#But I don’t know maybe it was easier for the animators to draw??

[queeniehostapasta]

I might be nitpicking now but I honestly wish they gave him more oozaru features with the ssj4 transformation (if I spelled it right) like CMONNN THE EARS AT LEAST OR THE TEETH??? ( I was watching the scene of the transformation and I caught a couple of frames for the idea hehe) but It would’ve made him more baddass actually idk

Color alt because I can’t see his red eyeliner too well😔

[geneviveleocardius]

arthur morgan romantic headcanons

extended

to the loml..

Arthur isn’t the type to fall in love easily, but when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He fights it at first, thinking he doesn’t deserve you or that his life is too dangerous. But once he accepts it, his love is unwavering.

Arthur’s love language is rooted in action. He’ll sharpen your knives, mend your clothes, and leave little surprises in your belongings—a flower he picked on a ride, a small drawing tucked into your satchel. These gestures are his way of saying..

“I’m thinking of you.”

Arthur would walk through hell and back for you, no questions asked. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they’ll be met with a cold, steely glare—and if the situation escalates, Arthur won’t hesitate to step in.

Arthur notices everything about you—how you like your coffee, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, the small things that bring you comfort. He stores this knowledge away, using it to make your life easier without drawing attention to himself.

Arthur finds it hard to express his feelings verbally. When he tries, he stumbles over his words, his cheeks flushing red. Instead, he’ll write you letters or let his actions speak for him. The few times he does manage to say “I love you,” it’s raw, heartfelt, and unforgettable.

Arthur is big, strong, and often a bit rough around the edges, but he’s incredibly gentle with you. His touch is always careful, his words soft, and he treats you like you’re something precious in a world full of chaos.

Arthur has a deep respect for you and your ability to hold your own, especially in the harsh world you both live in. He’ll often tell you, ��You’re tougher than most folks I know. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Arthur cherishes the rare times when it’s just the two of you—sitting by a campfire, watching the stars, or riding side by side in peaceful silence. These moments are what keep him going when life feels too heavy.

Arthur doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, it’s subtle—a tense jaw, a quiet grumble, or a pointed look. If someone flirts with you, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulders and mutter something like, “Don’t think they know you’re already spoken for.”

Arthur loves to sketch you. He’ll pretend he’s drawing landscapes or animals, but you’ll often find small doodles of you hidden in his journal. If you ever catch him in the act, he’ll act bashful, muttering, “Just drawin’ what I see..”

Arthur’s protective nature runs deep. He knows the world is dangerous, and he’ll do anything to shield you from it. At the same time, he trusts your strength and doesn’t try to control you—he just wants to be there when you need him.

Arthur believes in being upfront with you, even when the truth is hard to hear. He doesn’t want to hide anything, especially from someone he loves. His honesty might be blunt, but it’s always rooted in care and respect.

Arthur doesn’t expect perfection from you. He knows everyone has their flaws, and he loves you not despite them, but because they make you who you are. He’s always quick to remind you, “Ain’t nobody perfect, least of all me. But you? You’re just fine the way you are.”

Arthur dreams of a better life for the both of you—maybe a little farm, far away from all the chaos. He’s hesitant to share these thoughts at first, afraid they’ll sound foolish, but when he does, his voice is full of hope.

When life gets overwhelming, Arthur is your rock. His presence is steady, his voice reassuring, and his arms feel like the safest place in the world. No matter how bad things get, you know you can always count on him to stand by your side.

Arthur loves to poke fun at you in the gentlest way. If you trip over something or make a small mistake, he’ll smirk and drawl, “Reckon I should start callin’ you Grace.” But if anyone else tries to tease you, he’ll immediately shut them down, saying, “That’s my job, not yours.”

Arthur’s a nickname kind of guy. Whether it’s “darlin’,” “sunshine,” or even something a little more playful like “trouble,” every nickname he uses is laced with affection. If he’s in a particularly good mood, he might tease you by saying, “What’d I do to get stuck with someone like you?” only to follow it up with a soft smile and a quiet, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Arthur’s got a sharp sense of humor, and he’s not afraid to use it. If you’re being stubborn or overly dramatic, he’ll cross his arms and grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is now? I’d better get outta your way before you start runnin’ the whole gang.” He knows exactly how to get under your skin in the most endearing way.

Arthur loves a little friendly competition, whether it’s a shooting contest, fishing, or even racing horses. He’ll mock you playfully the entire time: “You sure you don’t want a head start, darlin’? Hate to see you lose so bad.” But if you beat him? He’ll act all grumpy before grinning and saying, “Alright, alright, you earned that one. Don’t get too used to it.”

After a round of playful banter, Arthur always makes sure you know he’s kidding. He’ll pull you close, brush his thumb over your cheek, and murmur, “Y’know I don’t mean half the nonsense I say, right? Just like seein’ you smile.”

Arthur’s life hasn’t left much room for softness, but he finds ways to be romantic in his own understated way. He’ll carve your initials into a tree, braid wildflowers into your horse’s mane, or bring you little trinkets he finds on his travels. If you ever call him out on it, he’ll shrug and say, “Just seemed like somethin’ you’d like.”

Arthur has a habit of pulling you into sudden dances when there’s music around the camp. He’ll take your hand with a teasing grin and say, “C’mon, we ain’t got all day. Let’s see if you can keep up.” Even if you’re terrible at it, he’ll just laugh and say, “Guess we both got somethin’ to work on.”

Arthur’s protectiveness often shows up in his actions rather than words. If you’re out riding together, he’ll always place his horse slightly ahead, shielding you from any potential danger. If you call him out on it, he’ll grumble, “Ain’t nothin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things, is all.”

When you’re feeling unsure of yourself, Arthur’s softer side shines through. He’ll tilt his head, his voice low and earnest: “Ain’t no one like you, and don’t you dare forget it. World’s better ‘cause you’re in it.”

Arthur can’t help but stare when you laugh. Whether it’s a soft chuckle or uncontrollable laughter, it always tugs at his heart. He’ll grin and tease, “Reckon I should make you laugh more often. Suits you better than that serious look you like to wear.”

Arthur’s flirting is subtle but effective. He’ll lean in close, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat: “You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re sweet on me.”

After a long day, Arthur treasures the quiet moments with you. Sitting by the fire, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders, occasionally breaking the silence to tease you softly: “Think you could stand another day of me? Don’t answer too fast, might hurt my pride.”

Arthur isn’t just your partner; he’s your anchor. Whenever you need comfort, he’s there without hesitation. He’ll hold you close and murmur, “Ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle. Long as we got each other, we’ll be alright.”

Arthur doesn’t brag much, but he can’t help himself when it comes to you. If someone comments on how lucky he is, he’ll smirk and say, “Damn right I am. And she’s lucky I’m lettin’ her stick around.”

When things are tough, Arthur’s voice carries a weight of quiet determination: “Whatever happens, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

pretty boy

[moonieandi]

corners and walls | silco x f!reader  

Summary: the grief of loss shakes apart the friends of four, leaving silco and her to pick up the pieces of the complex affliction between them

warnings (TW): slight spoilers for arcane season ii//act ii, swearing, mentions of death, alcohol mentioned, general trauma, violence (implied)

tags: established relationship, honestly for once NOT dumbasses, angst… comfort?, affection

notes: i think this is a oneshot. Im not completely sure (im kinda maybe sure) that this is a oneshot… im allowed to write about my interests! (pt 11 of snapshots in my drafts rn its a complicated ch im wrestling w myself about posting)--- but im in arcane brainrot…. I love dissecting it and unfortunately for all of u i LOVE silco……… hes a questionable character…… but the way the action of season ii is going i need something familiar in my life while looking at (doomed) victor/jayce (heavy sighs) — if u don’t wanna read i understand this is a moonie want (and need) — love youuuuuu <3 

word count: 2.6k

| masterlist | 

There were corners of her he did not know. 

Folds of her linens and clothes he moved to uncover in the past months. She was quiet, silent in the visage he had drawn of her, but stubborn (something familiar) and something of great consistency to him. 

It was hard to quantify her, easier to dismiss. She was not special. Of common stature and of common shape. Plain colors adorned her closet, plain and even temperament, plain tone, and of plain face. 

