holding the paper distraction. He kept shifting slightly, couch creaking with each move, and every so often one of the other’s eyes would roam over to him, their look questioning. It never lasted long, but Dean would duck his head back into the magazine every time, avoiding the stare. His heart was starting to race, and he willed himself to slow it down. He could do this, dammit. He could relax. He just needed to practice. He wasn’t used to the semi-retired, non-hunting lifestyle. So sue him. It would take some getting used to. He shifted again, trying to return his focus back to his reading, but apparently fate had other plans in store for him today.

“Dude what’s the matter with you?” Sam asked, voice laced slightly with irritation. You’re like a nervous ball of energy, and it’s been radiating throughout the room for the last hour. What gives, man?”

Damn it, Sam was always the intuitive one. Dean couldn’t get anything past him.

He tried to play it off with a scoff, schooling his features into a look that implied as though Sam’s comment was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. In reality, he wished Sam could read his mind, so Dean didn’t have to use his words to communicate his emotions. He’d never been very good at that. For the moment though, he wished Sam would just drop it and leave him alone.

“I know when something’s bothering you” Sam continued “so just tell us what’s going on.”

No such luck.

Truth was, Dean didn’t know what was wrong, exactly. He’d slept well, eaten, and was currently nursing a beer. All his basic needs were met and he should have been grateful for the rest. But for some reason, even in a room full of others, he felt alone. His skin was cold, despite the warmth in the room, and he was itching for some sort of physical contact. Everyone seemed so far away, despite the close proximity of the furniture. What the hell was wrong with him? He rolled his eyes at himself. He needed to snap out of it. He wasn’t sharing with the class, especially something as emotionally confusing as this. Suffer in silence. That was his MO.

Apparently no one was willing to allow him that luxury today, because Cas, who had averted his attention away from his book to observe the brother’s exchange for the last several minutes, chose that moment to join the conversation.

“Dean, you do seem more restless than usual. What’s the matter with you?” Cas paused, waiting for Dean to respond. Dean pulled a face that clearly conveyed “leave me alone” without having to verbalize it. Either that, or he was trying to think of a lie. Cas must have thought the latter, because he followed up his previous question with “and don’t lie to me. You know it won’t end well.”

Dean schooled his features, giving Cas a challenging glare. Who did he think he was? Dean was an adult, he could lie if he wanted to. Besides, choosing to ignore the current line of questioning coming from his brother and boyfriend wasn’t lying, it was just avoiding, and that Dean was a pro at.

The silence dragged on until it was uncomfortable, Cas squinting his eyes and doing his adorable little head tilt that usually signified he was studying Dean, trying to get a read on him. A few more seconds ticked on, and Dean couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up from the couch, ready to bolt to his room where he could sulk in peace.

Again, no such luck.

Cas was on him, tackling him to the ground before he’d made it two feet. He straddled his hips, and after a brief struggle (that Dean was embarrassed to admit he’d lost too easily) Dean found his hands pinned by Cas’s on either side of his head, face bracketed in by Cas’s arms. Their noses were practically touching. Cas continued to study Dean, but the new proximity was making his head spin.

Tough guy brivatto still intact, for the moment, Dean steeled his expression into a look of annoyance, twisting himself underneath Cas’s hold, testing it. He was stuck, he knew it, but he wasn’t going down without a fight, Angelic strength be damned. Dean continued to struggle, letting out little grunts of frustration as each unsuccessful attempt let it sink in a little more just how screwed he really was. Cas had a small smirk forming on his face, and it just added to the irritation building up. Dean let out a growl, willing himself to break the hold, but eventually he conceded, body going slack, head tipped back, eyes closed, as though he was slowly starting to accept his fate. He was still breathing heavily, little huffs coming out of his nose every few seconds, but he couldn’t help the small smile starting to form on his face from the ridiculousness of it all. He tried to school his expression into something neutral, but he was failing. When he dared to peek one eye open, Cas was grinning down at him with that big gummy smile of his. Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he said “yeah, yeah, you made your point, now let me up.” But Cas apparently had other intentions, grip tightening slightly at the request.

