my eyes are always just a little wonky

Dad Reflexes (Soldier 76 x Reader)

Dad Reflexes (Soldier 76 x Reader)

Jack was fast, you know that, hell, everyone knew that. Either due to his training, his Indiana farm roots, or the chemicals they managed to pump into him, Jack was quick on his feet with a body that wouldn’t quit. Despite this, the poor man was tormented for these skills with the most embarrassing of labels; dad reflexes. Jack would always deny that he was a dad by nature though he let it slip out once in a while around Lúcio or Hana. After all the denial though, you knew Jack really did care for his fellow agents including you, just a simple support. It even got to the point where it seemed he cared about you in a deeper way and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel those feelings as well. It was these thoughts that were swirling in your mind as you were currently cleaning your utensils, getting ready for your next patient but the slam of the door made you jump. Turning around instantly, you spotted the man on your mind, arm around his middle, getting a bit of blood on the floor.

“Ja-ack?” you stuttered, getting over your spooked moment, “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Jack sighed as he took a seat, taking off his visor and relaxing a little as you moved his arm to reveal a big of a big wound on his stomach, “Just a small wound.”

“Tsk, tsk,” you scolded, knowing it wasn’t just a small wound but you’ve seen this too many times from him that it practically numbed you, “Always getting hurt.”

Turning your heal to get some bandages as well as the utensils for stitches, your ditzy mind forgot about the blood on the floor as you stepped in one of the small puddles and lost traction. “SHIIII-”

Anticipating your crash to the floor, you felt yourself stopped before that happened, looking up to see that Jack stopped you in the nick of time. “Jack-k? I’m-m sorry,” you start to apologize though you couldn’t help but like the moment, your cheeks turning rosy red.

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Jack hummed, giving you a week smile as a similar shade lined his face before he grunted deeply, his quick action and pressure on his gut agitating his wound, “(y-y/n)?”

“Yes?” you looked blankly before you realized, biting your lip as you got out of his arms, “Oh, sorry!”

Despite the blunder, you managed to fix up the super soldier without any other incident. Jack was quiet during that time, looking lost in thought as he bit his lip for a moment before you snapped him out of it.

“Jack?” you snapped your fingers in front of him.

“Dinner?” Jack asked, looking a little confused before he managed to collect his thoughts, “I’m sorry… would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I- sure,” you answered, rather flustered now, “But only after your wound heals.”

“Deal,” Jack chuckled, willing to endure so he could have a decent time with you that didn’t involve him getting hurt… yet.


But you decided to take fate into your own hands, well for the most part. It seemed you got into more accidents with Jack right around the corner, always there to save you like some clumsy protective knight. Yet the man was no fool, seeing that these tri[s and slips seemed more on purpose than accident now. But he guessed that’s what falling in love was all about, dad joke intended. And speaking of dad, he was soon going to be one after years of flirting, dating, and finally getting married to you, part of the American dream he was lucky to have and now he was getting another piece to that dream as he was taking a walk with you, well it was more like hovering over you, back to your room, laundry in hand.

“Jack, I’m alright,” you mumbled as you bit your lip, a hand on your bulging middle as you tried to calm the bouncing child inside as you carried the basket with your free arm.

“You can’t be too careful,” Jack mumbled, trying not to sound worried but he totally was, “You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“I know I am,” you sighed, gently smiling at him, “Believe me, I know.”

“And a man has to protect his girl,” Jack stated proudly, returning the smile. A perfectly placed kick from your unborn child managed to hit the basket, kicking a sock out and with your clumsy curse, you managed to step on it and lose traction.

“AHHH-” You were ready to fall, trying to move onto your back to protect your kid when you stopped suddenly, clothes all over the floor as you looked up, seeing that Jack managed to catch you in the nick of time. He managed to shuffle into a squat, one hand on your upper back, the other on your lower back.

“And I guess he has to protect his child too?” you couldn’t help but chuckle, heart racing as you tried to calm it down as not to stress the baby

“Especially from their klutz of a mother,” he mused though his voiced seemed a little strained.
“Jaaaaack,” you whined, playing the emotionally sensitive card a little too much, especially with his teasing.

“But I still love you,” he mused, kissing your cheek as he would always love his girl, no matter what.

“Oh, Jack, that’s so-” You were cut short as you noticed Jack whimper a little, furrowing your brow as he was straining to keep you the way you were now, tremors shooting from his tense muscles to your bloated body.