That is what they would say when uncovering her past. Now that she was part of this mess, part of the mess he had sheltered her into (part of the mess Vander had shepherded her into). The dream of a larger nation, of overarching architecture and structure and reasoning. A voice, they figured between the four of them, a voice that would listen and learn and speak loudly in the face of the injustices they had survived and crawled through. 

But he figured they would only comment on her appearance, perhaps. Of her coal stained shoes and the dirt under her picked nails. 

They would not know the woman behind it all. Would not know of Felicia either (now). Not with the violence inflicted on the bridge. Not with the weapon staining his hand (an accident he had sworn to them both). 

He knew of the woman before him though, knew of her mind and spite and grit. Knew of her work and the lengths and dredges she had come from. Knew of her grief. Something he sequestered in the back of his mind. Survive survive survive. She had once compared Zaun’s residents to roaches. Unkillable, dirty, and strikingly annoying. She meant it in an endearing way, she had to. She was a roach too. 

It was a different kind of insect, a different animal, that drove him to draw a gun on the woman he loved so dearly. He wouldn’t have thought to wrap a finger around the trigger if it weren’t for the feral instinct of preservation. He could discern danger like a sense, it came as easily as smell, as sight, as breathing. But it had him stuttering now, seeing her on the other end of his warranted violence (was it warranted?). 

She was a structure of poise, like usual. Another reason to keep the gun drawn to her. The silence in her acceptance of his decision. He knew though, that if they both survived the grief of his mistake she wouldn’t forgive him- never forgive him for registering her as a threat. How could she be? 

He had been waiting for the retaliation. He hid away in corners and along dark walls in wait. He waited for Vander to seek a sort of violence in him, the last violence the large man would ever do. Seek blood in the name of their shared friend, for the orphans he made. He was sick, sick with the thought of it most days. But composed, up until this point. Up until Vander used his last facilities to shake his roach of a mind from the corners of the nation they once dreamed of in the depth of caves and between stone-cold walls. She was it, was that thing that would make him waver, and he knew that. 

She had her palms raised, hands shaking. But composed, as usual. It was hard to shake the structure of her. She was rarely surprised by violence, much less the plights of men. She wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t weepy at the thought of destruction, and stood as strong as cavernous walls, sturdy against the infrastructure of the Undercity. He admired that, he loved that. 

She had only shaken a total of three times, in front of him. Only bent her head and neck and bowed before him in emotion all of three times. Imprinted in his mind, the cascade of her hair, the shaking of her shoulders, and the sightless grief in her eyes. 

The first was the first time he truly saw her. She consumed herself with work. Whether it be their laborious job in the mines or the turmoil of finding justice in an unjustified upbringing. She had broken one day, that very first day. 

She was a sightless, unknowing girl in the crowd. But something about her hunched structure had struck him differently that day. He was younger then, only twelve. He knew of empathy but had yet to experience it. But he was shackled by it then, that day, when he first saw her. Hands bloody through her miners' gloves, shoes holey from the trek to and fro. She was younger, by a year or two. It was not unusual to find distressed children in the Undercity, perhaps more common than people would like to comment. Children, like they were, grew along the walls and innards of the city, meshed into stony hallways and bridges, faded into noise and paint of the background. It should go unnoticed by most, a crying child. But it struck him differently, then. 

The second, the day she confessed unfounded feelings. Years in the making, the dredges of the relationship between them. Even now, he could not comprehend the strings that were strapped between them. It was more than stuttered words and whispered confessions. It felt undying between them, an acceptance. 

She had been confused at the progression of their relationship, as was he. No reference to be found between them of a structure to hold their relationship. They took it in stride, took and molded their wants between them to breathe easily. Wind through a metal chime, ultimately peaceful, but prone to knots. Their strings overlaying, knotting, tightening. He had never thought to unweave them when he fled. The tug of knots and her heart led her back to him anyway. 

The third time would be now. The shake of her hands and the draw of her legs. The shimmering tears rounding along her chin. She was beautiful. She never liked when he said so, but she was captivating. He didn’t enjoy seeing her cry, it unsettled a deep dark part of him. One he would crush and stamp down, that domineering possessive part of him. He thinks of drawing the gun to his foot, squeezing the trigger at his incompetence and attitude to make her cry (this was the second time now, he swore, two strikes in the threads between them). 

“Please.” She never pleaded. “Please Silco, come home.” The grit of her teeth against a stutter, the shuddering of her breath in the cavities of her chest. Grief, unfounded. 

“You know I can’t, dear.” Too quick for his liking, he responded. He had backed himself into a dark corner, grown leaves into walls, and hid in shadows of the Undercity bridges now. It would have to be without her though, he grieved again. He had sunk so far into the stones, in the murky water of the Undercity, it wouldn’t be safe for her to follow. 

“I’m sorry.” An afterthought. A forethought. What he apologized for was lost between the notch of string on his belt and the thread leading back to her shirt. Was it for Felicia? His grief? Or was it for leaving her? (Was it for the children? For the young girls that remember his visage in Felicia’s home? For the blue-haired pixy girl that asked for him between shattered bombed dreams? The girls she shushed and rocked and cried to sleep?) 

She liked to think it was for all of it. Her stupid heart forgave him anyway. 

She was far from naive, far from gullible. 

She knew of men and violence and dark waters by the ripe age of nine. Something she would teach Felicia’s daughters now too. It was why she lived, why she breathed still, her unwillingness to bend and snap her neck in the face of shadows and men. But she had forsaken that for him, craved a subjugation in his waters, and wished to follow him up ivy walls and read the ink scrawled on his stupid notebooks. Wanted to breathe life into his ideas and into Zaun. She’d follow him into the dark, knowingly leaving the unsaught dawn behind her. 

She only bent because she knew the power between them was equal though. She was sure of exactly three things when it came to Silco. 

The first being that he was flippantly deep. That he thought not in breaths but in paragraphs. That he could not speak but write for hours on end, that he could comprehend and listen and swallow and accept, and that he did not react in haste. He was full of purpose and determination. It was more than endearing, almost blindingly inspiring that he wished for not better but only ever the best. 

The second being that he was a perfectionist. That his scripture was scrawling and hard to read, but comprehensive. That he enjoyed messes only because he enjoyed the meticulousness of planning and cleaning up. That he loved the structure of homes and corners of houses and the craft of cleaning something that was truly his. 

The third being that he loved of equal measure, that she was most sure of, could recognize in the dead of the night, in the depth of caves. That he was severely serious when it came to the strings strung between them, and not because of the disorder of them. He would have color-coded, would have untwisted knots, and lengthened rope if he wanted to. But that was the truth of it, that he was the farthest from a perfectionist when it came to love. That he didn’t measure distances and didn’t note words between them, because he threw away the scale of them long ago. Pulled her close, twisted words between them, and sang and hummed to her in crooks of her neck. That he wished for her continued safety above anything, and far above his own. She knew for a fact, was sure of it as she was of the red-pitched brick outside the bar. It was as cumbersome as the smoggy sky, but as easy to swallow as any dark liquor. That he loved her in dark corners that made him. 

But there were dark corners of her he did not know of yet. 

That the consuming grief of her long-time friend sent her into a rage, that the stabilization and measurements between them fell and broke when he was not there for her to confide in. She wished above all else that he had stayed, that he had faced Vander’s anger. She had stayed, breathed, and swam the storm of their mutual friends' grief. Stayed for the children and for their grief also. Did that make him a coward?

“For what.” She asks, the caverns of her lungs shaking now. Her hands weak, falling to her side. “Don’t say that, don’t say that if you don’t know what for.” It was senseless and miscalculated of him to say sorry. He is so purposeful, so full of preserverations. She just wished he did not feel he had to preserve himself in the face of her. 

The gun shakes now, dropping to his side, his finger poised along the trigger still. The depth of the scarcity of her image still shook him. It had been weeks, what felt like months since he’d seen her face. 

He had seen her in crowds, seen the children marking her frame and clutched in her arms. It shook him to not wake up to her face anymore, much less her smell or her frame or her voice. Her face though, the visage of tears and the weakness of her arms, awoke something in him. 