“Dean, we just want to help. I’d like you to tell us willingly, but I’m not against coercing it out of you.” As Cas spoke, his eyes started to twinkle, and Dean gulped, his throat growing dry, nerves set on edge. If Cas’s look was any indication of what was coming, Dean was in trouble. He tried to remain calm, not giving Cas the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under his skin. He fidgeted again, cursing himself silently.

Get it together, Winchester. You can still get out of this.

Right on cue, as if reading his mind, Cas readjusted his grip so that he was holding both of Dean’s hands in just one of his, other hand coming to rest ever so gently on Dean’s side. Well shit. This wasn’t the first time Cas had used this method to get Dean to “talk” and he should have known it was coming. Dean had two options, tell the truth, or try and lie his way out of it, convincingly, of course.

He put on the brightest smile possible, the one he knew worked ninety five percent of the time, his go-to when he was trying to charm his way out of a not- so-pleasant situation he’d inevitably found himself in, and said “I’m FINE, man, I swear, just let me up.” He tried not to let his voice waiver, but when Cas didn’t budge, Dean chuckled nervously, averting his eyes for a moment. After collecting himself, he turned his face back, eyes pleading with Cas to just drop it. But Cas could be stubborn as well, and as the moments ticked on, it became increasingly clear that Cas would not be satisfied until Dean fessed up. Dean narrowed his eyes, voice low. “Don’t even think about it.” he snarled, trying to appear as if he had control of the situation, even if Cas did have the upper hand. He let out another growl, but it quickly turned into a yelp as Cas’s fingers jumped to life.

Sam, who had previously returned his attention back to his laptop after the brief exchange with his brother, heard the noise and looked up, curiosity getting the best of him. He smiled softly at the sight of his brother squirming beneath Cas. Dean was trying his hardest to keep his composure in check, but was rapidly losing that battle. Cas’s growing smile was a clear indicator that Dean was close to breaking. Cas knew it and was slowly chipping away, gaining leverage with every twitch of his fingers. Moments ticked on, Dean still squirming but refusing to concede, and eventually Cas must have decided he’d had enough. Without warning, he released his grip on Dean’s hands in favor of digging all ten fingertips into both of his sides. Dean was not expecting the sudden change, and his wall of resistance shattered. He began cackling, the noise loud enough to catch Eileen’s attention, who until this moment had remained focused on her show. She glanced at Sam, eyebrow raised and questioning, and Sam just smiled back at her, shrugging his shoulders. The pair stood up simultaneously, making their way over to the spot where Dean and Cas were still battling it out, although it was clear who was winning this little bout.

Dean could see Sam and Eileen approach out of the corner of his eye, although his vision was already starting to blur. He groaned through his laughter, trying to hide his face in the crook of his arm. This was embarrassing, especially with how quickly Cas had broken him. It had only been a minute, tops, since Cas had really started tickling in earnest, and Dean was already red-faced and giggling hysterically. He had expected to hold out longer than that, but Cas had him so wound up with anticipation, he didn’t stand a chance. He was twisting frantically, kicking his legs, trying to throw Cas off, to no avail. A few “Cas’s” and “please” and "stop it’s” slipped in whenever he could catch a breath, although only half of them decipherable. Damned if he wouldn’t still try though. Cas just shook his head, acknowledging he had heard him but wasn’t complying with his requests. The little shit was dead when Dean got out of this. Dean was so getting him back, tenfold. But he couldn’t focus on that right now.

The little voice in Dean’s head kept telling him if he just agreed to give them an answer that this could all be over. He tried convincing himself of what it was he DID want. What answer would appease them? What was the truth? Dean hadn’t been able to put his finger on it before, and he certainly was having trouble thinking clearly now. Another part of him, a louder part, kept reminding him that this WAS what he wanted. Physical contact, no matter the form. Sometimes he found himself craving it, the lack of it overwhelming him to the point of suffocation. Usually he drowned himself in other distractions to take away the sting. Until now, it had worked. He wasn’t expecting it to hit him today with an audience. He hadn’t even fully accepted that was the problem, but as the contact with Cas made the earlier cold and loneliness slowly ebb away, a realization dawned on him. Well damn if he would admit it. He had a reputation to uphold.

