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emilys-bangs · 2 months ago

Note

The last thing you reblogged gave me an idea !

Touch starved Emily who is friends with you but would never dare ask you for unnecessary hugs etc., you two are close but she doesn’t want to cross that bridge since she definitely likes you a lot more than just a friend and also she’s scared of being so open and vulnerable that she admits she needs a hug and a cuddle.

You two are on a case once again, end up rooming together and there’s only one bed. You both don't really mind and go to sleep, each one on their respective side of the bed - except when you wake up in the middle of the night, Emily is cuddled around you, having subconsciously seeked your touch while she’s asleep.

You can decide how to go from there if this idea is any good to you, no worries if not and I hope you have a great week 😘😘

Tysm for requesting, I hope you have a great week as well! I sincerely thank that one post about touch starved Emily that made us all go insane <3

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midas touch | e.p

Tags: touch starved Emily, room sharing, bed sharing, fluff, a ridiculous amount of yearning

Word count: 2.5k

You’d have to be blind not to notice Emily’s affinity for touch.

It’s something you’ve picked up on after a mere week in the BAU, and honestly, you’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like she craves touch, physically needs the added comfort of hands wrapping around elbows, arms slung across shoulders and casual side-hugs. In the more lax confines of Rossi’s living room or o’keefe’s, it’s not unusual to see her wrapped around somebody, or at least closely sharing what’s meant to be personal space.

At work, however, it’s different; a bit more subtle, but still palpably flowing with love—the way she sneaks behind Garcia’s chair and wraps her arms around her neck in hello, Emily’s cheek pressing against the analyst’s. How she runs her fingers through Spencer’s messy curls, and how—despite his protests—he lets her, almost imperceptibly leaning into her hand before she pulls away. Her hip is frequently attached to JJ’s, their temples touching as she slides her palm into the back pocket of JJ’s jeans. Rossi is given paternal kisses on the cheek, Morgan dragged around with his hand in hers, their fingers interlocking in a weave of pale and dark. Even Hotch gets his fair share of physical affection from her, though more subtle but no less loving; a tugging at his belt loops, a nimble fixing of his tie, the brush of her fingers along his elbow.

Everyone gets a piece of Emily’s attention.

Everyone except you.

It upsets you in ways you can’t fully explain—at least not without admitting to yourself that you’re falling deeply and helplessly in love with her. None of it remotely makes sense; despite her very deliberately withholding her touch from you, she’s been nothing but lovely, always having your back and gently correcting you when you slip up.

But still, when an overbooked hotel forces Hotch to relay the unfortunate news of doubling up and she turns to you, surprise renders you silent.

“Me and you?” Emily asks, paying no mind to JJ next to her.

You speak through your dry throat, “Um—yeah, sure.”

Hotch places the key in your hand, glad to have one pair down. You dig it into the flesh of your palm.

“I’ll take that one, thank you.” Rossi plucks a key from Hotch’s hand and turns away, leisurely walking to the elevator as protests rise behind him.

Hotch shakes his head, exasperated. You almost feel sorry for him. “Morgan?” He says, looking at him. Morgan nods, which leaves JJ with Reid.

Reid looks pleased; JJ less so, but she doesn’t protest as she takes the key from Hotch.

“Aww, good luck, pretty girl.” Emily coos, cupping JJ’s cheek and tapping it playfully. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, hot and acidic as JJ shrugs off her hand with an eye roll, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The key is in your hand so you turn on your heel, a bad taste in your mouth as Reid starts to protest, the sound getting lost somewhere between Emily’s soft laughs.

She knows them longer than she knows you, you think as you take the stairs two at a time, trying to outrun the beating of your heart. Your somewhat blurry eyes pick out the door with the matching number on your key. Your legs take you to it, almost on autopilot.

“Hey, wait up,” Emily’s voice carries, reaching you in a cloud of spun silk. There’s a rush of air behind you and you feel her creeping over your shoulder, the scent of her perfume choking you sweetly. “You don’t want me to sleep in the hall, do you?”

You can’t bring yourself to rise to the teasing in her voice. Fitting the key in the lock with unsteady fingers, you mumble, “Would’a let you in if you’d knocked.”

But trying to keep your distance doesn’t work, because the one bed in the room glares at you as soon as you push the door open.

Your throat goes dry.

Emily hovers impatiently at your back and you swallow as you take a step into the threshold of the room, wondering how the hell she’d share a bed with you when she seems reluctant to touch you in the first place.

Panicked, you take your bag and head into the bathroom before Emily can say anything, desperately needing a moment to compose yourself. It’s safe to say you spend more time in there than you usually would, lengthening your short routine to busy yourself.

Only when you’ve semi-calmed down do you go out, finding her perched on the edge of the large—king sized, at least—bed.

“Hey. Are you okay with this?” Emily’s eyes are wide and dark, shining with concern.

There’s no place for you to sleep anyway if you said no, but somehow you get the feeling she’d make it work if you were uncomfortable. A confused rush of emotion runs hot under your skin; lingering jealousy and ever present bitterness and confusing pleasure at her concern.

God, you need to go to bed.

“I’m fine with it,” you force a smile. It must not be very convincing, because Emily frowns, a delicate pull drawing her brows together. Just before she says something, you speak. “Are you okay with it?”

That snaps her out of it. “Yeah,” Emily murmurs, a dimple winking at you as she gives you a small smile, “as long as you don’t kick.”

You didn’t expect her to agree so easily. Some part of you wonders if she’s lying, but you can’t look at her eyes long enough to decipher that—you’re mildly afraid if you sunk into their depths you’d never be able to claw your way out.

“I haven’t had any complaints,” you try to shrug casually. “Do you prefer a side?”

“No, go ahead. It doesn’t matter what side I sleep on, I always somehow find my way in the middle.”

That makes you crack a smile.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind her and you press your knuckles into your eyes, wondering if you can possibly get through this night without losing your already delicate composure.

It’s just a bed, you tell yourself as you take out a pair of sweatpants to serve as pajamas. And it’s just for one night. It’s fine.

It’s fine. Sure it is.

You’re already in bed and beneath the sheets when Emily walks out of the bathroom. It’s a mistake to look at her, because you think you’ve just fallen deeper in love.

She’s shaking her hair out from the confines of its ponytail and it falls in soft waves around her shoulders, curling at the ends where the water sprayed it. A cotton tank top gently hugs her body, and pale blue shorts skim the tops of her thighs.