He had to remember himself, why he left. To build a nation, to structure a future for her. For the new shadows of Felicia that followed in her wake now. 

“Everything.” He meant. “For everything, my love.” 

She sighs deeply, tired. Her head tilting to the left on instinct. Powder made a home in the crook of her neck most nights now. 

It was striking to see him. She dreamed of him between nightmares and dreamless sleep. Dreamed of waking up to him, of the quirk of his lips and the crook of his nose. The smell of him and the warmth of his embrace. The fold of his jacket around her shoulders and the breath of a kiss along her brow. When she woke she could not decide the ups and downs of walls, couldn’t decide if it was a tortuous nightmare to be awake or to be asleep. 

It strikes her when he steps forward from the shadowed corner she had backed him into. His hair is longer, his eyes deeper and darker, his clothes caked with dirt. She thinks to be insistent again. Thinks of bringing him home despite Vanders’ anger, despite the grief they shared between them. But wasn’t Silco grieving also? 

He approaches with stuttering steps. Unsure of the length of strings between them, grasping her to tie her tight again to him, when he reaches for the curve of her cheek and jaw. 

“Don’t cry.” He commands for the third time in her life, sweeping his thumb and fingers along her wet cheeks. She shutters around it, breathing between the mess of string and space between them. 

“Good.” He hums, bringing his fingers to the nape of her neck, curving her neck up in revelation. He bends his own in subjugation to her, curving his shoulders and bowing to her visage to meet familiarly between them. Curving his slight frame and lips against her own warmth, the common parts of her beat faster at the affection. It burst between them, the movement of endearment and familiarity. She forgot about this above all, missing the plainer parts of life you don’t know to miss until they are gone. 

She’d miss him again and again, would string along strings and set fires in dark paths and along walls searching for him. They’d say goodbye now, and say goodbye again once she traced him back down to the cobblestone he had slid into and out of. She’d look for him in architecture and in the children of the Undercity, she’d swear and kiss away it all now, though. Anything to push off the knots between them, anything to stop a stuttering goodbye between them that was as inevitable as her own death. A thousand of them, these tiny goodbyes, she’d take though, if it meant he lived. 

Lived farther down below than she’s ever been. But then again, there were corners and foothills in her mind he did not know of, yet. 

[kining-the-evil]

could u do a fnaf3 william afton with an age regressed reader please <3

ty :)

Springtrap/William Afton x Little!reader

An: My first fnaf Headcanons! In Hope They turn out okay!

Warnings: fem!reader, little!reader, age regression, average Fnaf horror, sort of kidnapping, slightly manipulative William, Fnaf 3!william

This is in no way sexual, and I don’t want to see anyone making it so.

Fnaf masterlist All Masterlists

A horror attraction was the last place you wanted to work, but you desperately needed the money and this was the only place that would hire you

You didn’t know much about Freddy’s pizzeria, just that years ago some children had gone missing and someone had decided that it would make a good attraction

You bring a few things in an attempt to keep yourself calm, a small stuffy and coloring book to keep your mind off of the scary environment around you

The moment shit started you practically broke down. You struggled to keep up on everything, and soon enough found yourself on the ground below your desk, the small stuffed rabbit clutched tightly to your chest

Once William, or sprigtrap, is found and brought to the attraction he immediately sets out to to kill you, but is confused by the seemingly empty office

He moves in slightly to look around, freezing when he heard a quiet crying. He listened for a moment before taking a few more steps in, and glancing under the desk

Nothing prepared him to see you quietly sobbing to yourself

It wasn’t even in the way he’d expect. You didn’t look like someone who broke down from the stress and was afraid to die

Instead you looked like a child who woke up from a nightmare in need of comfort

As he looked around for an explanation, he saw the small stuffed animal and coloring book and he was reminded of a concept he’d seen in a few phycology books where a person would revert to a child’s mindset

At first he couldn’t believe his luck, this would just make it that much easier to kill you! It may even give him the rush he used to get from it! But…something stopped him

“Hello…” he kneeled down with a clank, causing you to jump and look up at him

“B-bunny..?”

The way your voice cracked as you spoke, your eyes filled with tears, and the way you squeezed the stuffed rabbit, it was…amusing? Maybe even…cute

He slowly pointed at your rabbit, trying not to scare you. “You have, a bunny too.”

It took that interaction for William to become fascinated with you. He didn’t get you out from under the desk that night, and the next night you hid back under it with a notebook and your bunny until he found you

“Hello love…” he spoke quietly as he sat on the ground a few feet from you. You shoved the notebook towards him, watching his reaction as he looked over the drawing of the large yellow bunny.

“Is This me?” A Small nod. “Well, it Looks beautiful dear.”

The next whole is spent with you bringing small trinkets and toys for him to see, and him praising you for it. It was odd for William, he didn’t usually feel protective over anyone and yet the thought of any of the others getting a hold of you worried him

You’d never really had a caregiver, and even though the large, rotting, rabbit should terrify you, he just…didn’t.

When he was around the others didn’t bother you, and he liked your drawings and stuffed animals, so how bad could he really be?

The day William decided you were his was when you crawled out from the desk and onto his lap with a book, asking him to read to you.

When the building ultimately burns down due to ‘faulty wiring’ William finds your home to take you with him when he disappears for a while.

He couldn’t imagine leaving you, so he packs your bag, and luckily you are willing to follow him into the night

You have literally nothing, and the closest thing you’ve ever had to a daddy wants you to be with him.

And you aren’t looking to lose that

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

Kinda oddly embarrassed to send this but oh my god your art is so pleasing to look at for some reason

I think it's just the soft shapes you use and how amazingly 3D everything tends to look?? Like the angles and proportions are just so perfect that I find it easy to imagine most of what you draw as a 3D model or something

And like I don't think I could nail it like you (maybe with time!!) But I am definitely taking inspiration from it because it DOES get me thinking about how you use shapes and angles and wonder if I could practice that because oh my god I wish I could absorb your art

Do you have methods or techniques to make it look so 3D? if you know what I mean? I tend to use grids to try and map out the shapes in a vaguely 3D plane, so I was wondering if you had tips kinda like that to share with the class? or if you're just winging it and it's a lot of practice?

Thank you so much!!! It really means a lot to me when others take inspiration from my art, it reminds me of all the artists I used to look up to and emulate when I was first starting out on MSPaint with a broken trackpad for a pen, you don’t have to be embarrassed! You’ll definitely be able to harness 3D space and create fantastic work, you’re already well on your way! Having passion and a desire to learn will take you far :)

My biggest focus whenever I draw is to make the characters feel real, as though you could reach out and enter the space they’re in to sit next to them on the couch. I’m so glad that I’m able to pull it off! Thanks for the rose, I’ll be sure to cherish it :)

As for my methods and techniques…

Drawing on a 3D grid plane is definitely something I do! Its perfect for comic panels or storyboards, to set the scene and ground characters or props to their environment.

I did a lot of classical study, that is life drawing and still life drawing, but simply using reference for buildings and anatomy also helps a lot and is a lot easier to find. I’d also sketch my hands, plastic animals, and my surroundings, as well as people watch for inspiration for character mannerisms or fashion. It’s useful to know a little bit about the inner workings of anatomy, as there are places were bone makes a person inflexible, while places with more muscle or fat are affected by things like gravity or pressure that change their shape. Drawing a flour sac to act out different emotions is a great way to practice weight and character acting!

Having studied animation, I did a lot of turnarounds to get characters consistent and able to be rotated in 3D space. It can be pretty tedious for some people, but it really does help solidify the characters’ shapes and design, and serves as great reference to look back on if you need it! If you don’t want to do something so stiff as a turnaround, simply drawing expressions and poses from dynamic angles helps too. I’ve found that breaking a character down into basic shapes that are easy to draw in a 3D plane also can help my anatomy and foreshortening be more accurate.

Most importantly, find something that brings you joy to draw! Every “traditional” method of study can be applied to things you like, so don’t feel the need to burn out thinking you can only draw the Mona Lisa or whatever. I’ve done anatomy studies on the Rise turtles to figure out their skeletal structure, and friends of mine have painted some mind blowing concept art inspired by Sonic and D&D!

