#speaking as someone who just lost a bunch of art there
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Ikki Matsumoto "Soaring Osprey" (1996)
#i like this goober#look at them#i did some post-prod on this image just so it looked crisp and clean#ikki matsumoto#florida#osprey#the number of these original prints that have drowned in the two major hurricanes there since 1996 is substantial#speaking as someone who just lost a bunch of art there#ding dangit
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may i request a yandere god/angel? The idea of something so pure..the one thing you have faith in is actually the thinkg keeping u trapped in their obsession bubble is so appealing to me. having no hope left anymore. just them <3
Yandere! God Hcs
Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
🌟 Yandere! God embodies profound wisdom and possesses knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. They have a mysterious aura and speak in riddles, often challenging his followers to seek enlightenment and often confusing the hell out of them. He’s very unpredictable and playful. He finds joy in playful interactions and enjoys surprising their followers with unexpected twists while they worship him. He lives for drama and will one hundred percent mislead his followers.
🌟 Yandere! God is starstruck when he first sees you. He can’t believe that such a cutie is worshiping him and is such a devoted follower. Any prayer that you wish for, he immediately tries to make it become a reality. Since he’s an all powerful god, you can best believe that he will misuse his powers when it comes to you. What’s this? You met a cute guy at work and flirted with him? Well too bad he got struck by lightning five times and died on the spot. Truly unfortunately. He’ll do his best to isolate you from your friends and family. You’ll be so lost that the only thing you can do is just pray to him whenever you can. The thought of this has him kicking his feet up in the air and twirling his hair.
🌟 Yandere! God plans out exactly how and when you guys will finally meet in person. After watching you for many hours he wants this moment to be as perfect as possible. He makes sure to be as dramatic and extra as possible, revealing himself in a very flashy way. Some lightning here and there and some cool looking smoke for his entrance. One day your just praying to him and poof he’s out in front of you.
“WHAT THE— WHO ARE YOU?!?”
“Some people want to meet me, some people don’t believe me, and some people claim to be me. I am…?”
“OH MY GOSH YOU’RE BATMAN?!?!”
“Yes it is— WAIT NO!!!”
🌟 Yandere! God eventually stops speaking in riddles around you because of your inability to get the correct answer. It’s just the only way that he can communicate with you properly and have you understand what he’s saying. Don’t worry though he still loves you nonetheless even if you are a total airhead. He will, however, personally tutor you if it ever really comes down to it. He still speaks in riddles to everyone else but you.
🌟 Yandere! God enjoys watching you pray to him. You view him as someone to look up to and ask about life questions. He makes sure to manipulate you by giving you advice that causes you to become a social outcast to the rest of the world. Who needs friends or a lover when you have him? Whenever his servants hear him say these things to you they just side eye him. They don’t try to do anything about it though because there’s no stopping him when it comes to love.
🌟 Yandere! God uses his followers as entertainment. They’re like his own personal reality tv show that he can control whenever he wants. He loves dropping random things on them and watching them freak out about it. Do you remember the time when a bunch of archeologists dug up an ancient rock with diamonds around it? Yeah, that was his badly made art craft that he threw away years ago. Do you also remember that hurricane that nearly destroyed a country a few months ago? Yeah that was also him, he just accidentally sneezed in the wrong direction that day. His followers believe that anything he does has a meaning behind it. Those natural disasters that have been happening recently must be a test from him. When in reality it was just you messing around with the weather because you we bored.
🌟 Yandere! God would make a new flower and name it after you. His love for you is infinite and would like to spend all of eternity with you. When you first met him you thought that he was supposed to be a generous and pure being. It was because of this thought that you never really saw his advances towards you as romantic. You just brushed these thoughts off and thought you were crazy for even thinking this was. When he found out what you were thinking he nearly ripped his hair off.
🌟 Yandere! God uses the idea of enlightenment to forever trap you by his side. Ditch all the people that you once knew and live with him. This is the only way for you to reach your full potential. People are just vial and disgusting so just jump right into his arms. He’s honestly so good a gaslighting that you don’t even question him and just do exactly what he says. To him it’s almost comical but he couldn’t be prouder of you. If you ever tried to gaslight him it wouldn’t work. I mean you can’t out gaslight the original gaslighter. He was literally the blueprint.
🌟 Yandere! God is terrible at cooking. This is understandable because he is a god and doesn’t need to consume food in order to survive. You, however, do need it. He tries his best to cook food for you but whenever you eat his food you always get food poisoning and need to run to the toilet. He always looks so proud when handing you the dishes that he made that you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t want it. So you usually just suck it up and shove it right down your throat.
🌟 Yandere! God is aware that you are a mortal and will one day die. So he tries various ways to make you immortal whether you like it or not. The thought of you dying just pains him and he’d do anything to prevent it from happening. He would destroy and sacrifice the entire universe if it meant that you’d be safe with him. Being with him is so suffocating. He’s like a clingy dog that always bites for attention. There is honestly no quiet moment where you get to be alone in your own thoughts because he is always watching you.
#yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere x darling#yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere oc#gn reader#yandere god
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The world is changing now. Soon, it will leave me and all the knowledge I accumulated during my life behind. It's not too late for me to get into the permanent record, though, with this information about a long-lost art of car ownership. I speak, of course, of the car stereo installation.
Nowadays, car stereos are largely an extension of your phone. And why shouldn't they be? Your phone can access any music you desire, conjure up pornographic visions from the ether itself, and tell you how to get out of the corn maze that you and your borderline-sentient 1979 Firebird Formula have gotten stuck in during your latest secret-agent shenanigans. Car manufacturers make terrible stock stereos, and so it just makes sense for them to step aside and turn them into "big screen that phone makes go."
It is for this same reason that, before the ubiquitous smartphone era, we wanted to swap the stereos in our shit-box Hondas. In the late 90s and early 00s, new standards were coming out practically every weekend. You didn't want to be the dope with an AM/FM/Tape combo when it was possible to be the brave technologist who accidentally bought a stereo on sale that only understood uncompressed Mini-Discs and the Diamond Rio 600. You could go to the store and buy a "head unit" (car stereo dweeb speak for "car stereo") and jam it into the dashboard, yourself. Sure, there were semi-professional installers out there, usually working at that very same store. Those installers cost money, though, and surely you can connect between 15 and 200 wires together in a way that doesn't burn your car down, right?
Wiring a stereo wasn't really that hard. It was just one of those death-by-a-thousand-papercuts deals. You pull out the old stereo, a task which ranges between "annoying" and "holy shit I don't think my car will ever go together again." Then, you unplug it from the wiring harness. They call it a wiring harness, because you get whipped by it and still somehow enjoy the experience.
It's at this point that the driveway-installing amateurs are separated from the driveway-installing pros. A smart person gets a little plug-in wiring adapter that translates from the car's wiring to the stereo's wiring. Someone who forgot to buy the little wiring adapter from the stereo store, and doesn't want to go back there because their car is torn into a million pieces, decides to hack and slash, twisting and soldering the car into the stereo permanently. This works too, but it will be a problem in about two weeks, when the MP3-CD player you just spent your paycheque on becomes obsolete, and is replaced by a Tokyo-24-HotSauce-WMV-DVD player.
Now comes the harrowing. You have just made your car's stereo harness much, much longer, and also likely much fatter. You gotta cram that shit back in the hole it came out of, ideally without getting in the way of anything else inside the dashboard. This is the point at which you must decide whether you will spend eight more hours routing wires, potentially re-doing the wiring work you just completed, or explain to your significant other that the heater controls only go two-thirds of the way to "cool" now. You will pass through this crucible and emerge a stronger, angrier person. You will have opinions on electrical tape for the first time in your life. Your neighbours will call the cops to have you killed after you swear loudly enough to wake their babies. The cops will laugh as you nearly pass out from heat exhaustion underneath your dashboard.
And in the end, you will be able to play an MP3 file from a burned CD. Congratulations. It was all worth it, until you go over a slight bump and the damn thing skips a bunch. I hear the new ones on the shelves now have a bigger anti-skip buffer. And those stock speakers, well, they sound like shit, now that you have this fancy new stereo blaring 64kbps Napster rips through it. Maybe pick up a new amplifier while you're at it, and an upgraded alternator to handle all that new current demand, and...
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I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH
CHAPTER FOUR: WHAT'S IN OUR SYSTEM
↢ chapter three | series masterlist | chapter five ↣
steve harrington x fem!baker + artist
word count: [12K]
warnings: no use of y/n, talks / mentions of mental spiral, fluff overload (everyone buckle up and prepare to be mush by the end)
summary: you and steve find yourselves entangled in something else besides your feelings. all of the fun things — skin and bones, breakfast and laughter, goodbyes and hellos. it’s dizzying, like a drug that flows your systems and should have the both of you wondering if it’s in any of your best interests. it’s not worth denying or thinking other wise… you both know you’ve made promises, now it’s up to you both to keep them.
It’s the same room and the same bed Steve had been spending most of his life sleeping in. Worn out and faded gray bed sheets that were long overdue to be replaced and pillows that lost their fluffiness years ago. His bed was nothing special, just the place where he would burrow under after all his hardest days and battles.
But these days his bed was just a place of hiding — somewhere he would go to in order to pass time hoping he could seek comfort even when he knew he couldn’t.
He’d lay and stare up at the ceiling waiting for his parents to drive off so he could finally go down and make himself some food without being victim to a lengthy lecture.
He’d even bunch up the blankets, using them to cover his ears and drown out his parents arguing, which was usually over something so stupid that could’ve been solved with a simple ‘sorry’ or if one of them finally kept quiet and let the other speak.
He managed to master the art of forcing himself to fall asleep so he could escape it, but it always seemed to follow him in his dreams… all the pent up anxiety about the future and how scared he was that he’d turn out just like his parents.
Stuck in the cycle and forcing everyone to walk on eggshells around him.
It was only really a comfortable bed when they weren’t around, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t lonely.
Hearing absolute silence was just as torturous as hearing his mom and dad fight.
A beautiful home, fully furnished that housed the picture perfect family only for it to be amounted to a place that didn’t feel like home at all. What a waste of space that had so much potential for a joyous family to actually live and create memories in. All it was now was filled with loneliness and nightmares.
But there were always those rare occasions where he could dream up a life that didn’t feel so lonely. A place with someone who he cherished and who felt like home to him — more than any furniture or square footage could make him feel.
Last night was one of those nights and only this time he realized it wasn’t a dream.
Through his sluggish eyes, he could still see the indentation in the shape of you from the night before. The little details of the way your arms had laid against the sheets and how your body shifted during the night. Your… his pillow etched with the silhouette of your head and your hair that sprawled over it.
The covers were partly thrown off to the side with you nowhere to be found. And as Steve weakly drew them up just to steal two more minutes of the morning warmth, he was greeted with a big waft of everything you.
The two minutes in bed didn’t seem enticing anymore. He just wanted to get to you now.
Vanilla filling his senses and coaxing his eyes wide awake.
Jasmine brightened up his energy as he made the bed.
Sweet peaches calmed his limbs as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror and got himself freshened up for the day.
It should’ve worried him, the way that you could’ve called Nance and have her bring you to Joyce and Hop’s to get your car and head home. Leaving him without saying goodbye or talking about what happened last night. But the anxiety didn’t seem to run through his veins when it came to you or this… he felt safe and tranquil knowing you were still here.
You had put his mind at ease, promising you would be.
Last night he emerged from the bathroom, bare chested with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his waist. His room was ill-lit, drapes blocking out most of the moonlight, letting only his weak lamp gleam up the corner of the bedroom.
You were already settled and comfortable, fast asleep in his bed. Covers brought up to your shoulders and your knees tucked up, curled like a baby snoozing soundly — or so Steve thought.
He smiled at the sight, content to know that at least you found his bed to be peaceful enough to sleep in. One hand came down to pull the covers up higher over you to keep you warm through the night. His palm lingering over your collarbone, watching and feeling you breathe in and out softly… the memory ingrained in his mind forever now.
“Night, sweet thing.”
It was a muted murmur, the last thing he was supposed to say before he switched off the light and headed downstairs to take the couch, but you had responded.
“Stay,” you stirred softly, shifting against the blankets as you picked up a throaty chuckle. Steve huffing out something about how you almost scared him to death.
But he grinned a tiny bit, crouching down to move the damp strands of hair that covered your cheeks. “You’ve been up this whole time?” he asked quietly, not wanting to invade the tranquil space.
“Mhm,” you crooned, peeping open your eyes to see him through your doziness.
His hair was still wet, itty-bitty beads of water sprinkling his exposed shoulders and the furs on his chest. He looked refreshed, but it was clear that he needed to get some much needed rest.
“We can share the bed, tonight,” you said faintly, bringing one of your hands up from beneath the covers to wrap around his wrist, “please?”
He swore you could feel his pulse in your touch, not that he minded. It felt so raw and so real different from anything he’s ever felt before. Everything about it felt almost sacred, like something out of his wildest dreams just feeling like he was needed by someone when he knew deep down it was him needing you all this time.
“Okay.” He nodded without faltering. He was met with you smiling sleepily at him, finally letting up on his wrist while you moved over to make space for him.
The lamp clicked off, cascading the room with complete darkness as he pulled back the covers and got in beside you. He was careful, putting a few inches between the both of you not knowing if closing it was something you were comfortable with.
“You can come closer,” you whispered quietly, letting your fingertips skim over his arm, letting him know he was alright to do so.
It was almost like second nature, his body drifting closer to you as you closed the remaining millimeters and draped your arms over his. You were like a bear clinging to him, yearning for his warmth and he was pleased to provide it to you on nights like this and forever, for that matter.
“Comfortable?” He chuckled bemused, looking down and seeing your head smushed under his pillow, seeking the proximity the same way he was.
“Extremely.” You sighed contently, breathing him in as your eyes fluttered shut.
Steve’s bed would never be the same, and it’s a sudden pang in his heart when he realized it because now you’ve turned it into a sacred oasis that he never wants to leave.
He swallowed nervously, letting his thumb trace circles over your shoulder. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too…very very happy.” You replied sleepily, letting your head nod against his skin letting the sleep consume you.
Steve didn’t want to ruin the moment, to sound desperate when you were trying to fall asleep and so should he. But he just had to ask… to make sure this wasn’t all in his head even when it was so delicate already.
“Will you be here in the morning?” His voice was shaky, trying to keep it stable and composed.
You didn’t waste another second, more awake than ever, as you opened your eyes and smiled up at him.
“I promise.”
That night there wasn’t any silence or his parents fighting — no agonizing sounds keeping him from feeling like this wasn’t a holy place. It was your breathing, gentle inhales and exhales as he watched your chest rise, wondering if you were dreaming about him. With each passing second that he listened to your breathing, taking it in like a lullaby to his ears, he let his eyes float closed, drawing him somewhere where it was just you and him.
His footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs that he jogged down, turning towards the living room and into the kitchen where he was met with your back facing him.
You were still dressed in his clothes, a pair of striped boxer shorts rolled over your waistline and an old faded Hawkins track team t-shirt — they both looked better on you than it ever did him.
His cheeks rose, lips tugging into a smile as he approached you. His arms rested on either side of the counter, caging you in, “morning, early bird.”
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” you teased with a giggle, leaning into the peck that he pressed on your cheek before turning to him and frowning deceptively. He looked almost worried, like he might have done something wrong, but then you broke into a grin.
