You know, we could be happy out here. Think you might stand out in that suit. Well, I was thinking jean shorts & flip flops. I want to builld a life with you Elijah, with Hope. I want us to be happy. So we do that. Together. In jean shorts.
For the last few months I had lost health insurance that had kept me medicated and stable over the years. Due to having to switch insurance in California, it took a lot longer than expected to get approved, get an appointment, and finally get said medication.
During this lapse, my life kinda fell apart. I lost the urge to do anything. I stopped talking to a lot of my close friends. Drawing or anything productive seemed completely out of my reach. I didn’t take care of myself well, and was procrastinating on commissions and obligations with friends.
It has been some of the worst months of my life, but I tried to hide it from my friends and followers to keep this blog from becoming too much of a personal one. For that, I apologize.
But, things have finally turned around today. I just started medicating again, and I feel better than I had felt since before I left. I feel motivated again. I could finally draw something without thinking it was a pointless endeavor. It was a bit emotional I guess.
But to summarize: After months of struggling, I feel like myself again. And that means I finally can work on things I had put off for months on end.
‘The End’ is back in development. Commissions are going to get done. And comics will be made. To everyone who has been patient with these long lapses in updates, and to friends who have been encouraging me to keep going, thank you.
Request: Hi! I love your writing so much, i wanted to request a newt x reader, in which newt and the reader are best friends, and newt thinks he has a crush on tina so reader helps him impress her bc he’s a shy baby, but in the process they realise that they actually had feelings for each other all along and they fall harder? Happy ending? Xx
Word Count: 2,861
Pairing: Newt x Reader
Requested by Anonymous
Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in
“Well, that was disappointing.”
You and Newt stare down at the broken vase. Glass and water mix over the wooden floor and someone shouts from downstairs.
“I’ll get the broom.”
Newt steps back and you can already see the questions pestering him and thinning his confidence.
“I’m sure she’d say yes, Newt. You just have to ask.”
“I know, I know.” There’s the pacing you expected, complete with one finger pressed against his lips whenever he stops speaking. “I just need to find the right time.”
You toss the dust pan onto the ground, where it lands with a crunch on some vagrant piece of glass. “There’s never going to be a ‘right time.’”
Newt rolls his eyes at the quote gestures you make around his words. “I don’t want it to come from nowhere.”
“What if it comes from your heart?” You tease.
He scowls. “Funny. Here I thought I asked for love advice, not bad jokes.”
The glass scratches the ground on its way into the pan. “It’s a dual package. The jokes come free of charge.”
“What if I ask her on a roof? At sunset?”
“A bit cliché, don’t you think?”
“Well I don’t hear you coming up with any ideas.”
You sigh. Snappy Newt is not your favorite Newt to deal with. “Tina likes you, Newt. I promise. You could ask her out in a dumpster as a phoenix bursts into ashes around you both and she’d still say yes.”
“What about with a picnic? Women like those.”
You sweep the final pieces of glass into the dust pan. “If you really want help, you need to calm down. I’ll come up with something.”
Newt runs a hand over his face. “I’m going to check on the occamies.”
“No worries, I’ll just finish mopping up this mess myself.”
He turns back to you and shakes his head. “Let me help.”
The two of you finish drying off the floor as best you can. Sitting across from one another, you look at the final piece of the mess: the dropped lily, pure petals drooping under the water they soaked up during the clean-up. Newt leans over and grabs it before falling back against the wall. He holds it up in front of him, spinning it in his hands, ignoring the water dripping onto his hands.
this took much longer than i expected and im not 100% happy with it, I could have done the background better and my attempt at “light” reflecting sucks i need to learn how to do that better, but over all im happy with it and it was fun to do.