As Sam and Eileen reached them, Dean could see Cas and Eileen share a quick glance, and then she nodded, as though they could read each other's minds. The silent exchange made his nerves ignite. She knelt down above his head, and Cas paused his tickling to pass Dean’s arms to her, one at a time. He tried to resist, but in the end it was futile. From his seat on Dean’s lap, Cas had the advantage. Eileen sat on them gently, only enough pressure to ensure he was pinned firmly. Dean gulped. One on one with Cas was bad enough, but being double teamed… They wouldn’t, would they? Dean shivered at the thought. At least Sam was still standing. Dean didn’t know what would happen if all three of them attacked. He’d never survive. He might as well ask to cuddle, right then and there. At least he’d still have some of his dignity left.

Once the pair deemed Dean secured in his new position, Cas said “last chance to talk, Dean.” He was counting on Dean’s stubbornness, and when Dean glared at him with a “how dare you” look, Cas grinned and started tickling again, fingers back at Dean’s sides, though not as harshly as last time. Dean should have been grateful for the reprieve, only now Eileen’s hands were added to mix. Dammit, NO! Her fingers were poking and prodding in and around his armpits, occasionally jumping to his collarbones and up and around his ears. Dean exploded, cackling, voice going in and out as his pitch reached new levels. His efforts to free himself increased momentarily, twisting and turning with every poke and prod, but he was quickly running out of energy. He was shaking his head from side to side, a stream of jovial “nonono’s” bursting out of him every time he could catch his breath.

Eventually he went slack, sweat lacing his brow. Cas and Eileen noticed and slowed the tickling just enough to give him a moment to breathe, but still enough to keep him gently giggling. Eileen with her long fingernails still scritching softly under his chin. Cas with the soft pads of his fingertips digging into his ribs. And Sam with that dopey, lopsided smile, grinning down at Dean every time he dared peek his eyes open, looking at Dean like his face was the brightest thing aside from the sun.

It was more than Dean could handle. He needed it to stop. He never wanted it to stop.

“Ok, ok I give. I give up. Please, no more.” Dean relented. Cas and Eileen paused, waiting for him to continue. When his breathing slowed completely, they looked on expectantly, but instead of speaking, he tried hiding his face in the crook of his elbow again. “Heeey” he giggled, as Eileen softly tickled the side of his neck, forcing him to turn his head. He looked up at her, trying to glare, but was betrayed by his lingering smile, and she bent down to peck a kiss to his forehead. He almost started crying. What the hell was going on with him today?

He closed his eyes and laid there for a moment, trying to regain his composure, not trusting himself to make eye contact, much less to speak. He knew they wouldn’t wait forever. Still pinned beneath the pair, he tried to muster up some courage. As he looked over, Cas started wiggling his fingers again, making a show of getting closer and closer to Dean’s sides, and it was all the encouragement Dean needed to blurt out “I was just lonely and wanted attention!” He immediately tried hiding his face again, cheeks burning red. This time, no one stopped him. When a few minutes had passed and no one had spoken, he dared to glance up.

From the looks on their faces, whatever it was they were expecting Dean to say, it clearly hadn’t been that. All 3 were looking at him with slightly different expressions, from fondness to curiosity, but not one of them appeared to be judging him. He was grateful for that, at least. Maybe he could finish the day with some of his dignity intact.

