#I have a few other sketches to clean up and post!

[miramelindamusings]

Re-playing BG 3 with a wild magic sorceror Tav. She's a drow named Nimue, and its been a lot of fun! I thought about perhaps Halsin as her romance but, as I kept playing, Wyll really shone and was perfect for this Tav! He's so sweet and funny and I love his banter! I'm only on Act II but I've been enjoying his romance so I thought I would draw something and learn how to draw him and Nimue :)

[tekablade-chronicles-3]

Metaphor has come out now ! I know it's late but i was tired yesterday.

I haven't had any time to draw lately, but here are doodles and concepts i drew some time ago ! Enjoy !

[twelvetapsleft]

andy said he'd be terrible at giving head

[biteyoubiteme]

redlightdesign

fem!reader x hyunjin 

synopsis: you get tattooed by your favorite tattoo artist. 

warnings: !!!🔞!!! tattooartist!hyunjin, tattooing, needles, pain, oral (f!rec), use of teeth, overstim, multiple orgasms (f!rec), squirting, fingering, pussydrunkvibes, subspace kinda, prob forgot some sorry 

wc: 5.2k

an: I want a new tattoo </3 feedback appreciated! [m.list] not proof read sorry ;-;

You didn’t think you would ever get a consolation let alone an appointment with redlightdesign. For over three years you have been submitting a request anytime their books were open. You set timers for when the form dropped to make sure you were one of the first to be seen but everyone was doing the exact same thing. 

redlightdesign would make an announcement that the submissions were closed an hour later saying they were booked solid for the next three months. The process repeats itself and every time you pray you get a response. 

Thirteen forms later and you finally got an answer. Your dream tattoo will be underway in a matter of weeks. You made sure to keep the perfect space open for the piece. Not a single artist is the right fit to do your idea justice the way Redlightdesign could. 

Before you read the email you didn’t even think you would ever be picked, your thigh would just always be bare for the possibility that never would come to fruition. But sitting in a coffee shop on a Sunday morning avoiding finishing your homework for Monday's class you jump on the opportunity to check your phone when it dings. Post notifications for redlightdesign on since you started following them. Every time they announced open books or a dropped appointment you jumped to put yourself up for the running. You remember the magazine article Redlightdsign had been featured in that started your obsession. The anonymous tattoo artist is based in Seattle and New York, traveling across the states to get a wider audience. Not that they needed the help, they were globally known, with people submitting forms all around the world, purchasing plane tickets after they confirmed an appointment. 

It was stiff competition and the anonymity of the artist was sacred to each client. There was barely any information about Redlightdesign on the internet besides the finished product, and the address to their studios was only given out just before your appointment. Once the details of the New York studio had been doxxed online and redlightdesign had stopped working for a year, packing up and shutting down in well deserved retaliation. When they came back to their socials they made it clear the next time they wouldn't stop for a year but quit entirely. No one shared any information after, only stating that Redlightdesign was one of the nicest people they have ever been tattooed by and a photo of the beautiful work after. 

But there sipping on an almost empty drink avoiding work that needed to be done you felt your pulse race just like every other time you've submitted a form. Only this time your stomach bottomed out seeing the email that popped up in your inbox a few minutes later. 

h.rldesign/gmail.com Hi, I love your idea and sketches. I think this would transfer perfectly in my style. If we are to do the piece on the thigh at the size you want I think it's best we split the work into two appointments. My open slots for this would be January 9th and 10th. Let me know if these dates work for you and then I can get started on designing and cleaning up your idea. -redlightdesign 

even just knowing their email address was shocking enough, seeing a response could have sent you into a coma. If Redlightdesign needed you on the 9th and 10th you would do everything in your power to be right at their door. You didn't care if you had to call in sick, you would put on the most convincing fake cough known to man; you would sell out stadiums with the performance if need be. 

You couldn't type a response fast enough, needing to send in a confirmation just to know it was solidified. Within seconds you got a link for a deposit to hold the dates and a promise that Redlightdesign would be working on your piece asap. You were too excited to even think about your work anymore, sitting in the coffee shop staring down at your phone in disbelief. 

It was only a few days later when the first drafts of the tattoo you would be getting were sent over for you to approve. You could tell the work had been drawn in a sketchbook and scanned to send in an email, the charcoal lines and highlights showing the detailed work. It was everything you could have hoped for, redlightdesign taking the amateur rendering of your idea and turning it into the masterpiece sitting in your inbox. They promised to have perfected versions ready when you arrived early on the ninth, reminding you that they would transfer it into the stencil and use a pen to finish drawing the finishing touches to make sure it flowed with your body just right. Make sure to eat before the appointment and don't wear any lotions on the tattoo area. Take care to remember we can take as many breaks as you want you have the day booked up with me so no need to rush through just to get it over with. 

You made sure to dress appropriately. A pair of shorts you didn’t mind getting ink on in case any decided to ruin them. It was cold the morning of the ninth, a drizzle setting in as you made your way towards the address you had been sent before you had woken up. Even just seeing the street name and knowing this whole time you’ve been a fifteen-minute walk away from Redlights studio was bizarre. How many times have you driven by the building without ever knowing? 

The email with the address had said the door would be open and to take the stairs up to the loft. The separate space on the ground level was a bakery, the sign flipped to closed. But as you felt the first droplets of rain you pulled on the handle for the door only for it to not budge. You check the address again to make sure it is right, you can see the windows to the studio above but the curtains are pulled shut. You were running over the email you could send to redlightdesign, reading it over once more when someone reached past you making you jump. “holy shit you almost gave me a heart attack,” you breathe your phone pressed to your chest. 

The soft laugh of the person beside you is muffled behind the black medical mask they wear, long dark hair hanging on their brow leaving only smiling eyes glancing over you. “I'm sorry I was running late and didn't make it in time to beat you here,” they push their key into the lock twisting until it clicks, painted nails wrapping around the handle to hold the door open for you. 

You give a weak thanks stepping into the little hallway leading to the stairs waiting for them to step in and follow. 

You're trying hard not to make it seem like you're staring at them but it's almost impossible not to. Right in front of you is the person whose identity has been hidden from the public for years. You've tried to imagine what redlightdesign looked like since you read that magazine article. Now with the early morning mist still stuck to their hair you were seconds away from knowing exactly what they were like. Watching how their long fingers flipped over the keys looking for the one to unlock the loft door, how they used their shoulder to push open the door turning back to give you smiling eyes, waving you in. 

They moved around to pull open the long cream-colored curtains, the gray light pouring in revealing the space. The walls have tacked up charcoal drawings, painted landscapes, and oil pastel flowers. A worn brown leather couch pushed to one side, heavy white blanket pushed back like someone had taken a nap there against the throw pillows. Tattoo bed next to rows of inks and past designs. On another wall a cluster of polaroids, stepping closer you can see its every tattoo that redlightdesign has done here. You're excited to see ones they haven't posted on their socials, so distracted you don't hear a closet door opening and the wheeling of a cart behind you. “I wanted to be set up so we could get started right away but,” when you turn you see them shrug. The view outside of the waterfront off in the distance matches some of the paintings done during different times of the day. 

“It's okay I can wait, we're booked all day right?” 

“yes that's right,” they go through their bag pulling out a large sketchbook, “here take a seat and we can go over some of these together,” 

they sink into the couch pushing back the blanket to make room for you to follow. Your thighs touching before they hand over the sketchbook. You're amazed by the craftsmanship, and the detail put into each variety of the tattoo idea you have given them. No other artist has given you so many possibilities, maybe one of two but a whole spread dedicated to small details was never on the table. redlightdesign had taken time working through this with passion. “Wow,” you breathe not knowing where to look first. 

“do you like it? It's a big thing, a tattoo of this size, and I wanted to make sure it really had all the elements you wanted in it while also not being too chaotic and messy. You see this one has less shading and seems more open but this one is heavy-handed if you're into that kinda style. I see you have other work done on your arms and if you want to go that way style-wise I think this one would be perfect,” they point at the one you've been focused on knowing that it was exactly what you wanted. 

“It's amazing, they all are, I'm so impressed redli-“

“Hyunjin, you can call me Hyunjin,” they chuckle, “I should have introduced myself earlier but I was late and it slipped my mind I'm sorry,” 

“no, it's okay thank you hyunjin,” you try the name in your mouth, “I think this is exactly what I want, better than what I could have imagined,” 

“great I'm happy to impress let me get this printed in a stencil and we can add anything else after we find the right placement,” you watch as they stand moving to the corner with a desk, you can't see their face but know they've taken their mask off as they turn on the printer. “Do you live around here or was it a commute?” 

“oh I live right up the street, I was surprised to see how close it was to my place actually,” you say over the sound of the scanner. 

“that's good, sometimes I have people coming from all over it's fun to finally have a local visit,” 

“I would have come out to New York if that's where you would have been,” you admit. 

“I haven't been out there in a while, they are doing construction on the street the studio is on so I've been located here for a while now,” he states pulling out the stencil sheet. “I did a few different sizes to start with,” 

he turns around and you're shocked at how beautiful Hyunjin is. In all the time you've thought about redlightdesign never did it cross your mind to account for prettiness but if you did your scale would be broken. You're still seated when he comes over and kneels in front of you. 

“Can I?” he asks looking up at you, your hands in your lap covering your thighs.

“oh yeah sure,” you're flustered lifting your hands away. 

“left or right?” he asks, holding two of the stencils over each leg. 

“right,” your hands sinking into the couch as Hyunjin wipes his thumb over your bare thigh. He shows you the three different sizes and you decide on one before he asks you to stand in front of the mirror so he can place the stencil on. 

“Here,” he mutters, being gentle to get the placement right in the first go. “We can always print more if you don't like it here,” he blows cool air over the purple lines traced on to make sure it's dry enough for you to move. He slides his hand behind the pit of your knee tugging your leg. You reach out to steady yourself with his shoulders, the backs of your hands feeling the tickle of his long hair hanging past his ears. He lifts your leg enough so that your foot is resting on his thigh, his hands slipping over your skin checking it looks good. 

You love the way he's found the perfect spot on your thigh so that it flows with your body, “I think you got it first try,” 

“Look in the mirror first just to make sure,” he lets you go, pulling himself to stand behind you so that you can see yourself. 

