#I’ll probably have both designs idk

[sunnys-aesthetic]

Thinking of changing around my sona for the fourth millionth time

[steampunk-raven]

now it’s drawing oki time >:3

[coconut530]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY FAVORITE GAME EVER :DDDDD

[kryptonitejelly]

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

-

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

-

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

-

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

-

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

-

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

-

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

-

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

-

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

-

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

-

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[kakosbogey]

Go watch w2h 2 pt 1 if you haven’t already, or watch it again. Both parts have been on repeat since w2h2 came out I’m so excited😭❤️ I’m a senior this year and I first fell in love with the film when I was in 6th grade. I’ve been following Erica Wester for such a long time too and idk just expect to see more w2h art!

The fit I drew Sock in is credited to @/ im_azulado on tik tok. I’ll probably go back to his og design or make my own soon :)

[otaku553]

Do you have any sketches and wips you haven't shared? Also your doodles are always so cute so those too

OH SO MANY

I realize now but I kept a lot of wips without sharing over the past academic term since I was so stressed with both the homework load and grad school apps 😭

Here are some!

This one’s the oldest and probably not one I’ll finish unfortunately. It was supposed to be a Nami Hanfu piece but I think the hair was a bit too elaborate for nami

Here are a few doodles for the old ASL spy x family AU. These are pretty recent since it came to mind again about a week ago. It’s very nostalgic to think about! I think it was my first ever ASL au :)

Then at some point I rewatched Arrietty and had a lot of thoughts about tiny borrower ASL. Idk if I’ll finish these designs but I thought it would be really cute for luffy to do lots of things with rubber bands… slingshot himself around, use it as a projectile, etc. would also be cool for ace and luffy to be borrowers in a human sabo’s home but im so reluctant to let go of the spool of thread top hat for tiny sabo

There are a few other things that I’ve been working on but those are for zines so stay posted and you’ll see them much later probably :)))

I’m realizing also I have some things saved up from drawing for whery’s aus that I should probably reblog separately hehe

[sopuu]

Imma be real for a second and say I love the way Jesse has scars on your art??? Love it when someone gives a character who's been through a lot of physical (and mental) trauma some kind of scar. It just emphasizes to me that they went through that. And the effects of that stay with them.

Sorry I'm rambling

Tldr mmm scar art prettyyyy

exactly!! jesse’s gone through so much that i’d be surprised if he didn’t have any scars. and i like to think he’s confident enough to show them off not as injuries to his body but as a part of who he is, like a collection of experiences and battles he’s overcome. hence why i have his sleeves rolled up most of the time (and also rolled sleeves…so gender…)

he’s got a bunch of other scars i never get to show off so here’s some scar headcanons as a treat! i wanted to give each major one a backstory so it’s not just there for aesthetics. the others are normal battle scars tho

ramblings about the f-bomb scar and the face scar under the cut bc there’s a lot oops. ty for the ask!

can we talk about the damage the f-bomb did to him in game. or the lack of damage even. because there’s no way this man got out of a close explosion from the strongest bomb with ONLY ringing ears for a few seconds?? not that im complaining i’m glad he’s okay bfjkfh

either the order’s armour is made of impressively strong cloth and metal or minecraft block people are very tolerant to damage. although the logical explanation would probably be the damage can’t be shown realistically within the limitations of a minecraft game (not just on the pg side of things but also they are. made of a few pixels) idk it’s something interesting to think about lore/game development wise

if it weren’t for canon depictions i’d probably have the scar cover half of his body,, but i like keeping designs close to canon depictions so a big shoulder scar it is! i had it cover more of his back since he turns when being fished down to try and shield himself

as for the face scar! i’ve debated for a long time whether to have that as the origin bc i thought it was too cruel but it stayed in the end- it’s probably the hardest one he’s had to overcome despite it being the smallest major scar. every time he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of how he failed reuben. how can it be that he only gets a small scrape while his best friend loses his life? all because of jesse’s mistakes?

some OLD art incoming so shield your eyes but these are a few doodles exploring that! i was also testing the f-bomb scar on the face for funsies

eventually though, as he learns to accept his many scars he comes to see this one as a mark of the turning point of his life, both the good and the bad, and how much reuben and jesse meant to each other that they faced the world’s end together, knowing full well of the consequences. in a sense he carries reuben’s memory through that scar :]

anyways this is so long i’ll shut up now LOL

[dadsbongos]

Heyyy (ノ^∇^)

Idk if you write for him, since I barely see any other writers write for him😔, but would you be willing to write for Toshiro? 🙏🙏🙏

I love that man soooooo so fucking much but there barely any concent of him where it's not about his fight with Laios and it's frustrating ngl-😭😭

A thought that has been in my brain for quite some time now, is like— sorta like an arrange marriage type of situation where they started off awkward but then one of them (in this case, Toshiro) started to have fallen head over heels for his spouse who has been secretly falling for him first

Just the thought of him, barely touching his spouse on their wedding night because they just got married to some stranger (probably, or maybe they knew each other but not necessarily close?) to then sharing a passionate night with them❤❤

I'm feral somebody hold me down-

i wanted this to be longer but lately i've been... funky so its some bland honeymoon shiz before i scare the hoes with toshiro bugfucker truthery

1.2 k words / warnings - reader has a pussoi, honestly this is more fluff than explicit but smut is the setting frame, not super proofread ~~~

“Do you…” Toshiro clears his throat, “Would you want to share a bed tonight?”