“I answered your question, can I sit up now please?” Dean asked, suddenly looking very uncomfortable in his current position. Cas and Eileen, realizing that they were still pinning Dean down, released their hold, shuffling back to give him some room. He sat up, keeping his head down, hand ringing at the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. He could feel their eyes on him still and it made his cheeks burn red again. He wished they’d just leave him to wallow in peace. They owed him that much. Instead, as Cas and Eileen stood up, Sam offered Dean a hand. He accepted it, shakily rising to his feet, still a little wobbly and light headed from before. Sam saw him stagger and righted him, but instead of stopping at that, he pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Come here, ya big dummy.” Sam said, and Dean could tell by his tone that Sam was grinning. When Dean didn’t put up much resistance, he pressed on “if you wanted us to hug you, why didn’t you just ask?” Dean tensed at the teasing and started to pull away, even though the contact was keeping him grounded at the moment. Old habits were hard to break. Sam wasn’t letting him get away that easily. He tightened his grip, arms wrapped around Dean’s torso, fingers starting to wiggle into the crevices at the back of his armpits. Dean let out a gasp, followed by a “nohoho, not again!” and before he could help himself he was giggling, squirming steadily in Sam’s arms, trying to keep himself upright, although his knees were threatening to give out. Cas stepped in behind him, just in time to catch him as Dean managed to break Sam’s hold.

Dean stumbled and Cas righted him, wrapping his arms around him to keep him vertical. Sam advanced forward, hands finding purchase on Dean’s belly as he responded to Dean’s plea of “no Sammy, please don’t” with “I didn’t get to participate before, Dean, it’s only fair!” When Sam fingers found his belly button, Dean shrieked, laughter quickly turning silent. He was doubled over Cas’s arms, trying to force Sam’s evil fingers away, but Sam continued to slip his grip with ease. Eventually he gave up and tipped his head back, temple brushing against Cas’s, arms crossed in front of him as much as Cas’s hold would allow. Sam eventually slowed when it was clear that Dean couldn’t take much more.

Sam giggled at his brother as he tried to entangle himself from Cas’s octopus-like grip. When Dean was finally free, he stumbled over to the couch, practically collapsing onto it. He laid on his back, arm draped over his eyes, willing his breath to settle. He startled when he felt someone lift his head up, but relaxed again when he realized it was only Cas climbing in to sit beneath him, Dean’s head now in his lap. Cas started running his fingers through Dean’s hair, pausing every once in a while to scratch at his scalp. Dean hummed appreciatively, which only encouraged Cas to continue.

Normally he’d be embarrassed at showing his emotions so openly, but after what he’d just endured, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Cas had picked up his discarded book before settling down, now propping it up on the arm of the couch, somehow managing to juggle it with one hand while still attentive to Dean with the other. Every once in a while his hand would stray from Dean’s head to rub over his back or shoulders, and Dean would sigh contentedly. Maybe he needed to ask for what he wanted more often.

Sam and Eileen were snuggled on the loveseat, watching on with fondness. Cas looked up and met their gaze, smiling at them and then down at Dean. Dean met his gaze, smiling softly back. The rain still pattered lightly on the windows, only now all was right with the world again. Maybe rest days weren’t so bad after all. He rolled over, snuggling his face into Cas’s lap, and when Cas resumed his scritching, Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and soon he was snoring softly.

I rarely write but this one just came together so quickly, I couldn’t stop the brain worms. Hope you enjoy.

#castiel #dean winchester #ticklish dean #ler!cas #supernatural tickle fic #sam winchester #spn tickle fic #ler!castiel #supernatural tickling #spn tickles #eileen

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maggiemoomoo · 4 months

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𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 - 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - 𝚈/𝚗'𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚓𝚊𝚒𝚕, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈/𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚗. 𝙸𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎?

Warnings! - Mentions of criminal activity, drugs, fighting, assault (not sexual), imprisonment, and derogatory name-calling. Reader also is described as wearing glasses which will be the only description.

Walking into the prison lobby I try to control my body's shakiness by gripping the box in my hands tighter. I don't want to show how nervous I am on my first day, especially since this is my first time stepping into a jail only after my interview. Let alone being anywhere near male prisoners who have done horrendous things. I'm truly not a judgemental person at heart, as that trait also is usually required with the career I have chosen, but I can't help but feel anxious about the people I would be counseling. Murderers? Drug dealers and addicts? Theifs? Or maybe just "Plain Jane" people who evaded taxes or had too many traffic violations?

Who fucking knows.