“yes it's perfect,” and he nods, grabbing a purple pen. 

“finishing touches then,” he gets back down in front of you lifting your foot back to his knee so that he can steady you. The marker is cold on your skin as he draws, adding lines and shading in spots to make the work blend better. When he blows on the wet lines of ink you shiver especially when he draws on your inner thigh, your skin so sensitive you swear you could imagine his fingers tracing shapes instead of the pen. “Perfect,” he states, giving your knee a tap letting you know he's done. “Let me set up and if you need the bathroom before we start I'd go now. I have water and a kettle for coffee over under the desk, and we can stop for lunch around let's say twelve or one-ish?” 

You nod, taking your seat on the tattoo bed. He's set it up so that you're slightly leaned back but still sitting up. You watch him pull on black gloves and get all of the inks and needles ready, following a system you've seen done before. He clicks on a stereo the soft song playing in the background just loud enough for us to talk if we wanted to or just to listen. you adjust in your seat when you hear the sound of the tattoo gun whirring, hyunjins free hand stretching your skin in preparation, “The hard part will be around the knee so let's get that area out of the way,” 

you nod watching as he starts, the familiar burn of the needle digging in but not too painfully. He was right that it was worse than some of your other tattoos but not unbearable. What distracts you is how concentrated he looks leaning over your leg, hair pushed back behind his ears but one strand hangs across his forehead, the corner of his lip between his teeth. 

He starts to ask you small questions about yourself, the conversation leading to learning about him and how he got into tattooing. He talks about his art and the little things he likes. Both of you are so invested in one another that you don't even notice how far you've come in the day, lunch already rolling around before you know it. He's gotten through more than half the outline when he starts the loose wrap to keep it clean while you go out for lunch. The bakery is just downstairs offering lunch deals you can't refuse and when you get back upstairs both of you sit on the couch and continue your conversation. Giggling over nothing much but being comfortable in each other's company more than what you could have asked for. 

redlightdesign could have been a total dick but you were blessed enough to get someone so genuinely kind and talented. And when you got back in the chair to finish the day's session you were sad to know that tomorrow would be the last time you saw Hyunjin unless you somehow got another appointment. The idea in it of itself was making you dread leaving. 

“Could you tie my hair up?” he asks lifting his wrist up to you, a hair band waiting for you to take off. You lean over taking the tie from him and running your fingers through the dark strands. He hums as you brush the hair from his face gathering it all to tie into a ponytail. “thank you,” he nods letting the end bob up and down, a sweet smile teasing his lips before he goes back to the linework. 

When he finally declares you done for the day you sigh, his thumb smoothing over the ends of the tape he's put to hold the wrap he put over your thigh. His finger slips across your inner thigh making you jolt harder than when the needle was to your skin. “sensitive?” he asks and you nod, not wanting to think too much into it. You were definitely sensitive but not from the pain, watching his long fingers work over your skin didn't put the cleanest image in your head. 

He starts to break down his workstation, cleaning up and wiping everything to disinfect. While you put on your coat he asks, “Do you want to get dinner?” you turn to make sure he is not on the phone but he is in fact asking you, “I know this great spot a block over it's not that far a walk if you're up for it?” 

“Sure,” you nod and he rubs the back of his neck. 

“You know if you're not busy or anything I don't usually ask clients out for dinner but we were having a good chat and you know if you don't want to,” he drags on his ears pink, it was cute to watch him flustered. 

“I'd love to go to dinner with you hyunjin,” you smile following him out. 

You share an umbrella as you make your way to the small cafe-style restaurant, outdoor seating covered with a canopy so you won't get hit by any rain. Sitting across from one another, Hyunjin asks to see your other tattoos. You lay one arm down on the table, hyunjins fingertips ghosting over your skin as he traces the lines of all your other work. “I think I've seen this one before, did you get it from Felix? Or what's his username…”

“youg.ink?” you nod, “I actually got it because I saw you mentioned them before and it introduced me to their work. instantly fell in love with this when he offered it up,” 

hyunjins not even paying attention to the tattoos anymore as he lets his fingers glide over your smooth skin. Most times after a client was done for the day in his chair he walked them to the door, waved goodbye, and worked in the studio on the next person's design. Most times he had people who he didn't mind not seeing again but you and your laugh, your gentle conversation, made him want to break his own rules for once. He walks you home after dinner and promises to see you tomorrow at the same time. 

When you show up for your second session you're double fisting two iced coffees; the door is already unlocked as you make your way up the stairs. Hyunjin is sitting at the desk with headphones on sketching away before he sees the movement in the corner of his eye. He gives you a big smile, all teeth and is so cute. He tugs his headphones off letting them hang around his neck, “you got me a coffee?” 

“Maybe or maybe I have a caffeine addiction,” you joke, handing over his cup. You look over to see what he's working on and he leans back to give you a better view. 

“The next client wants their back done, it will be spaced out over the next four months. first sessions tomorrow,” 

“I wouldn't even know where to start on something that big,” 

“the same way I started yours,” he looks down at your legs, the wrap still in place only today you're wearing a skirt instead of shorts. The only other clothing item you felt would give him space to work today. Hyunjin looks back to his sketchbook, shutting it and standing. “let's get you up on the chair and get started,” 

you follow his instructions, sinking back into the chair and letting your skirt bunch between your legs to expose your thigh. Hyunjin starts to set up his station, pulling on his gloves after flipping to the sketch of your design to have to glance at while he works. “might hurt today with all the shading if you need any breaks let me know we can go as slow as you need,” he peels away the tape before cleaning your leg with a towel and watered down soap. “It already looks good,” he nods, pressing around the tattoo. 

“I think I can handle it,” 

“Okay, we can work the bottom to the top again today, get the area closest to the knee and get the most painful bit first,” 

and you think you can handle it and you can for the most part but the dragging of the needle over the still red outline from yesterday is painful today. Your hand bunching in your skirt as you remind yourself to breathe. You let your head roll back in the chair not able to watch anymore, focusing on the music playing, the dull hum of the tattoo gun usually comforting you but now a reminder that you're here for a while. 

hyunjin is trying to concentrate, he's great at what he does, but what's testing him is how you're flashing your panties at him. he was going to say something, bring up a conversation about anything but when he looked up, a simple glance he was face to face with the dark grey fabric, the outline of you silencing him. You didn't even notice, your neck exposed as your free hand not holding your skirt gripped the armrest. 

Tattooing people made nudity and almost nudity normal. It was why Hyunjin preferred his private studio so that he could make people feel comfortable, it was better than having someone who wanted a hip tattoo strip in a shop where anyone could watch. But with you sitting in front of him he forgot that he shouldn't look so close. Because instead of ignoring the view he was imagining ways that he could make your pain more bearable. Imagining how if he reached over and brushed where he knew your clit would be waiting you wouldn't be moaning in pain. 

It's not until lunch that your skirt is let go but it's done the work of keeping Hyunjin hard for the entirety of the progress he's made toward the tattoo. When he sprays the tattoo down with the soapy water beads roll back up your leg because of the way the chairs are angled. The cold water feels great against your hot skin and Hyunjin apologizes for the mess passing you a paper towel to wipe any that got too far. You slightly lift your leg to wipe your inner thighs, the movement flashing Hyunjin again only this time the droplets of water had dampened your panties. The gray fabric was dark where he had been fantasizing they would be. 

He doesn't even want to think about standing from his stool knowing that the second he does he will have to adjust himself only drawing attention to the fact he is very hard. He tries to make a list of things in his head as he wraps your thigh. To think about how it's almost over, that you will be gone in the next hour or two but that only makes it worse. You would be gone when he was this needy? He wanted to make an excuse to have you come back for another session. But it was quite obvious he would be dragging out the appointment when he only needed to do a small section when the two of you were done with lunch. He could have waited and finished, pushed your lunch back, and waved goodbye but no. 

He swiveled his chair away from you, taking a sip from his almost empty cup of coffee as you slid down the bed to stand. Hyunjin takes a breath and prays you don't notice but it's the first thing you see when he turns, the strained outline not very well hidden. You pretend to look out the window, feeling your cheeks get hot. All you can think about is if it was your noises that did it, all the whimpering wasn't usually how you handled tattoos but this one was the biggest piece you've gotten, and didn't know two sessions would make your usually composed self break so easily. it would explain the silence compared to yesterday. So you toy with the idea, how far would he go if you made yourself available? 

You grabbed lunch together, hyunjin putting a pillow over his lap to steady his plate of food but both of you knew that wasn't the real reason. And when you were back in the chair you intentionally let your skirt roll up this time. It doesn't help that he's now working on the part of the tattoo closest to your center, how he wraps his hand around your thigh, pushing your legs further apart to reach a spot on your inner thigh. Gloved fingers brushing over your panties for the smallest second, your hips sinking into the seat to keep yourself from moving. Hyunjin noticed but needed to get through the rest of the tattoo, if he stopped now he wouldn't know when he would start again. Your lip between your teeth he watched as you tried to close your legs again to block your exposed panties, now wet with your slick and nothing else. He could see the spot and almost ripped his gloves off as soon as he finished his work. But now he was teasing you. Cleaning the tattoo down and wiping it down. He doesn't even bother with the normal photos he would take right away instead putting on the second skin to protect the tattoo. As he smooths the thin film over your inner thigh he lets his fingers slip up brushing against your center to see your reaction. 

Your head rolls to your shoulder watching him through your lashes as he takes off his gloves and tosses them on the cart. He lifts the armrest on the tattoo chair before reaching behind your knees to pull you to the edge of the seat so your legs are dangling off the side. “how is it someone can make the prettiest sounds and sit so still for me?” he leans down and plants a kiss on your tattooless thigh, “because all I could think about was how I wanted to see your legs shaking for me while you whined like that,” 

you tried to draw your knees together but he was in the way, kissing up your inner thigh, nipping at your skin with his teeth. When he reached your skirt he flipped it up with a lazy hand giving you no time before his thumb was over your clit rubbing a harsh circle over the fabric. You felt the shock run up to your stomach, your voice breathy as you whimpered his name. He followed the wet line down the front of your panties before hooking his finger along the seam to pull them back. He wanted one taste, needed one taste but knew he wouldn't stop at just one, not when you looked this edible and ready for him. 