She’s not wearing a bra.

You’re staring.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to share tonight,” Emily smiles sheepishly as she lifts the covers and climbs into the bed. A lump is lodged in your throat at the sight of her bare legs slipping through the sheets, shimmering softly from her lotion. It smells sweet, she smells sweet—like warm cocoa butter—and it takes everything in you not to inhale deeply like a creep.

“Neither was I.” You croak. Emily settles her head on her pillow and you try not to stare at her lashes, so naturally long and thick even without her usual mascara.

She’s literally going to be the death of you.

“G’night,” you mumble and turn away before she can answer. The heat in your cheeks burns, and you dig them into the pillow in hopes of cooling them down.

“Night,” Emily whispers back. The sheets rustle as she presumably turns, too.

Needless to say, it takes a while for you to fall asleep.

It must happen at some point, though, because something wakes you. You open your eyes to the darkness of the room, unsure what it is. You just know that you’re abnormally warm and trapped beneath something smelling like cocoa butter.

Emily.

Your sluggish brain slowly puts the pieces together. Her arm is around your neck, cutting across your chest; her thigh is hitched over your hip. Cold fingertips are hooked into the collar of your t-shirt and you shiver despite the warmth of your own body. Slow breaths puff across your neck, warm and even.

Briefly, you think you’re dreaming, but just as quickly that thought dissipates. She’s too real, too warm—and anyway your imagination could never come up with something as divine as this.

You’re not completely innocent either. Your arm is hooked around her waist, your skin directly touching the warm skin of her waist. Her tank top has risen up and your blurry eyes catch a tattoo on her hipbone; a faded butterfly.

You should let her go.

It’s an internal battle, because she fits there, perfectly, and even though you know it’s wrong, you close your eyes and continue holding her.

It’s wrong, it’s so wrong. She doesn’t want your touch. She’s made that perfectly clear, but her warm body, the soft tickle of her hair, they cloud your senses, fog your brain and hide all traces of reason or sensibility.

But still, half asleep or not, you can’t betray her trust like this.

You’re just about to force yourself to let go when Emily snuggles closer, a long sigh escaping through her nose. Her lashes tickle your skin, wispy and light across your neck as she nestles into your collarbone.

Fuck.

You hold still and wait for her to move again. She doesn’t, other than the steady rise and fall of her chest, so you close your eyes too. You would’ve thought it would be difficult to fall asleep with almost every inch of her body touching every inch of yours, but you’re encompassed in warmth and softness and the scent of cocoa butter.

Really, it only takes a minute before you’re asleep again.

———

She’s still in your arms when you wake up. Your alarm didn’t ring yet—it must’ve been a combination of Emily’s warmth and your internal clock that woke you up.

Her head is now on your pillow, one of her knees slotted between yours and her arm around your waist. She’s like a clingy koala, even in her sleep, and it only makes your heart ache.

Through the blurriness in your vision you see the small freckles that dot her cheeks. They’re tiny, almost unnoticeable, scattered over the bridge of her nose and under her swooping lashes. Her fingers tighten in your shirt and again the guilt surfaces, but it’s so slow to rise in the pale morning light, when you’re sluggish with sleep.

Emily’s eyes flutter open.

Shit, you freeze, your muscles stiffening.

You’re caught.

Suddenly you’re staring into dark chips of obsidian, clouds of sleep swirling through them. At first Emily gives no reaction, but then her brain evidently catches up and her eyes widen, her fingers letting go of your shirt.

Just before you apologize, she does.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. Her voice is raspy and you fight the shiver before it travels down your spine. “I get really—”

“Clingy,” you mumble. “Yeah, I know. It’s obvious.” Your voice is soft, mainly because you’re too tired to fight with your own demons so early in the morning.

“I’m really sorry,” Emily whispers again, mortified. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink as she retracts her arm and her leg, curling back into her side of the bed. The sheets she leaves behind are warm, and you fight the urge to place your hand where she once was.

“S’okay. You do it with everyone, I know that.” Then, because it’s the morning and your brain is half asleep and still fogged from holding her, you ask, “Why not with me, though?”

Her teeth chew down on her lip. “Why not with you, what?” She mumbles.

“Emily,” you sigh, “it’s too early for you to mess with my head. You know what.”

Emily gives a sigh of her own. She doesn’t look at you as she fiddles with the hem of her tank top and drags it back down, hiding the exposed sliver of her torso. It doesn’t help that your eyes follow her movements, because her shorts have ridden up her thighs.

“It means…more when it’s you.” She eventually says, her voice quiet. Your breath hitches and she continues looking down, frowning at the hem of her tank top. “Everything does. Can’t touch you like that and pretend it means nothing.”

The slight slur to her voice makes her confession all the more intimate. As does her bed head, the red sleep lines on the underside of her arm. This is a soft Emily, a vulnerable one, and she’s laying herself bare for you in the morning light while sleep still lingers in both your eyes.

It only confirms your love for her.

Your relief is palpable; it quickly shifts to affection, something flowery crowding the back of your throat and making it hard to swallow. She doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t think you’re disgusting or repulsive.

She couldn’t touch you because it would give her away. Because it’s the most genuine aspect of her, one she can’t dampen or hide any more than she can stop her heart from beating.

It seems almost too big a revelation for this small hotel room bathed in morning light. Still, your hand reaches for hers. You wrap your fingers around her own, both of them now resting gently on her stomach.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing.” You whisper.

Emily’s eyes snap to yours. They’re like the black, bitter coffee you have no choice but knock back in precincts all over the country. They make your heart race, because they come closer—she comes closer—until both your heads are resting on the same pillow again. Emily cups your joint hands with her free one, reverently protecting the tenderness of your touch.

“You’re…” Her breath hitches and she falters, then sucks in a breath, “You’re telling me you want this?”

You squeeze her fingers. “More than anything.”

Emily blows out a low sigh. You bring your free hand up to trace the curve of her brow; she leans into it. “I do, too.” She confesses. “More than anything.”

Your thumb travels down to the corner of her mouth. “Then there’s nothing stopping us. Is there?” You ask gently.

“No.” Emily sighs. “Nothing.”

She tilts her head, lets you continue exploring her face with your fingertips. Her features are gently traced; the bridge of her nose and the outline of her lips and the shape of her brows. Slowly, her knee worms its way between both of yours.