I hope this helps some? Best of luck, and have fun! :D

Below are a couple of examples of some of my studies:

[aheathen-conceivably]

Long before the last note Antoine had grown aware of Zelda’s presence; but as he finished, he looked up at her with a newfound vulnerability in his eyes. As she stared at him unmoving, he absentmindedly moved his hand along the strings to fill the quiet left by the watching stars, “Was it alright, you think? Writing lyrics, it’s new. Harder than assembling notes, if you ask me.”

She looked at him in amazed silence. His original piano pieces had been brilliant, and sometimes he had written ditties for her to sing, but never before had she heard him sing his own lyrics. She had always known how much he loved it - this place that he had left but that walked alongside him everywhere he went; but it was so much clearer this way, so full of both love and hate, loyalty and disdain, longing and relief, that it was difficult for anything other than music to encompass it. 

She brought her hands together in something that may have been a clap if she wasn’t so afraid to disrupt the stillness of the desert air. On silent footsteps, she left her reverie behind and moved to sit where he had made room for her on the worn wooden bench.

She looked at him earnestly, trying to ease his fear with even just the movement of her eyes, “It’s brilliant, Antoine, truly.” And she meant it, not just because she was under his spell and not her own now; the judgmental eyes of God and her sisters were shut out when she was in his orbit. Now there was only him and his memories for her to get lost in. 

He left his hands on the strings, still playing the familiar notes as though they helped make the admittance easier to utter, “You were right, you know? When I play it’s like I can see it all laid out in front of me. Or better yet, under me. Like I’m above it, observing it all like a story. Makes me realize I loved it more than I thought I did. That house. That place. Her. I wrote it because I know it’s gone now, probably nothing but rubble under a cheap government build. I just don’t want to forget. Or maybe I don’t want the world to forget.”

The stars looked down on them as his smile widened with every inch she drew closer to him. They reflected brightly in her eyes as she leveled them to his, “Would you sing it again? So I can hear it better?”

He let out a small laugh, just as much in relief as in humor. “Surely you would prefer to sing it? With a voice like yours I would hate to imagine what mine must sound like.”

She brought her knee up on the bench with them, curling as close as she could without dislodging the guitar from his arms. “Hush and sing. You don’t need me now.”

“I always will, Mrs. Duplanchier. No matter what. But as you wish….” 🎶

Part 3/3

(As Antoine is meant to have written House of the Rising Son in this universe, I’m going to leave a little disclaimer about this song and its origins under the cut, in case you are interested!)

The origins of the song House of the Rising Sun are much older and more complicated than I have presented here. Folklorist Alan Lomax has written more on it if you are interested, but it is commonly thought to have originated as an English folk song, morphing into the version we know today amongst various groups of American immigrants.

Perhaps best known for its 1964 version by The Animals, it has long formed a staple of American folk, blues, rock, and country recordings, with recorded versions by everyone from Lead Belly, Woody Guthrie, Doc Watson, Nina Simone, Dolly Parton, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, and Alt-J (amongst so many others). However, I have taken inspiration from the earliest known recorded version, which was done in Appalachia in 1933.

Of course, in having Antoine write this song I have compressed much of this history into a single figure, as well as slightly twisted the meaning of the song to fit the story line. The latter is mostly based on personal interpretation of the lyrics and is purposefully meant to draw a line from this family’s musical heritage through the 1960s and beyond. It also gives a face to the very real figures behind many of the staples of American music that have come to us from the early part of the 20th century, many of which were written or played by black men and women whose songs have continued onward while many of their names and stories may have been forgotten.

[captain-pheonix]

Hi this is a silly question but I really like your stuff and I think you're cool and really swag writer so I was wondering if you could do one with the TF2 mercs (and maybe miss Pauling, whatever you want) with a reader who boxes? Can be romantic or platonic, and the gender can be whatever you find easier to write. Ok, thank you ❤️😭

Mercs + Pauling (romantic and/or platonic) x gn!reader who likes boxes 📦 (HCs)

A/n: AHHHH TY ANON ILY 🫶 This isn’t weird at all, seriously, I am a certified creature and you have 100% come to the right person. I collect Apple product boxes and if I’m being honest if I lived by myself I’d just collect boxes regularly. Im making this gn!reader that can be read as platonic or romantic! Hope you enjoy!!

BIG EDIT: HOLY SHIT ANON IM SO SORRY I CANT READ YOU MEANT A READER THAT BOXES NOT A READER THAT LIKES BOXES IM GONNA CRY 😭😭😭😭 IM GONNA MAKE ANOTHER POST FOR A READER THAT BOXES IM SO SORRY

Warnings: none (boxes jumpscare, graphic depictions of cardboard)

Pauling

• Girlie is like “huh” but doesn’t really care because all the other mercs are equally if not more insane (and we all know the admin is, too)

• When she finds out, she finds it kinda funny, gives her a tiny break from being a workaholic 25/8

• “What do you find so fascinating about them?” Ms. Pauling says, genuinely curious. You explain that they’re just nice, they itch your brain the right way, and just like how a child sees one of those huge appliance boxes. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense, actually. Interesting. Never would have thought about that.”

• ✨the box hoard TM✨ is probably just in a corner or a closet somewhere

• She’ll probably ask if she can have any because they’d be really nice for sorting paper work

• Up to you, but maybe you give her a few you don’t like as much

Sniper

• bro is confuzzled

• thinks you’re crazy

• exits the room

• (no)

• like Pauling, he’s a bit confused, but after explaining how it’s like that feeling you get as a kid seeing a package arrive in a huge box, he understands it a bit more

• probably a little weirded out by your ✨box hoard✨ anyway

• calls you a cat 😞

• I feel like he’d be the kind who might get annoyed at the box board being around, thinking it takes up space and it needs to be tidied

• might get something to help you organize the boxes

Scout

• finds it absolutely positively hilarious cannot stop laughing

• “What? You like boxes?”

• Shoves you in boxes because it’s funny 😔

• after explaining the whole “it just sorta itches my brain like when a kid sees an empty box something was in” thing, he’s like “oh my gosh, that totally makes sense, actually!”

• 10/10 would just chill in one your boxes even if it’s a little small

• weird but wholesome headcannons that you two would fall asleep/cuddle in your boxes together

• honestly though after a while I feel like he’d join your box hobby

• he might ask for the boxes after someone gets a delivery or orders something just for you

• drawing on the boxes!!!

Medic

• Blud is like “ok cool”

• prob gives you boxes leftover from shipments of medical supplies like plastic bits (I wouldn’t take the ones from his shipments of animal organs 😬)

• those boxes might smell like the med lab 😔

• but I mean if you enjoy his scent or something then it’s probably a nice reminder

• when you talk about how a kid would react when a giant box shows up in the mail and how it never went away he gets it

Pyro

• you know for a fact bro is playing with them

• completely understands right off the bat you do not have to explain anything

Spy

• boxtrot taunt

Demo

• too drunk to give a shite

• you may or may not find some bottles in the boxes

Engie

• May have some boxes kicking around to give you

• kinda doesn’t get it but when you explain he’s just like “ok then guess ur just quirky like that”

Soldier

• I’m gonna follow Electrro64rus and say this man is crazy about boxes

• very excited when he finds out you like collecting boxes

• don’t have to explain why you collect boxes, dude is just excited to also participate

Heavy

• utter confusion

• even when you explain it still utter confusion

[luffyvace]

Hello there hope your doing super well ~ . As request are currently open could I please headcanons with law ,sanji, zoro. +feel free to add characters. With a s/O thats super sweet to everyone almost too sweet. Also cute. But some choice to take avngenre of y/n kinddess. And once y/N found out that is all fake. They become like a sad puppy. All sad.

Thanks for your work.💙💜

I’m doing wonderful dear anon<3 thank you for asking! Oh my I’ve never written for law, I don’t know much about him because I’m still at the impel down arc in the anime soo I hope sanji and zoro will be alright~ :)

y/n sounds so sweet! They must be protected!! (Also you used s/o and y/n so I will too, in this case no pronouns will be used ♥︎)

enjoy your hcs love! And thank you for your request! (may be a bit ooc for zoro?)