He ravages your clit, your hands shooting to his head burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks. He's careful of your tattoo but your other thigh is fair game for him to wrap his arm around and push you open, fingers bruising with how he spreads you. His free hand prodded your entrance, circling in your wetness before slipping in knuckle deep. “Hyunjin,” you whine, your hips rocking against his lips, feeling the build up of your orgasm. He curls his fingers pressing up into you enough to make your legs jerk from the new angle. 

You're seeing spot before too long, hips stuttering as he gives a final hard suck, fingers still as you clench around them. You're moaning so loud you're sure someone will hear but you don't even care. Hyunjin doesn't stop the flick of his tongue against your clit making you cry out, “I said I wanted to see them shake,” devilish smile covered in your slick before he latches on to your clit again. Fingers pumping in and out of you before he presses deeper into you. You can feel tears at the corners of your eyes, and when he pulls away slightly to let his teeth brush your clit you're done for, legs trembling as you cum. He is persistent and you have to tug his head away, a slight smile stuck on his wet lips as he watches your body shake from the overstimulation. “once more?” 

“I can't- I can't do it,” you shake your head but he drags his fingers out slowly before inching them back in, your hips jumping. 

“I know you can, you've been doing so good for me already, one more time won't hurt,” he hums, dipping his nose down to brush over your nub. Jolting at the feeling he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh, slowly building up speed with his fingers, “can't you do just one more?” it's the way he asks so softly, the heavy gaze under heavier eyelids that makes you nod. 

You're so sensitive that one lick has you shaking, your orgasm feeling so far and yet so close all at once. His tongue laps through your folds circling your clit. Hyunjin is obsessed with the taste of you, completely under the spell of your pussy and how it responds to his touch. He could go all night eating you out, watching as you fell apart again and again before him. Your cries are getting louder and before you know it your back is arching into him almost coming off the seat, your orgasm so intense you don't expect the clear fluid to squirt out of you until it has. 

You're breathing so labored you place a hand over your chest to try and calm yourself. hyunjins pleased grin is the only thing you see before he pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in his mouth to clean them. Every once in a while your legs jerk from an aftershock, the delight in his eyes worth how tired you feel. Your thighs are sticking to the leather seat under you as Hyunjin pulls your underwear back into place leaning down to leave a ghost of a kiss over your clothed clit. “next time I want you to cry this pretty for my cock okay?”

[choochooboss]

Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

[venusvhs]

Hiho >-<, could you write what mundane life would be like after years of relationship with modern!mizu? She and the reader living the life that all sapphics dream of, even with a mutual marriage proposal at the end?

🤍 domestic life with mizu 🤍

•domestic!mizu, established relationship, engagement, fluff, chubby femme reader implied, loser!mizu if you squint, brief smut mentioned, no beta we die like men, post college au

🐾 i love this ask sm… ty for the request my love, i hope this is up to standards <3 mizu deserves this kind of life so bad ugh ilh

life with mizu, since you'd both left college, had been so much better than anything you'd planned for yourself as a kid. it was peaceful, quiet, serene.

after college, mizu had gotten a job as a tattoo artist and she was happy. she earnt enough, and she actually enjoyed her job! and combined with your job you both make enough to live comfortably, you can afford the good things.

you'd moved into a little house on the outskirts of the city, two bedrooms so you each could have space when you needed it—because couples with their own bedrooms last longer and sleep better, supposedly—but you both end up in the same bed almost every night either way.

you did most of the decorating, mizu did all the heavy work. she built the furniture and hung pictures and lugged in all the boxes when you moved in. she'd gotten multiple headaches stressing over it all, but the smile on your face when she was done made it so worth it.

your house is organised, but not... too organised. it's clean and tidy, but it looks lived in. there are small details that make it clear people live here; mizu's half finished sketches on the coffee table, the dishes that are always on the drying rack, the occasional sock on the floor. without these details it would probably be uncanny.

the walls are littered with pictures of the both of you, framed and hung neatly with pride. mizu puts posters up and so do you, and there's the occasional drawing pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen, magnets on the fridge with sticky notes and grocery lists. it feels personal, loving.

you and mizu have a routine. wake up, pretend you aren't procrastinating for ten minutes before getting out of bed. mizu showers, so quickly you'd barely think she did, and makes breakfast—the only meal she can make—while letting you get ready in peace. she gets ready after breakfast. you both kiss each other goodbye and go to work, and when you come home later on you make dinner, which you eat together while watching whatever you've decided on that day. by the time you both go to bed you're well fed and well loved. you fill any free time with whatever. sometimes you both just exist within the same space, not talking or interacting, just existing together. it makes things a lot more peaceful, allows you both time to think over your days before the inevitable chatter before bed and/or during dinner.

on saturdays, you go on dates. you take turns picking where, and neither of you ever complain. you frequent the aquarium often; mizu's idea most of the time. you go to museums, parks, the beach, dinner, etc etc. and every time you do, your face hurts by the end of the night from smiling.

the vases in the house are always full of fresh flowers. this is mainly because mizu works right next to a florists, and she always thinks of you when she sees a new arrangement or a new flower.

the day you get engaged seems like a normal saturday. you go to the aquarium, because of course, and then she takes you to the park; where you've set up a picnic by the lake. mizu had been planning to propose at the aquarium, but you'd then told her about the picnic and she decided to wait, just because you seemed so excited about it.

she proposed first. and was very blunt with it. she's a woman of few words, she doesn't enjoy emotional speeches or anything like that. she just distracted you with swans before getting on one knee with a very simple, "will you marry me?" and immediately you burst into both tears and laughter, before producing the ring you'd brought with you, and you spent the rest of the evening with your hands intertwined, rings clinking quietly every time they touch as you both stare at them glittering. you laugh a lot that night.

[ultrainfinitepit]

A few people were asking about my BG3 designs so here they all are in one post. These are just the sketches so they are messy at the moment, I will share again once I've cleaned them up.

I'm planning to self-fund a small number of each of these, and if any designs sell out I will order more.

If this series does well I want to make more BG3 pins, of some NPCs or maybe the other companions. Let me know in the replies if you have any characters you'd really like to see!

[zae-heeyyy]

Valor

Summary: Arthur takes you on one of his adventures. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!Reader Word Count: 1,760 Trigger Warning: Animal attack, angry-ish Arthur, violence Tags: mid- high honor Arthur, damsel in destress, fluff, and angst

a/n: Hey y'all! It's been a while since I posted because life is crazy right now. This is a request from @littlemistey. I'm paraphrasing from our convo, "Arthur x reader where the reader is saved by Arthur from almost being mauled by a cougar or a pack of wolves." Sketches are copied/cut from Arthur's journal. A classic "Arthur Morgan, please save me" trope. Thanks for reading!

Valor: Great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle. It denotes bravery and heroism, particularly in challenging or risky situations.

The bones in your wrists ached with the numbing weight of boredom as another morning of chores lumbered on. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. In, around, under, off. Intertwined pieces of yarn grew longer at your feet as the knitting cadence played in your head. You'd zoned out, daydreaming of anything more exciting than this.

A rhythmic clank of guns on a belt alerted you to your approaching burly cowboy.

You would've been glad to see him any other time, but your contempt for your chores and an odd hat on his head made you groan with irritation. A lit cigarette sat snug between his lips as he talked, muffling his speech.

"Why you sittin' here with your lip stuck out?" he asked, adjusting his belt and sitting beside you on a wooden crate. He tossed the cigarette away, leaned over to kiss the temple of your head, and placed a hand on the small of your back.

"Bored outta my mind," you complained. The sun reflected off a shiny decorative piece on his hat, making you squint. "And why are you wearing that stupid hat?"

"What?" he opened his hands out questioningly with a goofy grin stretched across his face. "A man keeps this camp afloat, and he can't even wear a nice hat without his lady callin' it stupid."  

You rolled your eyes and gestured to all the women in the camp, cleaning tables and guns, sewing, and helping with dinner.

"No, we keep this camp afloat while you men are out doing god knows what," you said, your stitches getting sloppier as your vexation grew. "I'm losing my mind here. Meanwhile, you come back with fancy trinkets, weird statues, emeralds, and crazy hats! You know, I think you do the robbing and hunting only sometimes, and when that's done, you're just out there playing around!"

You finally stopped knitting and turned to Arthur, whose playful grin had faltered into a thoughtful glance. You continued your monologue, "Ugh! I swear, if you don't get me outta here, I'm gonna stab Grimshaw through the eye with this needle!"

You held the sharp point inches away from Arthur's face, prompting him to snatch it from you. "Alright, easy there." He grabbed your hand in two of his gloved ones and glanced at it from under the brim of his hat, thinking for a long moment, "Fine, you can come with me long as nobody gets stabbed. Can't have a degenerate murderer loose in this camp, now, can we?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, you squealed excitedly and jumped up from your spot, pulling on Arthur's arm to make him stand, too.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said between the many kisses you laid on him. He stilled you with firm hands on your waist and chuckled.

"I reckon it won't be as exciting as you think, but I can't say no to you."

Within a few minutes, you were ready to go, aiming and checking the ammo on a varmint rifle that Arthur had given you.

"Met a strange feller, Algernon Wasp. He's a— he has— well, he— he's an artist, I guess; he's paying me to collect some stuff for his, uh, creations. Bird feathers, orchids, that kind of stuff. Would be faster with the two of us."

And that's how you found yourself in the swamps of Lemoyne with the varmint rifle slung over your shoulder as you swatted away mosquitoes and sweated your ass off. You were hot, thirsty, and worst of all, you'd only found four of the seven cigar orchids you needed.

Mud squelched under your feet as you followed behind Arthur; you spoke exasperatedly, "how much is this fool paying you for all this?"

Arthur had gone quieter as you'd gotten more frustrated over the hours. Both of you were starting to regret this decision.

"I don't know. Money is money," he said dismissively, his head on a swivel and eyes focused. You were bothered that he could so easily spot plants and always knew which direction to go, expecting you to keep pace with his long strides when mud weighed down your skirts, slowing you down. You knew it was irrational, but you were mad at him for dragging you out here despite your near begging.