You paused, blinking up at your new husband stupidly before jerking your head to the side, “I’m not sure…”

“I’ll make a separate place for myself again, then.”

“Well, no, that’s not necessary…”

Black brows furrow down at you, “I’m a little confused.”

“As am I,” you confess, eyes tracing the hardwood floors with a soft sigh, “I’m just concerned with what you’ll think of me after I’m honest with myself.”

For a long while, Toshiro is perfectly still. Then his heart squeezes, blinking at you numbly, “I’m sorry?”

“What if I humiliate myself? Or I’m too eager?”

Oh? 

“How could you be too eager?”

Gaze stuttering from his framing baby hairs to his gentle eyes to his slim waist to his legs. Tender flesh obscured by a jade yogi. Black hair cascades over his shoulders, shining beneath flickering candle light. Cheeks flush and lashes fluttery.

“You couldn’t imagine.”

Oh! 

Toshiro smothers his shock with a hand over his rising mouth, looking away from you, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Toshiro clenches his eyes, even the wrinkle in his forehead captivates you, “I didn’t want to scare or intimidate you by seeming too eager.”

Scandalized, you gasp, “Toshiro!”

“I know… I’m sorry if that’s unsettling to hear.”

“But is it true? You aren’t saying this for flattery’s sake, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re both eager.”

“We are,” he confirms, clearing his throat before gesturing to the futon you’re designated to share, “Do you want to share the bed tonight?”

Just asking twice makes him feel uncomfortable, though he supposes the entirety of your engagement has been uncomfortable.

(“I insisted to my father, I’d find my own partner…”

“Sorry, if I’m disappointing.”

“No, no. I just… would have wished to not drag people into our lives.”)

You’re a bit more outgoing than himself. He prefers you to take charge, but suddenly you’re shy. Clamming up and awkwardly shuffling onto the mat. Legs pin straight and boring holes through his skull with a wide-eyed stare.

“Would you mind showing me?” he murmurs, “I feel you’re more… experienced in these matters.”

“Does it bother you that I am?” you frown suddenly, “Maizuru seems to hate it…”

If he hadn’t rushed to tuck his head down, you would’ve caught his vicious eye roll, “Maizuru doesn’t know what I want.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. I find you just as pretty.”

Thankfully, his stammered and jumbled admission appears to soothe the tension in your shoulders. Rocking forward onto your knees before apprehensively tugging open the part of his thick robing.

“You might be the pretty one in this marriage.”

He’s forced to choke on his retort as you’re kissing up his freshly exposed thigh. Wandering hands shirking the thick material off his shoulders and combing through silky hair. Uneven pants lace the air, chapped lips parting to wheeze your name. Warm palms cup your cheeks, fingers toying around the bone of your jaw and thumbs rubbing beneath your lashes.

Coaxing you onto your feet, Toshiro cups your cheeks fully and he’s muttering. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to whisper sweet romantics for you, and you’re tempted to ask for clarity when he abruptly snaps you onto your back.

Nose digging into the junction of your neck as Toshiro folds your legs to cradle his waist. 

“Can I speak plainly?” he requests, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs before scaling up your tummy to peel off your own sleepwear.

Jolting shoulders and arms up to make the disrobing easier, you nod rapidly, “Of course!”

Still, his eyes are closed to avoid catching sight of your potential horror or displeasure, “There are many things I want for us to do, but tonight I’d like to stay this way.”

“Look at me,” you pet through his hair, kissing the corners of his downturned mouth and the bunched skin between his eyebrows, “Won’t my husband look at me?”

Slowly, he heeds your command. Long lashes batting your thumb pad. He squeezes the round of your thighs circling his bare waist to strangle the urge to run. To flip himself over and let you do as you please. To not put himself out there and let you see him any less proper.

“I’ve been fond of you since we met,” you crane up to smooch his forehead, the heat from his face searing your lips. You rather like the sensation.

“So long?”

“How couldn’t I be? I like men shy and reserved, though I think I’d like you more if you could break out of your shell when we’re alone.”

Toshiro returns his face into your neck, hips snapping to impress his hardening cock against you. Breath hitching when he’s embraced by wetness, shoulders tensing -- so this is happening.

Loneliness plagued Toshiro his entire life, even following reconciliation with the Toudens -- it isn’t as though he lives in Melini, after all. Instead he’s occupying his father’s place in their family, on Wa. 

Your engagement was his only respite from the gnawing solitude, and now you’re dedicating yourself to sides of him you haven’t even seen yet.

His slow thrusts are stiff and mildly pleasant until you coo and snag fingers into the divot of his tailbone. Pushing his hips to roll into yours, black pubes brushing your clit and curling a real whimper from your lips. Toshiro stares down at you at the sound, fumbling a moment to snare your thighs tighter around him before eagerly repeating the motion.