“I was gonna bring you breakfast in bed.” You admitted, turning your head to the dining table where you had already prepared some cut up fruit in a bowl with a side of honey and yogurt you found in the fridge.
He ruined your surprise, yet didn’t feel an ounce of regret. Instead, his heart flocked with fever, blood rushing, and his cheeks beginning to grow sore with how much broader he was smiling now.
Breakfast in bed? An actual meal and not just a piece of toast slathered in peanut butter… not that he would ever mind if you brought him that because he’d eat anything you’d give him. But this just feels other worldly.
“That’s sweet,” he replied appreciatively, letting the smile linger on his face because he was quite sure he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to — all of this was just too much for his heart to handle, “but you could’ve slept in, I wouldn’t have minded at all.”
He’d skip breakfast if it meant he got to lie awake in the morning sunlight and watch you dream until you woke. But he also wouldn’t want to pass out on this, the sweetness of the moment with you being here and doing this for him when you didn’t have to.
You shrugged, setting down the whisk you were using for the pancake batter and letting your arms wrap around his neck, stretching yourself into him in a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms, cradling your back and pulling you closer.
“I wanted to… felt right.” Your words springing against his skin like a million tiny kisses.
Right there in that moment, everything felt right.
He pulled back just enough to see you, a pout playing on your lips not being able to hide away in his neck. “Well, at least let me help. I can make a mean scrambled egg.” He smirked, wiggling his brow as you glanced up at him and giggled.
You rested your chin on his chest, keeping your orbs on him, and you’re sure you looked a mess.
Hair still a little tangled within the hideous bun you tossed it up into this morning. And your face looking dull not having the chance to give it a proper wash and moisturize with your beloved products waiting at your apartment.
You shouldn’t feel your best, but all of those silly insecurities don’t seem to matter, not when Steve is looking at you with fondness in his eyes, like he’s done it a million times before. Taking you in like you’re the sunshine and he’s the flora, leaves eager to soak you in and bask in your rays for as long as you’d let him.
Nothing about this feels weird or nerve racking. If anything, it feels comfortable, like home. A kind of familiarity the two of you just decided to lie in together.
Finally, after all the morning ogling, you answer him. “I’d be a fool to pass out on it, Chef Harrington.”
You tapped your fingertips along the back of his neck and he laughed at the feeling, tucking his chin down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “On it.”
Steve has moved around this kitchen many times before. He’s not the best cook in the world, almost cuts his fingers off every time he tries to finely chop ingredients or nearly burns himself with how hot he lets the pan get. But he knows how to cook food that tastes good and keeps him fed.
But you… you moved around his kitchen like it’s the waltz and you made it look effortless. The way you strode from the cabinets in search of something, eyes lighting up when you found the brown sugar and hugging it to your chest as you stepped back to grab a small bowl. You poured a teeny serving in, rolling the bag shut and striding back to put it where you found it.
You took the gooey eggshells from his hands as you swept past him, discarding them into the trash and giving your hands a wash under the tap before you dried them on a towel resting on the counter. Then you’re back at the stove, peppering a light dust of brown sugar over the raw pancake batter and giving them a flip.
It’s as if you rehearsed it — the rise and fall of every movement you make and how you make the space feel alive even in the early hours. It’s an addicting sight, like something Steve wants to watch over and over again in real time… but only, there are eggs in his pan and he’d be damned if he would mess up the first thing he’s ever cooked for you.
“What’s that for?” Steve cleared his throat with a cough, tearing his eyes from you and turning them towards the stove.
You hummed, facing him and observing how he pulled the raw eggs towards the center of the pan with the spatula. He’s focused — you’re about to have the best scrambled eggs of your life and the slight tip he gives the pan proves it to you.
“It gives them a little crust with some sweetness. That way, you don’t have to use too much syrup and it doesn’t get soggy by the time you’re done cooking them all.” You told him.
“And where’d you learn that?” He asked, taking his eyes off the pan and bringing them straight to yours.
Your shoulders bounced, bottom lip moving over your top one. “Nowhere specific, kinda just experimented, and it worked!”
Steve should’ve known… you’re far better in the kitchen than he is and he’d take all your advice, self taught or read in a cookbook.
“Smart girl.” He complimented with a coy smile as you grinned before you both turned back to the dishes.
The next seven minutes were spent with Steve plating the eggs and you forming a stack of brown sugar pancakes on top of one another. He worked on setting the table, grabbing extra napkins to get close by and making sure you both had clean glasses.
Even when you weren’t at home, you were always trying to be a good host. This time finding yourself in his fridge, moving bottles and containers over as if it would help you find something that wasn’t there.
“Are you sure you don’t want orange juice? I swear I could juice some right now!” You called out, eyeing the fresh fruits that sat in the produce drawer.
Steve barked out a laugh, head shaking, when you turned your head over your shoulder to see him. His eyes pointed to the table, the empty seat that was yours waiting for you. “Stop it! Water is fine… just come to the table, please.”
You huffed defeatedly with phony annoyance, strolling to the table with nothing in hand as Steve already grabbed you both a fresh cup of cold water. He made a scene, pretending to bow as he dramatically dragged your chair out for you while you covered your face and snickered behind them. You took a seat and even let him push you in.
The both of you opt to side by side instead of face to face — it was more comfortable and special that way, even when your knees occasionally bumped under the table.
“Thanks for doing this for me,” Steve spoke suddenly, grasping your wrist and holding it gently.
He said it like you didn’t use all of his groceries and made a mess of his kitchen. Like you were doing him a favor, something he didn’t deserve, when all you wanted to do was show him how much he deserved all the special moments of life, even homemade breakfast.
You grinned timidly, swinging your head as your other hand rested on top of his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “It’s really no problem. You did let me spend the night and take your bed.”
His face fell with feign skepticism. “Technically, we shared,” he countered with a lifted brow.
You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue. “Okay, yeah, but still! I wanted to do this…really really wanted to do this for you.”
Steve could read between the lines, understanding where you were getting at without actually saying it.
How yesterday the mental spiral had taken a toll on him even after you promised you would spend the night at his. He was particularly quiet, keeping to himself and not having the energy to do much talking, but you didn’t mind, frequently turning to him and offering a comforting glimpse, rubbing a tender hand over his shoulder to ease his nerves.
You didn’t make him feel like there was something wrong with him or try to force him into the conversations when he didn’t want to. Instead, you let him be and made it clear that everything was alright. That you would be there when he felt lost and scared, even if he striked out and had to crawl back home.
He shouldn’t have turned the night he was anticipating into a long road of catastrophic blues. The words the kids had said without thinking should’ve bounced off of him like nothing. But instead he spent the night beside you wondering if how he was feeling was a mistake, if it was really all in his head the way he thought it was, or maybe how wrong and selfish it was to ask you to stay the night.
The whirlwind of uncertainty floating away when you grabbed his hand from under the table and gave it three squeezes when no one was paying attention. It was then and there that he knew you didn’t have any plans to leave… at least not without him.
All of that was true, seeing as though you were here in front of him.
He smiled kindly, eyes full of gratitude for you taking the time to do this for him even if it meant you missed out a few more minutes of sleep. Soon he’d find a way to make it up to you, but he wasn’t quite sure if anything he did would top this.
The two of you plated yourselves some food, digging in and enjoying one another’s presence in the early morning air that enveloped you both. And as per usual, Steve wasn’t subtle when it came to something you’ve made yourself. His fork clinked against the plate after he took a bite of the pancakes, throwing his head back on the chair and moaning loudly as he chewed.
“You’re a dork!” You chided, shaking your head as you laughed and slapped a hand over your mouth.
His head lifted up slightly, patting his bare stomach and giving it a rub. “That’s incredible, you’ve gotta trademark that or something.”
“I don’t think I could trademark food, can I?” Your eyes narrowed, thinking if that was a possibility because it didn’t sound bad.
He shrugged, sitting up straight and cutting himself another piece. “No clue, but you should try it. This is better than the boxed stuff,” he said, popping the fork into his mouth.
“It’s not too tricky, I could teach you how to make the batter from scratch next time?” You offered with a warm smile, eyes showing how genuine you really were about it.
He smiled tightly, nodding his head and speaking with a half full mouth making you grin. “I’d keep the recipe a secret… promise.”
Like something alike, you wanted to keep him a secret, and you’d be his if he let you.
But it would be a shame for either of you to be each other’s secret. Neither of you wanted to hide the other away from the world — far from that, actually.
He’d shout it from the rooftops and you’d paint it in the skyline — how special you both were to each other even after this short time. Have you both known each other for twenty seconds or twenty years?
Neither of you knew nor did you care because all that mattered was the lifetime you wanted to spend together like this. How this morning and last night felt so easy, as if you’ve spent the night in each other’s arms and woke up in them in some past life before.
Time was funny, but you and Steve never minded, not when this kind of feeling was soaring through your systems at an alarming pace.
The table was quiet for a few minutes, just the forks running against the ceramic and tolerable chewing. The two of you were stealing glances at each other when he was too busy spooning yogurt into his mouth and when you stared out the window watching the birds fly by.
Steve dredged his fingers clean, propping his elbow on the table as he watched you pick up the ice cold glass of water and finally tear your eyes away from the window to catch him.
“How do you like Joyce and Hop?” He proposed, not getting the chance to ask you last night before you both went to bed.
You gulped down the water, eyes lighting up. “Oh, they’re wonderful! They were really welcoming and made me feel right at home.”
He wasn’t surprised at all; he knew they’d love you and you’d love them — Hop and Joyce practically talked your ear off and you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, grateful that they were keen on getting to know you better without making you feel like you were being interrogated.
“Hopper didn’t bore you with his do-it-yourself kitchen renovation stories?” He questioned with a chuckle, reliving the vile conversation that came up during the dinner.
You scrunched your nose, catching his drift right away and your shoulders shuddering a bit. “I could’ve gone without knowing he found a huge rat in the walls, but at least now I know if I need an exterminator I could give him a call.”
“Trust me, he would have way too much fun going around and looking for things to fix.” He warned with no actual malice, just preparing you for the dad-mode Hop would be in if the occasion ever arose.
You snapped your finger as if you remembered something.
“Like the lock Max picked! It was pretty impressive, but I think it’s also a major safety issue.” Your voice falling with the realization.
He furrowed his brows, dropping his chin from his fists, face painted with worry and confusion. “Wait, Max picked your lock? When was this?”
“Oh, Robin didn’t tell you?” he shook his head, watching you sit up, “they stopped by that morning after you left and I guess I forgot to set my alarm and they were waiting outside in the hot sun so Max picked the lock to get in.”
You revealed the situation like it was totally normal for them to be breaking and entering. Meanwhile, Steve’s head was whirling with fear at how easy your lock must have been to pick if they managed to get in even after he was sure he locked it from the inside before he left.
He would definitely tell you later to get the locks changed for safety purposes.
Steve let out an exasperated sigh, letting his shoulders slump with disappointment. “I swore I told her to stop doing that.”
You lifted your brow suspiciously. “Did she pick your lock?”
“Worse.” He groaned, pinching his eyes shut at the memory from a few months ago. “She picked the lock to the arcade just after closing so she could beat Dustin’s high score on Dig Dug.”
You gasped, eyes widened slightly, and a laugh caught midway through your chest. “Did she get caught?” You asked partly stifled, not believing she could actually get away with it.
But he shook his head, further surprising you and somehow your eyes got larger, watching as he mimed her actions.
“She went to the back room and deleted the security camera footage before leaving. That’s when Robin and I closed up Family Video and caught her trying to leave out the backdoor.”
“What happened after?” You leaned in closer, waiting for the continuation of the story.
He lifted his hand in a dismissive manner, lips pursing accompanied with a playful tone in his voice, “Oh you know, classic lecture and threats of taking her to Hopper—”
You didn’t look convinced, narrowing your eyes. “She wasn’t scared at all was she?”
“Not one bit,” he deadpanned before smiling defeatedly, “she asked me to give her a ride home and gave Robin a stuffed animal she stole from the backroom.”
“You know she could make a stealthy spy.” You pointed your fork at him before stabbing a piece of apple on its prongs.
He crossed his arms across his chest and sneered, “Oh trust me, she does enough snooping… alllll of the kids do.”
“But they’re all really sweet. They probably all have good intentions and just might have questionable ways of going about it.”
He knew you were right, and yesterday was a prime example of that.
The kids meant well just trying to get him to finally fess up his feelings that had been harboring since the moment he laid eyes on you. Their goal was never to send Steve into such a mental spiral that it caused him to combust internally and detach for the rest of the night. It would be unfair of him to ever think that of them because it was far from what they were.
They all were good kids, cared about each other and wanted the best for everyone they loved, especially him. They all knew how much Steve sacrificed for them, plenty of times of almost getting fired for giving out free ice cream and letting them off the hook for returning their tapes late.
It was about time that they helped Steve in the only way they knew how, which was trying to encourage him to make a move on the girl of his dreams, and they had no idea it would have ended up like that.
He felt like an asshole for the way he acted towards them. They were young and just wanted to see him happy, but instead they saw him moody and petulant.
You didn’t miss the way his eyes glazed over, sitting stiffly in the dining chair instead of the relaxed way he was just moments ago. You reached out a hand, setting it on his forearm and letting it move and up and down.
“Are you okay, Stevie?”
He blinked, instantly melting back into the relaxed state once your touch was on his. A half smile quirking up on the corner of his lips, thankful for your concern and quickness.
“Thought I told you not to worry about me?”
Your concern faded slightly, a warm glint in your eye now. “Thought I told you I would, anyway.”
“I’m never gonna win, am I?” He frowned sarcastically, watching as your hand fell back to the table.
“Nope! Now, what’s on your mind?” You ordered, shifting your body to face him fully with your knees settling against his.
You looked determined to figure it out and try to help him. To get into his mind and kick those worries away. Your elbows resting on your thighs as you kept your eyes on him, patiently waiting until he was ready.
He ran a rough palm over his face, wriggling his shoulders. “Just thinking about how stupid I acted at the party last night. Felt like a ghost with how quiet I was.”
“You didn’t act stupid at all,” your voice filled with confidence while you shook your head, “you just needed a little break and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I felt like an asshole.” His voice trailed off with annoyance with himself.
“Don’t say that,” you pouted, poking his chest with a disapproving look on your face. “You’re not an asshole.”
He always found it endearing, your ability to always see the best in him, even when he knew he wasn’t at his best. Usually Steve’s always upbeat when it came to the friends and the kids, he’s known to be the friendliest of them all, but last night he felt far from that. As if he was the stranger sitting at the table lost in his own thoughts.
“You sure?” He asked like you’d ever lie to make him feel better.
You chuckled, nodding undoubtedly. “I’ve encountered a few assholes in my life and you’re waaaay off from one. You’re like the most non-asshole guy I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah?” This time a twinge of playfulness came with the question.
Nodding obviously, you leaned closer to him, your face hanging only inches away from his.
“A guy who memorizes a girl’s coffee order and picks up her favorite pastries when she’s far from a morning person?” Your lips curled into a smile. “I’m positive you’re not an asshole.”
Like a force of habit, his palm cradled your cheek, while you continued to stare up at him like he hadn’t been thinking so horribly about himself just moments ago. He was getting lost in your eyes; the ones filled with so much devotion and softness for the moment and how even this is enough for him.
“What if I just so happened to steal that cronut recipe?” He mumbled just clear enough for you to hear.
You pushed back against his touch, cheek rising suspiciously in the palm of his hand. “Why? Are you hiding it from me? Because if you are, then that’s cruel!”