The heat was getting to you, and you'd lost control of the filter from your brain to your mouth. Arthur was a few feet ahead when you started your mumbling, "goddamn swamps is no place for a lady. Gators, mud, bugs and—" You didn't get to finish your sentence before Arthur spun and made two giant steps toward you, jaw clenched.

"You got something to say?"

You crossed your arms, defiant. Arthur's reputation as a vicious intimidator didn't phase you, though. He wouldn't lay a finger on you; you both knew it. You rolled your eyes and said, "this is as boring as being back at camp, except I'm all dirty now."

He stepped closer into your space, his angry eyes searching yours. He spoke in a low volume that would scare anybody but you: "This is what you wanted, woman, so don't go gettin' mad at me because things ain't all neat and proper."

Were you frightened by him? No. Were your feelings hurt? Yes. You scoffed and nodded slowly while you spoke, "You're right. I'm gonna head to camp. I'll see you when you get back."

You didn't give him the chance to respond before you trudged in the other direction, clicking for your horse waiting nearby. Arthur watched you go until he lost sight of you in the overgrown vegetation.

Then you were on the road, your horse at a trot, when something in his line of vision spooked him. Before you could even react, you were bucked off, your head hitting the ground with a thud. Despite the pain, you knew better than to just lay there. Gators and snakes were everywhere, but only something notably terrifying would scare off your Andalusian. You took the rifle off your back, pointing it aimlessly all around, trying to focus your spinning vision on the threat beyond.

Before you could blink, a big cat took hold of your leg through your skirt. You shot wildly once, twice, then three times before the beast let go of you. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you scrambled backward as more bullets rang out from your low-caliber weapon. Hoping and praying, you squeezed the trigger one last time. Eyes closed, you prepared for the inevitable when a louder shot rang out somewhere near you.

When pain and death didn't come, you opened your eyes to see Arthur standing over you, concern distorting his face. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and he huffed, trying to catch his breath. His hands scoured every inch of you, searching for signs of bleeding. Panic started to set in again when you realized you couldn't feel anything; you held your breath as Arthur pulled up the hem of your dress, bracing for the worst.

You breathed a sigh of relief and let your head fall back onto the ground. The puncture was minor, no worse than a needle prick. Arthur stood, using his arm to wipe away the perspiration that had soaked him. Then his anger started up again.

"Can't go getting hurt like that, girl. Shouldn't've let you run off by yourself. If something happened to you, I'd—"

"Shut up, Arthur," you rose back up and tried to smile through your unease. "I'm fine, thanks to you."

He held out a hand to pull you back to your feet, then wrapped his arms around you tight. His heart hammered against his chest, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears. Then you finally let yourself cry in the safety of all his bulk.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl; I'm sorry." Every shakey inhale, sob, and gasp from you ripped him apart from the inside out. He was supposed to be looking after you, always, but his hardheadedness and pride left you vulnerable. Killing was the one thing he knew he was good for, and to almost fail at the cost of your life made his insides rot with guilt.

He peeled you away from his chest and cupped your face, "I won't let anything else happen to you, ya' hear?" You nodded, and he wiped dirt and tears away from your cheek with a big thumb and brought you back into him, stroking the back of your head. After a long moment, he retrieved your horse, helped you, and then rode beside you the whole way back to camp.

The next day, you gladly did your chores while Arthur went on his adventures. You didn't complain in the comfort and safety of a shade tree and other skilled gunmen. You were sitting in his tent when Arthur returned in the evening, now wearing his regular gambler's hat and carrying another adorned with floral designs and a peacock feather.

He greeted you with a peck on your cheek, joined you on the cot, and talked through a crooked smile, "found the rest of those orchids today and gave 'em to Algernon. Took this instead of the money. Think he was happier with that trade, anyway."  

The closer you looked at the beautiful monstrosity, the more you had to fight off your reaction. It was undeniably unique, but you couldn't image anyone wearing it seriously.

"It's um—," You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle, but your quaking shoulders gave you away. To your relief, Arthur joined in your laugh and placed the hat atop your head.

"He tried to give it to me, made me try it on, but I figured it'd look better on you. Now we both got a crazy hat."

The idea of Arthur standing in front of a mirror in the hat with all his hardened features made you throw your head back in near hysterics.

"Well, I will cherish that image and this hat forever. Thank you." Arthur's face softened as your amusement died down, then morphed into a lamentable combination of worry and self-loathing. You recognized it all too well.  

He stroked your face with the back of his hand and spoke in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry, again, for letting you go off by yourself like that. I—"

You silenced him with your lips, pushing him onto his back and mounting him. Your new hat fell away along with his worry as you showed him just how appreciative you were.

[maxispixels]

HANPICKED

PART THREE.

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

1.8k words

You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?

CW: mention of a funeral

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine. Part ten. Part eleven. Part twelve.

Your weekend had been busy with all the chores you let pile up during the last few weeks, and you were almost relieved to go back to the flower shop, and only have to sit on a stool for a few hours. Maybe make some commands and other stuff but hey, at least you were paid for it.

The green storefront greeted you cheerfully, and you turned the closed sign into an open one. The bell rang to welcome you, and you made your way to the old radio post in the corner of the shop. It still worked better than yours, despite its age, and the worrying amount of dust you didn’t dare to touch.

You quickly managed to get to BBC Radio 3, playing some classical music at that time of the morning. It made you feel like you were in a fairytale, tending to your flowers. Definitely made your job a lot nicer than it already was.

And just like that, you started to work, starting with cleaning the front window. 

Then it started to rain. You cursed the sky, ruining your hard work. You went back inside and started to water the potted plants, before changing the water of the ones in vases. 

The first customer of the day passed the door while you were in the middle of pouring water. “Good morning,” you welcomed with a singsong voice, still turning your back to the door. “One second and I’m yours.”

“Oi that’s interestin'.” A deep voice you’ve learnt to recognize resonated over the orchestral going on in the background. You almost spilled your water.

“You again?” You turned to face him. He had a small umbrella this time, but it didn’t protect him well from the rain. He put it in a corner carelessly. 

“Happy to see ya too.” He tilted his head. “Wot are ya doing there watering the flowers? They’re dead.”

“They’re cut flowers. They’re in their prime.”

“Prime? They’re on life support, yeah.”

You sighed. “What do you want?”

“No more how can I help you?” he imitated your tone, and you cringed. “An’ wot’s up with the music? Anything better than this? Are ya tryin’ to lure yer customers to sleep or som’thin?”

You rubbed your forehead. “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, I came ‘ere with a gift.” He cooed. 

You raised an eyebrow, expecting the worst. “What for? We still don’t accept bartering.”

“I said a gift. I’m not tryna get anythin’ from ya.” He pulled out a couple of yellow flowers from his sleeve.

“Oh, lovely. Wildflowers. Did you pull those out of someone’s garden?”

“From a rich bloke’s ledge, if that makes ya feel better.” You rolled your eyes. “Picked these myself. Your daffodils are too posh. Thought you could use a change, somethin’ wild.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, holding the small, damp golden flowers. Buttercups, you thought. They were small, and reminded you of a kid picking flowers for their mother. It made you feel a little nostalgic.

Your hands gently grabbed them from his, careful not to brush his fingers. You still felt how cold his hands were, from being outside in the rain. 

“Don’t work your little brain too hard. M’just payin’ back for the daffodils the other day.”

You nodded. That was… Nice. “They’re… fine, I guess.” You said a little too quickly before placing the buttercup in a small water cup on the counter. Maybe you’ll sketch them later. You already had a couple of drawings for each plant from this shop, but you didn’t have a sketch of buttercups. 

You leaned back against the counter and eyed him as his gaze followed the shelf of flowers. “Why d’you needed the daffodils for anyyouway?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

His eyes went back to you, from the other side of the shop. “I might tell ya if  ya let me change the radio.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together. “...Fine?” 

It took him more than ten minutes to find what he wanted, and your patience was running low. “Careful with the antenna—”  scolded as he tugged it at an alarming angle. “I know what I’m doin’!” He insisted. You groaned, your face buried in both your hands.

The statics and random bits of voices slowly let place to something else. Distorted and muffled noises broke through the radio, followed by loud drumming and rugged vocals. He gave you a satisfied grin. “There it is.” You grimaced. The shop felt less like a peaceful garden and more like a dingy London club for a moment.

“What is that?”

“The best pirate radio in all of London. Proper punk, none of that watered down crap they put on the BBC.”

You frowned. “Pirate radio?” You mumbled. “Isn’t that… Illegal?”

He grinned at you like you said something adorable. “Course it is. That’s the point.”

You shifted on your legs, glancing nervously at the door. You quickly turned down the volume.

“No fun,” he pouted.

“Are you gonna talk now?”

“What was your question already?”

“Are you serious?”

“About what?”

There was no way he wasn’t being dumb on purpose, testing the limit of what patience you had left. “Why’d you nick the flowers?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Why’d ya care? I just paid you back anyway.”

“I don’t. But I’m curious—it’s so weird to steal flowers. Especially since you just showed me that you were more than able to pick wild ones. Why get in trouble? For daffodils?”

“Well... it was for... an... important thing?” He mumbled, looking up at the ceiling, then letting his gaze trail down to some carnations.

You raised an eyebrow. “An important thing?” You couldn’t help but smirk as you saw the tall, punk, scary, grown man avoid your eyes like a kid. “What important thing? A girl?” You covered your mouth, feigning shock. “A boy?”

He gave you a look. His brown eyes fell back on you, and you swore they softened for a moment. You found yourself stumbling to hold his gaze. It made you weak in the knees, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Does it matter?”

You shrugged. “I’m not judging.” You tilted your head, grinning. “Come on, tell me—you owe me an explanation, ay? For all the trouble you caused.”

He gave you a half-smile—was it shy or sad? You couldn’t tell. It threw you off balance. “Or don’t. You don’t have to.” You corrected yourself.

“No big deal. T’was just for a funeral.” He shrugged again, his tone casual, but it didn’t match the weight of his words.

Oh. The realization hit you like a slap. “Oh... I’m sorry. I... I didn’t know.” You muttered, your words suddenly too quiet.

“Don’t make that face.” He seemed to be the one teasing you now.