Canting up to meet Toshiro’s efforts rewards you with a warm stretch and soft squelch as your hole adjusts around him. Huffy pants escape the man above you, chest dying red and hands bruising your hips. 

He’d never liked someone as much as he liked Falin, but he’s thinking -- even through delirium and heat and lust -- that maybe he could love you.

Pitching up on your elbows, you whine quietly into his cheek with more lavish kisses. Toshiro greedily turns his head to capture your lips with his, praying to drown his rhythm-less, virgin embarrassment in your saliva.

You don’t finish. You say you’re okay with that. Toshiro isn’t, it feels selfish.

“Please, let me…” his fingers skim over your stomach before dipping between your thighs and tracing the sloppy, soaked seam of your cunt, “I want to.”

“Do you insist?”

Toshiro feels unnaturally bold, swallowing around syrupy desire. He nods, “I do.”

.

.

.

days prior.

Hands swept tightly behind your back, you carefully observe the way a common copper beetle is ticking around the hanging tree leaves. Fascination blazes your eyes wide, and lips coiled upward.

Toshiro hadn’t meant to actually see you. He wasn’t even aware you were still on the premises, certain that having his fiance so close before their wedding night was some strain of scandal. 

Nonetheless, you’re here. And you’re admiring the fuzzy legs of a mere beetle.

As far as he was aware, people were not fond of beetles. Butterflies or moths, maybe. Not beetles. Hien would squish them instantly, and even Inutade tried maintaining distance. 

You smile upon the creature, paying no mind to the outside world.