I've heard the horror stories and was even warned by my interviewer, the prison warden, about what this job would entail and how difficult it can be for most people. I'd like to think that my years in school have properly trained me for this kind of thing but you never know how deep the water is until you jump off the cliff and land right in it. I just hope I don't get ripped apart and eaten alive on my first day.

Walking up to the woman behind the front counter I put my box on top and to the side to sign in. She looks up from the newspaper she was writing on and slides a clipboard from under the thick plexiglass. I remember meeting her when I came in the first time for my interview. She's older than me, 40s I'd assume, whose personality resembles someone knowledgable yet sassy and headstrong.

"Your first day huh?", She asked looking me up and down as much as she could while sitting in the creaky rolling chair behind the counter.

"Yes ma'am, my name is Y/n, I'm gonna be the new counselor-"

"Mhmm", she drags out, interrupting me and giving me an incredulous look. She taps the pen she was already holding against the clipboard she slid to me. "Sign your first and last name in print, the time you came in, and your employee number."

I take the pen tethered to the clipboard and with still shaky hands try to sign my name as neatly as possible. I take the paper that has my employee number on it out of the box I set down and copy the number onto the sign-in sheet. When I finish I set the pen down and slide the clipboard back to her under the glass. She looks at me again with raised eyebrows and I return a shy smile to try and diffuse the silent tension in the lobby.

She takes the clipboard and tosses her paper onto the desk in front of her, it seems she is doing the daily crossword. Getting up from her chair with a grunt she starts walking to the side door and motions with her hand for me to follow her. I grab my box and quickly make my way around the counter and away from the empty lobby. A loud buzz signals the unlocking of the large door and a man in a guard's uniform motions me through the doorway.

"Set all your items on the table and empty your pockets completely, then step through the detector with your hands by your side.", he says in a monotone manner that seems like he is reading a line from a script.

I set the box down and he starts to sift through it a little aggressively I might add. I empty my pockets only containing my phone, wallet, and car keys onto the table as well and slowly walk through the standing metal detector with my arms down. A few loud beeps are heard and another male guard standing on the other side of the detector asks in an annoyed tone "Do you have any metal on you?"

I pat my pockets and think for a moment before grabbing my glasses which have a thin metal frame and hand them to him with an apologetic look. I walk backward and step back through the detector again and luckily it doesn't beep again. The guard slides me all of my items from the other side and I quickly put my glasses on, shove everything back in my pockets, and grab my box of office items. The female guard from the counter then directs me to the inside of the office area beside the detector.

It's plain and lifeless with blinding white lights above us. Only having a couple desk chairs, old computers, and boxes of papers strewn about near the front counter. Near the back are two doors, one unlabeled and the other saying "Break Room", and a station set up to take pictures for visitors' passes and worker IDs. She has me set down my box again and pose in front of the camera to take my picture for my work ID.

After the flash, she goes to check if the picture came out correctly and gives a slight "hmph" sound with her lips pressed together after looking at it.

"Did it come out bad?", I ask.

She glances up at me and shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "No honey, I just know that they'll chew you up and spit you out in there." She absentmindly then clicks on the computer mouse a few times to print the ID.

Oh, dear god. If I wasn't already shaking much before then I was now vibrating like a fearful chihuahua. I stand frozen already doubting myself. Am I gonna even gonna last a month? A week? Till the end of the day?? Usually, I'm a strong-willed and determined woman, I knew what I was getting myself into and had tried my best to mentally and emotionally prepare myself beforehand. My father himself worked in law enforcement and so I knew the implications of how rough and tough this job would be. But to already be here, and to have just the front desk lady tell me that I'm doomed is a different level of doubt that I have developed since walking in.

She's probably seen the worst of the worst and interacted with the inmates regularly and knows that this type of stuff isn't for the faint of heart. Especially a girl who is young and fresh out of college and hasn't even had any experience in the real world with counseling yet. If what she believes is correct then I may have greatly overestimated my abilities here.

The printer finishes printing my plastic ID and she attaches it to a clip and hands it to me. I clip it to the right side of my blouse and look back at her nervously.