“M-my kn-nee-es,” he barely managed to grumble before he laid you down rather quickly, only to fall onto his side and rub the pained area. At least you weren’t alone on the floor anymore, giggling as you figured you could enjoy your time here as you pecked his cheek to help ease his pain. Especially since it would take forever to get you back up on your feet again. At least the laundry was warm…


“I’ve got you in my sights,” Jack mumbled in his serious commander voice as he was watching his daughter, (d/n) dancing around in a silly pink tutu, trying to show her dad what she learned in daycare. Despite Jack’s hard demeanor, he was proud of his little girl, seeing her grow up was making the old man soft and even giving him some hope in the world, especially when it gave him you and you gave him this little angel. (d/n) had her father’s blue eyes though sharper as compared to his weathered eyes and she was rather stubborn as well, especially during naptime. She got her nice (h/c) locks and beautiful looks and you hoped- no you prayed that she didn’t get your curse; your clumsiness.

“Oh please, she’s just fine,” You retorted in a hushed tone, curled up nest to your husband, watching the little show as you bit your lip, worried as you wonder even your curse would strike your child.

“I can’t help it,” he snickered, sensing your fear as he kissed your lips for a brief moment, “It’s my dad sense.”

“Well dad sense or not, our kid is gonna be alright,” you scoffed, knowing he’d always pull out the dad jokes card whenever he liked. Out of the corner of your eye though, you spotted that (d/n) managed to stumble over her wonky steps and was about to fall, potentially hurting that darling face or head. You knew what you had to do as you prevented her hit to the carpet, swooping her up into you arms with lighting quick reflexes.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” you asked her as you pecked her temple, worry deep in your (e/c) orbs.

“Again! Again!” the tot squealed, smiling wide as she bounced up and down in your arms.

“Only if your dad reflexes can catch up,” you chided, looking over your shoulder at him with a wide smirk on your face.

Jack got up, slowly clapping for you as he lightly nuzzled your cheek with his scruff. “You gave her your clumsiness in the first place.”

“Hehehe,” you laughed before you handed (d/n) off to Jack, mumbling into his ear, “I guess that’s not more ‘dirty dancing’ for the rest of the week.”

Jack was a blushing mess now as he looked at his daughter, hoping she didn’t hear that but a child’s ears are always open and absorb everything. His pulse quickened and blood got cold when his fears came true.

“What’s dirty dancing, daddy?” asked (d/n), too innocent and pure for this world questioning about the worse thing she could ask at such an age.

Queue Jack stumbling through an B-Sed answer of seeds and a farmer, red in the face and hoping this quick skills could get him out this situation… hopefully.

anonymous asked:

Can you maybe do some tutorials on how you draw the Beatles? Thanks!!

OH!! sure! did you want me to draw them? or like.. expand on what i do when i draw them?

hmm… well.. a tip from one beatles cartoon lover to another, I hella recommend referencing straight from the character sheets! there are a TON of tiny notes on them like how close john’s mouth is to his nose or george’s lopsided grin! they’re hella great to keep in mind while drawing them!! (also really cute things the animator’s noted to throw in some personality in their drawings) I found these on this blog

George and Ringo!

John and Paul!

i like to keep in mind that even if my drawings look wonky, the actual animators on the show didn’t do quite hot either… and the MORE OFF AND WEIRD it looks, the BETTER AND ON-MODEL IT IS in some odd way

when i draw them i also add little things i noticed from the actual boys too.. to name a few things: john’s half moon slits for eyes (he’s always squinting, he needed glasses haha), adding george’s deep deeeep eyebrows, ringo looking more mellow (and less dopey like in the cartoon T_T), paul is kinda… exactly the same…. i just draw him with eyelashes more than i have to


it’s not letting me embed the video right here with this ask, ive already uploaded a private tumblr video and itd take longer to do it on another site =__= so i hope this helps!

if you’re wondering anything else, feel free to ask, this was fun to do haah

redneckyacht  asked:

Okay I desperately need 7. from the christmas prompts list. Stiles having a full out powerpoint presentation "THIS IS WHAT I WANT" or Stiles subtle hints that are too subtle or Stiles' definition of subtle that has everyone convinced he's losing his mind but he really really really just wants that super awesome flannel over there. Or whatever version/variety of this you want, just give me Stiles and Christmas and Derek being awesome

Here you go dearest 🎄☺️🎄

It’s supposed to be a quick shopping trip. They need garbage bags, batteries and another giant box of k-cups. But they stopped at Target and there is something about Target that makes people shop and wander aimlessly for hours. So it’s unsurprising that they’re in the clothes section 30 minutes in to what was supposed to be a 10-minute trip.

“Look at this, Derek,” Stiles says, voice tinged with awe.

His long fingers are running over the sleeve of a plaid shirt, which honestly, looks incredibly comfortable.

“It looks like it will fit right in with the other 20 plaid shirts in our closet,” Derek answers deadpan and walks away towards the home goods section.


“Derek, please just. I’ll buy it and you can wrap it up and give it to me for Christmas,” Stiles pleads.