Toshiro wonders if you could smile upon him that way, too.

~~~ yes toshiro starts liking you bc you’re admiring a bug that moment in the manga was so significant to his character and to me and ill be damned if i dont get to add onto it

[dansemacabre]

are you stuck trying to decode the book of bill but you don’t want the keys handed to you? i was in your shoes literally three days ago! i failed and looked up codes on reddit (because a good grade in book of bill is a normal thing to want and a possible thing to get) but now you don’t have to!! here are some BOOK OF BILL CODEBREAKING HINTS designed to kindly shove you in the right direction!

my credentials are: one summer cryptography class i took in high school, autism, weirdly good pattern recognition (probably because of the autism), and a desperate need to make things make sense. sorry in advance if any of this seems patronizing. hints below the page break!!

general tips:

- A and I will become your bestest friends. like 99 times out of 100 any single letter is a or i. try those out first

- the apostrophe will also become your bestest friend- especially x’x, which will almost always be i’m (except there’s one place in the book where it is not. don’t make my mistakes.)

- themysteryofgravityfalls.com is SO so helpful. for non-symbolic ciphers u can lowkey put in codes and button mash caesar and atbash. godsend. devilsend? idk someone sent it and it’s wonderful

- call every phone number, visit every website. they bought those domains for a reason! i think!

- any list of numbers 1-26 is a1z26. like that’s simply a truth

cipher specific hints now !!!

RUNES (characters taken from norse runes)

- there is a key for this one in the book! maybe u spotted it right away but i did not lol, so look for an instance of 26 rune-y characters!

- the rune code on the inside cover is a graffiti joke- translates to a common thing people write on walls or carve into books made out of brain matter ig

THERAPESE (found in the last few pages during bills court-ordered therapy)

- bill’s picture is labeled in this section, so those characters translate directly to “bill cipher” ! once you have those, you can apply them to other instances of the code and go from there

- the rest of the names of the… things around him on the inpatients page are puns, titles, and/or weird words. they might look wrong until you have Every Character- trust ur key! use the rest of the instances of this code to find the missing letters first, make sense of it and laugh at the clever little joke later

BROSCODE (only two instances, found in journal 3 lost pages)

- the name is a hint by itself- this is stanley and stanford related! both stans use it once somewhere in the book!

NEWBILL (the most common symbolic cipher in the book)

- if you have journal three, the characters are VERY similar to a code there- not the same though, so don’t try and use that key. but like journal three, this code will (almost) always be bill speaking.

- ok lowkey i think the best way to explain this is just to give you one answer. i cracked this by randomly guessing that the small writing by the galaxy drawing on the journal three page “a voice form the past” translates to “forget the past”. go from there my loves

- that being said. everything else from journal three uses the same characters, but a different code. haven’t cracked it yet. looking for advice tee bee haych. i’ll edit this once i find it out

- also: dipper uses this code in his section. that’s pretty helpful to get most of the rest of the characters!

now some page specific hints!:

silly straw page. Oh god

- damn that themysteryofgravityfallsdotcom sure is helpful! Anyway,

- the numbers code is Weird. but the number don’t equal letters. notice the spaces between number groups- pair the groups, try and add a dash somewhere within the first group and a colon somewhere within the second group. you’ll have to use your resources a little

- if that made zero sense: “uhvrxufhv” phdqv brxu idyrulwh ghhsob ohjdo wy vkrz ylhzlqj zhevlwh. ru brxu kxox dffrxqw

- sorry for the vagueness but i really don’t want to spoil this one- i got it spoiled but i think figuring it out on your own would be really rewarding and worth your Time

messages on your tv

- there are strange boxes on the bottom of the page. gonna be so honest don’t know how they mean anything at all to anyone but allegedly it’s a code! i’ll look into it. idk man

okay. i think that’s all i’ve got? please comment if u have questions for me or other folks on here or suggestions on how to sound less like a fucking nerd talking abt this shit. idk i love that people are set on cracking this book asap but i hope this helps ppl who prefer The Thrill Of The Chase and also like to feel smart and important and so very talented

[wukyma]

yeeop hi, it’s me, the loser who’s writing fanfic for your ghost antinous au! i’ve got some vague and ideas and a decent amount of words done but i saw one of your posts saying you’re writing a document for the au?

i’m thinking i’ll be waiting for that before i make any other big writing decisions, i’m very excited for it :D

Ahhh sorry for the confusion, that was for another thing :'D

Regardless, I do have some ideas for ghost Antinous if you're interested!

(sorry for mentioning but u said u were interested too so @bb-bugspot)

Yappery under the cut 👇

You know that Hermes was also a guide for the dead? One of his "jobs" was bringing souls of mortals to the underworld – the 108 suitors as well, apparently, and whether they were buried appropriately or not doesn't really matter here

What happens? A certain ghosty someone (Antinous) spends the whole day trying to strangle both Odysseus and Telemachus (spoiler: he can't), missing Hermes' arrival to Ithaca like a loser ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

Hermes bringing a hoard of souls to the underworld: let's see... One, two, three, four... ten......... nah I'm too lazy to do that, bye idiots *flies away*

Now we have Antinous, stuck in the mortal plane where no one can see him, having to watch the happy and thriving family, annoyed, jealous, and alone. Like he deserves tbh

And since I was leaning into comedy in the beginning, Telemachus starting to hear (and later even see; idk maybe Hermes' heritage activated or smth) him is a source of all kinds of moments where he has to act like ✨ everything is fine ✨ while there's an angry dude screaming in his ear "PAY ATTENTION TO ME"

If we sprinkle it with sad vibes then Antinous is pestering Telemachus for two reasons:

he hates him and has nothing better to do anyway

it's the closest thing to human interaction he has now lol

Basically talking to (read: pissing off) Telemachus is the only entertainment, and as time passes he just becomes something of a voice of conscience but diametrically opposed, and by that I mean:

"Who does this prick think he is?! Kick his ass Tele KICK HIS ASS"