She sighs heavily, "Look I didn't mean to freak you out but I'm sure a girl as pretty and bright-eyed as you isn't going to last long in a place like this. It's not meant for you. You should try to get out as fast as you can before they get to you first."

I nod with a straight frown, grab my box again, and follow her as she starts walking out of the office and she grabs of stack of folders on the way out. We silently walk down the hall passing a few other doors such as a supply closet, a small library for the inmates, and a commissary with a counter that resembles the front lobby.

We reach what I assume is my office door and she takes a key from her key ring attached to her belt loop and unlocks the door. We step inside and the room looks just like a small office. A wooden desk with another old computer and a grey rolling chair behind it with a metal chair on the other side, a narrow bookshelf, and two separate metal filing cabinets. Other than that it's just white walls, a dirty window, an annoyingly bright overhead light, and a dusty smell that lingers.

I walk forward, set my box down on the desk, move around it, and then begin opening the drawers. She steps inside and closes the door behind her.

"I can at times be a little too frank and harsh with my words."

I look up at her.

"I promise it comes from a place of care and not dislike. You just don't seem like the type of person to be equipped to deal with these types of men and I don't want this place to change you like it does to a lot of people. We lost several counselors pretty quickly and I don't want you to feel obligated to stay to try and prove something."

I sit in the creaky chair behind me which seems to be a recurring theme with these office chairs that are supplied.

"I know I don't have to prove anything but I want to help people, it's my passion and to be honest I do want to prove something to others and myself. These inmates are people too and if I can cause real change then that's all that matters to me."

She looks up to the ceiling with a deep inhale and then meets eye contact with me again. "Alright well, I'm only going to try to convince you so much before I just let you do your thing. If the warden wasn't so damn desperate for counselors you wouldn't be here but we can't change that. You seem sweet and I just don't want anything to break your spirit."

I give her a small smile "I think I'll be okay but I appreciate you for trying."

She returns my smile, "So you should already have your schedule, and here are the inmate files you'll need."

I nod and she sets the stack of manila folders she was carrying on my desk. She then comes around the desk next to me and leans over to reach the computer.

"Okay, so your computer password is gonna be your first and last initial, followed by your employee number and the last 4 numbers of your social.", I nod along, "Here's the database for inmate information, and this computer has basic Microsoft Office for you to do all of your work. This is the communication database that we use to send emails and inmate information. Don't share your password with anyone since you're one of the onsite counselors you are going to be dealing with confidential information regularly." She holds a small set of four keys attatched to a flimsy keyring. "This is the key to your office, key to your desk, key to your file cabinets, and finally a key to the front office." She goes through labeling each key and then hands the set to me.

I nod a final time and turn to face her and see that her badge says Carla M. "Thank you Mrs. Carla I appreciate you helping with everything."

She stands up, turns to me, and pats my shoulder, "No worries, and let me know if you need anything honey okay? But don't bother me when I'm doing my crossword." I laugh lightly and watch her walk out of my "new" office. Well, new to me.

I do a quick little tap tap on the desk with my hands and begin unpacking my box setting my cup of pens to the left, a little bobblehead duck next to my shiny nameplate, and finally a cute floral mousepad under the keyboard and mouse. I open the top desk drawer and set other essential office supplies that I want out of the way along with my phone, wallet and keys. I then lock the drawer with key I was just given.

I check the schedule that I have attached to my clipboard and see that the first inmate that I will be seeing today is named Christopher Sturniolo. I grab one of the manila folders that is labeled with his name and notice that it's one of the thickest in the pile. I open it and inspect the first page.

Holy freaking crap, he's cute.

I find myself just gawking at his inmate picture for an extended period and slightly shaking my head to get myself out of the trance I was temporarily put in. I push my glasses back up my nose and continue to read his file. Armed robbery, drug charges, and resisting arrest along with a decorated history of assaults and fighting with other inmates. Whoa.

Looking back at the picture on the top left of the folder he just doesn't seem like the type to be so violent. With floppy brown hair and a seriously chiseled jaw, I'm curious to find out what went wrong in his life for this young and incredibly handsome guy to choose this life.