You smile and Emily smiles back, a shy dimple in her cheek.

“Be clingy. With me,” you murmur, keeping your voice low because you’re afraid love already spills from it, “I want you to be.”

Her nose nuzzles into your cheek. “You’ll soon regret saying that.” Emily mumbles, the vibration of her voice reverberating through your skin. It fills you with strange peace.

“Never.” You whisper.

Until the alarm rings, the two of you spend your time erasing away the boundaries, learning the lines of each other’s bodies with your fingertips with slow confidence.

Because now, you have all the time in the world.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss blurb #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic

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boxbug · 1 year ago

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A Canary’s Final Flight

My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real

Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)

So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.

This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.

So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)

At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)

And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.

I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.

(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)

So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!

Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!

#trafficzine #limited life #limlife #limlife fanart #jimmy solidarity fanart #solidaritygaming #i forgot all the tags augh #curse of not posting often #mcyt fanart #mcyt #zine illustration #zines #my art

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kozachenko · 3 months ago

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[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 17 #keiki haniyasushin #wily beast and weakest creature #touhou #東方project #own art

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seukorei · 11 months ago

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seukorei 2K DTIYS!! (ENDED)

thank you so much for supporting and enjoying my work this year!! <33 ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ

here's the artwork!! ^^ details below cut

INFO

start time: RIGHT NOW !!!!!

***END TIME HAS BEEN EXTENDED TO MARCH 18TH*****

end time: february 15th (?) i'm totally happy with extending it further just shoot me an ask/dm for however long you need (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

you have to be following me to participate

either reblog this post or include the art in your post

pls @ me in the post and use the tag #seukorei2kdtiys

if i don't reblog your submission/you don't think i've seen it shoot me an ask/dm !!

GUIDELINES

i would like for the general vibe/setting of the work to be kept, i.e. the galaxy background, his glowing eye, general color feel (doesn't have to be exactly the same)

pose can be altered but in some way or another but try to do something with hands covering face (doesn't have to be exactly the same)

angle/light angle and composition are free to change

pm dazai/15 dazai/beastzai(?) are all fair game. just have one eye covered

expression is free to change, just have one eye open + make him slightly unsettling if you can (●'◡'●)

overall, you can probably change as many things as you want but i just want the overall vibe to stay the same!! <3

edit: does not have to be a digital piece, can totally be traditional art

PRIZES

i'm cross-platform hosting this on my insta/twitter as well so i'm gonna pick three winners in total (not necessarily one from each platform), same prize for everyone!

won't be fully-fully rendered because i don't think i can pull that off with three people but more of a sketchy soft style e.g.

(will probably be cleaner though and while i'll really try to finish prizes in a succint manner i'm pretty busy and it might take awhile to wrap everything up :)

here's the full art piece without the tag!!

again, thank you so much for supporting me and my art and i hope everyone has a lovely new year !! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

#seukorei2kdtiys #art #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dtiys #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #osamu dazai #bsd fanart #dazai fanart

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misshoneyimhome · 25 days ago

Note

Could you do an ex-lover to lovers again with reader and Nico Hischier 🤭 with the vibes “I thought the Swiss could change me” from the song ‘Lucerne’ by Richy Mitch & The coal miners. Kinda angsty and really fluffy.

Absolutely, darling! ❤️‍🔥 I hadn’t heard that song before now, but I’m absolutely obsessed with it 🤗

I really hope I captured your vision with this – it might come off a bit general, but I just wanted to try and make sure I included everything, from the beginning to the ex-lovers part. Hopefully, you enjoy reading it as much as I did working on it 🙏🏼

Tropes & warnings: Nico Hischier x reader, strangers-lovers, break-up, ex-lovers, fluff, angst, light smut at the end

Word count: 3.9K

➼｡ﾟ

I Thought the Swiss Could Change Me

Lucerne, I keep running right back to you 'Cause I thought the Swiss could change me That the finer things would render me finer tuned Lucerne, I keep coming right back I keep running on

You and Nico had been together for almost two years when it all fell apart. It sort of unravelled slowly, cautiously like you might expect with most breakups. Yet, it still hit like a violent storm neither of you saw coming. One day, everything was perfect—the love, the laughs, the easy rhythm of your lives together. The next day, it wasn’t. You had never imagined it would happen to you. Not to you and Nico. Everyone said you were strong, destined for each other.

Soulmates.

From the moment you first met under the crisp autumn skies of New Jersey, there had been something electric between you. You were never much of a sports fan before that day, but Nico was hard to resist. It was during the start of hockey season, and the city was buzzing with excitement. You weren’t paying attention to the Devils or their captain—hockey had never been on your radar—but somehow, the universe had decided you and Nico would collide.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. You were grabbing coffee, already running late, when someone bumped into you hard enough to spill your drink all over your sweater. Annoyed, you turned, ready to give the person a piece of your mind, but when your eyes locked with his, the words got stuck in your throat. It was Nico Hischier, though you didn’t know it at the time—just a tall, apologetic guy with warm brown eyes that were quick to soften in concern.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his Swiss accent thick, holding his hands up in surrender.

You had waved it off, though your annoyance was still fresh. “It’s fine. Really.”

“I owe you another one, please,” Nico insisted, his boyish grin forming as he glanced at the mess he’d made of your outfit.

Needless to say, you didn’t argue. And that was just the beginning.

What started with an accidental coffee spill soon turned into hours of conversation. He had bought you a replacement drink that day, and somehow, you ended up talking about everything under the sun—his love for hockey, his home in Switzerland, and how he still wasn’t used to certain things in New Jersey. You didn’t even realise who he was until later, when someone asked for a picture. And even then, it didn’t hit you fully. To you, he was just Nico, the guy who spilled coffee on you.

But that simple encounter turned into something more, something neither of you had expected. Nico had been charmed by you almost immediately, captivated by the way you didn’t care about his status as the Devils’ captain or the attention that followed him. You were easy to be around, someone who made him feel like just a regular guy instead of a superstar athlete, coupled with your random quirks. So, it didn't take long before he asked you out.

You fell fast. And Nico? Nico fell even harder.