"Wow, loser (Peisistratus probably idk) actually likes you, what a moron. You too btw"

Probably the first thing Telemachus sees in the morning too,, poor boy; maybe Antinous even tries to trip him up from time to time (they can't touch each other but small things like these work), invades his personal space, swipes off random objects from their designated surfaces, talks shit during family dinners (Telemachus actually thinks some of it is funny but he won't say that out loud, nuh uh) Penelope and Odysseus are a bit concerned about the strange expressions he makes XD

That dynamic goes on until the moment Antinous says a particularly foul joke and Telemachus slaps him (not really hoping for anything since every time he tried his hand just went through); the hit lands, both are like wtf just happened??? That puts an end to random chaos because (1) Telemachus is older now and will/can beat the shit out of him (2) Antinous just doesn't find the same satisfaction in annoying the prince like before, for some reason

So they just....... come to accept the situation and stick together like the weirdest pair of mismatched socks. END

(one more crumb of comedy material: Antinous now drops random objects on people's heads when they disrespect Telemachus or some similar thing)

That's it! There's one important thing I wanna say tho,, what I wrote is just my vision, if you had something else in mind and it doesn't align with this don't worry too much!! I want to know your ideas as well, and honestly, there wasn't a lot of thought put in cooking up an actual plot on my side; write whatever you feel like writing, I'm already happy those sketches inspired somebody X)

(And! Guys!! A bit of disclaimer: it's not like I'm sticking fingers in ears and going lalalalalala when it comes to Antinous' canon jerk behavior, or justify him – this whole au retains ✨funsies rights✨, don't take it too seriously please)

[raintemper]

More of them,, but they’re robot cats this time lol… I’ll draw Moon and Pebbles soon, and some others maybe

I’ll do anything but actually draw them as Iterators apparently

Don't look too close, Ive never drawn such mech heavy designs until now...I don't know what I'm doing. I got a little more confident with NSH but I was absolutely just going blind with Suns. It took me 2 days to figure out how I wanted to start with Suns...

Some background info dump of them for this? Au??? Idk yet lol, under the line if interested

Erhm. Set in a post apocalyptic world, much like how Rain World actually is. Alternative timeline where iterators don't exist?? Failed??? The ancients have not yet ascended?? Maybe??? Idk the details are still blurry to me also 😞. They are in a high security lab facility ground type setting. (Perhaps just an excuse for me to draw apocalyptic higher tech designs????) It is cold outside, some failed iterator structures still produce rain, and occasionally the air may become toxic.

Suns is an offensive/surveillance model meant for fighting and protecting as one can probably tell with his tail blades. It folds back in an attempt to make it less dangerous and also functions as a way to swiftly cut into something if needed. They are the only one of them (excluding Pebbles for special reasons) to be equipped with a mouth hiding sharp teeth and/or lasers for even more attack prowess. They are also still huge. Sorry I run with the huge Suns agenda. He is a tower. Easily wrestles most lizards. I still like the idea of fluffy Suns, so he still has it as a robot cat. Some insulation for the colder outside temperatures, he's outside a lot. Suns is not built to be friendly. Mostly acts and behaves as an unassuming robot early on.

Moon and Suns were the first properly functional/successful projects. They were edited and reconstructed a lot from beginning to now. Maybe they were both originally purposed as therapeutic companions.

The overseers are little drones that fly around. They still project things and are still sometimes unhelpful with directions, follow at your own discretion. The lizards and predators mostly ignore them as well. They do recognize the different drones with time. They've learned to recognize NSH's drones, which sometimes might contain some edible collected material, so they do occasionally try to eat those. And most of the smaller predators try to leave the area if they see Suns' drones.

NSH is closer to a pet model. He is made for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still tiny because I like him tiny, he's adorable. NSH has three pairs of legs for rough terrain traversal, and is a fast little guy. He helps in collecting samples and materials from the outside, marking maps, as well as finding viable safe spots/shelters. He has no mouth but has a component in his chest where he can collect small samples, as well as storage units in his drones to store excess. He has small vials of decontaminate fluid to clean any samples he collects, they have to be refilled occasionally. Also, as mentioned in the art, he can open his neck and chest area and just swallow bigger samples. He can even keep them alive inside him if he wants to. Otherwise, they're killed and turned into power for him to use. Sometimes he finds lizards with cool patterns and tries to swallow them to show Suns, who oftentimes will kill it afterwards.

He was the experimental project for emotive programming alongside Unparalleled Innocence/UI, hence his fully functioning screen as a face. As opposed to Suns, who functions more as a security camera. I think NSH and UI are both similar in the more playful/chaotic personalities, so I decided for them to be created around the same time and put into the same testing. Overtime, UI did not respond very well and was repurposed (She's not gone). Emotive sentience was programmed into NSH first and then tested on Moon. It was generally successful in both cases. NSH really enjoys messing around and can even imitate his fellow iterators faces. It works really well temporarily scaring predators using Suns' color markings lol.

Because NSH and Suns are both outside often, they have solar panel components in their design for extra power. The two of them are very close because of their shared experiences. NSH likes the outside more, Suns has little opinions of it. They worry about NSH because he's so small and curious and occasionally brings back dangerous things.

Suns is a little bit of an outcast here because of his difference in role. He is mostly left to roam and function on his own/not approached as he carries his role. The others are research focused and Suns is more obviously purposed for battle, so there is a little bit of a divide. Not to mention, he technically does not have the programming for emotions that Moon and NSH have. Suns does learn on his own though :D, some of it is learned from NSH too

I will leave it here for now. I will probably talk more about Moon and Pebbles for their own post. And the others as well. I'm still thinking about their designs though.