Right when I'm finishing up flipping through his file a loud knock sounds at the door and I yell a quick "Come in!"

A guard then opens the door and peaks his head in, "Ms. Y/n?".

"Mhm, that's me!"

He pushes open the door wider and drags in a not-so-joyful-looking Christopher Sturniolo through the door followed by another guard holding onto his other arm. He's in handcuffs and is a wearing bright orange jumpsuit that the prison provides for the inmates. They shove him into the chair onto the other side of my desk so hard that it slides a couple inches and scrapes loudly across the floor.

He doesn't even look at me, just directing his attention to my yellow ducky bobblehead that is gently nodding along. I clear my throat slightly and he makes eye contact with me giving me one of the deadest stares I've probably ever seen. It's quite honestly bone-chilling.

"Hi, my name is Y/n I'm the new counselor for this unit it's really nice to meet you, Christopher." I extend my hand across the desk to shake his hand. He just stares at my extended hand for a couple seconds and then looks back into my eyes rolling them before looking out of the window covered by dusty blinds. I hesitantly draw my hand back towards me while the two guards muffle a slight chuckle at my connection attempt.

"Um, I think we should get started with just basic stuff y'know to get you more comfortable-"

"God shut the fuck up." He mumbles while still looking outside the window.

I gape at him a little and look to the guards who just look at him with one look of annoyance and one who raises their eyebrows at me to see if I'd quip back. I label the two guards in my head as Annoyed and Eyebrows. "Don't start that shit boy." Annoyed warns him.

"I'm sorry if I offended you Christopher but-", I start.

"It's fucking Chris." He quickly whips his head toward me to correct me. Squinting his eyes even more than they should possibly be able to without closing. I gape even more if that was also even possible and he scoffs shaking his head as he leans back manspreading. "Stupid bitch."

Eyebrows steps forward slightly and booms "Do I need to give you another citation Sturniolo?"

Chris sucks his teeth and looks back outside the window. I twiddle with my thumbs on top of my desk. Shit just got really awkward. Not even 5 minutes into my first session and it's already going to shit. I can't help but scan my eyes over him. His pretty blue eyes that are directed away, his strong jaw and straight nose, his arms that seem to go for miles and that look wide and squeezable-

What the fuck Y/n.

Literally, a criminal is sitting right in front of you. A very hot criminal though.

"Maybe he'd feel more comfortable if you two step out during the session," I suggest.

All three heads turn to me in confusion. "Are you sure?" Eyebrows asks me in disbelief. I nod with a smile. "We can't discuss anything with you two breathing over his shoulders the whole time. It's fine." I reassure them while also expressing that they are impeding a bit.

They cautiously move towards the door and I see them exit both looking confused and concerned. I look back towards Chris to see that his eyes haven't left me. He licks his lips as a broad smirk crawls up his face. His eyes look hungrily toward me, maybe even starved. Quite a change in his mood since the guards were in here with us.

"We're alone now princess, what are you gonna do with me?"

A/N - holy cow i know that was a lot i'm sorry (>﹏<) please bear with me this is the first fic i've ever written and i'm incredibly anxious about posting it so i hope y'all like it. i plan on turning this into a series that's why there's almost no interaction with chris here but i promise it's going to be so so so so good just had to get technical stuff out of the way first. i've been a fan of the triplets for a while and i've been silently lurking around the community for a while as well so i finally grew the balls to write something lol (had fomo tbh). i really look forward to chatting with y'all and writing even more so let me know what y'all think of this one and if i should continue it. thank yew ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ (ps also let me know if the font in the beginning is too difficult to read or if y'all like it, i can def change it just lmk)

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abandonambition · 5 months

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Who drew these Capricorns? It's me! I did it. S...Sorry.

HI TUMBLAR. I'm Dana. I draw animals and mythical creatures (mostly capricorns and dragons). I like to reflect on lesser-known or dark aspects of nature, feelings of distress and despair, or creating designs that just look cool for the sake of looking cool. I have a sort of positive nihilist outlook on life, in that I'm rather upset with the general state of things but I still feel compelled to find or create beauty and interest anyway, even if my darker feelings sometimes come out through my work.