A dimpled smile broke out on his face, closing his eyes blissfully and swinging his head no. There’s laughter erupting from you and he could feel it in the way the apple of your cheeks leaped against his palm. You didn’t shy away from his hand, letting yourself stick to him like the sweetest honey, and he didn’t care about the mess.
The real mess was whatever was in your systems.
He finally spoke. “No, but I know a stealthy spy who could help me break in and get it.”
You rolled your eyes, tongue in cheek. “You’re trouble, Harrington.”
The pulse point on his wrists felt your lips before he could comprehend what was happening. Your plush skin grazing his skin lightly, a kind of kiss that felt electrifying even when it wasn’t upon his own lips. It’s innocent yet still all around tantalizing, the urge to tell you that he’s crazy for you on the tip of this tongue more than ever now.
He was sure before that he’d go through all the trouble if it meant making you happy, but now he’s positive he’d even break into a family-owned establishment to get you that secret recipe – and most importantly, to feel you like this every morning.
His pulse was undeniably thumping against your lips, though you didn’t mind, letting them stay for a minute until the phone abruptly rang and you were tearing away from his hold, ripping yourself from him like a bandaid that took the skin with it. His wrist began to feel lonely, pulse feeling like it’s dying out not having you there anymore.
To your surprise, you weren’t feeling at all embarrassed, simply just giddy as he cursed apologetically and let his hand fall into his lap as he got up. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here!” You vowed, tipping your head back to watch as he left the kitchen.
It was only seven in the morning and he never got calls this early. Ever. Unless it was the kids.
“Hello,” he answered, pressing the hunk of plastic to his ear.
“Hey, kid,” it was Hopper, “how are, umm, you and the girl?”
Steve peeked back into the kitchen, seeing you finishing up the rest of the cut up fruit. “We’re having breakfast right now. What’s up?”
“Honey! They’re already having breakfast!” Hop called out, sound a bit far away.
“Crap!” Joyce wailed out in the background.
Steve laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. If you would’ve called half an hour ago, we’d still be in bed.”
“You guys shared the bed?” Hop inquired, his voice accusing and curious at the same time.
“Well… yeah.” Steve didn’t have any reason to lie, but he was regretting it the second it left his mouth.
“Soooo… s’that why you both left early yesterday?” Hop suggested, sounding more interested in conversing now.
Steve turned away from the adjoining wall, cupping his hand over the receiver as he spoke sharply. “What? No! We left early because I was crabby and she was getting tired.”
A puff of air came from the other end, Hoppers laugh heavy. “You know you don’t have to lie—”
“Oh my god, I’m hanging up, now.” Steve’s fingers were ready to press the hook switch to end the call.
“Tell your girl I checked her tire pressure and added some air into her back left wheel, thing was nearly deflated.”
“Yeah okay, appreciate it. We’ll be there in a few.”
There’s talking in the background, he could hear Joyce saying something and Hopper attempting to cut her off with ‘yeah’s’ and ‘got' it’s.’
“And Joyce says she’ll save some breakfast sandwiches.” Hop grumbles.
“Okay, thanks, bye.” Steve said rushed, pulling the phone away from his ear.
He placed the phone back onto the rest, shaking his head a bit at the teasing he often faced from Hopper, but it was all in good fun. At times, he felt that Hop and Joyce were more like parents to him than his own. Hell, they knew more about his life than his parents ever did.
“Who was that?”
He took a seat beside you again. “Hop. I think Joyce made him call to ask if we wanted some breakfast.”
“Oh no, I hope she didn’t go through too much trouble.”
Steve shook his head, reassuring you. “She said she’d save us breakfast sandwiches for when we go and get your car.”
“That’s sweet of her.” You bubble, a smile replacing how apologetic you feel for missing out on her breakfast.
“And Hop said to tell you he checked your tire pressure and filled the back left one up with air.” Steve informed you, watching the way your eyes filled with appreciation and surprise.
“Oh my god, he’s the best! How much do I owe him?”
You’re a lot of things — talented, kind, beautiful, all around down to Earth, but you don’t know much about cars and he doesn’t blame you because they’re boring, but he now realized he can never let you walk into an auto shop alone and let you be victim to those premium air scams.
“Nothing, sweetheart. The air is free, and he just uses a special machine to fill it up.”
“But it must have taken him forever.” You protest with a deep breath, determination behind your voice like you’re sure of it and you want to compensate the old guy.
Steve’s face softened, moving over to clutch your hand and give it a squeeze. “He takes longer to pick up donuts and head into work. Filling up tires is easy peasy for him, I promise you.”
“You sure?” You bit your lip still feeling a bit bad for Hop going out of his way.
He nodded, giving your hand another squeeze. “Positive.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Just curious as to why we left early last night. Told him I was crabby, and you were getting sleepy.”
“I wasn’t that tired.” You mumbled.
Steve scoffed, forehead creasing up because you clearly didn’t see yourself how he saw you last night. “Sweetheart, your eyes drooping on the drive home.”
“No, they weren’t!” You half-laughed in defense, palms resting on the table.
“You fell asleep so quickly last night.” He pointed, roaring at the way you gave in and blushed.
“I was just really comfortable.” You whined, lifting your eyes away from his in an attempt to stop yourself from looking like a dork.
“Yeah, you looked super comfortable. You were even snoring a little.”
You shrieked, a small scream coming from your throat and hands covering your face. “Was I?” God, that’s embarrassing!”
He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, working them away from your face without any resistance. Your eyes met with his smile and headshake. “No, it was cute! You’re just lucky you fell asleep first because had you not my snoring would’ve kept you up.”
“I think I’d be able to fall asleep either way. It was so comfy.”
What you really meant to say was that he’s comfy — practically was your space heater and human pillow. You would be a liar if you didn’t think that you were a bit too clingy last night, but he didn’t seem to mind from what you remembered and it felt nice not having to apologize for that. You know Steve would’ve told you if he didn’t like it; he was always honest with you.
“Would it be okay if I had another shower before we leave?” You watched him stack the plates, getting up and walking them over to the sink.
“Course! Go and I’ll take care of the dishes.” He replied, taking the bowls you had stacked from your hands.
You willingly handed them over, following him to the counters. “No, c’mon let me dry and you can wash,” attempting to reach into the drawers to retrieve a clean kitchen towel.
But he blocked you, keeping his hip attached to the wood. “No, go on and shower. I’m not moving till your butt is walking upstairs.”
You both knew he wouldn’t relent, not like the first time you’d stepped into his home and insisted you helped gather plates and cutlery. Things were different now, with time grew comfortability, but also playfulness and ease.
“Fine!” you fussed, trudging away dramatically.
“Did you need to borrow clothes?” He called out, arms folded over his chest as he watched you.
You halted near the doorway, spinning and wrapping your arms round the frame, smiling stupidly at him. “Please? I would use my clothes, but they still smell like charcoal.”
“Pick whatever you want, and leave the dirty ones in the hamper. I’ll do a load before we leave.”
“Thanks! You’re the best!” You singsonged, making your way up the stairs leaving him with the biggest love sick smile on his face.
The Harrington house has never felt this homey and for Steve it’s a feeling that he never wants to fleet. His fists running under lukewarm water scrubbing dishes that weren’t only used by him but by someone whom he wanted to stay with. The lip print you had left around the cusp of the glass, suds away, and he wondered when was the next time you’d be coming around.
Clean dishes pile onto the kitchen rag you laid out before you went to shower. He decided to let them air dry instead, making better use of his time by heading upstairs and grabbing the hamper of dirty laundry filled with both yours and his clothes.
Strolling down the hallway, he heard the sound of the running water in the shower accompanied by your hums to a tune he couldn’t pick up from behind the wooden door. Though it doesn’t fail to make him smile, pleased that you felt so comfortable at his place already. Turning into his bedroom, he fetched the laundry basket, twisting back around to head downstairs towards the washing machine.
Steve had never put much thought into actually taking the time to do separate loads of laundry, honestly just sticking everything in one wash and throwing them in the dryer as any other person would do. He was guilty, a few times some of his white t-shirts would dye a bright green from his work vest but they were replaceable.
It’s only then when your clothes are in his care that he takes the time to read the labels to make sure he’s washing them properly. Your floral long sleeve, safe to wash along with the rest of the other garments. But he doesn’t risk it with the denim overalls, deciding that it’s best for them to have its own cycle to prevent it from fading too much and wearing the material down.
A hefty scoop of detergent goes in with the wash before he clicks start, and the whirling begins.
Your fingers reached for the lotion bottle that sat on his bathroom counter, pumping a dollop into your palm and spreading it across your damp skin. Though it’s unscented, it still smelled like Steve, a hint of him layering itself over the body wash you just used in his shower a moment ago. When the two are paired together, it’s a reminder that you didn’t wash away his touch from last night or this morning, but now you felt like you were reapplying it like a second layer of skin.
You worked the tan buttons that lined the front placket through the buttonholes, leaving the first two undone for a more casual feel, letting it droop down one of your shoulders. Another pair of his boxer shorts, this time light blue colored, rolled up over your hips to fit snuggly.
Running your hands down your sides, you took a deep breath in the mirror, satisfied with the way you looked despite the slouchy fit to the oversized garments. You liked the way you looked in Steve's clothes, no matter how baggy they were on you.
“Let me fix…this,” you complained to yourself, motioning around your head before tugging your hair out of the bun and letting it fall down your back.
Your fingers worked through the roots, giving them a bit of volume while the other brushed the ends, untangling some of the knots. You sectioned your hair in half, keeping the top half in a little bun in the back of your head while the bottom half flowed down nicely.
Grabbing your damp towel off the counter, you hung it on the rack before hitting the light switch off and opening the door.
“Oops, sorry!” You yelped, running smack dab into Steve’s side as he walked by.
He tsked at himself, immediately stabilizing you by the shoulders. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he paused, the two of you laughing now before he looked down and realized what you were wearing. “Woah, you look nice.”
Your fingers played with the sleeves that nearly covered your palms, looking up at him through your lashes. “Hope you don’t mind. It looked nice.”
Steve shook his head, shamelessly admiring the way it looked on you. He hasn’t worn the button down in a few weeks, forgetting it was even in his closet, but glad you found it and picked it out for yourself.
“Looks better on you.” His hands rubbed up and down the sleeves before nodding his head towards his bedroom where you followed.
He headed for his closet, pulling the accordion doors open while you plopped down comfortably onto his neatly made bed, shifting onto your stomach as you observed him.
“Got any idea on what I should wear?”
“Dark jeans? Maybe some Nikes?” You suggested, propping your chin up on your arms.
“Nude top half?” He said, and you could feel the smirk in his voice.
You snorted. “Shut up. You’ll look good in whatever you pick.”
He plucked some pieces off the hangers, shutting the doors before turning to you. “Just teasing. I’ll be quick and then we’ll be out of here.”
“Take your time…do you mind if I sketch?”
You looked towards his desk, eyeing the yellow notepad that sat on top of the rest of his belongings. He nodded, walking up to it and grabbing a pen and pencil and handing them to you. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you!” You took it from him, getting to work as he walked across the hall.
You didn’t take yourself seriously with the sketch, drawing up whatever you had in your head. It’s what you had woken up to that morning—Steve’s arm slung across your stomach with his face in the crook of your neck. Snores and breaths greeting your skin in the purest kind of way, even if it had gotten you up a little earlier.
You wished you had a polaroid around to capture the scene, but thankfully your photographic memory wouldn’t ever let you forget it. Such a sight to see the sun peeking in through the cracks of the curtains, spilling a beautiful glow over his back that made each and every single one of his beauty marks stand out – now you were positive you knew where each other was.
He looked at peace, face no longer sulked and somber like it had been the night prior. The crease between his brow ironed out, not a glimmer of anxiety as he dreamed…if only you could convince him to stay right there forever because you didn’t want to share.
“Ready?”
Losing track of time when you were lost within the pen and paper wasn’t abnormal, but being pulled out of the trance by a beautiful boy was something new. You peered up from the page, breath hitched as you took all of him in.
A color block polo — dark blue to compliment the wash of his jeans and cream in the center. You liked to think he was matching you in a way.
“You look really good.” You complimented with a tight smile, capping the pen and rolling off of your stomach.
“You picked it so thank you.”
He turned to his drawers, pulling them open to get a clean pair of socks. Unbeknownst to him, you ripped the sketch off the pad, folding it and slipping it under one of the corners of his landline, just enough of it peeking out for him to find later.
You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving yourself a one over in the hanging mirror before Steve finally shut the drawer and turned back to you.
“The wash isn’t done yet?” He said, letting you walk in front before he closed his door behind him.
You hummed out a no, listening closely to hear the slight rumbling of the machine. “I can still hear it running.”
You both stopped at the front door, Steve leaning against the wall as he slipped his socks on and pushed them into his Nikes. Undoing the laces, he knotted them tighter, pulling the strings taut.
“I’ll pop them in the dryer when I get home and give you your stuff the next time I see you?”
“That’s perfect, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.” You assured him, bending down as you strapped your sandals on.
He waited until you were ready, opening the front door for you and then reaching into his pockets for the keys. With your back facing him, you looked out on his driveway, seeing how the shiny red hood reflected the sunlight. It was practically spotless, not even a smidge of dirt across his front bumper — he must have really adored his car.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how nice your car is.”
“You know she used to be cleaner before the kids started eating and leaving their crumbs behind.” He told you, his fingers twisted the front door to make sure it was locked, which it was.
“They’ve got you wrapped around their pinkies.” You nudged him as you walked down his driveway.
He wiggled the keys in the air. “Wanna give it a drive?”
“HA! You’re so funny.”
“No, I’m serious.” He added, placing the keys in your hands and closing your fingers around them.
“You’re gonna let me drive your fancy car?”
He laughed comically, unsure why it seemed so out of this world to you that he would let you drive his car. You’re probably the only person Steve trusted to drive it. You’re responsible, and unlike Eddie, he knows you won’t try to race the other cars on the road.
“You’ve got your license, which means you know how to operate a car. Fancy or not.”
“You sure?” You sought again skeptically, giving him one last chance to back out.
“I trust you. Now c’mon, I’ll give you directions and everything and this time you won’t get lost.” He assured you, walking over to the driver’s side holding the door open for you.
“You put way too much trust in me, Steve.” You puffed with a weak laugh, walking over to get in.
“Actually, just the right amount.” He patted the top of the hood before shutting the door.
He held his hands out for your purse, resting it in his lap as you began adjusting the seat and mirrors to your liking. Steve reminded you that it was okay to adjust it as much as you needed, that he would be able to fix it all back to normal later. Before you knew it, you were on the road, driving in probably the nicest car you’ve ever driven in your life while the radio played and Steve gave you directions to Joyce and Hop’s.
“And ladies and gentlemen, we’ve arrived…alive!” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth, announcing it with a deep voice as you giggled.
“Stop it!” You placed the car into park before nudging his shoulder with a feeble fist.
His hands let up, looking in your direction with a small smile showing up. “I knew you’d do good.”
“Got my half broken down piece of crap to thank.” You joked, jutting your chin to your less than adorned car parked beside his.
“You know Eddie’s uncle knows a thing or two about cars? Maybe he could check it out one day?”
“Oh my god, please?”
“I’ll call Eds today and see what Wayne can do.”
“You’re amazing.”
Steve felt like he’d been reduced to a fit of smiles and sore cheeks all morning, taking in your compliments and passing them back to you. He’s used to people thanking him, but never for the bare minimum parts he promises you he’ll never break. It’s something he could get acquainted with, and he hoped it would never end.