Erhm hopefully this makes sense somewhat and was at least a fun read.

[jrkyy]

Hello! I Love your young Howard designs (especially his Prince Charming hair) and his vibes. Do you have any headcanons or backstory for him that you can share? Thank youu <3

Dont call him prince charming, you’re feeding his fragile ego with that

As the matter of fact I do! I just keep it to myself most of the time out of shyness. Honestly idk where to begin, I have them scattered on my notes so here’s just a few of them

Before I go to his childhood, I want to establish that his parents were from a new money background and his father is new to biglaw. He wanted to blend in with the old money crowd so he started to mimic how they dress, act, etc. (And yes I do think he would pour this onto his son)

His mother on the other hand is a hairdresser. Unlike george, she doesnt want to dress like his “rich friends”. I havent thought much about her relationship with Howard yet but she mostly acts like the second voice of reason after Chuck (though Mr. Mcgill does that better than her)

I do think that George’s attempt to larp as those upper men is an attempt to get approval from them (that theme runs in the family I guess…)

So for me it really just connects the dots on how Howie’s financial background reflects the things he spent on (ex: gucci loafers, jaguar car, his tuscan style mansion)

When it comes fo his childhood, his parents werent really that stern to him (apart from what would he be in the future). They're the type of parents who would let their kid do anything they want, as long as they would end up being what the parents want. It would bite them both back though (especially george). George would definitely call young Howard selfish or ungrateful, when its his doing in the first place

This is based from one of patrick’s interview, but he was probably very an awkward kid back then. Probably due to him being an only child (or undiagnosed autism), but he struggles a lot on making connections so he would mirror other people’s action or read those “how-to-make-friends 101” books. He knows the right thing to say but he didnt say all that with his heart

A lot of his problems with his father just stems from disconnection. George wanted the very best for his son, but what he thinks that its best is just his tunnel vision of a dream. Whereas Howard just wants to be close to him but each time he does that, George would always do something that absolutely pisses him off so its back to square one

As for his mullet-thing??? Its an attempt to distance himself from his father. He’s scared that people would say he’s similar to George, so he styled it like his mom

Sorry, this is getting too long so I’ll stop here lol but I do have more to spew out

[wintvies]

reviewing my lip products 🪽

since the year is coming to an end, i wanted to review all of my lippies that i’ve used this year, and evaluate if i’ll repurchase some of them next year, or if i’ll leave some of these behind in 2024 ৻ꪆ

nyx fat oil lip drip

definitely one of my favourite products of the year! it has a very nice formula and moisturises my lips very nicely! i recommended this to many people already/gifted this lip oil, and everyone only has good things to say about it. i also really like the applicator, because it just feels very satisfying to me. 🌝 you do have to reapply this every few hours, but it’s still a very good lip oil imo, and it also gets bonus points for the affordable price. 9.5/10

essence extreme shine volume lipgloss

it’s a pretty good lipgloss. for me personally, this is what got me into makeup, so i would definitely recommend this if you’re just starting out! it’s also very affordable and the shades are pretty too. but, it’s really sticky. 😭 one blow of the wind and that lipgloss will be holding your hair strands hostage. 7/10

nyx slick click

imo it's a pretty solid glossy lip balm. the packaging is very compact, but since the packaging has a click-pen design, it gets really difficult to get some of the lip balm out, when the tube is almost empty. other than that, it's pretty good. it moisturises your lips well, and since this product is a lip balm, it's not too sticky either. it lasts for a few hours, but if you eat/drink anything, you'd definitely have to reapply it. but since the package only contains 2g, and costs 10 euros i probably wouldn't repurchase this. 5.8/10.

maybelline color sensational lipstick

i think this is a good everyday lipstick! it has a pretty lightweight and creamy formula, which i really liked, and it stays on for about four hours. the lipstick has a good amount of pigment, and all around, it's pretty solid. if this ran out, i'd probably repurchase it, since it's a nice staple to have in my makeup bag. 💖 6.8/10.

kiko velvet passion matte lipstick

this lipstick is a little similar to the previous one, since they both have lightweight formulas. but, while the maybelline one has a little bit of a glossy effect, this one is completely matte. as for the formula/texture, i really liked the texture of this lipstick! it feels very soft and velvety, and it's really satisfying to apply it imo. my only issue with this lipstick is that it really emphasized the texture of my lips by the four hour mark, and sometimes it also dried my lips out a little. other than that, it's nice, and i think i'd repurchase it! 7/10

essence what a tint!

it's a pretty good tint. i saw a couple of people saying about how it was better than benetint, but i can't really give you my opinion on that, since i'm too broke for benetint! 💖 as for the color, it was wayyy to pink for me. 😭 like it was HOT pink. neon marker pink. idk, i think that color def suits some people, but it most definitely is NOT my color!! but on a positive note, it is strong. it will not move once you put it on. i put a little bit of it on my hand to test it out again, and it didn't move AT ALL for around three to four days. in conclusion, it's a good product, just not for me! 5/10.

nyx butter gloss

I LITERALLY LVOE THIS PRODUCT SO MCUH!!!!!!!!!!! it is truly one of my favorite lip glosses of all time and i do NOT care that i bought it not too long ago. the shades are really pretty, and there's a large variety of shades too (32 to be exact). also, the texture is very good, imo. the lip gloss just feels so smooth, and it isn't really sticky either, unlike some other glosses. i also really liked the fragrance, which is surprising, since i usually don't like how lip glosses smell. the only cons i can think of is that it needs to be reapplied often, especially after eating. other than that, the nyx butter gloss is literally so amazing, especially for the affordable price. i would literally buy a bazillion of these if i could. 10/10.

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indie !