You blinked, not even realizing the puppy eyes you were giving him. Sad and guilty, like a kicked dog. God, you felt like such an idiot. You’d been nothing but rude to him up until now. Stupid, really. The whole situation was so absurd—here you were, feeling bad for a punk, in a flower shop, with a crazy bassline blasting in the background.

“No, I’m really sorry, I was awful. Fuck, can I do something for you?” You mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little off-balance.

“Mpf, don’t get all like that.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the shift in the dynamic. “I liked it better when you were all feisty. Or all nosy about my love life.” He smirked at you, and the cheeky look on his face made you want to wipe it off. 

You just let yourself fall back onto the stool, letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The shrill sound of police sirens suddenly blared through the air, startling you. You quickly realized it was coming from the radio, and your eyes flicked to the man, who was grinning at you, clearly amused by your reaction.

The static on the radio cracked as another song kicked in, something about police oppression, though the quality of the recording and the poor reception made the lyrics nearly impossible to understand.

“See, they don’t put this on the BBC.” Hemused, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “This, this is fockin’ brillant.” 

You’re persuaded he’s distracting you again from the matter at hand. You let him. 

“They still put out some stuff on the BBC, though.” You argued. “The other day, I was trying to relax and there was some punk crap that started playing. Almost broke the old radio.” You were careful to not tell him you actually, kind of, a little enjoyed it.

“Breaking your shit is punker than anything you could’ve played on it.” He retorted.

“So you don’t like anything that plays on the common channel?” You tilted your head—you wondered if he would’ve liked the song that came up the other time. To you, it didn’t sound so different from what he was playing now. 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes I do, I’m not saying it’s bad, just it’s watered down. They never put extreme stuff. Or unknown stuff, you get me?”

You didn’t. You let him talk and geek out about punk music for a while, occasionally asking questions to keep him entertained and not at all to keep hearing his smooth deep voice. 

You zoned out, watching his lips move, his piercings catching the light of the shop. You had the time to count all of them. Eight. A ring in his left ear, three along his right ear, a horizontal piercing at each eyebrow, another ring at his right nostril, and one to the left of his bottom right lip. The cool metal contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. The lines of his face were deep and you found yourself wanting to reach for them. There was just something so sculpted, so intriguing about his bone structure. You just wanted to sketch him. 

“And that’s why community organizing is so important.” he finished.

You blinked, scrambling for something to say that wouldn’t give you away. “That’s... cool?”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “Do you have a scooby what I was talking about?”

The way you looked at him was enough of an answer. He chuckled and shook his head. “Got it. I have to go anyway. You know, protests to attend, stuff. Capitalism ain’t gonna stop itself.”

“Wait—what’s your name?” you called as he turned on his heels.

He paused in the doorway, his hand on the frame. It hit you both at once that you’d never exchanged names. He grinned, the kind of grin that made your stomach do a little flip. “Might tell you if I come back.” 

With a wave, he grabbed his small umbrella, before he stepped out into the rain, leaving you alone with nothing but the punk music crackling on the radio for company.

Part four.

[fullymyself]

While you were sleeping - part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word count: 2,847

Summary: The story is based on the movie While You Were Sleeping. You work at a café and have a secret crush on Steve Rogers, the super soldier who has been coming to the shop every week to grab a coffee and sketch. One day, he is attacked right in front of the café and, even though you manage to save his life, he falls into a deep coma. All it takes is one misplaced comment and now the whole hospital and the Avengers think you’re Steve’s secret fiancée. What’s worse is that now you find yourself falling for his best friend.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of injury but very light, lil bit of angst

Notes: Hi, hope you are doing well! This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote many years ago when I had a different tumblr. This story has been stuck in my head for a very long time so I had to rewrite it. It's gonna be at least 3 parts but I'll try to post the others as soon as I can. This part is more to situate the story, it's not set on any specific time or event of the MCU so everyone is alive, happy and thriving (like the olden days Avengers fics). To compensate for the lack of Bucky on this chapter I added a special easter egg at the end.

Also, this fic deals a lot with the theme of loneliness, which is something I struggle a lot with too. So, if you happen to relate to the themes in this fic, pease don't forget that even though you might feel like it you're not alone and if you need someone to talk I'm always willing to listen! (And I know I'm not the only one)

Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!

Part 2 - Part 3

You’d grown accustomed to being alone, not by choice but lack thereof. Having no family was already hard, but trying to find friendship and community in a city like New York, as an adult, was almost impossible. It’s not like you were completely alone, you had friends from work and acquaintances, but no one was as close to you as you would like. You really wish more people would talk about how lonely and shitty adulting could be.

Life was monotone, everyday felt pretty much the same. Wake up, commute, work, commute, get home to your cat, watch something to distract yourself, clean up, sleep and repeat. Few things actually brought something different to your daily life, so that’s why when Steve walks into the café on a especially hard day, you get an immediate crush.

He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen and every time he walked into the café you could see people stop on their tracks and pretty much collectively sigh – you included. First time he came to the shop you froze, absolutely butchering the order you were taking care of and spilling burning hot coffee all over yourself. Thankfully, you didn’t really get any significant burns, but Steve almost leapt over the counter to help you. And that’s what did it, not his beautiful smile or his great ass, how he actually worried about you on that moment and came to the rescue.

You tried to reason with yourself that that moment was just a reflection of his job — you were pretty sure being a hero was not a 9 to 5 and more of a life commitment – but even thought you knew you were not special and that he’d do it for anyone else, you couldn’t help the soul crushing crush from developing.

He came to the café at least once a week, he’d sit on a secluded table near the window and sketch for a while, sipping on some coffee and eventually ordering a piece of the freshest pie. While he did so you were pretty much useless, going through your tasks pitifully oblivious to everything around you but him.

“You know…” Celeste, your co-worker, says as she moves to turn off the oven you had forgotten about, before the muffins turn to ash. “Before you end up burning this place down and putting us out of a job, you totally should give him your number.”

“Ha! Yeah, that’s a great idea!” You say ironically, you’ve had this conversation plenty of times before, she always urging you to do something about your feelings and you refusing. “Hello Mr. Most-Perfect-Man-And-Hero-Of-America, here’s my number so we can go on a date and get married or you can totally reject me and make my work even more awkward than it already is or simply disappear so I’ll never see your face again other than in the news…”

“Okay okay I get it” She rolls her eyes but places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “But just so you know, I think you should give yourself more credit.”

-

Days go by and Christmas fast approaches, intensifying your feelings of loneliness bit by bit. You try to hype yourself up for the holiday like you do every year, decorating the house, setting up a tree, buying gifts for your neighbours and co-workers. But deep down all of that is more of a distraction than a remedy. Celeste and your neighbours have offered for you to spend Christmas with them but, being with other peoples families while feeling like an outsider only makes you feel worse – you know so from experience from a few times you tried forcing yourself into those situations before.

Turns out you get the perfect excuse to refuse those invitations. Your boss, Jerry, comes to the café one day, insisting you work on the holiday, even though you have already negotiated the day off. It takes some convincing to make you give up on your plans to stay in and enjoy some movies and cheap wine, but once he mentions how you’re the only one who doesn’t have family for the holidays, you cave.

So that’s how you end up on an empty café on a freezing Christmas morning. You watch as a few families walk around the city, rushing through the cold New York air to get to where they’re going but that’s pretty much all the people you get to see throughout your day.

Since there’s no customers, you end up changing the café’s usual playlist to one of your own. You’re singing along to one of your favourites and that’s why you don’t hear when someone walks into the shop. You only notice them as they clear their throat behind you, your soul almost leaving your body.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” Steve looks at you sheepishly. Your face burns hot with the embarrassment of the situation. Steve Rogers just walked in on you singing and dancing at work.

“Ah-uh… sorry, that was my bad I didn’t hear you coming in, bit of a slow day.” Steadying yourself behind the counter you take and prepare his usual order, this time to go. You don’t know if you should feel relieved or sad that he isn’t staying longer.

After you hand him his order, you almost choke on your words when exchanging merry Christmases once he calls you by your name. Thankfully, he walks out quickly and you’re left alone with your embarrassment. You wanna facepalm and hide under the counter but, before you can move, there’s a loud noise outside and every window in the café shatters from the force of whatever caused the commotion.

You get up from the floor, a rush of adrenaline making your body buzz as you try to understand what just happened, when you see something move close to the front door of the shop. A large man in black tactical gear walks slowly, a weird looking gun in his hands pulsates with weird blue energy while he aims it at something on the floor. No, not something, someone. Steve.

Before you can think better of it, you grab the baseball bat hidden under the counter and walk slowly to where the man is headed, trying to be as quiet as you can while walking around the glass covered floor. The man bends down to check on Steve and that’s when you take your shot, swinging the bat with full force against his head. The man immediately falls to the ground, unconscious.

“Shit shit shit shit” You mumble as you move to check on Steve, he is still breathing and you can’t see any injuries other than a few cuts caused by the broken glass, but no matter what you do he won’t wake up.

Steve is taken to the nearest hospital after the ambulance is called, they take you with him since you’re a witness to the attack and are also injured. When you get there, Steve is taken to get emergency attention, you try to follow but they won’t let you since you’re not family.

As they take him away you’re left alone, staring at your own reflection on the ER glass. Bitterly, you whisper “But I was going to marry him”.

-

A couple of hours pass and, after the police asks for your statement, a nurse ends up letting you go up to the room Steve is in. She guides you to the chair near the bed. “Let him hear your voice, dear, I’m sure he’d like to know he’s not alone.”

Before you can say anything, you hear a commotion on the corridor, a cacophony of voices echoing down the hall until several people burst into the room. “This is unacceptable, his metabolism is different! He needs specific doctors!” You hear a faintly familiar male voice complain while a woman gasps. “He looks so pale!”

The commotion continues until everyone walks in and you realize who they are, the freaking Avengers just walked into the room. You move to the opposite corner, trying to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible, as they bombard the doctors with questions.

“He is in a coma, his vitals are strong, brainwaves are good. He’s gonna get through this, but since we don’t know much about what caused the injury we can’t say for certain what exactly is preventing him from waking up.” The doctor explains calmly only to be bluntly answered by the man you now recognize as Tony Stark. “Okay, so we know nothing. How did this happen?”