Within his peripheral vision, he could see the family begin to crowd the porch, watching through the windshield. “Looks like we’ve got a crowd.”
“I’m not surprised.” You retorted, making the first move to remove the key from the ignition and open the door.
“Morning!” You hailed out loud, tossing the keys over to Steve as he locked it up.
“You let her drive your car!” El exclaimed, though you were both pretty sure she meant it as a question.
“Mhm, she’s horrible, a menace to society. You should arrest her right now, Hop.” Steve answered seriously, patting Hop on the behind with a growing smirk.
“You’re ridiculous.” You snorted, waking over to give the kids and Jonathan a hug.
“Had a fun night?” Hop urged, leaning against the post.
You nodded, looking up at Steve. “More like relaxing… Steve’s shower pressure is perfect, better than the one I have at home.” You informed them, missing the smirks that fell on Hop and Jonathan’s faces.
Hop stuck his hand out, pushing at Steve’s shoulder roughly. “Oh, I’m sure Steve has the right amount of pressure somewhere else—”
Joyce erupted with a loud cough, picking up your attention and catching her stomp on his foot in the process, while he winced, cursing under his breath.
“Inside!” She blurted, clearing her throat and gesturing to the front door, "I’m gonna give you the dish you brought inside! I just washed and dried it a little while ago.”
“Oh, okay!”
The spectators on the front porch waited until you were out of reach to start talking about what was going through their minds since you and Steve left last night. It was a short goodbye; you thanking Joyce and Hop for having you over and giving everyone else a hug while Steve waited by until you were done. Safe to say, once you both drove off, they all speculated on what was going to happen and why you were really spending the night at his.
“You’re disgusting, dad.” Will scowled, shaking his head with revulsion.
Hopper ignored him, looking over at Steve. “She’s wearing your clothes.”
“Okay and?” Steve said, looking a little annoyed at how anyone was crediting him for the truth.
“You two had sex.” He declared flatly, a grin tugging up on his lips as the porch exploded with grunts and obscenities to shut up.
“Oh, my god!” Jonathan choked on his spit, turning away and laughing.
“Gross!” El yelped, covering her tomato red face.
“I think I’m gonna barf.” Will declared, dramatically clutching his stomach.
Steve rolled his eyes at their ignorance, arms crossing over his chest. “Believe it or not, I don’t need to have sex with her to have a good night.”
“Wow, isn’t that the first?” Jonathan bantered with a satirical inflection in his tone.
“Is that a hickey on your neck?” Steve narrowed his eyes, pointed at the purple bruise hiding behind his messy hair.
“I’m definitely gonna throw up.” Will gagged, turning away and covering his mouth.
El frowned, looking down at her chipped nails. “Is that why Nancy didn’t want to paint my nails last night?”
Hop looked between the youngest and the oldest. “I thought she left with Robin after the barbecue.”
“Oh my god, this isn’t about me!” Jonathan stammered, slapping a hand behind his ear to hide the love bite.
“What happened?” You buzzed, strolling back out to the porch with the glass bowl in hand and Joyce beside you.
Steve grinned wickedly, happy that he got them off his back, turning to Jonathan and smacking him over the head lightly. “Nothing, just teasing him.”
“Speaking of, Jonathan, don’t you need to give her something?” Joyce’s eyes darted to the back of his pocket where the flyer was folded up.
He reached behind him, passing it over to you, Steve taking the bowl from your hands so that you could unfold it and read its contents. A bright graphic announcement of a farmer’s market that would be hosted in Hawkins next weekend.
“Nance meant to give it to you last night, but she forgot,” Jonathan began, “We’re trying to get the town rallying behind small business before they all get driven out. She was wondering if you wanted to help out and host a booth.”
“Like a bake sale?” You proposed.
He shrugged, looking over at his brother for some guidance. “Kinda, but she was thinking of it as a bake sale and art sale combined.”
Will chimed in without missing a beat. “I pitched the idea to Nance, and she seemed to really like it. I could help you manage the booth. I’ll take the art side and you can handle the baked goods, then we switch around the halfway mark.”
“That’s genius.” You grinned, reaching back to rubbing his shoulder proudly.
“No really, you guys should do it.” Steve supported from behind you knowing that you would be great at something like this.
El let out a gasp, clutching your shoulder lightly as she wedged herself between you and Steve. “I can help with the money! I’m getting better at counting change!” She spoke bubbly, making you and him laugh.
“Nancy’s covering the whole thing and writing a paper about it. She’s really hoping to get it published.”
You’d help out either way knowing that this was an important cause, but hearing about how Nancy was the leader of this whole thing made you want to help even more. She was so passionate when talking to you about her love for writing and keeping these mom-and-pops in her town up and running — you were definitely in.
“Well, tell her I’d be happy to help!” You replied warmly, folding up the paper and sticking it in your purse.
“Great! I’ll let her know!”
You twisted your head, looking over at Hop. “Oh! And thank you for filling up the tire!”
“No problem, kid.”
“It didn’t take you long, no?”
“Easy as could be.” The older man assured you with his tongue clicking.
“Told ya.” Steve smirked, pressing his elbow gently into your side, making you giggle.
The two of you didn’t notice how the family was watching the way you and Steve interacted like a couple, so oblivious to the small touches and teasing that usually never came with everyone else. It was the kids who stepped forward, breaking up the love dove fest between the both of you. Will slung his arm over Steve’s shoulder and El rested her chin on his shoulder with those puppy eyes that the babysitter could not say no to, even after the meltdown last night.
“Steve, could you give us a ride to the arcade? Lucas and Max are already there.”
Steve scoffed, glancing over at the other adults around. “You’ve got your parents and your brother here who all have licenses you know.”
“Hop and I are gonna go run errands!” Joyce clapped her hands, gawking up at Hop who snapped out of it and nodded agreeingly.
“Gotta go see Nancy.” Jonathan tried to excuse himself.
It was no use. Steve was ultimately the go-to chauffeur, the best and safest driver who wouldn’t only take them to point A and B, but stayed until they were ready to go back home and occasionally gave them spare change when they ran out.
“Go get changed.” Steve exhaled, utterly defeated.
El and Will cheered, detaching themselves from his sides before engulfing you in a quick, yet tight hug. “Bye! We’ll see you!” They said before rushing inside.
“Bye-bye, kiddos.”
Steve looked over at you, tilting his head towards your car. “C’mon, I’ll walk you.”
You nodded, twiddling your fingers at Jonathan and his parents. “Bye guys, thanks again!”
“See ya sweetie.”
Steve stepped a bit ahead of you, opening the driver door when you clicked the fob before moving towards the back seat and putting the dishware on the empty seats. You waited until he shut the door before reaching up and wrapping him up in a hug.
Your bodies molded together, like they’ve done times before, holding one another properly like it was routine by now. His face in the crook of your neck while you tiptoed and rested your forehead under his jaw.
“Drive home safe okay?” He squeezed your back, feeling the skin indent through the garment.
“I will.” You promised, taking a deep breath of him in, savoring everything right now.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t let anyone beat Max’s high score on Dig Dug.” You spoke half jokingly.
“I’ll try.” He huffed out against your neck
“Tell me about it later.”
He gave your back one last gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple before he released you and let you get into the front seat. You hadn’t made the move to close the door yet, just settling in by placing your bag on the passenger seat and twisting on the ignition.
“You still have a full tank?” Steve peered a ways bit in, his focus on the arrow on your dashboard. He got a glimpse of the red light that switched on, making a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later today.
You took a peek, nodding and looking up to meet his gaze. “A little more than half. I should be okay for the drive home.”
“Okay, sorry, just wanted to make sure. Didn’t want you running out on the highway.” He apologized sheepishly, raking a hand through his hair.
“No, it’s alright, it was sweet.” You giggled, moving up to tuck a stray piece of hair away from his eyes.
He gulped, your hand still trying to place the piece with his roots. “See you in a few days?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, nodding your head, “a few days.” You agreed, fingertips finally trailing over his cheek and jaw before falling back into your lap.
“O-okay… great, awesome, get home safe.” He sputtered slightly, eyes still holding yours.
“You too! Oh, and Steve?” You stopped him from moving away from your car, though he wasn’t making plans to, anyway.
“Yeah?”
“I might have left something on your desk, but you can just check it out later okay?”
“Something important? I can drive down and get it real quick?”
You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I mean yeah, it’s important, but not that important… well I kinda hope that it is important, to you I mean — sorry, am I rambling?”
“Not at all.” He said, biting back a chuckle.
“Just…just check it out when you get home okay?” You asked, voice fluttering with desperation like you needed him to find it.
“Promise.”
You took a deep breath in, smiling wistfully and feeling your chest tighten having to say goodbye. “See ya, Steve.”
“I’ll see you, cupcake.” He assured you, tapping the hood of your car and shutting your door gently.
It’s been hours since this morning. The day slowly dwindled into night by the time Steve parked his car in the driveway and unlocked the front door. He was only able to pop in for a few minutes before he brought the kids to the arcade, throwing the clean laundry into the dryer and saving your overalls for when he got home. Slipping his shoes off, he made a beeline to the laundry room, tossing the denim material into the machine before emptying the dryer and taking the basket with him.
“Fuck,” He spat, stubbing his toe near his desk in the darkness before clicking on the lamp for a little bit of light.
He dropped the basket onto the floor, making plans to fold and put them all away before he went to bed. But eyes caught the bright yellow paper tucked under his home phone, crimped into fourths with his name written in a heart on it.
It was you who left it and he knew it. His hand springing forward and nearly toppling the phone off the desk all together as he seized it and swiftly opened it up without ripping.
A sketch of you and him in bed. You’re lying awake, facing towards him with your hands resting on his arm that’s sprawled over your stomach. His face is partly hidden in your neck, yet you’ve detailed everything like the bridge of his nose and the curve of his jaw. Even the freckles that litter his skin are dotted in the blank ink. Glimmers of sunlight created with the gray graphite along with the creases of the bed sheets covering the bottom half of your bodies.
Even for a sketch, he knows this is unreal, the talent you have, insane for drawing this up in the matter of his fifteen minute shower. He should have been looking at himself, appreciating how much thought you put in to making sure it looked exactly like him, yet he’s looking at you.
How you’ve drawn your face with somehow all the emotions that he can feel through this piece of paper. That while he was asleep dreaming of you, you were awake watching him. It’s intimate, like you’ve let him know what you’ve both been feeling all this time and finally confessed.
In the prettiest and neatest handwriting he’d ever seen, you had left a message in the blank corner.
‘You look pretty when you’re sleeping, Stevie. Not gonna forget like an idiot this time… xxx-xxx-xxxx.’
Steve had never picked up the phone and dialed so speedily that he had to hang up and redial, totally messing up and pressing the wrong numbers the first time.
It’s been hours since you departed Hawkins. The drive back to Roane was uneventful but still smooth, hitting no traffic and even crunching enough time to stop by the diner to say hello to Dorothea and catch her up on life.
You had spent the rest of the day fueled with energy and anticipation. The second you walked into your apartment you felt a spark of motivation. Something calling you back to the piece you had abandoned only 24 hours ago. Now you had a clear mind and no thoughts of feeling like the sketch looked like garbage — even if it was a flicker of false inspiration, you’d take it.
Half of the sketch had already been painted by the late afternoon. Different shades of browns you had mixed together for the golden crust of the pie as well as the lattice design you had freehanded. Only parts of the cherry filling had been painted with a red too red for your liking, but you’d go back in tomorrow to refine it instead of beating yourself up then and forgetting about the progress you had made.
You were trying to be nicer to yourself.
Little progress still meant progress, and that was the one thing that mattered. That finally something in your system was flowing the way you wanted it to, and part of you felt like it was Steve. Possibly his reminder echoing in the back of your head that the act of trying was literally you trying, and that in itself was good enough.
You were good enough and the progress you made was good enough.
Breathe. Take it in. Breathe out. Take it in.
The act of you literally doing breathing exercises in front of your painting could’ve been seen as narcissistic. Maybe it was? But for you, it meant something a lot different. It was you patting yourself on the back for what you did and making mental notes of what you could’ve improved on without openly criticizing yourself so harshly.
You were so good to other people; you had to find it in yourself to be good to you. To treat you the way, you treated others — how you complimented everyone for doing their best and how you should’ve been doing the same all this time.
It was never too late to break down that old system….to grow and be better.
You had walked away from the canvas minutes ago, busy in the kitchen grabbing a little snack and figuring out what you were going to have for dinner or even if you had any energy left to make some. A hot bag of popcorn came out of the microwave and you popped open a soda, going to sit at the table for a little downtime before—
RING! RING! RING!
“Eeeek!” Squealing you nearly tripped over the coffee table, rushing towards the phone juggling your snacks as you struggled to figure out what to do first — put everything down or answer the phone.
“Hello!” You answered nearly out of breath yet cheerfully, gasping quietly as you caught your can of Coke before it tipped over and made a mess.
“Hey!” Steve’s voice rang through the other line, and he sounded just as delighted.
“Steve! Hey….” you paused, catching your breath, “y-you found my sketch?”
“It’s my newest prized possession.”
“I missed you… I-I mean, I missed hearing your voice. We literally just saw each other this morning.”
Somehow it felt easier to talk to Steve in person rather than on the phone–even if it meant he could physically see you blushing and smiling like a maniac. Yet he found it cute, how you tried to cover your tracks as if he didn’t feel the same way and could imagine what you looked like right then.
“I missed you too — you’re voice and you.” He said, making you smile wider.
“What are you up to?” You asked, getting comfortable on the floor.
“Laying in bed, still looking at the drawing while talking to you.”
“Are you sleepy?” You wondered, realizing the hour and the day he must have had.
“No! Sorry… I just didn’t want you to think I’m tired. I mean I am tired, but I’m not tired enough to not want to talk to you.” He said convincingly, though his stumbling over words made you second guess it.
“You can always sleep if you want to…we could talk tomorr—”
He cut you off with an abrupt disapproving hum. “Don’t even think about it!”
You giggled, shoulders rising and falling comfortably before you started up. “You’ll never guess what I did today!”
“Steal the cronut recipe?” He guessed without skipping a beat.
“Oh my god, no!”
“Fineee tell me.”
“I painted!” You exclaimed, voice rising higher, “like actually. really. painted. something with my own hands and I didn’t look at it and think “wow this looks like shit,” I did it!”
You sounded proud of yourself, and he hoped you were feeling that just as much on the inside. Only a week ago, you were tearing yourself apart in the diner where you sat across from him, and he could do nothing but speak encouraging and honest words to you, hoping you’d see it through the way he did.
If he was there, he’d give you the biggest hug in the world then take you out to the diner. This time he’d actually grab the bill before you could and bring more quarters so you could play an unlimited amount of love songs and dance with him until your bellies were full and your legs were tired.
You wished he was here.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s great! What’d you paint?”
You swallowed, peering up at the canvas that was drying. “It’s uhh… it’s a surprise!”
“Surprise?” He said, literally taken by surprise.
“Yeah! So I can’t tell you.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it… maybe soon?”
“Fingers crossed.”
That was enough for him… a promise that one day, whenever it may be, he would get the chance to see it with his very own eyes instead of just hearing about it. He already knew he’d be complimenting it and you for days on end, you’d probably get sick of it, but he wouldn’t.
“You’ll never guess what happened today.” Steve began shuffling a bit on his bed to get comfortable.