32-year-old Dorothy Jane Scott lived in Stanton, California, with her aunt and 4-year-old son, Shanti. On the morning of 28 May, 1980, she dropped her son at her parents home before departing to her place of employment in Anaheim, California. As she proceeded with her duties for that day, a coworker, Conrad Bostron, started to complain about a crippling pain. Being the kind and compassionate woman she was, Dorothy offered to take him to the hospital. As it transpired, Conrad had been bitten by a spider. When it was time for him to leave the hospital, Dorothy said she would go to the car park out the back and drive it to the front of the hospital so that Conrad didn’t have to walk too far.
As he stood outside, Dorothy seemed to be taking much longer than expected. Then, out of nowhere, he saw Dorothy’s car speed out of the car park and turn around the corner, speeding away from him. When she didn’t come back, Conrad alerted the police. Dread immediately washed over. For several months, Dorothy had been receiving alarming phone calls from an unknown caller. In these calls, the anonymous man would tell Dorothy that he was watching her. He was able to describe where she was and what she was doing in great detail. A terrified Dorothy even took karate lessons in an attempt to protect herself if this stalker was ever to attack. In these disturbing phone calls, he often threatened that he would kill Dorothy - in fact, he once told her he would abduct her and dismember her.
In the early hours of the following morning, Dorothy’s discarded and burnt out car was discovered approximately 10 miles from the hospital but there was no sign of Dorothy. Over the forthcoming years, Dorothy’s mother would receive taunting phone calls on a Wednesday in which the voice at the other end of the line would tell her that he still had Dorothy or tell her that he had murdered Dorothy. Eventually the calls stopped, at least until August 1984, when Dorothy’s remains were found. She was found on Santa Ann Canyon Road. Decomposition made a cause of death impossible. The calls soon started once again but police said they were untraceable. “Is Dorothy home?” the taunting voice often asked before hanging up.
Investigators would announce that they believed the man who had incessantly harassed Dorothy and then her mother was the killer. However, he has never been identified.
Request: I was listening to Can’t Help Falling In Love by Elvis himself and I couldn’t help but think about Newt while listening to it idk its such a Newt song and then i thought of you and well, it sounds like a possible fic idea ;) ;) I know you have so many requests but i just wanted to put this out there, also to tell you that these kinds of songs remind me of Newt and then you and your amazing stories. Anyway, have a good day!
Newt’s quill scratches against the parchment and he mumbles words under his breath, reading over his manuscript. Thunder outside rumbles, raindrops thump against the glass panes, and you plod over to Newt, dropping into the open spot next to him. He hardly notices as your forearm brushes his lightly, or the way you hum softly before tapping the back of his hand.
“Yes?” He mumbles, eyes still scanning over his messy handwriting.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” The word is distracted, his attention only half on you. This manuscript is important. He’s almost finished editing his chapter on bowtruckles and other leafy beasts; best friend or not, he doesn’t want to pause his work until he gets through the last page of it.
“Why do mooncalves only emerge during full moons?”
He doesn’t look up from the parchment. “They have an affinity for it.”
“But why?” You question, resting your chin in one hand as you play with the leaf of a potted plant sitting on the table.
Newt glances up at you, wary. “You really want to know?”
You nod, lips puckered in confusion as the leaf turns a shade of blue.
His heart twists, chest warming as he sets down his quill, and Newt shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden change of his heart’s rhythm. “It’s only a theory right now.”
You meet his eyes and smile. “That’s all right. I’d still like to hear what you think.”
Newt tries to ignore the feeling in his chest. “Could it wait a couple of minutes? I’ve almost finished here.”
“I’ll wait.” You say it with another smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm gently.
Though he was unaware of it, Newt has been on the precipice of falling for quite some time. Only a lack of free time had prevented him from considering this, considering asking you on a date. It would really only take a gesture, a small nudge, to knock him off that cliff, to convince him to ask you out.
Your soft squeeze of his arm is that nudge.
He lifts his quill again, throat dry, fully prepared to edit more, but Newt can’t tear his eyes away from the gentle slope of your nose or the way you narrow your eyes at the color-changing leaf.