“He was shot with some sort of energy gun and it knocked him unconscious.” You whisper from the corner of the room. Everyone shifts their focus to you and you want to disappear.

“And who are you exactly?” Tony asks defensively, but you can’t blame him, this whole situation is just too weird. Before you can answer, the nurse who guided you to the room speaks. “She’s his fiancée.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before the room erupts in voices again, you can’t keep track of what's happening and you are as confused as everyone in the room. You try to interrupt their banter a few times to clarify that you are definitely not Steve’s fiancée, but no one would listen.

That’s until another doctor, the one who prevented you from accompanying Steve before, walks in going straight to the nurse and pointing at you. “What is she doing here?”

“Hey, buddy, she saved his life!” A police officer points out, making the room erupt with comments once again.

“She saved his life?!” A beautiful red haired woman comments and there’s a pause in the commotion, everyone waiting to hear from you.

“I- Well, I might have knocked out the assailant with a baseball bat.” Your eyes keep fixed on the floor as you speak, not wanting to acknowledged the unwanted attention.

“I don’t care what she did. Visitations are for family only.” The doctor motions to you, but a quick hand stops him and Tony looks him dead in the eyes. “She is family.” And there it goes again, the commotion starts and, as you try to stop everyone and clarify that you were only a witness to the attack and nothing more, everyone else keeps talking about a thousand different things and making sure you’re not kicked out, so no one hears what you have to say.

After the doctors leave, you feel a gentle arm on your shoulders. It’s the woman you know now to be Natasha, her eyes glazed with unshed tears, even though she tries to hold a neutral expression. “You know, we haven’t seen much of him, so that’s why we didn’t know. But we always wanted him to find a nice girl and I’m so glad he found you.”

-

Later that day, when you get to escape the confines of the room, you manage to speak with the nurse that started this whole situation. “Why did you say that? I’m not his fiancée!”

She looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “But you said you were gonna marry him!”

Oh, oh no. “I was talking to myself! I just have a crush on the guy!”

“Well, next time, tell yourself you’re single and end the conversation.” She doesn’t even look mad, she just looks entertained by the whole ordeal.

Your conversation is quickly interrupted by someone coming from the room. “Is there a pharmacy in the hospital? Tony needs some nitroglycerine.”

“Oh, he has a heart problem?”

“Problems. The guy has a reactor keeping his heart from collapsing, it’s a miracle he manages to get up everyday, much less keep up with this lifestyle.” As the nurse leaves to get the medicine the man turns to you, a gentle smile on his face and you think that now might be the time to tell the truth and ditch this whole situation. “Honestly I think you might have saved his life, your engagement is the only good news we got in quite a while.” That shuts you up quite effectively, erasing your planed speech completely from your head. “I’m Sam by the way. And, I guess, welcome to the family!”

-

As you go home that night, thoughts keep replaying in your head, especially the way everyone took you in so quickly and accepted you as family. It as wrong but it ignited a feeling you hadn’t felt in such a long time, making you feel wanted and like you belonged, even if it was a lie. You give up on sleeping and end up deciding to go to the hospital again, not really minding that it is the middle of the night.

When you get there, you have no problem with getting to the room, now that the lie had spread through the hospital staff. Steve looks peaceful, more lively than when you last seen him here, but it’s very weird to see him in such a state – especially without his signature smile. You sit next to him awkwardly.

“You must be wondering what I’m doing here in the middle of the night. Well, I think I should at least explain myself properly. We met at the café and I’m suddenly your fiancée, this is very sudden.. Never been engaged before so all of this is very new.” You laugh sheepishly. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m so sorry. It’s just that… I didn’t have the heart to tell them. They called me family, they seem so happy to know I was with you. I haven’t had that in such a long time. My whole family is gone and I’m all alone, so I just….” You breathe deep, you know it’s not right to keep this lie up but it takes a lot to fight against the warm feelings growing in your chest, even if it’s fake. “Have you ever felt so lonely that you spend the night confusing a man in a coma?” Again, you laugh, but without any mirth. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“Actually… please, don’t.” You turn around in surprise as Sam walks into the room. “This is really the only thing keeping them together right now. Steve has been gone for a while and, knowing he’s doing good, that he found love, is making them bear this situation.” He probably sees the look of despair and shame on your face because he continues. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. But please, I’m sure Steve will wake up soon and, when he does, I’ll tell everyone the truth and that I asked you to keep it a secret. I promise.”

Sam is a nice guy and he keeps you company through the night, conversation flows naturally between the two of you. “You know, you should come to our Christmas dinner. With everything that happened no one really celebrated, so we’re having a nice dinner tomorrow. Bucky will be there, you haven’t met him but I’m sure you two will love each other.” Like with the previous invitations, you refuse, but this time for another reason. This time you are afraid of feeling too much at home, only for it to be ripped away from you again.

-

A couple of months prior…

“Steve, why the hell would you want me to go to this café so bad?” Bucky sounds really irritated, it’s the tenth time that Steve has been pestering him about going to get coffee with him. He really doesn’t like cafés, they are always crowded, loud and have mediocre overpriced coffee. He might not make the best coffee in the world, but at least he can make a decent cup without having to go through the trouble of going out and paying a truly insane amount for something he could do himself.

“They have great pie, like the one we use to eat when we were younger.” Even though he tries, Bucky has seen it one too many times and Steve’s puppy eyes will not work on him, so he just stares at the man dead serious. He knows Steve is hiding something, he was always protective of Bucky and respected his boundaries and, hell, if their pies or coffee were so good, he could just bring some.

“Okay, fine” Steve caves and leaves alone for the café. He knows that if he tells Bucky the real reason he will be even more adamant on not going, but he can’t help but think it is a shame. He just knows the woman who works at the shop is Bucky's type and that they would get along great. His best friend has been alone for so long and he just wants him to find someone to share his life with. Sure, he has been getting much better at making friends, but it is still very hard in a city like New York and especially when you’re a man out of his own time.

If you're here, thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it!

I'm in the process of writing the next part, so I'll probably post it this week.

[anime-grimmy-art]

UPDATE: NEW DEADLINE DEC 8TH

Welcome to the Finish this in your style!

In contrast to a DTIYS, where the goal is to recreate an existing piece, the FTIYS is about making a provided sketch your own.

All necessary infos are on the slides, but here a summary:

Deadline is December 1st.

(Can be extended if asked for.)

Sketches can be found here:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/10xPkvv588FX8mNj5AdNAWT8Y0TW0KRWK?usp=sharing

There’s only 2 rules:

- It has to be the same character

- It should be obvious which sketch the finished piece is based on.

Other than that, you are allowed to work as freely as you want. Just colouring the sketch, actually finishing it, or heck, even going beyond that. You also don’t have to keep true to my art style! You can totally put your own spin on it. As long as the concept is upheld, it’s viable for entry.

Entries should either be posted with the tag #grimmyftiys (and tag me), or dm-ed to me directly. You’re also allowed to work on as many sketches as your heart desires, but mind you, all of them will be counted as one entry.

Prices:

1st place - Full Body, Full Render Character Illustration (proper lineart)

2nd place - Half Body, Simple Style Character Illustration (somewhat messy lineart)

3rd place - Bust, Flat Colour Character Illustration (coloured sketch)

Depending on the amount of entries, I also might do some sketches for honorable mentions!

I made sure to put a wide variety of sketches. I have some really rough ones, some more clean ones, some borderline lineart. Some are never seen sketches, some are sketches of stuff I’ve posted. I also included a ton of different fandoms - e.g. Undertale, Genshin, Trigun or Little Nightmares, just to name a few. I’m sure there’s something for everyone!

I hope you guys have fun with this!!!!

Also, on a side note, you can freely use these sketches for practice or just for fun, even if you DONT wanna participate. But if you do end up uploading them somewhere, do please remember to credit me, thaaaanks.

[jealousjealousgurlll]

His fashionista

⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ⠀ `· . ୨୧⠀

Hi everyone! This is my first story on Tumblr, I've been wanting to write for awhile especially about Luigi. If there is any flaws or feedback please please please let me know, comments are on!

I have a few extended concepts for certain bullet points, if there one that sticks out the most let me know and I can create an extension on it.

Mood board for this story

Thank you for reading and take care xoxoxoxo ᰔ ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Luigi Mangione x reader

Word count (story only):2,018

Warnings: None just fluff ;)

Imagine you, an inspiring fashion designer falls for the dorky data scientist named Luigi Mangione.

Based on living in Maryland

-First encounter:

Your favorite fabric store is next door to his favorite cafe. Staring at you and your well detailed outfits throughout the window Luigi would be distracted from his work observing you.

The first time you saw him was picking up an order from that same coffee shop. On your way out, you made eye contact with him. Nothing really stood out about him honestly.

Second encounter/first conversation

You were in line to place your order, in the meanwhile you were adding final details to your latest sketch and a tap on your shoulder came to your surprise. He looked familiar, you thought. He asked you about your sketches, talking your head off you both held up the line. After ordering, you and him sat and discussed your interests and careers.

He observed every detail about you, something about his presence swept you in, his intellectual yet humorous personality made you grow curious about him. Before leaving for your meeting, he asks for your phone number and social media handles. 

-Stalking or “obsessively analyzing”

You glanced at Luigi’s instagram, wholesome guy with minimum fashion however he looks great in a suit and with a clean cut.

You became Luigi’s newest fascination, having a fair amount of digital footprint, Luigi observed your instagram first. Trailing back to your high school days posing with friends in art class, your instagram stories had poems you wrote. He even discovered your fashion blog and youtube channel. Reading every post you made and spending hours watching your videos. He took a few notes on your favorite restaurants, your birthday, anything that was sentimental. 

-Texting and facetime

Whenever you guys text, he responds back immediately. He would send you random articles and ask your opinion. One night when texting back and forth, he asked if he can FaceTime you. You agreed which led to a 5 hour conversation. He was wearing glasses and you asked if they were real, to which he said “it’s for fashion”. His witty humor and cheerful spirit made it easy to talk to him

-Hanging out

Luigi initiated most of the hang outs. Secretly he planned everything (how a boyfriend does), from taking a pottery class together, trying new restaurants and going to yoga classes. Hanging out at each other’s apartments eventually came around to which he would clean his apartment, nervous of your opinion. In reality his apartment is organized and fits him perfectly. The compliments and the stares you gave looking around made him feel secure. Luigi loved your apartment, the vibrant colors, the messy table filled with scattered papers, fabric around a plugged in sewing machine. Your apartment is a perfect representation of you!