You gasped, reaching for your popcorn and tossing some in your mouth. “Did Dustin beat Max’s score?”
“Worse.” He said behind a strained laugh.
“Oh god.”
“Mike did!”
You slapped your hand down on the coffee table, making him chortle on the other line, knowing you’d react like this. “Oh, my gosh! Tell. Me. Everything!”
“It’s a long one.” He warned you, hoping you had the time to give him.
You scoffed jokingly, grabbing your snacks and leaning back on the couch cushions. “I’ve got all night, Harrington.”
Your midnights. Your mornings. Your afternoons. He hoped he could have them all... he wasn't sure if it was too soon for all of that, if the idea of having them already thought up in his mind was cool or not.
But he'd just have to hope that everything... all of this, you and him.
It was delicate, but it didn't always have to be.
“Lucky me.”
💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌
a/n: how are we all feeling after that? i know i am kicking my feet wishing i had a steve to treat me so soft and nicely! ugh, guys this is probably my most favorite chapter i've written so far -- i really wanted this chapter to focus on domesticity and the softness between glitch reader and steve!!! my heart and soul is always alway so thankful for the wonderful effie aka @translatemunson who is always giving me feedback and helping me proof-read...i literally could not do this without her so thank you so much bby, i love you!!! 🥹💘 i really hope you all love this chapter as much as i do...isn't it just so delicate?!
taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3 @claireiscrying @we-out-here-simping @dreamerjj
#munsonsreputation#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!baker#steve harrington x fem!artist#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things imagines#taylor swift x stranger things#steve harrington x taylor swift#steve stranger things#stranger things steve#stranger things#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington drabble
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*kicks open door** GROSS CREEPY REDNECK MAN!?
No but seriously Otis is my guilty pleasure character and I need him with a 'tomboy' reader (aka a basic rural southern woman (It'd be nice if you could include her being oddly feminine despite all the hunting and the cursing and the fighting: Like she calls him a cunt then goes and bakes a bunch of sweets or goes off to work on a dress tailoring project XD))
i like the way u think ;) also otis does NOT have enough fanfics/headcannons written about him and it’s actually a crime
i feel like otis has two types of girls: the same (tomboy like u mentioned) or the opposite (hyper feminine girl from the city).
i also think that when he stumbled upon u he had the only intention to kill u like other victims, but something keeps him from doing so (that’s up to u anonie). and i think it sealed the deal after u got along with his family (helping mama clean up around the house + doing baby’s hair for ex.) after keeping u locked up in his house for months. he’s also definitely a family man, so he appreciates it.
like otis, u have a smart mouth on u (which otis thinks is cute only to a certain degree, going further than that and u wish u hadn’t opened ur mouth in the first place). nonetheless, otis still loves u, and thinks ur cussing and smart mouth makes u all the more loveable.
because u happen to be a tomboy, when u do traditionally more girly things/have girly hobbies it surprises him, but he doesn’t hate it (in fact he thinks it’s cute but he would never say that out loud), which makes u a combo of both fem and masc (best of both worlds - his words not mine).
one shot 💗
“yes!” you shouted as the bullet that shot from the rifle hit the deer in the head, otis grumbling (but you knew he was proud of you). the two of you had a bet on who could shoot prey first, and you won. “pay up baby!”
otis rolled his eyes with a cocky grin on his face as a slapped a scrunched up $10 bill in your hand. “i was just going easy on you, i could easily beat you next time.” he yelled as you walked away giggling with the money, waving him off. “yeah, yeah!”
as the both of you made it into the house you noticed that otis’s air around him was tense. you frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, after all he hated speaking about his emotions, or just hated talking about emotions in general (it didn’t help he was practically a pro at hiding his emotions). then it clicked in your head as he roughly put his rifle down. ‘is he annoyed he lost the bet? i wouldn’t have picked him as the sore loser, petty type.’ you chuckled, finding it a little cute, but you still didn’t want him sulking around.
suddenly an idea came into your head, and immediately you began working, knowing that this would surely cheer him up.
after around 2 hours you knocked on his door, and he muttered that you could enter. you did, and set a warm tray on his bed. he was sitting at his desk, working on some art project (he’s always got some art project to do). he smelled the air and turned to the bed, and his eyes lightened up for a second before a confused expression emerged onto his face.
“cookies? what’d ya do this for?” he rose an eyebrow, wondering if this was a ruse or something. you tsked, annoyed he didn’t understand the gesture, but you explained it to him either way. “well i noticed you seemed a bit annoyed for losing the bet, and i thought this would make you feel better.” you smiled, feeling proud of yourself.
“hm, didn’t pick you for a baker type’a girl.” he mumbled, inspecting the cookies. you scoffed before his eyes met with yours. “y’know, this is unnecessary. i’m not even mad, you’re seeing into things that aren’t there.” he said, speaking up louder. you were annoyed at this reaction. you spent 2 hours baking him cookies (he has a big sweet tooth) to cheer him up and this is the thanks you get.
“fine, i’ll just take these back and give them to someone who’ll actually appreciate them and won’t be a dick about it. maybe baby, or tiny.” you grabbed the tray before you felt otis’s calloused hands grip your wrists, forcing you to set the tray down.
“hey baby, don’t be like that. y’know i didn’t mean it like that, i appreciate the effort, i do. i’m just surprised, okay?” he looked genuine and his eyes met yours. you were waiting for him to say sorry, but the way he his, he probably wouldn’t. you sighed, not saying anything. he sighed as well, and with all his strength, he mumbled something. “…sorry.”
you’re eyes lit up when he said this. otis driftwood, saying sorry? that was a first. suddenly a grin flew onto your face as you hugged him and laughed.
“now, stop that bad mood of yours and let’s eat these cookies before they get cold.”
tysm for this request, i had so much fun writing it! i’m sorry if this wasn’t up to ur standards it was a challenge to write and i wanted it to get out asap. if u have any more please send them in, i would love to hear them x
#otis driftwood x reader#otis driftwood#house of 1000 corpses#ho1c#devils rejects#3 from hell#oneshot#fanfiction#slasher#horror#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slasher x y/n
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Monster Spotlight: Bogeyman
CR 10
Neutral Evil Medium Fey
Bestiary 3, pg. 42
(pic taken from Adventure Path: Extinction Curse: Legacy of the Lost God, pg. 79)
For years, FOR! YEARS! I’ve wanted to do an article on the Bogeyman. This monster has a very special spot in my heart, because around 10 years ago when I was just getting into tabletop stuff, I found a copy of Bestiary 3 on a game store shelf and flicked it open. After flicking past Behemoths and Asura, the most striking image to hit my eyes was what appeared to be a clown in a jaunty tophat and an absolutely menacing set of chompers. While by no means my favorite creature in Bestiary 3, my earliest memory of Pathfinder content was seeing that garish purple-and-red beast masquerading as a human, and as such the Bogeyman held a special place in my heart.
Which made it absolutely heartbreaking when my every attempt at extracting its picture from the PDF for use on this blog ended up looking HIDEOUS in a way my brain couldn’t reconcile with. As such, my first-ish exposure to Pathfinder languished... up until recently, with the release of 2nd Edition and a whole host of updated art for a WHOLE bunch of critters! While this Bogeyman isn’t my favorite--I’ll always love the bright purple bastard from 3--it certainly still portrays the mood of the Bogeyman in a way I enjoy. There’s plenty of Fey who cause fear for their own amusement, more than a few who eat it in some fashion, but Bogeymen are fear. They’re terror incarnate, they’re living nightmares, they’re the villain of a thousand stories and they know it, they revel in it, they wear it on their sleeves!
Bogeyman delight in finding singular victims and haunting them for days or even weeks, silently lurking under beds, within closets, in attics, or in basements, occasionally using Ghost Sound to create eerie noises, Darkness to cut the lights, or even Invisibility to quietly stalk their victims from their very own shadows until the haunted soul is on the verge of a breakdown. They’re artisans of terror, delicately crafting every moment of their target’s life of fear, plaguing them with Nightmares by night and by day whispering horrid thoughts into the victim’s ears from an invisible vantage point, making them lash out against friends and family to assure they’re entirely isolated when the malevolent Fey finally decides to end their lives.
Like many creeping terrors, Bogeymen prefer to keep out of combat unless they’re sure they can win, remaining in the background otherwise. Unlike many creeping terrors, this should by no means make you think they’ll fold easily. They have high saves for their CR, DR 15/cold iron, and 21 SR, but their most infuriating defense is their ability to go invisible at will. Bogeymen are as maddeningly patient in combat as they are when seasoning their victims, flitting in and out of sight with Invisibility and exploiting their titanic +35 to Stealth checks to slither among combatants and find out where they’re weakest, physically and emotionally. Even an invisible Bogeyman can make use of its +28 to Intimidation checks to shake up anyone who can hear it speak as it waits for an opening, something it’s very keen on doing because as you may expect, Bogeymen are all about fear!
They live for fear, gaining Fast Healing 5 if someone within 30ft of them is suffering from any level of it. 30ft is, coincidentally, the range of their Deepest Fear aura, and illusion that shapes itself into the worst fears of anyone who views it. Failing a DC 25 Will save means you’re shaken as long as you’re in the aura, but succeeding the save renders one immune to it for 24 hours... but that just won’t do, will it? We can’t have someone NOT be afraid, so if someone succeeds and maintains a brave face, the Bogeyman disappears once more to Intimidate them, either through the skill check or with their claws. Their 1d8+1 damage claws aren’t really all that scary, but the burst of +6d6 from their Sneak Attack will probably make both the character AND the player jump. Both claws crit on a 19 or 20, and being critically hit by their claws causes Striking Fear to mount up. Failing another DC 25 Will save while already suffering from a fear effect compounds the fear, moving shaken to frightened, frightened to panicked, and panicked to paralyzed with fear (and thus vulnerable to being torn to shreds by Sneak Attack). While relying on crits is... well, unreliable at best, someone being hit even once while already shaken removes that person from the fight for several rounds, as frightened creatures must flee unless cornered, potentially giving the Fey deadly amounts of breathing room so it can recover and slip away... or savage a different, more vulnerable target.
Or just instantly kill someone who’s proven they’re a threat to it. For whatever demonic reason, Paizo decided to give them 3 castings of Quickened Phantasmal Killer each day! The moment it pops out of invisibility to Sneak Attack someone, it may be able to just take out someone else nearby with a glance! If your party doesn’t have any protection from fear, an encounter with a Bogeyman may go from tough to unwinnable in a single round.
If you can weather their initial Sneak Attack and have a way to counter their invisibility (like a sack of flour), things get much simpler. Adding onto that, anything that’s not afraid of them, either because it passed its save against the aura or was unaffected by it in the first place (in case you needed another reason to put Unbreakable Heart in your spell list), takes an enormous bite out of its offense and its defense and can potentially leave it floundering. Even with that weakness, Bogeymen still have access to Hold Person at 3/day to use against creatures they cannot terrify and Suggestion at will to manipulate them so they’re not ENTIRELY helpless against Paladins; keep that in mind if you’re going fey-hunting!
As a closing note, it’s a little funny to me that Bogeymen don’t actually have Darkvision, so their at-will Darkness--which would otherwise be an excellent tool to get in more Sneak Attacks--is just as much and impediment to them as it is to everyone else. It’s also extremely ironic that they’re not immune to fear effects, so any telepathic creature that succeeds against their Phantasmal Killer can turn it back around against them, potentially killing them with their own ability!
You can read more about them here.
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Twinning: Part 1.
Part 2
Info: Human AU, Lucifer's Mc, GN!Mc.
Happens directly after this.
Summary: the twins birthday is coming up and Lucifer wants to make it special. You're determined to help.
Late in the morning, just before lunch break, was the best time to work on custom orders. Barely anyone came after breakfast, barring the occasional late coffee drinker. Working on your counter opposite the entrance, you wielded a variety of piping bags. You were careful not to smear the hand-drawn stars, pipping small planets on a space-themed cake. Soft instrumental music filled the room, only interrupted by the occasional meowing of your coworkers. They basked in the soft, post-storm sun entering the windows, purring and cleaning each other.
"What are you doing?"
You shrieked in surprise, letting out just a little too much red buttercream on Jupiter. Tuning around, you faced your unexpected visitor. Another Morning Star brother, a redhead, a little too tall for a kid but with a childish face. How did he even manage to enter without making the doorbells chime?
"Sorry, did I scare you?" He asked but didn't look at you.
You put on your best customer service smile. "No, just got a bit startled, that's all."
"What are you doing?" He reiterated.
"I'm decorating a cake."
"What is it for? Are you gonna sell it? Is it chocolate?" Without stopping his questions, the kid placed his hands flat on the counter, repeatedly jumping to look at the cake.
"Someone is having his birthday here tomorrow and he ordered a cake."
"Why does it have stars? My brother likes stars. Are those planets? How old is he?" He didn't stop, even to breathe, not leaving any space for you to answer.
This time, the bells did chime, as Lucifer stepped inside with a stern look. Riding on his back was the smallest of the siblings, looking around with bored eyes. "Beelzebub, I told you not to run ahead. What if you had gotten lost?" He scolded the redhead, who didn't seem to care much.
"I'm sorry, Lucy," he didn't even look up at his brother, eyes fixed on the cake.
"I told you not to call me that." Lucifer reached the counter and finally looked at you. "Good morning, Mc. I'm sorry for the ruckus."
"No matter, Lucy," you answered playfully. He didn't seem to find it so charming, giving you a dry smile. "How can I help you?"
"We brought you back your umbrella." He looked at Beel and gave him a little nudge. Just then you noticed the thing he was holding, as he placed it on the counter. A cheap plastic umbrella, covered in goofy cat faces. The art was your own, some of your best work if you said so yourself. You had various designs printed on school paraphernalia for the back-to-school season. A bunch was left over.
"You didn't have to bring it back," you said with a smile. "You can keep it."
"Are you sure?" Lucifer lifted an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I'm sure your kids would like it." You couldn't sell it now that it was used anyway.
"Well, how mu–" Before Lucifer could keep talking, the brother on his back spoke up.
"Lucy, can we get that cake?" It was the first time you heard him speak. He looked excited for once.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that's not for sale, but you can pick anything from the cake menu," you tried to offer.
"Do they have constellations?"
You shook your head. "No, but I have Galaxy cat cupcakes if you'd like them."
The kid nodded, less energetic than before. Lucifer lowered him to the ground and reached for his wallet. The redhead started to jump again.
"Lucy, they do birthdays. Can we have our birthday here? Please, please, please."
Lucifer took a deep breath, handing you the money. "I'll see."
With him closer to you and not dripping wet, you could see Lucifer's swollen lower lip with a small fresh cut. You wondered if that was what Satan was talking about. He seemed to notice you staring because he looked away. A little ashamed, you gave the two expecting kids their cupcakes.
"Go see if the cats want to play," Lucifer ordered and Beel didn't wait a second to drag his poor brother to the play area.
The moment they grabbed some of the toys, Felicia leaped to them, running between their legs at full speed. Lucifer smiled, seeing them start to play with the cat.
"You know, Satan really likes that cat," you say, taking your chances.
"He does?" Lucifer looked surprised "He doesn't really like anything." There was a sudden sad undertone in the man's voice.
"I can contact you with the shelter if... You're interested."
Lucifer turned around to look at you, browns furrowed. You worried you had said something wrong until he talked again.
"How much do you charge for private parties?"