He hadn’t planned on it—hadn’t thought he’d be swept off his feet so quickly. Nico had always been calm, steady, and focused on his career. But you changed everything. Your laugh, the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about things you loved, the way you cared deeply and genuinely about people—it was intoxicating. And what surprised him the most was how seamlessly you fit into his world. Though hockey was his life, you never made him feel like he had to choose between you and his passion. You supported him, understood the long road trips, the exhausting schedule, even the missed calls. That understanding was something he hadn’t realised he needed until he found it with you.

And in return, Nico gave you everything he had. He took you to games, let you into the thrilling world of professional hockey, even though you hadn’t been interested before. He showed you behind the scenes, introduced you to his teammates, and made sure you never felt like an outsider in his life. You got swept up in the excitement of the games, learning stats, figuring out the dynamics of hockey you never thought you’d care about. And before you knew it, you were standing in the stands, dressed in his jersey number 13 and cheering with the rest of the crowd, your heart racing not just for the game but for him.

As the months passed, you found yourself more and more entrenched in Nico’s life. He introduced you to his closest friends, the people who had been part of his journey long before he ever became a captain. He took you to his favourite hidden spots in New Jersey—little restaurants only a few knew about, places where he could escape the constant attention. There, the two of you would talk for hours, sharing dreams, worries, and everything in between.

When the off-season arrived, Nico couldn’t wait to take you to Switzerland. It wasn’t just a vacation for him—it was bringing you home, showing you the world that had shaped him. His excitement was palpable as he talked about the mountains, the lakes, and the quaint little villages he grew up in. And when you finally got there, it was everything he’d promised.

Switzerland was breathtaking. The mountains stood tall and proud, the air was clean and crisp, and the lakes sparkled in the sun. Nico took you everywhere—to the best hiking trails, the most beautiful overlooks, and, of course, to meet his family. You were nervous at first, but his family welcomed you with open arms, instantly making you feel like part of them. His mother adored you, his siblings thought you were fun, and Nico? Nico looked at you like he had never been prouder to have you by his side.

It was perfect. Too perfect, maybe. Because paradise doesn’t last forever, and even the strongest love has its tests.

You didn’t realise it at the time, but cracks were beginning to form, even in the midst of those happy moments. The media couldn’t leave well enough alone. Your relationship with Nico had always been under scrutiny—people loved to talk about the captain of the Devils, and they loved to dig for dirt. They started prying, spreading rumours and lies, trying to find any weakness they could exploit. At first, it didn’t seem to matter. You trusted Nico, and he trusted you. You had survived worse together, and you weren’t going to let a few baseless headlines shake the foundation you had built.

But trust, as solid as it seemed, can be fragile when constantly attacked. The rumours took their toll—not on you, but on Nico. At first, it was subtle. You noticed the way he tensed up every time his phone buzzed with a new notification, or how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes like it used to. The worst part? He didn’t talk about it much—Nico had never been one to share his insecurities easily—but you could see it, the weight of everything piling on his shoulders.

The media was relentless. They posted photos of you out with friends, with men you barely knew—strangers, coworkers, or simply people you happened to bump into at events. It was harmless, but the way they twisted it in headlines made it seem like more. And so-called “fans” didn’t make it easier. Nico would get messages, pictures of you with these men, accompanied by cruel comments suggesting that you weren’t loyal, that you were using him for fame. It was all nonsense, and you both knew it. At least, you thought you both did.

Nico, however, struggled with it more than you realised. He kept it bottled up, acting like it didn’t bother him. But over time, you could see the cracks forming. You could feel the distance growing between you. He became quieter, more withdrawn. The light in his eyes, the playful glint you loved so much, began to dim. He started spending more time at the rink, throwing himself into practices and games, using hockey as an escape from the thoughts that tormented him.

It was jealousy, though Nico would never admit it out loud. He was terrified. The idea of losing you—to someone with a less demanding life, someone who could be there for you every day—haunted him. He wasn’t around as much as he wanted to be; he couldn’t always be there when you needed him. And the thought that someone else could swoop in, could give you what he couldn’t, consumed him. Instead of telling you about his fears, though, he let them fester. He didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden you with his insecurities, so he kept it all to himself. But that only made it worse.

Slowly, he began to pull away. At first, it was small things—missed calls, shorter texts, moments of silence that stretched just a bit too long. Then, it became more obvious. The intimacy you once shared faded. Your sex life, once passionate and spontaneous, became rare. Nights that used to be filled with whispered conversations and soft touches were replaced with silence. Nico was there, but he wasn’t really there. His mind was always somewhere else—lost in his own doubts and insecurities.

You tried to talk to him, to reach out, to assure him that nothing had changed, that you still loved him, still wanted him. But Nico wasn’t good at talking about his feelings, especially not when it came to things that scared him. He brushed off your concerns, said everything was fine, that he was just tired from the season. You wanted to believe him, but deep down, you knew something was wrong. The man who used to look at you like you were his entire world now barely met your eyes during dinner.

The tension between you grew thicker with every passing day. Every attempt you made to connect with him seemed to push him further away. It was like he had built a wall around himself, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t break through. You were left wondering where it all went wrong, how you had gone from being the couple everyone envied to two people barely holding on.

The final blow came just before the playoffs - Nico ended it.

It happened on a quiet evening at home. You weren’t expecting it, not at all. He had just come back from practice, looking more exhausted than usual. You thought maybe it was just the pressure of the upcoming games, the stress of leading his team through such an intense part of the season. You had no idea what was coming.

He sat down next to you on the couch, but something was off. There was no warmth in his gaze, no tenderness in his touch. You could feel the cold distance between you, and it made your stomach churn with dread. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost emotionless.

“I think we should end this,” Nico said, not meeting your eyes.

You blinked, not understanding at first. “What? What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. “It’s better this way.”

Those words sent a chill down your spine. Better? How could this possibly be better? You searched his face for any sign of hesitation, for any indication that he didn’t mean what he was saying, but all you found was cold detachment. He wasn’t there—not really. It was like he had already made up his mind, like he had checked out of the relationship long before this conversation even started.

“Better for who?” you asked, your voice breaking. “For you? For me? Nico, this doesn’t make any sense.”

But Nico didn’t explain. He just shook his head, his jaw clenched tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s… it’s just better.”

And that was it. No long explanation, no heartfelt goodbye. Just those cold, final words. You were left blindsided, devastated, staring at him in disbelief. How could he do this? How could he just walk away like this? After everything you still felt for him?

But Nico was already gone, emotionally, and now he was physically leaving too. He got up from the couch, muttered something about needing to be alone, and walked out the door. The silence that followed was deafening.