RORONOA ZORO ⚔️🗡

Zoro and a cute and sweet reader!~

what an adorable oxymoron<3

you love to cuddle and curl up on top of him when he’s sleeping

He’s a big guy so he’s sure to provide warmth

zoro doesn’t get your need to help others and being so kind to people

or how helping others makes you happy

but zoro is emotionally strong—maybe not intelligent but strong

so he knows when to draw the line for you if your accidentally being overly helpful

or if your tiring yourself out/overextending yourself

he brings a sense of balance to you in that aspect

the fact that he can do that for you is comforting and makes you feel protected

which Zoro is protective of you because of how naive you are

Zoro is very wary of strangers for you

your too sweet and assume that person is just having a bad day or that’s they’re natural face

but behind you is your big scary dog (zoro) who is glaring daggers at the person he knows actually has an evil intent towards you

Zoro is there most of the time so he doesn’t let people take advantage of you

but the times he isn’t around?

once he finds out he gonna slice that person into dice and make them return whatever they had you get them, etc

he doesn’t it like it at all and can immediately tell when someone is trying to get over on you

After the situation is handled he drags you away (getting you two lost) and says

“Seriously! You needa be more careful y/n!”

he doesn’t really notice how down you are for a while

until he turns around to ask you something and you sorta have this sad puppy look on your face

”what’s wrong with you?”

he’s not gentle about it or anything but he does care

when you tell him it’s because your sad that everyone your kind to betrays you his protectiveness heightens

”what do you wanna impress those people for when you have the world's greatest swordsman..”

he kinda muttered it to himself

but you heard and immediately perked up

you clang onto his arm and walked all the way back to the sunny like that

(might I mention it took a while since Zoro was leading..you knew the way but you decided to just let him 🤦‍♀️😂💗)

Zoro overall does appreciate what you do for him and the crew tho

how you count his push-ups and bring him the drinks/food you asked sanji to make him

it doesn’t go unnoticed so don’t worry :)

as far as y/n being cute he doesn’t notice every time

or have a big reaction when he does

he only blushes a little sometimes, again, when he notices

it’s easier to make him bashful than it is to make him blush with a cute face/smile

He does think your innocence is a bit cute tho!

…..along with naive, but still cute!

”seriously..how come your always getting yourself into trouble” (he blushes a little and turns his face away, pouting slightly)

VINSMOKE SANJI🧑‍🍳

Sanji x such a sweetheart reader is practically meant to be!!

Your both equally sweet and serving

especially sanji since he was raised in an environment where he had to serve people

you guys always insist on helping each other

your love languages are most definitely acts of service and quality time

you two do each other favors all day

”let me help you!”

”no I’ve got it sit down, relax!”

that conversation goes both ways between the two of you multiple times a day

Sanji loves to cook for you so ask him any time of day!

he never has a problem with it and wants to do it actually!

You two are equally emotional people and probably empathic

you guys feel for other people so you feel the urge to help those in need

your weakness is being too kind and his is being too much of a gentleman

you guys are actually really similar in a sense

which you all don’t mind because you can relate to each other

sanji however knows when to take a break

not to say that you don’t but you just tend to overwork yourself for other people’s sake

to which sanji puts a stop to :)

he runs you hot baths, massages your shoulders and washes your hair

You do the same for him since you’d feel bad if you didn’t

he very much appreciates this

its not every day someone takes care of him

you guys then eat the delicious hot meal he prepared and snuggle up, falling asleep together

You guys also take the chance for vacation every time you see one

Pirates have to be prepared for the worst of adventures on every island

so as soon as you see the opportunity to relax you two leap to have a fun beach day

sanji is absolutely a SIMP for how cute you are

he is SO fond over you and is always gushing and bragging (to zoro) how cute his s/o is

like literally he doesn’t shut up about how adorable you are!

a cute lady with a sweet personality??

yes please.

He definitely warns you after the first few times he sees you getting taken advantage of

it’s a sweet and gentle chat about the dangers in the world and how you can’t trust everyone

even if you don’t trust them! set boundaries and don’t let them walk all over you!

if you feel too many bad people are around don’t give them the benefit of the doubt! find a straw hat and stick with them!!

”y/n-Chan you’ve gotta use your discernment to see who is being mean and who is worthy to trust..!”

like yes some strangers are kind but some will see how sweet you are and use that against you!

absolutely does not let a man take advantage of you and will immediately kick him away

with a women tho he will probably go get robin or nami

maybe even simply take you away and let it go if it’s just a regular woman

but if it’s a pirate who’s trying to back you into a corner yeah he’s for sure getting the straw hat girls

he will offer himself instead and tell you to go get someone from back on the merry/sunny

Or maybe if you can fight he’ll root for you!

not that he likes that fact that another woman is being hurt in the process..

but if he has to choose between his woman and another one that was disrespecting his woman??

”GO MY BEAUTIFUL Y/N-CHWAAAAAN!!!”

as for sad puppy y/n he notices right away and immediately does whatever he can to cheer you up again

he bakes you sweets, runs you a bath, makes you drinks, makes you laugh, buys you whatever you want just to see you smile

and again if it was a guy who did this to you he’s 100% getting the boot 💥💥

your sure to cheer up soon with all that sanji does for you

especially with his warm cuddles n kissses ♡

thank you once again for your requests my love! Today is a very busy day..I have a lot to get out.. 😅

Overall I hope you enjoyed your hcs!

[saddnesscentral]

Harry Du Bois Discovers The Concept Of Furries, A Short Passage By Me:

RADIO-COMPUTER: After browsing the contents of the *World Wide Web* for around half an hour, you stumble across a particularly unusual image.

FURRY ART: It is a painting rendered *Digitally* of a wolf, or maybe a hyena, standing on two legs, and using two human-like hands to grip onto things with. It appears to be wearing modern Human clothes, such as a tank top, shorts, bracelet, hat, and piercings. It is carrying a skateboard.

PERCEPTION [EASY:SUCCESS]: “It is rendered in a style distantly reminiscent of cartoons you enjoyed as a child. It is obvious that it took a lot of effort to draw something in this style.”

SHIVERS [CHALLENGING:SUCCESS]: “It is a rainy afternoon, somewhere in Martinese, a child is taken to the theater with his parents to see the new animated hit ‘The Wolf and The Warrior’.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [MEDIUM:SUCCESS]: “Forget about all of that, you see that ciggie in the wolf's mouth? That’s clearly a sign you need to go out there and *Smoke* some *Gokes*”

YOU: “Wait, what’s a"Goke "?"

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: “An interesting question. It would be a lot easier to solve with a cigarette in your mouth…”

YOU: *Refocus on the Furry Art*

ENCYCLOPEDIA [MEDIUM: FAILURE]: You have absolutely no memory of what this could possibly be. Nothing. You do remember that Contact Mike once scored a TKO during the first fifteen seconds of a boxing match, however.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [IMPOSSIBLE: FAILURE]: “Why? Why would anyone draw something like this?”

RHETORIC [CHALLENGING: SUCCESS]: “Mayhaps the artist is attempting to create an Ideological message through this work. It is stating that we, man, are no better beasts.”

YOU: “No, it probably isn’t that.”

AUTHORITY [MEDIUM: SUCCESS]: “It is the artists attempt at stating that they are the *Alpha Dog*. The head of their pack.”

YOU: No, it’s not that either.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [EASY; SUCCESS]: “Don’t you see? The artist was horny for some Wolf Cock. Look at that bulge in the wolfs pants. Look at how toned those muscles are. The attention to detail the artist poured into the wolfs *Physique*. You have felt this feeling for someone before, but only for other Three-Dimensional people.”

YOU: “Oh god, is it that?”

EMPATHY [TRIVIAL: SUCCESS]: “You do not know the person who made this. It is impossible to say whether or not the artist *was* horny or not.”

VOLITION [CHALLENGING: SUCCESS]: “If you could talk to this artisan, you would certainly be able to figure this out. Until then, recenter yourself. Talk to Kim about it.”

YOU: *Turn and talk to Kim*

KIM KITSURAGI: The Lieutenant glances over at you on the Radio-Computer. His characteristic expression of placid calm is momentarily shaken by what is on the computer monitor.