They’re back at Target, two weeks later and Derek has refused to let Stiles buy the shirt he wants.

“Please, please please?”

Derek’s standing there with his arms crossed, face blank.

“The holidays are coming Stiles, we agreed we’d stop buying ourselves things to keep our options open on gifts. So, no,” Derek replies gently but Stiles sticks his lower lip out in a pout.

“I hate when you make sense.”


Derek’s at the stove stirring the fresh pot of marinara sauce when Stiles sighs deeply. Derek peers over his shoulder at where Stiles is sitting at the island counter on his computer. He’s still pining over the plaid flannel shirt from Target.

It’s adorable.

“Hey, come taste this?” Derek asks quietly and Stiles blinks up at him over the top of his computer. Derek smiles softly, so happy he’s living with such an adorable man.

“Come try this,” Derek repeats gently, “I don’t want it to get too salty for your dad,” he explains when Stiles shuffles over.

He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes Derek’s sauce with a small smile teasing his lips.

“It’s not too salty, babe,” Stiles murmurs and leans into Derek’s chest. His face is tucked into Derek’s neck so his breath puffs across Derek’s collarbones. Derek puts his arms around Stiles and breathes him in.

“I really want that shirt.”

Derek groans.


Stiles is sitting in a sea of wrapping paper and gifts from the pack’s gift exchange and he’s trying to hide his disappointment. He’s doing a terrible job, but so far Stiles has gotten a car charger for his phone (which he desperately needed but come on Scott) and a scarf from Isaac. The pack has cleared out and Stiles is sorting through the paper to make sure no one lost anything in the mess.

Derek was going to wait until the morning, but his boyfriend’s face is doing that thing where he looks all forlorn and Stiles shouldn’t look that unhappy on Christmas Eve.

“Stiles,” Derek says gently and Stiles looks up at him, eyes big and sad. “Want to open one of your gifts from me tonight? I promise it’s not a car accessory from the gas station.”

Stiles’ eyes light up and that smirk returns to his plush pink lips.

“Yeah, but just one,” he answers seriously, “We need to leave some for the morning.”

Derek nods and walks over to the tree, he knows exactly which package he wants to have Stiles open. It’s a decent sized box with a singular tag and bow adorning it but Stiles’ eyes sparkle again when Derek places it in his lap as he sits down on the couch next to him.

Stiles carefully pops the tape from the ends of the box and then the piece on the bottom, keeping the paper neat and the tag intact. The box is meant to be deceiving and Stiles just snorts at the re-used hand mixer box and gets it open, pulling out the tissue wrapped present.

With the box now discarded on the floor, Stiles pulls the tissue paper back and gasps.

“That’s not the shirt from Target,” he says hesitantly, like he’s not trying to sound ungrateful or disappointed just, stating a fact.

“It’s not,” Derek says clearly, a cautious smile playing on his lips, “Can I explain why before you get disappointed?”

Stiles nods and Derek internally breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well see, whenever I borrow your flannel shirts you got from Target they always end up stretched out and wonky afterwards. Even if Scott borrows one it gets all weird after. So I found this one that’s just as soft and still can be washed with all your other ones but it’s a little bigger in the arms and won’t get loose and baggy on you.”

Stiles is looking at him with wide eyes and Derek finds himself continuing to ramble.

“And I didn’t want to like, test that theory but I know you like how my shirts smell so I maybe slept with it a few nights before I wrapped it up and-“

Stiles finally has mercy on him and cuts off his nervous speech with a kiss. It’s only a moment before Stiles is pulling back, his hands which had found their way to Derek’s face are continuing to cup his cheeks gently.

“It’s perfect, Der,” Stiles says quietly in the space between them. “I love it. Almost as much as I love you boo.”

Derek groans and sits back but Stiles just climbs into his lap.

“You promised Stiles. You promised to stop with the nicknames until after the holidays.”

“Well you promised me a shirt from Target,” Stiles shoots back playfully, clearly enjoying Derek’s frustration. Even though boo is pretty tame for Stiles it’s the principle of the matter.

Derek can feel his ears start to burn and Stiles’ fingers trace one of them as he smiles brightly down at Derek.

“You bought me another shirt from Target just so you wouldn’t break your promise, didn’t you?” he asks amusedly.

“Yeah,” Derek sighs and then Stiles is tossing his head back and laughing and Derek can’t help but stare.

“I don’t deserve you,” he tells Derek when he finally sobers and looks back down at Derek’s blushing face.

“I think we deserve each other,” Derek says, pulling Stiles back into him for another kiss.

Holidays are hard for them both, but with the family they’ve built with each other, this year isn’t going to be quite as bad.

As long as they stay away from Target.