First of all, I truly love your version of TMNT. Your dialogues are so good and the designs are great. In terms of writing it kind of reminds me of the Webtoon comic: Batman, Wayne Family Adventures in the way that it’s a brilliant take on a famous franchise.

Also, I kind of had a question and a request.

I noticed a change of style with the color scheme you have now compare to your previous sketches. Like before, Mickey’s stickers were colored and blood was red when those elements are now in black and white. My question is why the change ? Not that it’s a bad choice or it doesn’t fit in you aesthetic, I was just genuinely wondering😁.

As for my request, well I’m French and I really enjoy doing translation either from French to English or from English to French. Therefore I was wondering if you were okay with me doing a French version of your comics ? If you’re not, I totally understand so no worry😁

I can’t wait for the next chapter !!! I wish all the best !

Aw thank you so much! I’m so glad you love the art and the writing! I’ve never read that webcomic, but I’ve heard about it before! I’ll take it as a compliment! ^v^

That is an excellent question! Basically I wanted to reduce the colors on the pages to just the colors of one of the characters items.

I’ve actually been cutting down on color usage since TMS (April’s hair and Casey’s under shirt were colored red and mauve respectively in ROTP but not in TMS) since I felt that it made for some very odd color things, like it felt like too much color be stylistic, but too little to be fully colored? Idk I just didn’t like it, so in TMS every character was allotted two colors: one eye color and one outfit color. That made it a lot simpler and drastically decreased the feeling I had about the colors.

That reason is also why I cut Mikey’s sticker colors. I did think about it, but I decided against it because it felt odd to give Mikey three colors and everyone else one. He’s not the MC, so like, it just seemed like an odd design choice to continue with.

The removal of using red for blood is a bit more complicated. I actually considered making it red in Indie TMNT, but I ended up not because of a few reasons.

1: Red is Raph’s color, it should be used as such (every character only got one color anyway, reusing the color makes it feel less special that it’s there)

2: flushing, whether because of love or illness or embarrassment or whatever, was also being shaded with red because it’s caused by blood, and I just didn’t really like the way it looked? I dunno probably a personal thing? I won’t say why cause I don’t wanna put the thought in your heads, but specifically with Donnie’s face being red from his fever in TMS, I just didn’t like it.

3: I found that the color red makes wounds more graphic. Not sure why? I found with TMS I was having to censor Leo’s wounds more than I anticipated. They were originally so much more disgusting when the red was added that I had to add a lot more black to be comfortable with the drawing. I’m satisfied with my results, I think I struck a good balance, but it did kind get me thinking since I plan to make Indie TMNT just as gory.

Its original purpose for being added was because wounds were key plot points in both ROTP and TMS and I wanted you to pay attention to them and remember them. Now, that’s not to say they’re not important in Indie Tmnt, but I found with the increased violence I was adding (because murder is okay in this comic) it felt unnecessary. Almost every fight scene has splatters of blood that aren’t really that plot related, so it’s not the same as TMS which follows 2012’s no blood or injuries in fights rule until it’s shattered. So in addition to all the other reasons listed, I felt it was fine to get rid of the usage of red for blood and other injuries in this comic.

TLDR: I want each character’s color to be special and they only get one cause I’m lazy and I think it looks cooler. Red blood makes people squeamish but black blood doesn’t 🤷‍♀️ also less important in this comic

As for your request: YES!! I’m totally okay with it, you absolutely may! I would love that! However you decide to do it, just be sure you credit me as the original author of the comic and send me a link when your done so I can post it on the comic masterpost for anyone who wants the translation to read!

Good questions! :]

[bungiri]

What are Wren's parents like?

YAYY WREN’S PARENTS !!! they are super interesting To Me and very very important to wren’s new lore™️

here’s them in their slightly younger years,, i still gotta figure out their designs and outfits, but once i do i’ll make a little intro sheet for all 3 solís family members

i had to put on my writer hat for these descriptions SO PLS ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT U THINK 😭

—

alejandro is a man of rugged charm and steely determination. even though he was born amongst some of the best fighters in the world, his innate skill and bravery quickly set him apart in the world of monster hunting. with each serpent and mummy bested and each challenge overcome, alejandro climbed the ranks, becoming a legend in his own right.

his travels took him across lands far and wide, where he became both a mentor and a hero to younger future fighters.

—

marisol, labeled as the “mother of monsters” by both those who knew her and knew of her, possessed a profound connection to the natural and magic worlds that transcended academic interest. her bond with nature and its most misunderstood inhabitants was almost spiritual, allowing her to communicate with and understand monsters on a level that few could fathom. her approach was one of balance and empathy, advocating for coexistence rather than conquest.

monsters were naturally drawn to her not out of fear or subservience, but because of an innate sense of safety and understanding that she radiated. her empathetic and soft spoken nature allowed her to approach them without threat, and her calm demeanor communicated a sense of peace and acceptance.

creatures responded to marisol’s nurturing spirit as if she were one of their own. they followed her, played with her, and showed affection in their unique ways. in return, marisol offered guidance and care, becoming a figure of maternal significance in their lives.

—

anyway;:,, idk what isaac and alesia’s backstories will be like, but if i can fit it in, i hc that alejandro was a mentor figure to both of them. probably not a full time mentor because he was always traveling, working, taking on gigs, lowkey being a celebrity, etc. but he was there to teach them important lessons that they carry on with them in the present.

even marisol has an interaction with a very young isaac where she hears the sound of him crying deep in the forest and guides him back to safety. i’m not a fic writer but maybe i should be just to write that 😭

IF Y’ALL GOT QUESTIONS ABT THEM THEN PLEASE DO ASK I LUV THEM ALREADY AND I HAVE SO MUCH MORE INFO TO SHARE

[badchoicesworld]