The question took you by surprise. You had already forgotten about Beelzebub's request.
"Well, I usually charge a flat fee, plus catering," you explained, taking a small pause to think "but I'll only charge you for the catering."
"Why?" He looked at you like you were trying to scam him. You repressed a small laugh.
"You're my neighbors and I haven't given you a welcome gift yet, so this is it." You smiled at him, yet he still seemed uneasy.
"If you say so... How much will that be for nine people?" You wrote him a quote, including the items offered on the menu. He considered it for a few seconds. "How much for a custom cake?" he finally asked.
"For a small one, they start at about $100. It depends on the filling and the designs."
You took out a sheet with basic prices by size and flavor. He chewed the insides of his cheeks while looking at it. Though subtle, you could sense his anguish. You could only imagine how hard it would be to maintain a house and feed six mouths, all on his own.
"I do offer a free basic cake for birthday parties," you said in the most neutral tone you could. It was a lie, but you had a feeling Lucifer wouldn't accept it if you just gifted him the cake.
He nodded and took out a debit card from his wallet. "Can I make a reservation for March 11th? I'll pay it all now."
"Of course!" After running the card, you took out your notebook for reservations. "I just need the name of the birthday boy for decoration."
"Beelzebub and Belohegor," he answered, peaking at the kids.
"Both for them?"
He nodded, "They're twins."
"They look nothing like it," you laughed lightheartedly. He didn't. "So, how old are they turning?"
"Thirteen."
"So you officially will have a house full of teenagers."
The sigh Lucifer let out could only be described as a cry for help. You couldn't help but laugh, more as a sign of understanding than mocking. He looked up at the wall clock and straightened himself.
"Well, we need to go. Thank you for everything, Mc." He turned around to call on the twins, you took the opportunity to slip a card from the shelter with his receipt. "I'll call you later to close details on the reservation, is that okay?"
"Sure, whenever you can."
He nodded and directed the kids out the door, as you waved at them. Before they even left the front of the store, Belphegor was already on his brother's back.
"So he likes stars…" you whisper to yourself.
AN: Hey I'm back. Life has been fucking me and I'm having an existential crisis, so I'm back to writing for my comfort characters.
Hope you liked this! I decided to break it up in parts so I can publish them over the holidays.
#dividers by @cafekitsune#OB!HumanAU#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me!#obey me nightbringer#om! shall we date#obey me fanfic#obey me headcanons#obey me x reader#obey me! lucifer#obey me lucifer#obey me beelzebub#obey me! beelzebub#obey me! belphegor#obey me belphegor#obey me brain rot
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Y'know, this answer deserves its own post. @tardigradetheking
They story they're telling seems pretty obvious to me:
Mickey Mxyzptlk, an entitled manbaby comic book fan who hates modern continuity and wishes things would go back to the way they were when he was a kid, traps (what he considers to be) the "real" Young Justice (only the boys, no girls allowed) in his idea of what their original adventures were like. Cassie, being ignored by the sexist twat, winds up being his undoing as she works to free her friends from the outside with the help of the rest of the original team.
That's the elevator pitch, the logline. I say the rest of the old team because I suspect Greta would have also been involved, had the Stargirl Spring Break Special not already set her up as being slated for the Lost Children. The Devil, of course, is in the details:
Mickey's idea of the boys' adventures are heavily skewed by his own biases which he, like the comic book bros on Reddit and Twitter, insist were part of those stories even when they weren't. Hence the exaggerated sexism, racism and homophobia.
He's also trying to reset the YJ boys back to who they were specifically in the early issues of Young Justice, ignoring all the growth and change -- both positive and negative -- that's happened to them since. Again, reflecting attitudes from entitled fans on social media, including here on Tumblr -- look at how many people care more about Cassie's fucking hair than her personality or experiences.
Kon slips into this illusion more easily than the others because he's adrift in the current timeline, without a place for himself -- his whole upcoming miniseries is already set to be about him figuring that out, but for now he's lost, and the future he always expected to be waiting for him -- being Superman -- has been given to someone else. Of course he wants to stay in the time when he never had to grow up and the future was full of possibilities. The more he lets himself give in, the more his mind slips into that kinda asshole bro sentiment -- which, let's face it, he had more than a trace of in the 90s.
Bart, meanwhile, is naturally resistant to this sort of thing partially because of his particular power set and partially because, despite all he's gone through, he's ultimately still the guy who goes with the flow, rolls with the punches, and accepts things the way they are. Whereas Tim is somewhat susceptible to slipping back into when things were easier, when he could just be Robin and hang out with his friends and never had to bury any of them, but gets jarred out of it when the reality tries to forcibly reset the recent changes that have made him happiest.
These differing attitudes result in conflict and naturally dredge up a bunch of drama related to those past changes that they haven't talked about. Cassie's having similar encounters with Cissie because they're using the fact that Cissie is no longer a superhero as a reflection of Cassie and the boys all being on the wrong pages with one another. Which they are, because they're literally not on the same page anymore -- it's been ages since their canon selves have truly shared experiences, they've all been off doing their own things with their respective "families," and they no longer know where the others are coming from. But with each conflict, they're baring... well, conflict, things that have gone unspoken between them. Now that those things are spoken, they can be resolved.
It's not a perfect story. The art is definitely a little hit or miss (pro tip: blame the artist and the editor for not knowing which Bedlam to cameo, not the writer), the pacing feels a bit rushed and (speaking of Bedlam) the whole story would've been stronger if they used him as the villain instead of a new character no one's ever heard of. But that last part is kinda par for the course at DC right now.
Otherwise, the story's pretty straightforward. It's meta, it's criticism, and they're pretty bold to critique their fandom so blatantly, but there's nothing confusing about it.
#young justice dark crisis#young justice#dark crisis#meta#tim drake#kon-el#bart allen#mickey mxyzptlk
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random robin buckley headcanons yea (ft. ronance and platonic stobin)
(i also projected extremely on her btw, it’s not my fault her whole personality is also mine)
- so we all agree that robin is at least neurodivergent right? anyways robin has so many rings and stuff to stop herself from picking at skin/nails. they don’t work as a distraction all the time but it’s better than having her fingers covered bandaids 24/7. steve would notice sometimes and give her something to occupy her hands or, if they’re someplace where they can’t goof around, he’ll let her play with his hands.
- robin loves having inside jokes with people but absolutely hates when she doesn’t understand other peoples inside jokes.
- robin is an abba lover.
- robin has a really messy room but still organized in a sense. everything is where you can see it, not put away in a drawer and forgotten, making it easier to locate her things. she will get upset if someone moves something and doesn’t tell her where they put it.
- her sleep schedule is not even a schedule at this point. there’s no pattern at all. she’ll be sitting on her bed with like dozens of papers for like a new language one night. and then a couple days later, she’s in steve’s car and telling him about the great 16 solid hours she slept.
- speaking of sleeping, she has the most bizarre dreams (like argyle in my jargyle hc’s) and will retell each dream as many times as it takes for everyone to hear about it. but as she’s telling this one person about a dream, she’ll remember something else that happened in that dream and then everyone gets the same story but slightly different from each others.
- won’t wear any other shoe except converse.
- has been rotating the same 4 outfits for like 2 years now. she’s very picky about whether this plain shirt should go with blah blah. she’s just gotta look cool in public.
- secretly loves her hair as much as steve loves his.
- robin obviously likes to doodle on things (her shoes) so steve and nancy will let her draw on them. they both got a little too trusting with the maturity of her art and then ended up with male and female genitals drawn all over them (she switched out her sharpie for a pen on those ones because she would feel bad after). she writes little jokes and would just wait for her victim to question it.
- she likes rocks. not like a full on collector but just likes to point them out when seeing a shiny one. ok yea she’s not a collector but she definitely does have some cool rocks in her room somewhere.
- robin is a warm person. her body temp could get so high that she just wants to climb in a freezer. on the other hand, nancy gets super cold. her hands, nose, and ears specifically. so naturally, nancy is always staying really close to robin like robin’s her personal heater. robin unintentionally flirts with nancy using her furnace hands. like nancy would be wearing earmuffs and complaining how she’s just getting colder by the second. and then in comes robin taking off nancy’s earmuffs and holding her hands on each side of nancy’s head. nancy sticks to robin like glue after that.
- robin hasn’t lost one single staring contest (not counting the ones who cheat aka steve, dustin, and max). steve has to warn everyone who goes against her because he’s seen her stare at a wall for 4 minutes straight during their shift in family video. only one person has gotten close to beating her and that was jonathon.
- steve and robin have matching best friend necklaces like the cheap necklaces that would break in a millisecond. yet they still treat it as if it were sack of diamonds. they agreed that they’d bring the necklaces to the grave with them.
- robin gets super excited for other peoples birthday. like she gets to show her friends how much she appreciates them with gifts on the day of their birth!!!! so steve would give her a whole bunch of cash and just tell her to go crazy. and so she does. after his shift at family video, he gets to his house and finds decorations on decorations. there’s presents set by the table and everyone is there. the byers + the hoppers, the wheelers (minus t*d), the sinclairs, and the hendersons. his house has never truly looked like a home more than it has in this moment. robin knew this too. and robin wasn’t surprised when steve tried to wipe his eyes without anyone noticing. robin then hands him a wimpy looking cake with a giant cake art rendition of steve’s hair. it was the best god damn cake steve ever had.
(anyways i think imma leave it on that giant hc that definitely felt like more of a short fic lmao)
#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#steve harrington#ronance#platonic stobin#robin buckley headcanons#ronance headcanon#platonic stobin headcanons#stranger things#stranger things 4#maya hawke#stranger things headcanons
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ROTTMNT HEADCANNONS. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
Okey, 1st, I'm sorry for taking so long.
Here. SPOILER- FREE!! HEAD-CANNONS for ROTTMNT from someone who has been into tmnt for like 3 weeks now.
This are mostly Turtle Tots head-cannons:
The boys know a varying degrees of Japanese. Is mostly just curses and little things Splinter used to said to them when they where kids before he gave up on teaching them Japanese. Little things like whispering "Nani?" when something weird happens, and they (sadly) don't necessarily think of it as Japanese, but things their family says.
That being said, when the kids where 6, 5 and 4, he had actual hopes of them learning Japanese as they had all become obsessed with Kamen Rider... Splinter later gave up, as teaching them English was hard enough.
He taught the Tots English first, because he was always afraid they would get kidnapped and experimented on, or just lost, and living in a country that mainly spoke English, he didn't want the language barrier to be another reason why his kids wouldn't be safe.
The turtle tots LOVED Kamen Rider, specially Ichigo. He was green, so were they! and it made their little hearts so happy! and splinter loved watching it with them, as it reminded him of all the times his mom would watch the show with him.
Ichigo was Raph's childhood hero, and though he stopped watching Kamen Rider Shows when he was 7, he still has the little figure in his room.
This next head-cannon is based on the fact that baby Yoshi had a Kappa figure and one that looked like a Kamen Rider from the showa era in the flash back: Kamen Rider was Yoshi's comfort show as a kid, and after his mom left he spent an entire day hiding from Sho, just watching the show and pretending everything was okey.
What baby Donnie liked more than the green Kamen Rider was the belts and all the powers it provided to the wearer in the different generations. This inspired many early creations.
Besides all this, I see Splinter as a very depressed individual. Big Mama had already broken something within him, but it took him years to accept his new body. For this reason, he never showed a lot of physical reassurance to the Tots growing up, as his own body was an issue for him.
He never actually showed the turtles the Lou Jitsu movies... They found them themselves. Splinter didn't want reminders of his past life, so when one afternoon he found the boys watching one of the movies... he got really angry. But It ended with with Splinter explaining to the kids that he doesn't like them touching his things because some of them bring painful memories. He also apologized for getting angry, as they didn't know, and that afternoon was the first time Splinter saw one of his movies again, when he started his journey of healing.
Leo and Mikey are the two that actually know the most Japanese of the kids.
Leo has a thing for languages. One day when they where 8, Leo and Donnie were scavenging for things for Donnie to use, and instead, they found a box full of comics of "El Chapulin Colorado", "El Gato con Botas" a book telling the story of the Ciguapa, "Le Petit Prince" and a bunch of mangas, all in their original languages, and little Leo was so enamored with the art that he started reading them all. He didn't get half of what they where saying, but Donnie, seeing that reading keep Leo away enough for him to work, mentioned it to Raph and they got him 3 dictionaries, an English-Spanish one, a French- Spanish one and a English- Japanese one.
Where Leo finds it easy to learn new languages, for Donnie is the worst thing in the world. You know that trope where the smart guy can speak many languages? That isn't Donnie. He can speak English and computer. That's it, English is hard enough in his opinion.
Leo can read English, Spanish, Japanese and French perfectly, a bit of Korean too. He has trouble with the pronunciation, and the only one he is confident with speaking are Spanish & English.
Part of the reason he is confident with speaking Spanish is because as a kid, he found Latin music and he f-cking loved it! From salsa, to bachata, he likes Reggaeton and Dembow the most though.
Mikey is the opposite of Leo. Being the only brother that never grew out of Kamen Rider, and Tokyo Sentai, he actually understands Japanese pretty well. He could talk it if he practiced, but is not confident in his pronunciation. He eventually learned Spanish thanks to Leo, and they practice together some times. He can't read them, but he will get there. Mikey's opinion, though, reading English is hard enough. Is it Dyslexia? ADHD? who knows, try getting a diagnosis when you are a teenage mutant ninja turtle living int the sewers.
Raph is a quick learner when he really sets himself into it. He also has a good memory, so in all accounts, he should have also learned Japanese fairly easy as a kid. But being the oldest, he was the first, and for a long time the only one to notice their father depression... and learning a new language, even through watching cartoons, didn't look so important anymore.
Splinter tried his best with the turtle tots... But he wasn't a great father. Yes, he showed them love and tried to be there for them. But there where days where he just couldn't put a smile on his face, nor get out of bed, and he didn't have anyone to turn to, so he just... suffered silently, turned on the TV and tuned out the world along with the 4 kids who depended on him.
Due to this, Raph grew up fast, faster than he cares to admit, or his brothers realize. He was always big and tall, so in his 7 year old head, it made sense for him to be the one to act like the adult. From ages 7 to 10 you wouldn't catch Raph death watching cartoons, unless Mikey had asked him to. Every time he saw their dad struggle to get out of bed he would make sure all his brothers where fed, that the lair entrance was secure, and that they had all they needed. He would get his brothers out of the TV room and practice Lou Jitsu moves with them.
Cartoons where for little kids, and Raph wasn't a little kid, so he started watching pro-wrestling. Thinking that if he trained he would be big and strong like the men on the TV and he would be able to solve his families problems.
Raph spend a great part of his childhood training watching Lou Jitsu movies. Leo was the one that joined him the most. The blue one noticing his brother was tense, and making the trainings more fun.
Raph was usually the one to cook on days Splinter couldn't. He would wake up early to try to make things for his brothers. Mikey, being an early riser, would usually sit beside him as Raph cooked, and helped with in all the 5 year old could. This is where Mikey's love for cooking comes from. Eventually, Raph's cocking became more of a "Raph supervising Mikey cook" once the older turtle was confident Mikey wouldn't burn or cut himself by accident.
Raph was never a good cook, but he was decent enough that all his family remembers his cooking fondly. He rarely does it anymore.