You sat there, numb, unable to process what had just happened. The man you loved, the man who had once been your everything, had just walked out of your life without so much as a proper explanation. And you were left to pick up the pieces of a relationship you thought would last forever.

You couldn’t watch the playoffs - not that it lasted long for the Devils.

When Nico left for Switzerland during the off-season, he hoped the distance would give him clarity. Switzerland had always been his sanctuary—the mountains, the lakes, the quiet. He thought maybe returning to the familiar landscapes of his childhood, surrounded by his family, would help him clear his mind, help him forget the chaos of the past few months. But the Swiss countryside, no matter how beautiful, couldn’t soothe the ache in his chest. The rolling hills and serene views only reminded him of what he was missing. Every time he saw a picture of you online, smiling with friends, looking carefree in photos taken at bars or restaurants, his heart twisted painfully.

He couldn’t forget you. No matter how hard he tried to lose himself in the simplicity of home, in the comfort of his family’s company, you were still everywhere in his thoughts. Your smile, your laugh, the way you fit so seamlessly into his life, even in the chaotic whirlwind of his career. He missed the sound of your voice, missed waking up next to you, missed the comfort of your body pressed against his at night.

Nico was struggling. His bed felt too big, too cold without you beside him. He missed the way you used to curl into him, your head resting on his chest, your hand draped over his stomach. The way you would trace lazy circles on his skin, lulling him to sleep after a long day. The way your body fit so perfectly against his.

He thought about you constantly, replaying the moments you shared—the laughter, the intimacy, the quiet moments in the morning before the world intruded on your little bubble. He missed the way you would look at him, like he was the only person in the world that mattered. He missed your body, the way you moved together, the way you made him feel alive. No matter how hard he tried to bury those feelings, they always came rushing back, overwhelming him with regret.

But you weren’t happy, no matter what the pictures online showed. The smiles in those photos were carefully constructed, masking the pain that had settled deep inside you. The loss of Nico had left a gaping hole in your life, one that you didn’t know how to fill. You spent more time in bars than you cared to admit, trying to drown the loneliness that gnawed at you. Alcohol dulled the edges of the hurt, numbed the constant ache in your chest, but it couldn’t erase it. You were surrounded by friends, but none of them could make up for the emptiness that Nico’s absence left behind.

The nights were the hardest. You had grown so used to sharing a bed with him, to the comfort of his warm body beside yours. The way you used to fit together so perfectly, no matter the mood—whether it was slow, tender nights where you’d make love for hours, or spontaneous, passionate moments where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. The way he’d kiss you, deep and slow, taking his time, savouring every touch like it was the last. His hands on your skin, the feel of him pressed against you—it had been perfect, effortless. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and now, it was gone.

One night, after too many drinks, you made a mistake. You went home with someone else, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would help. Maybe being with someone new would make the emptiness go away, even for just a little while. You wanted to forget the way Nico’s touch lingered on your skin, wanted to replace the memories of him with someone else. But it didn’t work. The one-night stand only made things worse. No one could compare to Nico. No one ever would. The moment it was over, you felt even more hollow than before, disgusted with yourself for even trying to replace him.

You missed everything about him.

Those four months apart were torture for both of you. Every day without each other was a reminder of what you had lost, of the love that had slipped through your fingers. You both tried to move on, to find solace in other things, other people, but nothing worked. The connection you had shared was too strong to forget. And no matter how far apart you were, the longing for each other never truly went away.

When Nico returned to New Jersey, neither of you had anticipated seeing each other so soon. You had resigned yourself to the possibility that your paths might never cross again. Yet another crisp autumn evening, fate intervened. You were walking through a park, lost in your thoughts, when you saw him—standing beneath a cluster of trees, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring off into the distance. He looked lost, as if he was carrying the same weight in his chest that you had been for months.

“Nico?” you called out softly, your voice catching in your throat.

He turned slowly, and when his eyes met yours, the world around you seemed to freeze. Everything you’d held inside—every unsaid word, every missed touch—suddenly bubbled to the surface. The months of separation vanished in that split second, and all that was left was the two of you, standing in the fading daylight.

His gaze softened, and he took a small step toward you, his voice thick with emotion as he said your name. “Y/N…”

You crossed your arms, trying to steady yourself against the whirlwind of feelings that hit you all at once. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” you admitted, the vulnerability in your words feeling raw, exposed.

Nico’s eyes darkened with regret. “Well, I… I couldn’t really stay away. I thought Switzerland would… I thought being home would make things clearer. But it didn’t. All I could think about was you. All I wanted… was you.”

You took a hesitant step forward, heart hammering in your chest. “I… missed you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your pulse. “I tried to move on, but I couldn’t...”

The space between you seemed to evaporate as Nico reached out, his fingers grazing yours. The moment his skin touched yours, a spark shot through you, igniting something deep inside that had lain dormant since he’d walked away. It was like a missing puzzle piece had finally fallen back into place.

“I’m so sorry, schätzi,” he said, his voice trembling. “I was so scared. Scared that I wasn’t enough for you, that you’d grow tired of me being away all the time… and that someone else could give you the life I couldn’t.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you shook your head. “Nico, you were always enough. I just needed you to let me in. To talk to me.”

He looked at you, his face filled with regret, guilt written in every line of his expression. “I know that now. I just… I thought letting you go would make it easier—for both of us. But it didn’t. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

Without thinking, you gently closed the distance between you, placing your hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You were never the problem. I loved you, Nico. And I still love you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I love you too,” he whispered, pulling you against him as if he was afraid you might slip away. You melted into his embrace, the warmth and familiarity of his arms around you filling the empty spaces inside you. “I never stopped.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hand still resting on his chest. “Then don’t let go this time,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of the words hanging in the air between you.

Nico’s lips parted, and before you could say another word, he finally kissed you.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if this was real. But the moment your lips met, every bit of uncertainty vanished. The kiss deepened, filled with all the passion, the longing, the words that had been left unsaid for so long. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you tangled your fingers in his hair, needing to feel him, to know that this wasn’t just a dream.

His lips trailed down to your jaw, then your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I missed you so much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your fingers tightening in his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool evening air.

Before long, the desire that had simmered between you erupted into something more urgent. Nico’s hands roamed your body, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, and you were more than willing to let him. You tugged at his jacket, your body aching for the familiar touch you’d been without for so long.