EMPATHY [MEDIUM: SUCCESS]: He isn’t disgusted by what he sees you doing, merely surprised.

YOU: “Kim, do you know what this drawing means?”

KIM KITSURAGI: The Lieutenant adjusts his glasses “It appears that you are looking at Furry Art. It’s a… unique subculture of people mostly on the World Wide Web. These people enjoy anthropomorphic animals, like the ones in old cartoons.

YOU: “By enjoy do you mean, like, in a sex way?”

ESPIRIT DU CORPS: “This man you are talking to would take a bullet for you. He would die for you. He would *kill* for you. You are the black to his white, the ying to his yang. You complete each other. But the Lieutenant would rather drag his balls through glass than have this conversation with you.”

KIM KITSURAGI: He sighs “I personally do not, but I know there are members of the community that do, yes.”

REACTION SPEED [IMPOSSIBLE: SUCCESS]: “Wait! Did you hear that? The way he’s phrased that response, it’s as if he’s implied that he’s a furry.”

YOU: “What do you mean ‘you personally do not’? Are you implying you are a furry?”

KIM KITSURAGI: He stands there, unable to speak for a moment.

EMPATHY [TRIVIAL: SUCCESS]: “He’s thinking ‘Dear god, the human can opener’s gotten to me too.’”

KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes…I am in the Furry subculture. I…enjoy thinking of myself as a cat.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION [EASY: SUCCESS]: “A cat; lithe, sophisticated, agile. The perfect creature to represent our lieutenant.”

AUTHORITY [MEDIUM: SUCCESS]: “He is handling this well, despite everything. A graceful surrender if there ever was one.”

KIM KITSURAGI: “I fail to see what this has to do with the case at hand. It’s better if we keep moving and don’t mention this to anyone again.”

SUGGESTION [VERY EASY: SUCCESS]: That’s his professional way of saying “Take my secret to the grave, please”.

YOU: “One more thing, Kim, am *I* a furry?”

KIM KITSURAGI: The lieutenant looks you up and down “You will have to be the judge of that yourself, I suppose.”

THOUGHT GAINED: THE FURRIES ARE AT HOME IN THE MIRROR

[medicshope]

I’m bored, and for the life of me don’t wanna write for the like..15 other full length wips, I present you what I would think that the pony express crew would bring on the tulpar alongside their clothes & hygiene!

Daisuke:

Along with him canonically carrying a gameboy on ship with him, I feel he’d probably bring those game boy stereo headphones so he can play at night.

With swanseas voice line about Daisuke only thinking with his ‘downstairs long nose’, I headcanon that Daisuke would have a higher libido (sex drive), so he’d probably pack some type of porn magazine.

Would probably bring like six different games for the gameboy. (Most likely Pokémon games.)

Curly:

Probably wouldn’t take much on board, maybe a card game to play with jimmy whenever duty is slow.

Also brought a history book onboard. Probably ww2 or ww1. I see him as a huge history nerd, just look at him and say he isn’t. I dare you.

I see him as a guy to chew tobacco so he’d probably sneak in chewing tobacco in his boxers. Helps him focus when it’s late.

Swansea:

Pictures of his kids and wife, and a switchblade? I see him as a guy to pack anything he might need so for some reason I think he’d pack a switchblade to make repairs easier

..he’d also bring batteries. You don’t know how much you need batteries until you don’t have them.

Probably somehow snuck on his kids drawings. He didn’t pack them. Neither did he pack the stuffed bunny he knew belonged to his son. Wonder how those got there..

Jimmy:

Chewing tobacco, probably the one to get curly into chewing tobacco, also turns into his dealer and upsells him but shh…

Pocketknife/butterfly knife. Does tricks with it absentmindedly on the ship, scares the ever living shit out of Anya when she enters the lounge late at night and is met with a deadpanned jimmy twirling around an open blade. Almost fainted the first time.

Probably alcohol too. He seems like a corona or bud light guy. Brings a 12 case. Low tolerance too so it’s one and done sadly for him. Snuck it in under his white long sleeves.

Anya:

Either a Walkman or a cd player with those orange cushiony headphones. Music helps her calm, and it helps her sleep. Freaks out if it isn’t with her, was totally a gift from her mom.

Coloring books or sketch pad too. I head-canon her to be a big sketcher or painter, just can’t paint on the freighter. She likes to make big doodle pages with different sketches or sketches of things around her.

Stuffed animal, probably a blue bunny or a white lamb. No I won’t explain. She seems like a stuffed animal person, totally sees them as little people and turns them around before changing.

Heating pad too. She looks like she had horrible back pain so to fix that…heating pad. Also helps her with cramps. It sits on her desk in the medical room.

[randomyuu]

A JJK GoYuu fancomic... of a fanfic (read right to left)

You know… despite me getting into JJK fandom this year, I’ve never drawn any JJK characters. (cue me drawing 9 whole-ass comic pages-)

This wonderful fic is titled (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become by @voxofthevoid​. This comic covers chapter 1 scenes.

Beware of the tags, as the fanfic is NSFW. Oh, and also, manga spoilers! Major character and arc spoilers! I’ve read until chapter 4 and no NSFW so far, but still, beware!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43446157/chapters/109219954

I hope you enjoy reading this comic and the fanfic if you decide to!

Update: Chapter 6 scene fanart

More of my random thoughts and an early drawing of GoYuu below:

Have I told you I’m not used to drawing manga as well? Manga panels are pain. PAIN, I tell you. I shouldn’t have done this, but I did. I did, because every time I read the synopsis of this fic I keep picturing manga-like scenes. You should blame me for reading those AllYuu doujinshis.

It was… interesting experience. I was struggling a bit with the balloon consistency, like, do I use white boxes or just italic words for thoughts? Or maybe a balloon with a cloud-like border?

And there’s GoYuu (YuuGo? Idk honestly, don’t care lol) themselves. As I said, I literally have never drawn JJK-related content before. So when I started thinking about the panelling, I realised that I don’t really know how to draw Gojo, even more a thousand-year-old Yuuji. A whole day is spent researching Gojo, Yuuji and Sukuna’s appearances lol. Sukuna’s markings are a problem since I can’t find a full view of his markings. I know I can just finally watch the anime (yes I haven’t watched the anime, only some short clips; yes I know the animation is good, and I really want to watch it but my brain doesn’t want to) or re-read the manga, but I don’t want to ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

After going through Google images, Twitter and Reddit, I whipped up a front drawing of GoYuu as my reference:

Gojo’s is easier because he hasn’t changed from the official (I blatantly eyeballing the character sheet I found haha), but Yuuji is different. Yuuji’s hair is longer; if I recall, there’s no exact description of his clothes. I assume he’s topless due to this description: Messy pink hair, long enough to cover the creature’s nape but not to hide the segmented dark markings running down his back, shifts in the wind.

And halfway through storyboarding, I realised that I have no experience using screen tones. Whatsoever. So off I go searching for a screentone bundle I can freely download and slowly figure my way out after fully lining the page.

And we haven’t even touched perspective, background, achromatic colouring, non-human characters—man, I really bite more than I can chew lmaooo

Ah, the things you would do to satiate that drawing mood ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, I hope I’ll have time to draw more fanarts of JJK GoYuu fanfics because they live rent-free in my brain and I need them to get out. Maybe other pairings as well? I like quite a lot of pairings that involve Yuuji. He’s precious, and I love having it shown to me over and over through fanfics.

[anxiousdreamcore]

Hi would you like to draw Spider as street kid in modern au? I really like your Billy Batson art + the way you draw Spider so I think this combination would be so perfect 😅 I totally understand if not, anyway have a nice day/night!

BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU—

Ever since @naavispider responded to a prompt about street kid Spider meeting Quaritch, I was very interested in the idea so I def wanna draw that but for now, let me present you with some thing I came up with.

.

Street kid Spider modern AU

Imagine Miles Spider Socorro in the modern AU, escaping from the foster system bc he was treated very poorly and decided to gamble with the homeless life instead. He lives like that for maybe three-four years when Miles tracks him down. Because the boy is so good at parkour, he’s been given the street nickname of Spider, which the blonde is proud of and uses as his real name.