"Abandon Ambition" is both grimly serious and darkly humorous. I was raised in both a household and country that emphasized setting lofty goals of acquiring high earnings and impressive assets, but the timing of my pursuit of these things has laughably aligned with global financial crises, global pandemics and lockdowns, and now global heatwaves and global conflicts. Abandon ambition, and instead embrace what you want to say and do and create and build now; Tomorrow is not yours, and your goals may not be waiting for you there.

Be responsible, and be kind. But hope and wait for nothing.

So uh, yeah, I draw a lot of stuff and explore a lot of things that I think I've been holding back on for years for one reason or another. I want to draw dark goats, glowing bats, tempest capricorns, skinny dragons, snarling wolves. So here they are.

Check out what I made!

A lot of my designs find themselves on fun and/or practical merch! I like to create things that are high quality and have a long shelf life: I don't want to make something thinking it'll go in a landfill in a year, I want you wearing and enjoying my work for a very long time.

Here's a hat that glows in the dark!

Wow! Here's another hat that doesn't glow in the dark, but still looks really nice.

Pretty! If keeping your skull cozy isn't your thing, I've printed my art on fabric, too. I like this idea because if you move house a lot and/or can't afford custom frames, art printed on fabric can be displayed anywhere, and folds up nicely when packing up for your next move, without any breaking glass or anything.

A big part of my thinking when I'm designing products is also what do I myself use in my day-to-day life, and lately I've been desperately trying to cut my phone addiction by going back to pen-and-paper planners and books and things instead of using screens. And to keep track of where I am in my planners and books, I've made bookmarks!

I had so much fun designing these. You have something enjoyable to look at on both sides of the page it's clipped on. How fun is that?

Okay lastly, I make a TON of stickers. A lot of my designs translate really well into small, self-contained things like stickers, and I only ever print vinyl stickers, so they live a long time on your laptop or phone case or wherever you wanna put them.

So that's a small collection of the things I've done and made. Do you like them? I hope you like them. I liked designing them.

A COOOUPON JUST FOR YOUUUU

If you'd like one o' these things for yourself, you're in luck!

You, lucky Tumblar user, can visit my shop and take 20% off with code TUMBLR20. This coupon expires 1st April 2024 (or does it...? That's April Fools' Day after all... Okay yeah it does actually expire then. Sorry).

Oh, commissions?

Hey! Sometimes people like my art style and want a custom commission. That's great, and I'm so glad you're interested!

If you'd like a custom ink mailed to you on a postcard that also features my art on the back (so it's like... you get two pieces of art on one postcard), these are exclusive to my Patreon right here. I have limited slots per every month, so check back often in case I'm sold out.

I also offer what I call "instant order" commissions via my Ko-Fi. You pick out one of the offerings I have, send me your ref sheet, pay, and I just...get it done. It's as close to instant as commissions can get.

Besides those, I also do more bespoke work, so you can send me a message to discuss your idea and we'll work something out. :corporatethumbsupemoji:

Honestly? Thanks!

The internet has become a pretty weird and honestly rather hostile place. I'm a solo act that's as indie as they get. So, it really does mean a lot to me when your eyeballs land on my stuff and you click that little heart or reblog icon, or even better when you add it to your cart and click check out. Your eyeballs land on thousands of stuff every day, so the fact that my stuff brought you joy or interest or something deep that you resonated with means a lot to me. I think in a sense it makes me feel like my brush strokes are going somewhere far beyond whatever canvas I've otherwise confined them to.

This is a pinned post to share who I am and help me get some coins to fund my life and art projects, but yeah you can reblog it and share it around planet earth, I don't mind. It's nice.

So yeah, that's me! Feel free to comment if you have questions or want to know whatever else, I'll uh... reply and like answer them and stuff.

#artist alley #tumblr artist alley #art #drawing #animal #animals #artwork #creature #creatures #artist #goat #occult #baphomet #bat #cat #biquette

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