“Let’s go,” Nico then whispered, his voice turning rough, the need in his eyes matching your own. You didn’t need to ask where—your apartment was only a few blocks away, and the moment you stepped through the door, it was as if no time had passed. The two of you moved in sync, shedding clothes in a trail that led to your bedroom.

Nico’s lips found yours again, more urgent this time, his hands sliding over your bare skin as he pulled you onto the bed. His touch was familiar, yet it felt brand new, the months apart making every sensation feel heightened, more intense. His hands explored every inch of your body, as if he was memorising you all over again.

“I love you,” Nico murmured between kisses, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed his body against yours, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ll never let you go again. I just want you to be mine.”

You gasped as he eased himself into you - just like he’s always done - his touch both gentle and firm, sending sparks of electricity through your body. Your heart raced as the two of you reconnected in the most intimate way possible, bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Every kiss, every touch, was filled with the love and passion that had always existed between you.

“I love you too, Nico. I’m yours. Only yours.”

The world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was Nico—his body pressed against yours, his hands in your hair, the feel of his lips on your skin. And in that moment, all the pain of the past few months melted away, leaving only the love that had always been there.

#my asks #nh13 #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl hockey imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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leidensygdom · 8 months ago

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AI bros from hell

Hello! Do you have a bit of your time for a story on AI bros and clients from hell? I bring a really fun one!

I met this guy at a con I was tabling at over a year ago, before AI was a thing. He said he enjoyed my art, and inquired me about whether I did book illustrations. I said yes- He was specifically interested in my bigger pieces, the fully rendered and detailed ones. He agreed to send me later a DM to discuss specifics.

For two weeks, he kept DMing me on details about his book, what he wanted, etc. He wanted full illustrations for inside the book as well as a cover, all of them fully colored, painted and rendered. He also wanted illustrations in this style to post on social media to promote the book. I had warned him that something like that would be costly, but he insisted that he needed this to be the best of the best.

Now, I was getting bad vibes from the guy. I shit y'all not, his instagram handle was "The next tolkien". I wasn't however gonna refuse a job opportunity. Now, he finally asked for prices: He had reassured me he was willing to pay fairly for this. Since he's a starting author, I gave him my non-commercial quotes, which are much, much, much lower than the standard for book illustrations. I mean "if you search for how much this costs on google, the lower prices are x5 times more expensive than what I offered".

The guy, upon receiving that, just ghosted me. Immediately unfollowed, didn't reply me with a "sorry, I can't afford it" or "sorry, i was expecting to pay $10 for a full rendered full background several-characters-picture". Nothing.

The other day I decided to search what he was up to. He's now released... THREE books for this series. There's a single review in the first one. Not even written, just a stars one. Also, notably, he had a webpage put together promoting the book, and. Yeah.

All the art is AI crap.

Which makes sense. My guy was very on his high horse about how fantastic of a writer he is, but I guess art isn't really to be compensated fairly. When he saw the "art stealing machine you just pay a subscription for", I'm guessing he was very excited.

So, uh, here's some of the marvelous pictures he generated of the characters, which surely tell you about how great the book is. AI is theft, so I don't give a f*** about reposting it.

I have a lot of opinions about creators who write, draw or make music, who are more than happy to use AI for other stuff- Album covers made with AI, writers using AI crap for book illustrations, artists using AI-made music. It feels like you're sh*tting in any other artistic field and showing how little you respect anyone but yourself. Like, I'll be honest, I don't have interest reading a book from someone who considers that other forms of art aren't real or worth any money. It just tells me you're devoid of any interest for art or humanity.

As an ending note, his instagram description is "More closer to god than to human", which does add to the clownery.

#anti ai #clients from hell #long story #long post #ai bros

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carpedzem · 10 months ago

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help needed

hi guys

some might remember i have a cat, an old gentleman named Mikuś. unfortunately with this age - the illness was about to happen sooner or later. i would prefer slower if i could choose. unfortunately thats not how life works and i had to watch my baby getting worse and worse within days. its serious since Mikuś is refusing to eat right now and lost 1/4 of his weight.

we still dont know what this is, we are checking what we can but i cant exclude cancer. its really hard to me right now, especially mentally because Mikuś is 20 which means, as you can probably guess, he was with me not only his whole life but also my whole life. he has been my lifeline for a big part of it as well. i am staying hopeful for the best outcome.

if you would like to help financially i will be grateful for you forever ever ever ever. even if you can send minimal amount and you think it wont change anything - it will, i promise, you can be a reason why he eats today. all money will go to pay for vet visits, medical exams, medicine and transport. im also fine with showing proof in dms of what i paid for if anyone want so see it. the goal right now is set based on what i already spend plus what else can happen this week but any, really any help will be appreciated, even if its just a reblog.

KO-FI LINK

also i will draw you what you want with pleasure. you can literally use this as commissions. i didnt have time (or peace of mind) to prepare price sheet but any donation above 100$ means fully rendered piece of your choosing with background. examples 1 and 2. ill start as soon as i feel better. dm me and we can talk through what you want

i dont know what else i can say. kiss your pet from me, and thank you for any support and kind messages. its going to be hard for me so please be patient

photo of Mikuś breadloafing in the vet office today

#tw cancer #maybe #i will add this a few times to my queue sorry for inconvenience

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thunder-wolf64 · 1 month ago

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PSA for artists on Tumblr!

I've been getting many spam messages asking about art commissions. You probably have too if you post art. They are looking to steal your PayPal account (I think).

In this post I will show you some recognizable features of a scammer, and my fake conversation with one. My dad taught me to waste as much of their time as possible and that's what I did.

A few profiles of the scammers:

Their URLs are usually a name or word before some numbers. Their blogs are plain, they have no posts, maybe a like, and follows a few popular artists.

They will usually start the conversation without interacting with your account first, and with these words:

Bad grammar, no friendly conversation.

Frankly I was surprised to not find the picture via reverse image search but you might be able to. Ignoring parts of your message. Using weird terms (digital art is measured in pixels, not inches, the size they are asking for is insanely small, I usually use about 2000 x 1500) They will often ask for complicated or fully rendered pieces.

They might say they are from a well known place in your country, or USA in general. (I am actually an official resident of Ironland, I do not live there though) They will pay really high prices, see how they ignore my first low-ball offer completely. They will insist to pay ASAP, usually through PayPal.