Spider lives in the attic of an abandoned mall that is so overgrown with unkept plants and trees that it’s more of a jungle. He takes care of many cats who made themselves at home there and as a result of being around them 24/7 develops some of their mannerisms, like head movements when curious, crouching and hissing when agitated. He doesn’t get much proper human contact until meeting the Sullies.

The Sully kids have moved in not long ago and crave adventure. The overgrown mall looks like a magical forest to them and in it they find Spider, a creature of the woods with his long, curly, matted hair, ripped and stitched together over a thousand times clothes, trinkets worn on his neck like necklaces, and the many cats surrounding him. Spider smells like soil and cat food and is initially scared of the four children (four bc you’d never catch Neteyam exploring abandoned buildings, he’s a good boy), ready to fight them like he fought every other street-dweller ever since ending up outside of care. Out here, the kids mostly end up either as addicts or in gangs, so Spider had no friends his age…until that fateful day.

From that point on, Spider becomes their secret friend and the siblings visit him every day. They love his bravery and sass, underneath which lies a compassionate heart of gold. They not only buy him necessities, but even help him shoplift on some days, not only for himself but for the street animals as well, plus old homeless people who huddle around makeshift fires on cold nights. They become sort of robins in their own right, and Jake, together with Neytiri, although suspect something, don’t know about the secret bestie their kids made.

Neteyam suspect much more and slowly puts the puzzle together. He is not thrilled.

All is well, life is looking up…until Kiri tells Spider one day, as they hang out in the roof, that she heard in the news of a certain “Miles Quaritch” getting out of prison, advising that the boy stays safe.

She stills when she sees the sheer look of horror on his face.

“Spider..?..”

“I…”

“…You know him?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out.”

“I-I won’t, I won’t.”

“…

I’m, like…his son.”

From that point on the drama quickly ramps up because Spider’s social cervices agent Norm has also tracked the kid down to this city, operating on rumours and rare camera footage of the boy. It doesn’t make the situation easier that Norm is also friends with Jake and keeps venting to him about how miserable and hurt Spider must be while the Sully kids are right there knowing where he hides.

And that’s pretty much the gist of this AU. For Spider, it’s a tense situation where he has to be sneakier than ever bc cps are close on his track and his father is even closer and he wants his son back. On both fronts, Socorro is threatened with a total loss of freedom and autonomy. The kids have to be sneaky too when they visit him…but no one can be sneaky enough to pass under Quaritch’s nose.

[xxnghtclls]

Nighty beginner art tips

- never start with full body drawings. Not even half body. Maybe not even face. I’ve been drawing my whole life and I rarely can put together a full body drawing. I started to learn drawing with an eye. Do it step by step, you can’t concentrate on too many things at once. Also! I once heard that if you draw someone the eyes determine if you can recognise the person, so they have to be spot on and that stuck with me ever since.

- don’t start with full body -colour- drawings. Actually don’t start with colour. fck colour. learn that later.

- greyscale is easier to develop a sense for shading and rendering. At least for me. Because you only need to think in black- white and midtones and not hue, saturation and brightness. It’s much more difficult to use colours to create an interesting composition than just black white and midtones imo.

- Develop an eye for what looks right. Just look at people. Look at stuff you want to draw. You don’t know how much time I’ve spent to just literally look at Sukuna and just -study- him and how he works. Do it with faces, fingers, arms, feet. Just -look-. Perspective is an evil btch and I still struggle with it too, but it will get easier! The next step is to learn how to translate it onto your canvas.

- tracing references (photos) is completely fine to get a feeling for anatomy and poses! Next step is to alternate your drawing from the reference. True Form Sukuna works perfectly for that cause you have two extra arms to draw and an unusual cute ass face.

- Tutorials are fine and the internet is full of it but you learn more if you fail a thousand times. Draw and compare. Draw and compare. It also helps with the eye I talked about earlier.

- If you draw traditionally use different pencils for a single drawing (HB, 2B, 6B etc) If you draw digitally, use different brushes.

- If you think you’re stuck and you don’t develop: use. different. pencils/brushes.

- Almost the most important thing: have INTENTION and THOUGHT behind your art. You can’t ppl expect to be amazed by your art, if you didn’t put intention and thought behind it. It IS visible if you did or didn’t.

- Take.Your.Time.

- Please don’t ask people for advise, who clearly don’t have the artstyle you are pursuing. They probably don’t know how to help you. At least I don’t. (don’t ask me about anime style please.)

[randoimago]

Day 13. Selkie Rohan x Reader

note(s): Rohan and Selkie is definitely an interesting combo and I hope I wrote this alright!

requested by anon

Rohan wasn’t really looking for romance or anything of the sort. Humans fascinated him and gave inspiration for his stories. So shedding his skin and living as a human was easy for him where it may be difficult for others of his kind.

Of course, once he started growing famous from the manga he’d write and draw, he needed someone to manage his schedules and things. There are still many human concepts that he doesn’t grasp or care to take time to understand. And that led to him hiring you.

He didn’t really speak to you in the beginning, figuring you’d be like other humans that saw him as a pretty face. Rohan would sometimes give you specific orders, but besides that he let you handle things. Your resume was good enough that he had trust in you, so long as you listened.

Over time, Rohan grew more curious about you. He’d ask questions, learn about things you enjoyed. Sometimes he’d bring up ridiculous hypotheticals just to see your reaction. Although none of your reactions were as funny as when he’d “waste” money on things like a third house somewhere that’s supposedly haunted.

Rohan should’ve known that your curiosity as his… maid? Manager? Whatever job title you had. He has enough money and your resume is good enough to handle a lot of things he doesn’t have time for. But, he should’ve known that your human curiosity would get the better of you.

There was one room he told you to stay out of. But his trust grew in you and so he asked you to get him some art supplies from the room, so long as you didn’t snoop around. Maybe it is partially his fault for not specifying where the supplies were.

Rohan heard you muttering before you came back into his office, holding up his shedded skin with a look on your face like it was gross.

“Is this from another animal you killed just for inspiration?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes.

“You make it sound like I steal people’s pets and kill them.” He ignored the pointed look on your face. “That’s just my skin, go put it back.”

“Your… skin?”

“Yes, I’m glad you can hear.”

He recognized the annoyance on your face from his lack of clarifying. Rohan just let out a sigh as he finally gives you his full attention. “It’s a long story. We’d need to go to the beach for me to explain.”

“Did you kill a seal?” A smirk crosses Rohan’s face at your question.

“You’re getting warmer, but I promise I hadn’t killed anything.” He watches as you seem confused, annoyed, then finally tired of dealing with him being cryptic.

“Fine, don’t answer my question,” you say and turn away. “I have half a mind to throw this away.” He hears you mutter and a look of panic crosses his face. You have thrown away the remains of some mice he’s had as well as snake shed. He would not put it past you to throw out something else you deem as him not needing anymore.

Rohan stands and before you can blink, he has you against the wall, his hands on either side of his head. He’s not trying to intimidate you, especially with the look in his eyes.

“Do not throw it away. I can’t lose it,” he tells you, an almost pleading in his voice. While he has lived most of his life as a human, the sea still calls to him. The idea of losing his skin and being unable to ever go home is torture.

“Rohan, you’re acting weirder than usual.”

He lets out a sigh and looks at you. For a second, he’s curious about the reaction you’d make if he leaned in. But there are more important things to think about and so he steps back, giving you your space.

“How versed are you in mythology and folklore?”

“… Like dragons?”

Rohan makes a face. “Dragons, really?” You look annoyed again and he sighs. “Do you know what a selkie is?” He asks, deciding it’d be easier than having you tell him whatever myths you know of.

“Selkie? I think I’ve heard some people mention something about them living in the water.”

Rohan nods at your words. Considering how close the water is to this town, he’s not surprised that there are murmurs of selkie.

“Well, it’s what I am. That skin you’re holding is mine. I had to shed it to be able to pass as a human.” You look unsure about his words. You probably think he’s lost it.

“It’d explain how eccentric you are.” Rohan makes a face at your words.

“Eccentric? I’m perfectly normal.” He ignores your look again. “If you don’t believe me, we can go to the ocean and I can show you,” he adds, reminding you of that option. You still look unsure.