hello !! i love the way you write :] !! i was just wonderin if you do requests for 42!Miles ? it's no problem if you dont but if you do id be so grateful for one with a masc reader :'D reader is an artist like miles or could maybe be his spiderman as well ? thank you !

miles 42 w/ an artistic spider-reader !

earth 42 miles x masc!reader

i’ll be the first to admit that i was a lil stumped since we don’t know all too much about wiles, but i did some digging and figured he’s gonna be around 17, vigilante and there’s a lot of things in his design that helped me figure out his personality (i think, anyway. please for the love of god don’t let my education be in vain)

wasn’t sure if you wanted platonic, general shit or romance so i just sprinkled a bit of everything in this because we need more masc fanfiction out there (fun fact, i write fanfiction but i do not read it)

if this is just shit lemme know and i’ll go missing <3

warnings: none

pairing: miles 42 x masc!reader

requests: OPEN RAAHH

it was so fucking hard to find a half decent cap of this man

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

AIGHT if you’re to become earth 42 spiderman then it’s likely under the same circumstances as miles 1610. or, who knows, maybe there’s another radioactive spider hanging about somewhere that bit you

REGARDLESS imma go ahead and say that this bite is gonna be a recent thing, otherwise NYC wouldn’t be in such a state

unless you just like people to suffer idk

you and miles are friends before the bite, can’t imagine he tolerates a lot of people now with all the stuff he has on his mind so you’re a long time friend, maybe more

miles is the guy you go to straight away with this, if you’ve discovered you have these incredible powers and suddenly heightened senses

just imagine the revelation when you realise what this can mean for the world

spider-man wasn’t a thing in this dimension, so you’re a completely new beacon of hope

earth-42, if you haven’t seen the test animation, seems pretty corrupt and fucked

miles and uncle aaron seem to be a vigilante pair that steal things like medicine for hospitals, maybe because the state of the world just means they’re short of resources, or it’s being led by a really disgusting government

miles 42 is a good guy . you cant change my mind

miles has been the prowler for however many years at this stage, uncle aaron being his right hand man in operations

regardless of how close the two of you are, this is something that he’s kept hidden from you if he can help it

but all of that is just recklessly discarded when he realised you can help, it’s new hope, and he’s desperate

he’s still incredibly discreet when talking about it, especially when you two are in his home

the last thing he wants is to get his mother involved, that woman means the world to him and he’d die before she was exposed to this stuff

but let’s assume you two take on this role together, young vigilantes that have to make things in the world right

it’s a secret that you two have sworn up and down about never telling another soul, no matter what

miles is the prowler and you’re spider-man, go make a difference

while you guys are vigilantes together, you are still kids. minors, whatever

so, yeah, you do still get to go to school and live the best of both worlds if you’d like to

you take the same art class together, you’re both acing tf outta it because i said so

but let’s be honest, miles 42 is way more stern and focused, he might have been like the other miles we know at some point, but not anymore

his design is all sharp and rigid, hatched- this is a reflection of his personality

you’ve definitely helped to instil some hope in him, though

you can see him soften up every once in a while, and god knows he loves his mum, we love to see it

probably the most domestic thing you guys will get to experience is designing your suits together. naturally, all spider-people are stupidly smart so you can actually contribute to tech design and build things to execute missions more effectively and efficiently

even if you two are boyfriends, things just seem so tense all of the time in that world

unfortunately, earth-42 is a place where you have to have eyes in the back of your head, but you two get to act as that for each other so you don’t constantly have to be looking over your shoulders paranoid

granted, it’s a tough role

new york is in ruins thanks to the unfortunate circumstances, but your dimension has a spider-man now, hopefully you can help the world heal

actual missions can get intense at the drop of a hat

prowler is all about stealth, so recon missions have to be done with serious precision and there is no room for mistakes

especially when it comes to stealing resources for the people, miles isn’t physically willing to let these things sit idle and go to waste when people are dying

it’s life or death, you two have to rely on each other whole heartedly

since miles doesn’t have his own webs, he relies on ropes and harness, but it all changes after you’ve gotten bitten

with your abilities, you two are able to move to much faster and fluently while fleeing a scene, it’s impressive

being caught isn’t nearly as risky thanks to your spider senses

he’s not vocal about it, but miles appreciates you so much

i don’t think that he’s gonna be some overly protective guy when he knows you can protect yourself, that’s just wasted energy and honestly insulting of him

again, even if you are together

he loves you and cares about your safety, you’re the man who’s helping him make the world a better place

he’ll worry if situations become dire, but he TRUSTS that you’ll be okay

you’ve got his back and he’s got yours

when all’s said and done, if something ever goes south, spider-man always gets back up

you’ll lick your wounds (tend to them properly but very reluctantly because you all know there’s so few resources)

probably relies on really gentle words of affirmation at the end of the day, otherwise you two wouldn’t cope

those nights are when he’ll use spanish terms of endearment (masculine), he doesn’t want you to feel neglected in a way

you’ll tuck away your suits together once the days come to an end and silently swear to secrecy once again, before the weight of being teenage vigilantes together takes over and you collapse onto the nearest surface together

he’d be a fool to not feel safe in his own home, especially with you and his mother in it (you too aaron, welcome back)

bonus:

before the world turned upside down, you and him used to get caught all of the time tagging different places with graffiti, Mr Morales was not pleased

if you ever get those peaceful moments of bliss amidst the chaos, your ability to climb walls is really helpful when spray painting up high

you can see just the faintest trace of the old miles, the artist who was completely doe eyed about the future

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

DID I SLAY ? PLE