Raph was the first to get out the lair. Splinter would go out with him at night when the others where asleep to show him around New York. This usually happened during winter months (as they had the excuse to cover their whole bodies due to the cold), and after a really bad episode for Splinter. He did this as an apology to Raph, and because he wanted Raph to be able to have fun without having to worry about this brothers.
Raph was the only one Splinter would talk to when depression hit. Something Raph is glad for, but in retrospective, Splinter wishes he had found someone else to vent his feelings. He really regrets many of the things he did.
On good days, Splinter would sit with Raph to watch pro-wrestling and cook while Raph sat in the counter and told him about his day. Mikey would usually join them and comment on the cooking. These days usually ended with the whole family watching a movie.
By the time Raph was 11 Splinter started being more present in the kids life, as well as more verbally and physically affectionate with them. But it is still Leo's, Donnie's and Mikey's first instinct to turn to Raph, and not their dad, when something is wrong.
Part 2 - will eventually be here.
#rottmnt#rottmnt headcanons#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#headcannons#rise raph#rottmnt raph#rise splinter#rottmnt splinter#rise leo#rottmnt leo#rottmnt mikey#rise mikey#rise donnie#rottmnt donnie#tmnt#rise of the tmnt#tmnt 2018
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No bc people are really being obtuse about showing that movie in Israel. Did you see that video of the movie with a bunch of Israeli people and flags in the theater singing you won’t break my soul? Like she really built a brand around freedom and liberation and justice and going against the grain, then allowed people in a colonizing state to view it and proceed to associate themselves with it.
Idk I just really feel like this era of celebrity is done. I wanted to ask your opinion about that for a while, but took some time to myself to come to terms with what the future looks like for me. I can’t imagine being a fan of anyone so…nonchalant about genocides and human rights violations when they know that one word from them could mobilize millions. It’s not required of them, but it’s also not required of me to support anyone who is past the point of getting the benefit of the doubt. It’s been two months and all our faves have caved or stayed silent. All of them.
It’s so disheartening.
I haven’t spoken about this publicly here,only privately on my Substack; nor will I speak about it more on here beyond this, but one of my closest friends lost her entire family, 30 people, in these airstrikes. She has been inconsolable for almost a month, and there is nothing we can do to help her. It costs nothing for celebrities to post about wanting peace or a ceasefire at the bare minimum.
There are contracts and I know it opens the artist up to a long set of lawsuits to breach them, but a simple post advocating for peace is the simplest thing you can do. I wish she did, I get why she’s not. This doesn’t cloud my love of the tour or the album, but it does make me sad. I also wish people would stick to the plot when discussing this issue. I’ve seen reviewers try to bring in her deceased uncle to make a point, and that’s where you lose me. The matter at hand is what’s important.
And the problem isn’t with celebrities, it’s with the fans! Everyone is a stan now, and the art of critique is out the window. Stan culture is toxic and empty. It’s okay to be a fan of someone for their art, but when they become an intrinsic part of your being and personality? And suddenly they cannot do any wrong? That’s where things get messed up.
#I will expand upon this later!#this is a very high level post and I’m sorry anon :(#but talking about my friend losing her family still makes my hands shake and my chest tight#and big thank you to fromaseyewithlove for talking me off my metaphorical ledge that day! 💛💛💛#answered#.
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Hi, i'm addicted to create characters for games, movies, series, etc; so, i just want to share with someone :p
OBS: Yes, I do use AI Art because I CAN'T draw and I know some people may hate the idea of using AI, but I can't draw :) I have two characters for RDR2, they are quite similar because the sh*t AI has a standard for women appearance ¬¬' But it's just a idea, the won't be real anyway T.T
Is just a "RPG" thing, don't take to personal lol, is just for fun, I wish a could find more people who does that too T.T
PS: English is not my first language, any mistake, punch me. Please don't, I'm joking.
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EMILY DOYLE
Character Info
Role: Companion
Name: Emily Doyle
Gender: Female
Age: 32
High: 1,70 (5,6)
Born In Year: 1867 (32 years old in 1899)
Nationality: Australian ( 🇦🇺 )
Also Known as: Emy Cooper; Beth Themar.
Affiliation: The Doyles, Vanoski Gang, Van Der Linde.
Horse: Kentuck Saddler (Female; Name: Sydney)
Family: Blake Doyle (Father), Ellie Murphy (Doyle) (Mother), Ryan Doyle (Brother) and Tessa Doyle (Sister).
Emily Doyle was born in 1867 to a family of outlaws in Molong, Australia. She learned to survive in the world of crime since her 10 years old, when her old brother, Ryan Doyle, started to teach her how to use guns, to steal and ride horses. Emily has always been very good at shooting and she started to steal wagons with her brother when she was 14 years old. In other hand, her sister Tessa never liked the idea of been an outlaw, she used to always ride books of romance and dreamed of marriage and live in America; Tessa hates the fact that her young sister, Emily, would become such a terrible person as an outlaw, so she promised her that would take her together to America when she got married, but Emily refused. Tessa did married a man called Roger Vanoski, an american-russian months later and dragged Emily with her to a boat to America.
Tessa became addicted to money; her husband, Roger, lives two different life: Crime and Business. Roger had a gang called Vanoski Gang, a very well hid organization inside of America. Tessa locked Emily inside their mansion because she thought that Emily was addicted to violence and money, because of the outlaw lifestyle they had in Australia, also didn't feed her well or gave her good clothes, because she didn't want to spend money with Emily, but also, didn't want to let her go, afraid that she would became a real outlaw in America. Tessa promised to Emily that was everything for love and care. Emily tried to run away a bunch of times, but Roger always found her.
When Emily turned 25 years old, Tessa get sick for money and discussed with her husband, making him, in a impulsive action, killed Tessa with a shot in the head. Emily heard everything in her room. Roger didn't felt remorse and dragged Emily with him to his gang and worked for him only for survive, even seeing him as a enemy. Even if her sister "torture" her for years, she still loved her. In the time she was with Vanoski gang, she received a latter from Australia from her parents saying that her brother have died from sickness, but Emily did not send another letter telling about Tessa's death.
Emily worked in the gang for 8 years, later she managed to ran away after killing Roger, now being hunted by the Vanoski gang through America. Emily travels and survived by herself, living a life of outlaw like she always lived in Australia.
(Young Emily Doyle)
IF SHE WAS IN THE GAME STORY?
Emily would be found by Hosea and Arthur in one of they hunts or fishing missions, alone in a campfire near they first camp in Horseshoe Overlook, they would get to know her and ask if she was lost, but she says "no, actually the world is my home". After coming back to camp, you can see Hosea speaking about her with Dutch, both wondering if she was an lonely outlaw by her looks and guns. Later, Dutch would ask Arthur to find the lady and invite her to the gang, cause he thinks that it may be good for her and she looks expert, Hosea's words. Arthur would be directed on the map to Rhodes, where you find Emily being in trouble with some men, the Vanoski men (adding a new gang to the know gangs in RDR2). After Arthur helped Emily and take her to Van Der Linde gang to treat some smalls bruises, Dutch tries to convince the lady to stay with them, but she don't want to work with gangs anymore after what happened. Emily tells her story for Arthur while backing to Rhodes to try to find clues about the Vanoski gang and see if the Roger's men were still close; she tells Arthur about a hidden money of her sister in a land close to BlackWater where she used to live with Vanoski gang, and after Arthur tells that to Dutch, Emily help the gang to get the money and fight against some Vanoski gang. After the five missions that called: "Fall of Vanoski (I, II, III, IV and V)", Emily, in the last mission, she discovered that her parents have been dead 5 years ago hanged by the law in Sydney trying to escape to America by Roger substitute, his right-hand Mike Litton. Emily have a angry attack managing, with some members of Van Der Linde, to exterminate the last Vanoski men on that part of America. In the final of the last mission, Emily stayed with the Van Der Linde gang making good friends with Sadie, Arthur and even little Jack, being his favorite "aunt" in camp.
SHE WOULD PICK WHAT SIDE IN VAN DER LINDE GANG?
Arthur's side, of course, but she wouldn't be there in the final missions. She travels alone a while to look for trace elements of Vanoski and money to go back to Australia. After she came back, not managing to come back to her country, she didn't find no member of Van Der Linde gang and again find herself alone, but she restart her life buying a small house in the woods close to Strawberry and living a civilian life as a single woman.
EPILOGUE:
In the Epilogue, with John, you would have a secondary mission where John finds Emily in the city of Saint Denis trying to find work and in the mission you would just help her out and John tells about Arthur's death what breaks her heart apart. After that mission, you're not able to find her anymore cause the moved back to Australia and let a letter for John on his house to let her old friends know.
(Writers note: Of course I ship her with Arthur lol I'm not a fan of Mary XD Sorry Mary, but in my world, you're gone, my Arthur deserve love... like in my fanfics >:) )
#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption community#red dead fandom#red dead online#red dead redemption two#rdr#rdr2 community#rdr2 arthur#rpg#original character#originalcharacter#red dead redemption arthur
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Season 3 Ramble#3 - The Martial Way ver.2
This month, as you probably picked up from the ramble title, I focused on reading martial arts manga for the second time because once was just never gonna be enough.
~[before I get into the episode I have a moment of silence for akira toriyama sensei who passed on earlier this… his legendary impact on media as a whole is beyond what my feeble words could hope to describe so a minute of silence is probably the most appropriate thing I could do. rest in power toriyama sensei.]~
The format is pretty much the same as last time, the meat of the matter is that I'll be speaking on the top 5 martial arts manga I read this month, focusing not so much on plot but more on what I think are the 4 cornerstones of martial arts manga, namely; art, action, technique and philosophy. For each manga in the list I'll be talking on these 4 things and giving them a rating on a 5 star scale.
I won't be talking about older top favorites this time so I encourage you to check out v.1 if you're interested but I will be doing what should be a quick breeze through of some martial arts manga I caught up on this month before I got into the newer reads.
So without further adeiu ~
CATCHING UP/OLD BREEZE
- boruto, shamo, batuqe, eternal force, tenkaichi
(pretty disappointing)
- peerless father, tsuyoshi, Sakamoto days
(pretty great)
THIS MONTH
#5) Kenji (art by Yoshihide Fujiwara and story by Ryuchi Matsuda, complete w 202 chapters)
Didn't have much expectations going into this one. I picked it up because the summary I saw on anilist listed a bunch of different martial art styles and among them was tai chi which I practice. So as someone who’s interested in different forms of mind and body tempering through martial arts, I figured even if the manga wasn’t particularly good, the exposure would be.. Glad to say my expectations were exceeded which is probably apparent as it’s one of my top 5 reads this month. but enough idle chatter.
The story here centers on a boy named Kenji (shocker), who is taught the basics of an ancient form of chinese kung fu called Bajiquan from his grandfather at an early age. When his grandfather suddenly has to leave the country to fulfill a promise to an old friend, Kenji decides he must keep practicing so he can have the strength to follow after his grandfather and present his growth as a person and martial artist proudly when they meet again.
Art - 3 / 5 stars
It was pretty unique but not altogether super impressive. When I say unique I mean that most of the manga had a sort of calligraphy or deceptively real water colour painting vibe, which I usually really dig for impact in action scenes or so but for this it was the whole way through so it kind of lost that effect. It did end up having a neat Chinese scroll type vibe with the whole calligraphy feeling I was getting though and it was solid throughout so no real complaints.
Action - 3 / 5 stars
The action wasn’t very impressive either. Undeniably and consistently solid but there were rarely any real wow factors. The mood or atmosphere surrounding the action was always very fitting though, usually engaging and immersive so although the illustrations weren’t anything to lose my mind over, holistically I found the fights quite pleasing.
Technique - 5 / 5 stars
Technique variety and illustration was pretty top tier. As in to the point where a good chunk of this manga feels like beginner kung fu for dummies, even going so far as to show numbered step by step illustrations for a lot of moves used. Most of the story actually unfolds this way as Kenji has nobody to teach him when his grandfather left and the only lead he had to go on was his kungfu. So in seeking out and practicing with different interim teachers, he ends up traveling from Japan deep into mainland China, gaining new friends and foes along the way. What I really really loved was how his core technique developed over time, as in yes he got new techniques within his original style and a few tricks and tweaks from other styles he interacted with, but what got him through from the beginning was sharpening the core fundamentals his grandfather taught him when he was a kid. And when I say got him through I don't mean just in fights, I mean that to be accepted by certain people in the martial arts world you have to be able to prove yourself as a martial artist in your own right first, which more often than being able to do a flashy killer move, really means being able to show a certain level of dedication to cultivating the art you claim to practice. Also loved seeing how the variety, views on and uses of martial arts changed as he traveled from Japan to China.
Philosophy - 5 / 5 stars
Philosophy here was top notch stuff. The best I've read in a long time and definitely top 2, if not the best in that aspect this month. It's so great that I'd really want it to speak for itself as much as possible so I won't be going into much detail but I will say I really appreciated the importance placed on strength of mind and character in no uncertain terms.
#4) Under Ninja (story & art by Kengo Hanazawa {also known for being the creator of the manga, I am a Hero}, 115 chapters ongoing)
This story follows ninja in the modern day and shows the struggles between different ninja ranks, organizations and the government.
Art - 4 / 5 stars
Was pretty cool, very cool even, sort of sharp in a kind of overtly digital way I tend not to like too much but it was still cool. Especially with all the rad spreads they had sprinkled throughout.
Action - 4 / 5 stars
It was odd in a good way that's kinda hard to describe. Maybe because of how well they modernized the ninja in my mind. As in the methods of combat were for the most part fairly recognizable (sword, shuriken, camouflage) but they were presented in such a fresh way from a modern technological standpoint + it all takes place within the context of a modern city landscape and everything,, pretty rad pretty rad.
One definitely kinda odd thing was the choreography. It wasn't very fluid or detailed how I'd usually like my action manga. This almost had a laggy game type feel which I'd usually not rate, or even hate, but because the main focus was ninja I couldn't help but think that was the creator’s intention. As in a ninja’s whole thing is to be unseen so how would an illustration of them and their activities really look yk. And unlike what's been popularized by Naruto with lots of hand to hand combat and big flashy moves, especially later on, I think it definitely leans more toward what was shown here in under ninja, with more of an “in n out" / “now you see me now you don't" type feel.
Technique - 5 / 5 stars
The techniques were pretty rad too, especially because of the technology, as I said very fresh stuff like the creator definitely had a very clear vision of how they thought a modern ninja would act. Very cool that they didn't go the usual route of just having a traditional ninja in the modern day but it actually looked and felt like how ninja may carry themselves had they advanced along with society from what we know of them back then. There wasn't any specific martial art used perse but in any case I really liked how they illustrated the "attack” of a ninja. As in it's not all hand signs and ninja stars, we get a more holistic view of the strategies employed from something as simple as misdirection to something as crazy as a fucking satellite laser. absolutely loved it. crazy crazy work I'm telling you.
Philosophy - 2 / 5 stars
There doesn't seem to be any great cause or meaning to much so far tbh. Which although generally important, isn't anything hyper critical in a fighting story, but as a cornerstone of martial arts in general it's something I look forward to seeing expressed uniquely by different creators in martial arts manga. For the most part in under ninja the thinking seems to be “complete the mission and fuck you if you try to get in my way” which I guess is fitting for ninja tbh but grain of salt here, it's ongoing and where I left off the story kinda took a mad left and a bunch of stuff is coming to light so I wouldn't be surprised if my view on the philosophy of under ninja changes when I come back to it next year.