—

“It’s too cold to be at the beach, Rohan,” you complain and he ignores it as he holds his skin and walks closer to the water. A sigh of relief hits him as he steps into the water, always feeling relief when he comes back, and the skin in his hand begins to stick to him.

The transformation takes a moment and as Rohan treads the ocean water, he looks to where you’re standing on the beach, wide eyed and looking as if you’ve seen something unbelievable.

“This is my true form,” Rohan tells you, unable to help a smirk at your reaction. If he knew this is how you’d act then he’d have taken you to the beach years ago.

“What the fuck, Rohan.” Well you’re still functioning at least.

“Like I told you, I’m a selkie. Go to a library or something to learn more,” he says and rolls his eyes playfully at you. The water always does make him feel a bit more mischievous than usual. “I’m hungry. Want me to catch you a fish?”

Oh your reaction is priceless at that.

It’s rather amusing trying to answer your many questions. Especially when he finally sheds his skin again and you still don’t know how to react. Perhaps it’s still his mischievous nature but he lets out a long sigh, feigning annoyance.

“And now that you’ve seen my true self, we have to get married.” It’s not quite true, but he deeply enjoys your reaction at that.

[asirensrage]

Profane - Mitsuya Takashi x Reader Oneshot

Title: Profane Rating: Mature Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Reader Warnings: Non-descriptive smut? Nothing explicit. I don't think there are any major warnings in this one... Word count: ~700 Summary: You meet Mitsuya by accident.

Notes: I really love this fic. Like, I've reread it a thousand times and shared it with a bunch of people already lol. Inspired by the poem PROFANE by Ashe Vernon and I listened to Heat Waves by Glass Animals on repeat as I wrote it. I promise you don't need to know the fandom or character to understand this. I just really love it and I hope you do too.

You meet Mitsuya by accident. 

A chance encounter at a party that you’re only attending because the invite came from a friend of a friend and you felt like you hadn’t seen any of your friends in ages. They were all supposed to be there. Instead, you find yourself getting pushed by accident as you pass the dance floor and it’s enough to make you stumble. You don’t fall though. He catches you by your elbows, keeping you steady and helping you back on your feet. His gaze is soft, kind in comparison to the sharp glare that you send back to whoever knocked you over. 

You thank him for the assistance, and he promises that it was no trouble. You’re easier to catch than his sisters. That sparks a conversation since he’s removing his hands but not stepping back and you’re curious to see if he’s as soft as he looks. There’s something about him that draws you in, even as you’re tempted to step back, teeth snagging on his throat if he gets too close. He doesn’t though, letting you set the tone. 

By the time the party finishes, you’ve exchanged numbers and you leave wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have. You don’t expect him to text or call. 

He does. He tells you to call him Takashi. 

---

You’re abrasive and snap at times when you feel cornered, but he rarely seems to let it dissuade him. He waits, as patient as someone trying to woo a feral cat into their embrace, and you find yourself stepping closer with every interaction. He doesn’t press, doesn’t demand, and you think that you could ruin him. That you’ll break the best parts and lay waste to the remains. He whispers praises into your skin and you can’t help but laugh, teasing him with the attempts before you retreat. You don’t want to set a match to see him burn to embers and try to leave him. 

There is steel behind the softness. 

He has taken care to ease you into him and when you try to run, he pulls you back. He smiles as you snarl, unfettered in the way he presses his mouth against yours. You thought you would break him, but the man holding you is stronger than you realize. He isn’t one to let you run, to let you ruin what he has carefully crafted between you two. 

He shows you what it means to worship. The way he carefully undresses you, as though you are something to cherish in your unwrapping. You think that the longer you stay, the more layers you peel back and start to understand. There is a difference between softness and fragility and he proves to you that he can bear the weight you carry. 

He sets himself between your thighs, leaving marks as he carefully lays a trail with his mouth. His fingers carve a path that only he knows, memorizing the dips and curves of your skin, the places that make your breath hitch and what draws you out. He wants to burn the sounds he pulls from you into his memory. You feared you would leave him in ashes but you have him on his knees as he teaches you what it means to trust and fall in return. 

His moans draw out your own, eager to follow where he gladly leads. He fits with ease, the two of you connected in more ways than just one. You’ve never done anything to earn yourself the look you see in his eyes, but he whispers his praises and you’re inclined to believe. There’s no laughing in return when he feels like he belongs. You dig your teeth into him but he holds your throat with promise, keeping you steady as you both break. He is determined that you only call his name as he murmurs yours like a prayer. You’ve never felt more free than in this moment, here with him and the promises he makes as he kisses you.  

He holds you as softly as you can breathe. You think he might have taken your heart along with your speech, but when you tell him he simply smiles. You’ve had his first, he tells you. It’s only fair. 

---

gen taglist: @raith-way @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

[dandelion-system]

PLEASE STOP FUCKING TELLING ME I NEED THERAPY TO COME TO TERMS WITH MY PAIN,

I’ve been in pain for six years now. I’m WELL aware that this isn’t going away. I’ve done everything. I’ve thrown everything at getting better because I so desperately want to. I do not need to come to terms with being in pain. And I know that it isn’t what they’re trying to tell me anyway,

They’re trying to tell me to come to terms with the fact that my life is going to be miserable. That I’m not going to be able to do anything any more, because I’m going to be stuck at home doing nothing all the time. They want to tell me to come to terms with pacing as my life. Pacing that removes my independence, my ambitions, my hopes and dreams because of just how much I’ll have to limit.

And that’s not it! I don’t want to come to terms with that. I don’t want to accept that all I’ll be is some husk in a house still alive because it would make other people sad if I was dead. A life like that? To me, it’s not worth living. All my mental health problems, and the closest I’ve ever come actually committing has always been because I couldn’t live such a limited life.

I’m mourning. I’m mourning everything I was told I could do. Every opportunity I get given and have to turn down. Ever dream I had that’s now a nightmare.

I wonder if any of these people ever sat daydreaming as a kid, about their future. About their job. Their wedding. Their kids. I wonder if they thought ‘maybe I could work in an active job!’ I wonder if they thought about walking down the aisle in their dream location. I wonder if they imagined running around with their kids. Everyone does, right?

Because I was 7, and I was drawing pictures of my wedding dress, and choosing the perfect beach. But how could I wear that dress when I trip over my own feet? And how could I walk on sand? And the ceremony itself- no, it’s far too long! My wedding will probably end up a small affair, casual clothes and a paper signing, because I can’t do any more.

And I was 8, and I wanted to be a conservationist. And when I was 10, and my OCD got in the way of that, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wanted to work to get better so I could have that dream again- and I’m 13, and that’ll never be possible. I’m on my way to recovery with OCD and my pain starts, and I know that I’ll never be able to work with animals, because it’s too much. I’ll have to do a desk job- it’s just good luck that my back up jobs are artist or writer, and I’m decent at them. It’s no wonder I’m good at them- right now, they’re some of the only things I can do without pain.

And I’m 14, and I start to realise that actually, kids are a thing I can have as an adult. And I’m taking child psychology and I learn how to look after them best, and I’m so proud of myself because I’m volunteering with kids and I’m doing it all right, I’m going to be a great parent— but it’s taking its toll. I start to realise that I can’t run around with them anymore. I can’t play. I’m not mentally present enough from the fatigue and fog, from all the pain. I’m delegated to crafts corner. I stop volunteering. I can listen to kids, but I’m never going to be the type of parent I wanted to be. Is it even fair to have children?

And you know, there are things that make it easier. Maybe I won’t get my honeymoon to Italy where I visit the catacombs and churches, but maybe I can still wander around the city. I can try the food and admire the architecture.

And maybe I can still volunteer with animals. I could go and help out at a local shelter. Maybe I can have kids, and I won’t be running around, but I’ll be there.

If someone could just listen to me. If they could hear me, and tell me, that there was a way to still live and thrive and experience all the mundanities of normal life, even with whatever’s wrong with me. But they won’t. The only answer I ever get is to stop. To limit. To sacrifice.

I don’t want to mourn a life that never happened anymore. Is there even a way to live? What can I even do? What can I do?