I don't know why they switched to a more relaxed text pattern here? Kind of claiming importance though (business man).

Gave up on me here, I just wanted to show this for goofs :) I blocked and reported this account shortly after.

Stay safe!

#txt post #thunder's rumbles #psa #scam alert #scammers #art #artists on tumblr

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nuktia · 4 days ago

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guess who finished signalis recently! my heart is in a million pieces now and will never be the same haha. so i'm trying to figure out how i want to draw the characters, starting with ariane! atm i don't really have much energy to do anything more intensive other than sketches, but i hope to make fully rendered fan art in the future

#artists on tumblr #signalis #fan art #digital art #sketch #my art #nuktiadraws

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reegis · 10 months ago

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Yo! Do you have any notes/tips for your coloring process? I've always had trouble with that part of drawings looking good lmao and I really like yours! If not for your specific style, do you have any tips with that in general?

Iv gotten a few asks about how I color but iv always avoided answering because

A) I am absolutely awful at explaining things, and

B) I am a very Very lazy artist you should probably Not do the things that I do

BUT i feel bad gatekeeping(?) my horrible technique if it helps anybody ig ill try and explain so

✨✨✨Welcome to Reegis’ Probably Not Reputable (But Very Long Winded) Art Advice✨✨✨✨

line art of a random character for the example, just pic whatever colors you have in mind for your base colors, you can try using palette generators or basing it off of existing palettes/characters/whatever I have absolutely no idea how color theory works (& this is why you shouldnt listen to me) so im solely going off of vibes. but it is Rough so onto step 2 & 3

(edit to add i usually start off with the skin hair & clothes on separate clipping layers and merge them together towards the end.. i think i forgot to say that at all here oops)

I abuse the hellll out of layer blending modes. overlay, saturation & multiply mainly, but also difference, brightness & screen. (just doodle something & try all of em out to get a feel for them honestly ik theres a Lot and they can be intimidating) for this i just wanted a more cohesive warmer tone to start with so i added a peachy overlay & a slight ombré to the hair to add a bit more interest to the character.

then just the most basic of rendering, some blush & highlights just wherever i think theyd go.

Another thing they tell you Not to do, my next step is to block out all my shading in a vaguely purpleish multiply layer!!! i cant be assed to do it any other way im sorry…. once i have the basic shading down, i lock the layer & go in with air brush eraser & also airbrush in other colors wherever I think the purple is maybe too harsh/clashing

still wasnt 100% happy with the colors so messed around with some more layer filter/modes/whatever you call them then colored in my line art! i think this is honestly the saving grace for all of my art shshsdhhf color your lines people. doesnt have to be all (i dont, i like the contrast) but it usually helps to make some at least a little less harsh

then with a little more color tweaking im done! one random sleepy dude, fully colored (by my standards)

and then if a piece needs more dramatic lighting you justttt

im so serious play around with layer settings! these are just basic multiply & add(glow), there as so many others you can abuse the shit out of & nobody will know or care in your finished piece.

was this?? in any way helpful???? I hope so.

#THIS IS A BELATED ANSWER FOR ALL OF U MY B #scrolled back to find the earliest one i could bc i mean… you asked first #if this was in Any way helpful…. im glad #and also sorry. probably dont do these things #hmu if youd like me to clarify anything ill… do my best #asks #my art

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sodabranch · 3 months ago

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This may be a longer post than normal, so feel free to ignore my ramble and just look at this dumbass lolololol <3

You may call me a bozo, but today I've just learnt that in order to progress with my art skills I actually have to enjoy doing it.

After 10 years of being a digital artist (and more than 14 of being an artist in general), I finally owned up to the fact that I really was not having fun doing it anymore. And it's not like I hated it, but at some point I did start questioning if this was still a hobby I used to decompress and not just a task I felt I had to finish by the end of the day.

It's a bit gut wrenching to accept such fact, but it simply didn't spark joy to me, I didn't feel I was being creative enough or innovating. I always put myself in the place of "your art has to be this 100% flawless fully-rendered piece to be valid!!!!!!!!!!!111", and like;;; Validation from whom exactly? Why do I have to seek it so I can feel satisfied with it? I can finally say I feel free enough to just draw whatever I want, and to go at the pace I set for myself.

It just made me feel a bit better to understand that art is not something I have to excel at, I can just do my silly things and not worry so much about the end result.

#lethal company oc #soda art #my guys

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sparring-hyena · 10 months ago

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gorgeous.

based on this post i made recently because i have zero chill.

OR, the one where they meet again years later and maybe hate isn’t what we think it is.

Poppy hates her immediately. again.

a loud laugh rips through the ball room, slides seamlessly between mingling guests and gentle music. Poppy's attention snaps away from her parents' friend's cousin's son who's droning on about rowing and his private equity firm and about how it was oh so lovely to summer in Florence this year.

Poppy sips her drink, makes an effort to not roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on what... Angus or Anthony (something with an A, she thinks) had been saying.

and then there's the laugh again--loud and alive and unapologetic. no one else seems bothered by it. no one else even bats an eye at the disruption.

Poppy cranes her head to look around the ballroom now, fully forgetting about Arthur or Andrew and everything he had been saying. and then she sees her.

her in the dark dress shimmering in the light like the goddamn inky black midnight sky. her with the toned arms and long fingers holding gently onto a flute of champagne. Poppy's eyes dip to the slit in her dress that runs dangerously high up her thigh. up, up, up and then--

Poppy sees her face.

and she thinks no, it can't be.

and the universe hums and says oh, yes, it can be.

she flips her hair over her shoulder and for one glorious second, the world around them stops, they share a quiet smile that hides years of unsaid truths, and Poppy thinks that maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to get out of this unscathed.

then the world roars back into focus, she is smirking now, and Adam or Alexander is gently touching her arm and asking if she's alright.

"sorry, what was that?" Poppy says, blinking it all away and trying not to think about her racing heart.

"i was asking if you wanted to go for a walk," he says, "my place isn't too far from here."