Three pages of the chapter still need to be edited, but Newt flips the notebook shut, taking a deep breath, praying the strange feeling will disappear after a good night’s rest. “The moon’s a signal to them.”
(click title for song) This took me much longer than I expected but who cares- I am still so excited about this! yesterday I had this sudden idea of an OW/Transistor crossover OvO* I have dozens of variations of this particular song but this specific one, when you hear the dude talk, is my fav one. It gives me chills everytime n creates such a beautiful n intimate atmosphere.
n then it hit me- What if the fall of their Switzerland HQ didn’t led to Gabe becoming Reaper but to be somehow absorbed into Jacks rilfe like the sword dude in Transistor? N maybe Jack’s nickname could be “Blue” in this AU? n Talon n other shifty organisations are after them because they were both suppossed to die n maybe they realize what happened to Gabe n they really want that rifle for experimental reasons. n so Jack aka Blue n rifle!Gabe are partially on the run n partially on a vigilante trip through the world to get revenge n maybe find a way to get Gabe a body? or I dunno. too many possibilities, too many ideas :’‘‘‘D
either way, this is my contribution to this (imo) really intruiging crossover~
okay, she’s not a literal five headed dragon, but she IS a dragon, likely one who’s sass pissed off a wizard, which is why she’s been cursed to into a tiny, frail mortal form
“but shana!” you’re saying, “that’s a serious accusation! you can’t accuse people of being dragons without any evidence! this is america! we’re human until proven a giant fire breathing lizard in a court of law!”
BITCH you think I don’t got EVIDENCE???
runs hot. runs so hot. call the police and the fireman (make a draGON WANNA RETIRE MAN!!!!)
she’s so warm everyone in the friend group has used her as a space heater at various points
has put her hot hot hands on various people and there’s just this slow outrage of realization that small bunsen burners have been placed on them
she laid next to me in bed and was literally giving off such a large amount of heat from her tiny body that i had to TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING
she likes Things not in the way people like things, but in the ways of museum curators and DRAGONS have HOARDS of Things!
collects postcards, curates postcards and Small Art, and sometimes puts them up but most of the time they are just There and she Has Them because they are part of her Things
things that are blue are Good and things that are teal are Very Good!!
she has so many things in teal!!! she hoards teal!! is a small art or
postcard teal? EVEN BETTER!
‘but shana’ you say ‘those aren’t very traditional dragon hoards. that just sounds like things she likes’
IF! THIS! BITCH! COULD! ROB! A! BANK! SHE WOULD!! AND SHE WOULD SLEEP ON A PILE OF SOLID GOLD BARS!! BUT SHE CAN’T BREATH FIRE ANYMORE SO SHE MUST MAKE DO WITH PRETTY ART AND TEAL COLORED THINGS!!!
she made herself a cave to live in
i’m not fucking joking she made a CAVE!!!
she bought a queen canopy bed and got some dark BLUE sheets and THREE (3!) BLUE blankets and dark BLUE curtains to surround herself in!! it’s all blue and dark!
bitch missed her native environment and just!! built a motherfucking cave!!
her fashion aesthetic is Adventurer and Hero
how is this relevant, you ask?
i can only assume she dresses like all the mortals who tried to slay her in her past life and FAILED
consumes things that are TOO HOT!!
normal people should not be consuming things that are that hot!
drinks soup and other liquids that are boiling!!! yells at ME for not drinking boiling liquids! ‘it’s too hot!’ i tell her, and she scoffs and says 'it’s lukewarm!’
you???? are consuming??? a boiling liquid???? YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME ANYTHING ON TEMPERATURE
'microwave this for me’ she says. i do it. 'this is cold!’ she complains. honey. honey bunch. honey bunches of oats. its FUCKING STEAMING.
grew up in the icy tundra of minnesota and hates the warm mild so cal!
it is because she runs so hot!
loves snow! loves cold! who loves being cold?? NO ONE LOVES BEING COLD
therefore she is Not As Cold as everyone else because she’s a MOTHERFUCKING DRAGON
NO WONDER she doesn’t like living in a desert! dragons don’t live in deserts! they live on the tops of icy snowy mountains!