-Feelings? 

The more time you spent with Luigi, the more you developed feelings for him. When taking a stroll with him, you notice yourself staring at his side profile “I like big noses” . The tik tok audio from Doja Cat appeared in your mind, the curls that formed his hair you found cute. When it was summer, his sunkissed tan complimented him so well . Scanning your eyes up and down, there was definitely physical attraction, the physical attraction and the connection you guys built in the past months made you crush on him in secret. The fear of him not reciprocating the same feelings terrified you. Whenever a few days passed by and you hadn’t seen or spoke to him, you started to miss him and would reach out. Luigi on the other hand, he describes it as “love at first sight” , extremely dramatic and a sprinkle of delusion, he adored your style, the confidences you had when walking into a room. With the connection that was created by you guys, his attraction to you skyrocketed. He also mentioned his feelings he had to you to his sisters, encouraging him to ask you out. His sisters found it precious that he cares so deeply for you.

-Flea market memories

One of your hang out adventures landed you guys in a flea market. One of the vendors that caught your eye had a vintage sweater. In your mind, this sweater would be a great fit for Luigi. You showed  him the sweater and insisted he tried it on. Luigi gave in and tried on, the sweater was a perfect match . The vendor, an older gentleman, said to him “listen to your lady, she knows her fashion” assuming the two of you were in a relationship. Standing behind him, you hugged him from the back Luigi subconsciously smiled at this reaction. He agreed to get the sweater which you couldn’t be happier.

-Train trip

You and Luigi went on a train trip to North Carolina. A nine hour train ride may sound gruesome but having Luigi by your side made this an unforgettable trip. Listening to music together from sharing wired earbuds, stealing each other's snacks. You started to doze off after a few hours in, drifting your head onto Luigi’s shoulder. It wasn’t intentional at all. Luigi didn’t mind, he actually liked it. He smelled the shampoo in your hair, getting a special view of your facial features  “so pretty” he mumbled. When you woke up, you made direct eye contact with Luigi, he giggled at your facial expression while you immediately moved your head out of embarrassment. “I am so sorry” you frantically apologized, “It’s all good” his voice was deep and slowly turned you on. This trip definitely brought you guys closer physically and emotionally, staying in the same room you saw Lu in a different light. He is a clean person. He always puts the toilet seat down after using it. During the visit, you both went hiking together, it was your first time ever and Luigi was basically a pro. He helped you whenever you were close to stumbling, assuring you that you will be just fine. “See I told you it’s not difficult, it’s relaxing right?” Hiking was something you had no interest in but with a little encouragement from your bestie westie, hiking is your newfound  favorite physical activity.

-Hair troubles

One night, you heard a ding on your phone. A text from your contact named“Loo-ee jee” appeared.

“Hey, are you busy?”

Responding back “No what’s up?”

Luigi facetimes you, in distress, discussing his hair problems. He explains that he cannot remember the shampoo he used as a child living at home, he had some event to attend in the afternoon so he wanted to wash his hair and try something different with his curls. He begs for your help and you agree to help him. Meeting him at a “beauty supply store” foreign in his world. You both grabbed some hair care products and went back to your apartment. You guided him through the process of taking care of his curls and even wrote down the step by step manual to follow on his “wash days”. He ended up spending the night because he was a little tippy from the wine he brought over(don’t drink and drive kids). Both of you indulged in a few glasses, he mentioned the wine was from a family member in Italy (hmm exotic you said to yourself). Both of you crashed on your couch, he laid in your lap wrapped in a large fuzzy blanket. You woke in the middle of the night to see Lulu in your lap, you liked it. He looked well rested and comfortable. This entire night wasn’t supposed to happen actually. Luigi faked his cries for help solely because he missed you and wanted to do something more intimate with you. You never realized if he was legit hearing about his mishaps you just wanted to help your friend.

-Styling Lulu

At Luigi’s apartment, you joked about his style playfully. “I bet in your closet you have no more than 5 things including your blue bali shirt, adidas hoodie, a random slightly used button down shirt and your Upenn shirt”. He rolled his eyes and tried to laugh because it was true. His fashion can be described as low minimum, he didn’t really care about having a surplus of clothing or being the most fashionable in the room. Fashion was foreign to him, while it was your way of life. He asks you to help with his style and you were treating this as a project. Spending some time in the downtown area to shop, you and Luigi went shopping. Stopping in the first store, you immediately see something with potential. Grabbing short sleeve crew necks in different colors, picking up the shirt to hold up to Luigi you were thinking this is a good start. Solid basic shirts yet it is upgraded to his current style. Intentionally you picked up the shirts a size down because you wanted to see Luigi’s muscles pop out. Picking out the casual black and white, you also grabbed a plum(deep purple) shirt and an olive green. Luigi liked the colors you picked for him and made a purchase. The next store you found many gems for him, a few pairs of vintage Levi’s jeans fitting him perfectly, an upgraded adidas hoodie, grey nike sweatpants, some linen shorts and even a Upenn varsity jacket. Dropping you off to your place, before walking out of his car Luigi thanks you for your help and leans in for a hug. The hug was warm and made you feel fuzzy inside, pulling away your cheeks turned red. He stayed parked until you made it to the elevator, turning around one last time to wave to him and even blew a kiss. He caught your kiss and motioned, putting it close to his heart.

-Making it official 

After befriending Luigi Mangione for an entire year. You expressed your feelings to him, it was difficult because of the fear of rejection. His reaction was something out of a fairytale, he reciprocated the same feelings you had for him. About a week after this conversation he planned a dinner for the both of you. It was at a contemporary sushi place, the architecture and interior design  in the building was seductive, lowly dinned lights and chirper music played. Luigi arrived with a bouquet of purple and white flowers. Your eyes beamed with joy to see them, he made a note from watching one of your youtube videos that purple and white are your favorite colors for flowers. He was wearing the same sweatshirt he got at the flea market, his hair was freshly washed and cut and added a detailed watch to his outfit. Smiling from ear to ear when you saw him wrapping your arms around him felt peaceful, a similar feeling to home. You guys talked and talked, a few cheesy but cute pick up lines were said to you. Luigi’s words were blissful, constantly wanting to make you laugh. Finishing up your entree, the waiter came to your table and said “Dessert?” replying back “No thank you”, Luigi replied “Yes, your best dessert”. A few minutes pass and the waiter places down a white plate in front of you. There was chocolate writing on the plate, reading off it says “Will you be my girlfriend?” with macaroons and chocolate covered strawberries. Coming to you as a sweet surprise you look up at Luigi with a nervous smile he says “So what do you say?” . Licking your lips before responding you say “Yes I would love to”. He smiles and balls his fist to say a silent “Yes” out of pride. He came over to your side of the booth to embrace you with your first kiss with him. His lips were smooth and gilded gently with yours, a little tongue was added by you and he loved it. When walking out of the restaurant to your car, you were on cloud nine. Luigi besides you holding your hand he opens your car door and says “Goodnight girlfriend” you smile at his words and say “Bye bye boyfriend”.

[kozachenko]

I swear to god, Zanmu has just been on my mind recently, she's taking over my fucking brain please send help

Artist's Note:

Why is it that everytime I do a drawing of Zanmu I always make the canvas size fucking huge and it ends up being a living nightmare to fucking export. I swear to god I had to go from 1200 DPI to 600 to 350.

Exporting hell aside, I loved working on this piece. With Zanmu's design, I wanted to combine all the design details that I love and have seen in other people's drawings of Zanmu and give them my own personal touches. First of all, her sleeves were inspired by @amemenojaku's design for Zanmu, and I absolutley love that detail because not only does it make her feel more regal, it also can be a callback to Satori and old hell, and also gives me the idea that Satori's fashion sense was inspired by Zanmu because IRL a lot of historical fashion was inspired by what the nobles were wearing at the time, and since Satori was around since when Old Hell used to be Hell, she probably took some wardrobe inspo from her (or it could be my headcanon that Satori could've been Zanmu's royal advisor or she was in her court or something but that theory is kinda grasping at strings from other headcanons I have, but that's for a different post). Also, the eye makeup she has was inspired by @jothelion's drawings of Zanmu, and like, I fucking love that detail because it just adds so much like omg I just love it sm.

And now for the design details I put in. I gave Zanmu tassel earrings because I think they'd look great on her. I also really like to exaggerate her hair and really try to make it look wild, as well as having little grey hairs here and there. I also try to add some wrinkles to the corners of her eyes, but TBH I don't know how visible that detail is, since the image is pretty fucking big. I also really exaggerated the tassles/strings on her outfit, since I really wanted to play around with the potential flow they could have. Also, big fan of giving Zanmu longer sleeves and pants. IDK why but I just like how it flows better. Also big fan of making her taller, idk why a lot of fanart makes her short. Also, I placed her horns closer to the front of her head as I just think placing horns in that position looks cool.

Also, if you're wondering about the halo, I took some inspiration from a few of Caravaggio's paintings where he often depicts saints with this very thin halo around the top of their heads. I just liked that detail a lot so I thought I'd include it.

Fun fact, I was originally gonna make the four skeletons Chiyari, Biten, Enoko, and Hisami but I didn't like the prospect of having to draw four more characters, so I chose to replace them with skeletons (if you wanna get silly with it, Zanmu got Hisami to kidnap Aya, set up some skeletons with bones from her bone collection and told her to take a picture of her).

I kinda gave up on Zanmu's feet and the one skeleton's hands (as if drawing hands normally is hard enough but NOPE, HAD TO MAKE IT LIVING HELL FOR MYSELF BY MAKING IT A SKELETON) and the quality of the image may suffer because of how much I had to fucking compress it (Zanmu's presence alone was enough to make the computer lose all of it's desire and motivation to export the drawing of her lmao), but I have been hacking at this piece for a while now, plus I need to learn when to call it quits when it comes to drawings). Also as I was fixing up the hands there was one spot where I forgot to clean up with the sketch and I can't fucking unsee that now and it's going to fucking bother me until I fix it but fixing it requires going back and putting my computer through hell so yeah.