"oh, uh, no, thank you." Poppy tips back the rest of her drink, leaves the empty glass on the table, and ventures deeper into the ballroom, hoping that she can get lost for the next few hours.

she grabs another flute of champagne from a passing waiter, takes one long sip, and decides that it's too claustrophobic inside. she can feel a warmth in her cheeks and a tingling itchiness beneath her skin.

she steps out into a small outdoor area, where the sounds of the party are muffled by the thick stone walls. Poppy decides that she will give herself one minute. one minute to breathe and freak out and curse out whatever force of the universe thought that this would be funny. one minute to do all of that and then pack it up and go back inside with her head held high as she braces for an assault of questions from her parents about why she screwed up yet another perfect and ideal match.

god forbid she be a person and not some status symbol for her parents.

Poppy's just about to go back inside, just about to pack it all back in, when she turns around and comes face to face with her--AJ Hughes.

"i thought i saw you across the room," AJ says as she reaches out to gently push a loose piece of hair behind Poppy's ear.

Poppy flinches away from the touch.

"ouch, really?"

"what do you want?"

AJ shrugs and actually has the audacity to look shy or nervous or unsure. Poppy has never hated anything the way that she hates that.

"i just thought..." AJ starts.

"thought what? that you'd walk back into my life after six years and try make a mess of it again? i am the best i have ever been and i don't need you dragging me down to your level. so if you don't mind--" Poppy pushes past AJ and at the last possible second, AJ reaches for Poppy's hand.

there's barely any contact. AJ's fingers barely touch her hand, but it's enough to make Poppy stop and look back at her. it's enough to send a spark of energy coursing through her veins and setting her nerve endings alight.

Poppy snaps her hand back. she doesn't say anything, can't say anything because the shock of it all renders her brain to mush and has her heart beat thundering in her chest.

she makes her escape quickly after that. doesn't say anything to AJ as she leaves her alone outside. doesn't even bother to say anything to her parents--she'll take the verbal lashing tomorrow when she wakes up hours after them and they accuse her of all sorts of things.

the outside air is cool against her flushed cheeks; reminds her that summer is well and truly over and that fall is setting in.

Poppy hails a cab and deeply exhales when she falls back against the seat. she decides that tonight was a one time thing. a one time lapse in judgement where she let her guard down and AJ caught her. it doesn't even matter really, because she won't ever have to see AJ again.

another six years will fall away, and then six more after that, and again and again, until she's so far removed from the life she's living now, that the name AJ Hughes will be the echo of a memory.

it's barely six weeks before Poppy's mingling and dancing and drinking at another gala that her parents have dragged her too. this one's to raise money for sick kids so she feels less bad about being here, but still wishes her parents would leave her alone for just one night and not try to set her up with someone.

she dodges another invite home, is always firm yet polite about how she does that, because her parents would never let her hear the end of it if someone took offence to something that she said or did, and she's on thin ice as it is with them. has been for years in fact, and can't quite seem to mend what was broken.

sometimes just as she's about to fall asleep, when she can blame it all on a sleep-fogged brain, she thinks about what her life could have been like had she just done something different. had she stood up to her parents all those years ago. had she stopped pretending that any of it made her happy. had she just accepted what AJ had been so willing to give her.

that last one always comes right at the end, right as she's about to fall off into sleep. and sometimes those what ifs bleed into her dreams and leave an ache in her chest when she wakes again.

Poppy moves easily between the other guests and even plucks another flute of champagne from a passing waiter. and just as she turns back around, Poppy sees AJ across the room. again.

and after a second that stretches on for way too long, where Poppy's heart beats dangerously in her chest for something that she refuses to acknowledges even exists, AJ returns to her conversation as though her entire world hasn't been shifted. as though Poppy's the only one experiencing this.

Poppy huffs. fine. ignore her then.

ignore ignore ignore. Poppy can do that.

the nights and galas and events carry on after that, bleeding and muddling together. sometimes there are sit down dinners, and sometimes--rarely--Poppy and AJ are seated next to each other and have to both play like civil acquaintances in front of everyone else at their table.

mostly though--mostly--Poppy doesn't entertain a single thought of AJ. although sometimes she wonders if by not thinking about her at all, it actually counts as thinking of her. that just winds up frustrating herself more and she reaches for more champagne from passing waiters.

and then some time at the end of winter, when the snow is slush and the sky has a hazy grey tint, Poppy makes a mistake. she's alone with AJ. although not alone alone. they're on a packed elevator, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the back.

AJ keeps one arm folded over her chest at first, tries her best to keep some space between them, but it's all so pointless because Poppy can still feel every minute movement from AJ.

so they aren't alone, but it sure feels like they could be, because for all her efforts, all Poppy can think about is the way that their arms press together.

and then--then then then--AJ moves her arm from across her chest down beside Poppy's own arm.

Poppy doesn't move, doesn't dare breathe or look at AJ.

AJ brushes her fingers against Poppy's, and then Poppy does something regretful. she forgets where they are and what they are and-- everything. she forgets it all and holds AJ's fingers in her own. holds on so tightly and desperately wishes for the elevator to slow or stop altogether.

she feels warm all over and wonders where it all went so wrong.

and then the elevator stops, dings, and the doors slide open.

Poppy releases AJ's hand and follows everyone else off. but AJ stays with her back against the elevator for a moment, and Poppy allows herself one more moment of weakness to look back.

Poppy wonders how the doors haven't closed yet. thinks that maybe this is the universe again trying do something-- nice or cruel? she's not too sure.

"we could be happy," AJ whispers, not that she needs to, there's no one else around.

and her words stab into Poppy's heart and twist and dig and burrow in so deep she doubts she's ever be able to get them out.

everything around her slows for a moment. Poppy can see the doors beginning to close, can see that AJ's not going to get out, can see this moment slipping away. can see all the other moments from years ago and years from now playing out in a montage in her mind, all slipping away.

and she wonders why why why it all has to be so stupid and messy and complicated and-- she steps into the elevator just as the doors shut firmly behind her. and in that same breathless second, AJ bounces off the wall, meets her halfway, and drags her into a perfect kiss.

she hates herself a little for refusing this, for spending so many years unhappy. because if what she feels right now with her hands in AJ's hair, and AJ's on her waist, and their lips locked together, is any indication of what she'll feel tomorrow and next week and years from now--

"promise me," AJ says, breathing the words against Poppy's lips. "promise me that we'll try, because i can't--"

"it'll be hard work."

"i know."

"i'm stubborn and mean."

"i wouldn't want you any other way."

"i promise." Poppy kisses her and then again for good measure. "i've missed you."

"i can't do another six years without you."

"you won't have to."

#poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #my writing #playchoices #queen b

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