#3) Karate Shoukoushi Kohinata Minoru (story & art by Yasushi Baba, complete w 500 chapters)
This is the journey of a guy who couldn’t make it as a gymnast and was bullied out of his club somehow becoming a karateka
Art - 5 / 5 stars
Pretty great in all the senses, casual and action wise. It was great and there's not much else to say there so no point lingering.
Action - 5 / 5 stars
Action was pretty great too, kept steadily building in intensity and technicality as the story progressed and the main character developed as a martial artist. Choreography was pretty up there as well, maybe not exceedingly dynamic perse like Sakamoto Days but it was all clear and fluid which is ultimately more important in stories dependent on action sequences. I will say they did have a lot of explody effects tho like.. idk… they were generally really cool tbh but would have probably been fine without THAT much, like the impact of each individual bomb effect kinda falls off when you're constantly carpet bombing yk,,, anyways the action was still a 5 so clearly it didn't bother me THAT much, just thought it kinda odd…
Technique - 3 / 5 stars
Was pretty solid in terms of illustrating, naming and using a variety of techniques but it fell kinda short behind the others because the techniques were like 93% Karate, and of that 93% about 80% was the specific kind of karate used by the mc, whereas pretty much all the other manga in this list showed more than a few other martial arts or at least had stronger individualization of a technique through its practitioner as was the case in under ninja and the next manga on this list. What was shown was pretty solid though and fairly thorough so it held up. variety is the spice of life and all but variety paradoxically encompasses a lack of variety so,, it is what it is.
Philosophy - 3 / 5 stars
Not bad, again pretty solid but nothing too crazy. could kind of be boiled down to different personal views on karate and maybe a bit of fighting on a whole but they didn't really push past how that affects the way one carries themselves outside the ring too much. Kind of an aside but I did appreciate that they had a fair bit of slice of life which is where you could see a bit, in action more than word, the various ways different martial arts practitioners carried themselves.
#2) Basilisk: The Kouga Ninja Scrolls (original story by Fuutarou Yamada with story & art by Masaki Segawa, complete w 34 chapters)
Basically Romeo and Juliet but if they were ninjas. families. I could give a bit more detail but honestly that pretty much covers it and I already said this ramble wasn't really gonna be too plot focused.
Art - 3 / 5 stars
Sort of overtly digital in a scanny kind of way that I usually wouldn't like but for the most part it was solid enough where it counted.
Action - 4 / 5 stars
Ultra vibes, especially for how short it was, just 34 chapters but they used them extremely well as pretty much from the jump the atmosphere was constantly building. Fight scenes were clear although not very consistently fluid but the core choreography of the fights was definitely there. Something I really liked was how it could have easily been done as a standard tournament type beat or your average battle royale but all the confrontations were pretty dynamic throughout the story, shuffling through 1 v 1s, gang v 1s and gang v gang seamlessly. not to mention the pretty cool and unique techniques they all had.
Technique - 5 / 5 stars
Actual old school ninja stuff which was very cool although ultra hyper specific. Basically there were 20 main characters with 10 on each side, all having some unique jutsu that they alone could use. This could've made stuff play out in a sort of almost obvious rock paper scissors type thing but the way they introduced/removed characters throughout the story and juggled opposing character interactions was just so well done that it never got boring.
Philosophy - 4 / 5 stars
Tbh most of the cast didn't have all that much about them philosophy wise. As I said this was a kind of Romeo and Juliet type beat so besides the main pair they all just hated the other family. There's some very light sprinkling of something you could probably call philosophy through the rest of the main cast as their individual jutsu sort of mirrors their beliefs, so you could almost say they're all literal embodiments of their beliefs but that's not exactly a one size fits all thing and is probably more of a stretch than anything. In any case this gets a 4 because of how moved I was by the main pairings actions. especially because of how little chapters there were so it hit all the more. If I go into detail about such actions it'd be spoilers so what can I say but to go check it out.
#1) Tekken Chinmi (story & art by Takeshi Maekawa{breakshot, #1 S2R8}, read 131/158)
A talented lad named chinmi is seen in action by a traveling monk who invites him to further train at his temple. Simple shonen type beat except the hero’s journey isn't really thrust upon him, he kinda just actually goes on the journey willingly which is kinda refreshing. #end the era of child soldiers.
Art - 4 / 5 stars
Really easy to digest, kinda toony but well proportioned, has a really smooth old school vibe to it like you look at it and immediately succumb to the propaganda that everything really was better back then.
Action - 4 / 5 stars
Great all round, great choreo, great flow, pretty solid dynamics and I really dug how they showed that lessons learned in one thing can typically be applied to every other thing. As in he'd learn a martial art skill and it'd help him improve in a day to day situation or vice versa.
Technique - 5 / 5 stars
Widely varied, usually unique and v cool, as in they had from a Poison hand guy, to a one legged cane weilder and even someone who used a one finger technique. It was really great and sort of inspiring to see him improve step by step, from teacher to teacher and from fight to fight. Really loved that when he got new techniques he didn't just spam that from then on, he stuck with sharpening himself holistically and never using more force than necessary. Also dug that even though he was definitely quick on the uptake for story's sake there wasn't anything he ever just got immediately. He'd always have to take the time to sit and think through how to get some desired effect, which is what gave rise to his sometimes unique applications of certain techniques.
Philosophy - 5 / 5 stars
Loved how close they made everything to nature, nature even being his teacher a few times. Again the philosophy here was so great I want it to speak for itself but I loved the hammering of the importance of both body and mind. the philosophy here was definitely right up there with shinji though it felt a bit warmer here for lack of a better word.
honourable mentions:
Tenjo Tenge & Record of Ragnarok
btw this is a list of 5 with 2 hms but in total I read 15 new manga this month and maybe you wanna see the rest for yourself, for holistic, comparative or some other reason but in any case you can see those and all my other reads on anilist which is in my bio on all social media I'm on so yh
ofc I do some extra kinda off cuff rambles afterwards so you can listen in for that but if not have a good one regardless, hope you enjoyed this and hope you tune into the next 🍻
#just another day#mm..manga#writeup#kenji#under ninja#karate shoukoushi kohinata minoru#basilisk: the kouga ninja scrolls#tekken chinmi
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Something So Small
Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 9. Set in The Compound AU. Who knew scars so small could carry traumas so big?
Warning: gunshot mention, torture mention, kidnapping mention
Rating: Mature
Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid (mentioned)
Pairing: /
Words: 677
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Prompt: Scar reveal
Whumpee: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid (mentioned)
Author’s Notes: So happy to be returning to this AU!
@ailesswhumptober
XOXOX
One of the worst parts of recovery is that sometimes the pain just won’t go away. A couple of weeks after his second- or technically his third- amputation, Hiccup lies awake in bed. Jolt’s of pain running up through his nerves. Midnight has long since passed and he won’t be surprised if dawn is just around the corner. The books Fishlegs loaned to him have all been read, he doesn’t feel like playing a game, his sketchbook and art supplies go neglected. So all that remains now is to stare up at the ceiling, waiting for the discomfort to finally pass and for sleep to come.
For once, it’s not either of his legs that bother him, but rather, it’s his hand. His left hand. He lost his index fingers there. It was cut off as a proof of life after he was violently kidnapped and held for ransome. Now its tiny stump shoots tiny jolts of electricity up his wrist into his forearm. It’s not the excruciating kind of pain that he’s used to feeling in his legs, but it’s just painful and annoying enough that it keeps him from his much-needed sleep either way.
He would take his pain killers, they’re on the nightstand, but it’s too early to take them.
Toothless stirs on his stone bed. Rolling onto his side, curled up under the blankets, Hiccup shoots him a glance in the dark.
As if able to sense his plea for someone to end his loneliness, Toothless groggily lifts his head. His eyes, quite adept at the dark, catch Hiccup’s quickly. Groggily, he purrs his way.
“Hey Bud,” he whispers. He doesn’t want to wake their parents up.
With unsteady steps, Toothless comes over to settle on the floor, his big head on his human brother’s torso as he rolls onto his back. Hiccup lifts arms to lay them on top, but gasps when the move sends a jolt up through his left arm. Toothless raises his head, they both watch the limb shake. The sight of his left hand, missing an index finger, is still new to them.
Toothless licks his hand carefully. He already doesn’t need a bandage there anymore. While his leg still has some ways to go still, the stitches on his hand have been removed and it's well on its way of healing. All that remains is for that fine line to scar.
It’s going to be a ridiculously small scar for the amount of trauma that it carries. He practically pleaded with his kidnappers not to take it.
“How’s yours doing?” Hiccup asks his dragon, he wasn’t the only one hurt by the group who took him.
Toothless saw a bunch of miscreants steal his brother away and he tried to stop them. For his efforts, they shot him.
The dragon lifts his head high enough to let Hiccup take a look. Dragons are good healers, but even so, it’s always a relief to find that his gunshot wound is already scarring.
He finds it; a blemish on his otherwise perfectly smooth underjaw. It’s round, not that big, and yet it had threatened his life at one point. Once again, a scar so small for a deal so big.
“Does it still hurt?” He asks. And while Toothless purrs, he’s not sure if it means he’s not in any pain anymore. He could be lying.
Toothless replaces his head on his torso and Hiccup his hands on top. One of the brothers closes his eyes, still sleepy enough to doze back off.
Hiccup doesn’t know how he feels about any of this. Would he have felt better if their scars were bigger? Big enough to match what he… they feel within? Astrid doesn’t even have any scars to speak of, though she will never forget taking her eyes off him for a moment only to lose him. And it led to him losing his other leg and a finger.
He doesn’t know, but it certainly doesn’t feel as validating when their scars are as small as they are.
#ailesswhumptober2023#ailesswhumptober#day 9#scar reveal#httyd fics#httyd movies#rtte#race to the edge#au#alternate universe#modern au#apocalypse au#zombie apocalypse au#the compound au#hiccup haddock#hiccup whump#toothless#toothless whump#hicctooth#astrid hofferson#astrid whump#my fanfics#something so small
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No but if my father infused his soul into gems that got stolen and my grandfather was killed because of it and some ipstart princess stole it from the theirs because it was the price of her getting her Romeo and Juliet fantasy I would too do whatever I could to get prices of my father back. Nothing is more important to me than family, no matter how shitty my father may have been. If his soul was trapped in three gems that my beloved grandfather died for and some uppity princess who’s never experienced lost as I have said “yup this is mine because I stole it!!!” I woul too lose my damn mind.
I think this may be hard for non colonial people to understand but I have had many of my families legacy taken from me by the west and then refused to return it because of “finders keepers” and “it would be better for everyone if we kept it with us instead of with you”. My family heirlooms are in the British Museum as we speak. I have seen my great grandmothers HanFu on display without our consent because it was STOLEN from us. I cannot begin to express my discontent and my hatred for all that have touched one of the pieces she’s worn and made without our consent. To know that one of the biggest joys of your great grandmothers live is now on display for a bunch of westerners who do not know the significance of the embroidery on her dress is so distressing I have trouble going to sleep sometimes especially since I know that the companion piece is with us. But to have her put in part of her soul to that piece and be stolen? I cannot being to think how badly I would feel. I already feel uncontrollable levels of anger to the west whenever I think of what happened to my family but if I had an inkling that her spirit may not move on properly because her spirit lasts in a piece of her art? I would go to the ends of the world to make sure she has rest.
I can sympathize with the Faenorians, especially considering that they did not think that their brothers would be saved without competing this oath. If I had sworn the same I do not believe I would have done anything differently, especially concerning the fact that my ancestors sprit rests within the artifact that my brothers and I damned ourselves to.
Non colonized people, I do not think, would understand just how painful it is to be separated from your birthright and culture. To know that someone else holds in their hands something that belongs to your country and your culture but refuses to give it up because they’ve “earned it” and have “conquers rights” is devastating. To hear that two of the twelve zodiac signs would not be returning to us even if my government has agreed to pay whatever they want is devastating. My government has said, repeatedly, that they would pay whatever the buyers wanted to be able to put the twelve zodiac signs heads in their resting pace so they can be respected and worshiped as they should be, but each time, westerners refused. It’s devastating. I cannot imagine how it would feel to know that your fathers souls rested within one of these artifacts but one of the thieves would not give it up because “muh mom stole it so it’s ours!!!!”
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more stuff from my paint folder under the cut with varying levels of explanation
my owlfolk rogue d&d character as a shitty little baby because baby birds look miserable and it's funny
shut up
a square full of bugs
weird arcade cabinet thing from a dream i had. i didn't draw it on here but it had sonic underground decals and stuff and as prizes it'd print off stickers and random screenshots from the show that'd come out that side thing. i don't know why but it had a trackball
i was doodling a bunch of critters for some reason. i think it was low-key inspired by @mossworm's art and in my head it was for some kind of critter collection game idea
i forget what this is about but i think it speaks for itself. despite being in the paint folder it was very clearly not drawn in paint
dinosaurs in love
again not a paint drawing but a manic i drew on drawception
tails lost in the sauce (a plant poofed a fuck ton of pollen right in his face and he is not having a good time)
i drew this while sleep deprived and proceeded to break down into a laughing fit. no i don't know what it is and it's called god.png
a miscellaneous character i have named gordy gatorman. he's gay and owns a bakery
the same doodle of my owlfolk rogue plus two more things (she hates everyone)
i don't have an explanation for this one i just thought the belt attached to scourge's coat was stupid (you know this is old because of my "colored lineart only" phase)
i think the original text for this was slightly nsfw but this is funnier actually
"hjpt ;leg.png"
one of my many interpretations of a human sonic, this one leaning more into "grumpy teenager" than anything else. i usually don't draw humans so this is surprisingly nice looking
there's 3 more panels to this but i just wanna acknowledge those sad lobsters in the dirty ass tank at the grocery store. they looked so sad and i always wanted to take them home
it me
me and my @kinslee-the-normal-human's oc. we used to rp a lot and they'd get into all sorts of bullshit with mr. tall echidna always being like i told you this would happen and being generally upset about it but his teeny tiny girlfriend could not care less. this time it was about vampires but he's just vibing
one of my ocs just kinda turns into fire when he goes super and i thought the idea of his clothes burning off was hilarious
hard to explain but my friend made an au where like every possible fusion of two characters that could exist did exist all at once in a weird little sci-fi society and we roleplayed it a ilttle bit. my main character for it was an amy/manic fusion named pippin and they had anxiety
in the background you can see salyut (he was actually made for this au as a shadow/biolizard fusion), maroon (a shadow/knuckles fusion), and... man i forget his name but he was a sonic/shadow fusion. the character in the second to last panel is a mephiles/tikal fusion who was part of the evil sci-fi government or whatever and she scared pippin a lot. i might repurpose pippin because they're very cute
@kinslee-the-normal-human told me that you can tell if someone is a furry based on how they draw dogs so i drew a dog and she said i was a furry based on how i drew the back legs. she was right but i don't get the test lmao
one of my ocs sort of got sucked into amy's family unit and he's in a sort of younger-ish sibling role to her (despite being older) and she makes him very happy and he loves her very much. they are friends :)
pov you are talking to razor on discord and he is happy to see you
this is called "scourge peep.png". i don't know why it's holding a knife
me and my friend drew pokemon from memory at a sleepover. i think from the different art styles you can tell which ones i drew nsjkdgs
i was playing the sims and made a version of gyro on it and he just kept getting abducted by aliens. i couldn't stop him
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#miles tails prower#amy rose#scourge the hedgehog#sonic oc#pokemon#not an ask#ooc#manic's personal projects
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