'it’s too hot’ she says, for once in her goddamn life. 'IT’S A PLEASANT FUCKING DAY’ i say. 'we should move. someplace north.’ she says, because she yearns to RETURN FROM WHENCE SHE CAME
every time she comes out of the shower she looks like she just got fucking murdered by gordon ramsay
let me explain
she scratches herself in the shower and BIG RED WELTS APPEAR.
'oh,’ you say, 'she has sensitive skin!’
DOES SHE???? or are her NAILS much like her UNNATURAL BODY HEAT remnants of her former dragon body, and therefore so much stronger than a normal human’s??
I THINK WE ALL KNOW THE ANSWER HERE
she’s always ready to Fight
her new years resolution last year was to get in a bar fight. this year it was to be pettiest person she knows.
she is a FIRM believer that violence solves ALL YOUR PROBLEMS if you do it right
why is so much vigilante justice rage contained inside of her? why is she so Ready To Go, Mate?
what else do you expect!! when you curse a big fearsome dragon!! to reside in a mortal form!! this is what you get!!!
Sunbeams strike your husband’s face. The golden light outlines the soft freckles dotting his face. His lips are parted, taking in and letting out deep breaths. His chest rises and fall in the same peaceful rhythm as his breaths, casting a shadow on your arm over and over. The sight brings a smile to your face as you run a thumb over his cheekbone and down a small scar on his cheek courtesy of your own clumsiness when dealing with a murtlap. You don’t feel too guilty given the amount of scars crawling up and down your arms that Newt caused before you met him.
The coffee shop where you first met Newt earns your business at least once a year, sometimes more if the two of you happen to stay in town for any amount of time. The sweet little shop hasn’t grown or changed much, aside from investing in more durable vases. Newt had proposed there six months after you first fell for him, then brought you back the past three years for your anniversary.
You trace shapes with his freckles as you contemplate your marriage and how you ended up somewhere so vastly different from anywhere you’d ever even dreamed of. Newt is heaven. He’s a blessing that has only ever proved the existence of soulmates, that the universe didn’t mess up when it brought the two of you together.
A tide of peaceful joy swells in your chest when Newt shifts, murmuring nonsense as he wakes up.
“Good morning, darling.” You say, pulling your hand back to your side.
He blinks his green eyes open, smiling when he sees you. “Morning, love.” He mumbles.
His sleepy smile warms you. “You must have slept well.”
“I didn’t see you come to bed.”
He stretches, revealing a strip of skin on his stomach that you run your fingers over. “Pickett wanted to talk. He wouldn’t stop ‘til I let him sleep in my vest pocket.”
That explains why the vest is so nicely hung on the coat rack in the corner. “I guess I should just be happy you made it to bed at all.”
His cheeks tinge pink as he slides out of bed and changes the subject, heading to the dresser. “You’re shopping today, right?”
You step next to him, giggling at his expression when he notices his jade sweater grazing the middle of your thighs. “That was the plan. Need something?”
So! I don’t know if this had been already a discussion, but anyway: If Bill wouldn’t have manipulated Ford (like in the “better” dimension), Ford wouldn’t have to get help from Stan, so Stan would have probably gotten into trouble with Rico’s gang….(also John Laurens was at the age of 27 when he died, that could have also probably been the same age Stan would have died). You also may have noticed that I cut a part from the song. It’s because it firstly doesn’t fit with their story and secondly….I wouldn’t have known what to draw there.
The OC, Adeline Marks, belongs to the famous @hntrgurl13
I’m sorry for my english and my few mistakes in the vid, but it’s almost 2 am and I’m tired.