So yeah, that's about all I have to say with this drawing, it was fun but also a nightmare lol

[starlight-sev]

Joy Looks Good on You (Snape x Artist!Reader)

Request: Snape with an artist reader- she makes gorgeous paintings, teaches an art class at Hogwarts (Bob Ross style, for reference). Doesn't have many students, but when he comes into her classroom its such a calming atmosphere. Maybe a short drabble about how he falls in love with her and her skill with paintings?

Requested by: anon

Warnings: none

A/N: this is more platonic than I had initially intended it to be, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Oh! Gender neutral reader as I always try my best to write 💕

Hogwarts was home to many secrets, one of them being that the school offered painting classes as an elective for those in third year or higher.

Even you were shocked when you first heard about the job posting. You always figured art would be just a hobby of yours. When it came to jobs in the wizarding world, anything to do with art and painting was quite rare to find.

So when you were finally offered the job for art teacher at Hogwarts, to say you were overjoyed would have been an understatement. You never thought you’d be able to turn your love of painting into your career.

Dumbledore had placed you in the North Tower, just below Professor Trelawney’s Divination classroom. Compared to her room, yours was rather small: you only had to walk ten steps and you’d already be at the other side of the room. A handful of round tables with matching wooden chairs had been crammed into the tiny space. There was a small desk nestled in the corner for you to work, along with a shelf against the wall to store your paints and supplies.

Your favourite feature about the room, and perhaps one of its only redeeming qualities, was the large window in the middle of the wall. It was rounded at the top, with an ornate stained glass inlay that covered almost half the window. It was the source of your inspiration on sunny days.

It certainly wasn’t the nicest classroom, and sometimes a theory crossed your mind that your classroom had once been a generously-sized storage closet, but anything was better than being down in the dungeons of the castle.

You glanced up from your own painting to quickly sweep your eyes over the paintings your students were finishing up. You never had more than ten students a year, painting certainly wasn’t a common interest for wizards (much to your disappointment), but it didn’t matter. It gave you the opportunity to grow closer to your students, to get to know everyone’s individual art style. It made you all the more proud when you were able to see how much they progressed over the course of the year.

“Professor?”

You glanced over to see Luna Lovegood, one of your students with the biggest imaginations, waving politely to catch your attention.

“Yes?” You asked softly.

“We won’t have time to finish our paintings this class. I know we’re not supposed to, but since it’s Friday, could we leave our supplies out? We’ll be back first thing on Monday.”

A few other students murmured their agreement. You smiled apologetically, silently cursing that you had given them an assignment far bigger than they had time to complete.

“Of course. That’s fine.” You dismissed everyone with a wave of your hand. “Go on. Enjoy the weekend. And don’t worry about handing in your still life sketches this week, you’ve got enough on your hands with the landscape painting I assigned.”

A handful of cheers erupted among the students, and you smiled as each one nodded and murmured their thanks before leaving.

You stood up from your desk, walking across the room to collect everyone’s paintbrushes one by one.

“Letting your students go without cleaning up after themselves?” A deep voice murmured softly from the doorway. “I’m surprised Y/N, I thought you were more disciplined than that.”

It never failed to startle you, how Severus had this uncanny ability to sneak up silently on you. Usually you’d be able to hear students’ footsteps echoing as they made their way up the stairs to your classroom, but Severus seemed to be able to glide noiselessly around the castle like a ghost.

You set your paintbrushes in the small sink that rested in the corner of your room, smiling in acknowledgement and beckoning the professor to come in.

“It’s Friday,” you answered, grabbing a paintbrush and using your fingers to work the paint out of the bristles. “They’ve got enough going on, I figured I’d give them a bit of a break.”

You heard Severus scoff as he approached you from behind.

“You’re too easy on them.”

“And you’re too hard on your own students, but you don’t see me waltzing into your classroom to nag.”

That earned a soft chuckle from the professor as he stood beside you.

“You can use magic to clean those.” Severus observed, nodding toward your fingers as you worked the leftover paint out of the brush.

“I know I can,” you shrug, watching the water beneath the brush turn a bright turquoise. “But I prefer not to. Helps me clear my mind a bit.”

“Hm.” Was the small response you got in reply. To your surprise, Severus reached into the sink and grabbed a paintbrush, mimicking your movements as he began cleaning it.

“Oh,” you exclaimed softly. “It’s okay, I can do that-”

“Too late,” Severus retorted, casting a quick glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve already started.”

The two of you scrubbed brushes in silence, and you just barely caught Severus let out a small, tired sigh. As you placed your final brush to the side to dry, you glanced at him.

“Rough day today?”

You had to hold in your giggles as he answered your question with the biggest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“That’s putting it lightly,” he muttered.

“Come,” you beckoned as you sat down in one of the empty seats in the middle of the class. You nodded for Severus to join you as you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat. “Tell me about it. What happened? Was it Potter again?

You smirked at the eye roll Severus gave you in response before tiredly making his way over to the seat across from you.

“Someone’s been stealing supplies for a Polyjuice potion,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have reasons to believe it’s Potter and his dunderhead friends.”

You bit back a smile, and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s him? Do you have evidence?”

“Trouble follows him wherever he goes, isn’t that evidence enough?”

You had trouble holding in a giggle, and Severus glared at you.

“He’s brewed Polyjuice potion before.” Severus continued. “It’s the only thing he can actually do well. And those specific ingredients keep going missing.”

You frown a little and shook your head.

“Really, Severus. I don’t know what you have against that boy, but you’ve got to give him a break,” you encouraged gently. “He’s got enough on his shoulders right now, with the Triwizard Tournament going on.”

“And what if he is stealing from my supplies?” Severus retorted.

“What if he isn’t?” You challenged calmly. Severus sighed again, shaking his head as he gazed at you.

“Should we place bets on whether it’s Potter who’s stealing from you?” You asked jokingly, leaning forward in your seat with a smirk. Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because every damned time we make a bet, you win.”

You snickered at Severus’ remark, before standing up from your seat and placing your hand reassuringly on the professor’s shoulder. He looked up at you with dark eyes that warmed very slightly at your touch.

“I truly do not know how you always manage to see the good in people.” He murmured, sighing tiredly. You squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“I just… see the good in everything I guess.” You shrugged. “Even things that seem terrible can be beautiful, if they’re in the right lighting.”

Severus let out a little snort at your comment, shaking his head.

“C’mon grumpypants,” you teased lightly, patting your friend on the back. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

You walked over to your desk and opened the far left drawer. Upon hearing the dull scrape of wood as the drawer pulled open, Severus looked over at you with the tiniest smile.

“Have you added any teas to your collection?” He asked. He kept a somewhat level expression, but you couldn’t help but grin at the hint of a hopeful tone in his voice.

“I went to Hogsmeade last weekend and got a few more. Some just for you. Come over here and pick one, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Severus stood up just as you moved to the corner of the room to fill the kettle. You noticed out of the corner of your eye how shadow-like he was: the way his cloak billowed slightly as he almost seemed to glide over to your desk.

You heard a few papers rustle as you filled the kettle, and that’s when your heart stopped.

Oh no, oh god no.

You forgot to move your sketchbook, bloody hell.

Maybe Severus was looking at something else, you thought to yourself. Maybe you misheard and he was only rifling through your tea stash-

“Is this… me?”

Nope. He found it. Shit.

You set the kettle down slowly, your hands trembling as you felt a rush of heat fly up to your cheeks.

“S-Sorry?”

You kept your eyes glued to the teacups on the small wooden countertop, trying your best not to cringe as you continued to hear pages being flipped over gently.

“Y/N…” Severus murmured. “You drew these?”

You chewed your lip, just about ready to sink through the floorboards at this point.

“Y-yes.” Your voice came out as a small squeak, barely even intelligible.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard gentle footsteps approach you from behind.

“Turn around,” Severus encouraged softly. Clenching your jaw, you tried to ignore the burning heat in your cheeks as you shuffled around to face Severus.

His dark eyes were swirling with so many emotions, you genuinely couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It terrified you. You looked down, and saw that he was holding one of your sketches in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I don’t show those to anyone, they’re just for me to practice with…”

“This is how you see me?”

You heard Severus‘ voice catch in his throat, and you looked up to see his features had softened into a gentle and almost sad expression. You lowered your gaze to his hands again, taking a closer look at the sketch he brought over.

It was from the Yule Ball a few months ago. You had sketched Severus during dinner after you saw him throw his head back in a hearty laugh, thanks to a dirty joke Professor Sprout had casually dropped at the staff table that night. You couldn’t remember the joke for the life of you, but you’d never forget the way Severus’ eyes lit up with a rare joy few ever saw. Nor would you forget the way his hair curled that night, perfectly framing his face and making him look almost angelic.

“Joy looks good on you.” You explained in the tiniest whisper, pressing your lips together nervously. “I… that was one of my first times seeing you laugh, and I just…”

You trailed off, silently cursing the fact that your face was still as red as ever. Finally, to your relief, Severus set your sketch down. But when you looked up at him, you noticed his eyes were glassy.

Was he… crying?

“Oh.” You gasp softly. “Oh no, I’m sorry. It’s a terrible drawing, I know-”

Severus shook his head. “Stop bloody apologizing. It’s beautiful. All your sketches are. I had no idea.”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to find out.” You muttered, laughing your nerves out softly. Your heart nearly stopped as Severus reached out, gently cradling your hands in his.

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly. “For… what you said.”

You frowned. “What did I say?”

“About… seeing the joy in me,” he replied. “That’s perhaps the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Your heart sank as you took in Severus’ words. You looked up, your soft eyes meeting his dark ones.

“It’s true.” You said simply. “It doesn’t take an expert to see you’ve been through some real shit, Sev. You deserve to be happy.”

Severus froze at your words, unsure of what to do or how to react. Then, to your surprise, he took one more step forward and closed the distance between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, and you nearly gasped at how tightly he held you to him. You returned his embrace without hesitation, finally calming after the initial scare of Severus finding your sketches. He was warm. You could get used to this feeling.

“Thank you, Y/N.” You heard Severus whisper.

“For what?” You asked back just as softly.

“Showing me how you see the world. How you see… me.”

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.