#You can really see how I place each line when I sketch with this!

[draw-ren-draw]

Whoops, sometimes you have too much fun testing a new brush and come out with a cute AU sketch.  Just thinking of younger hero bro alt!Flug takes

[edwardwonghaupepelutivrusky4th]

wah i looove their designs and animation...

[broooooo]

The life change

____________

Sup bros!

It's been awhile hasn't it😅, I hope I can still do this

Hope you like it!

_______

I'm coach josh, I teach at a college coaching the school football team, we have a good team full of muscular , toned, handsome men, obedient and horny, just how I programmed them to be.

What? You think its easy getting a good team?, no, I had to craft these boys into obedient football jocks, sure they still have their lives ahead for them, one day I'll let them go, so they can go off and achieve football greatness, but for the time being, they are MINE, I will just get a new team.

Today was like the rest, teaching pe class as usual, a group of girls and boys, a regular class, the boys among the class are mostly all sporty, and energetic, some at even my own jocks.

As usual the girls who don't do anything sit out or have an excuse to sit out, while the rest join in with the boys. Unfortunately, not all the boys join in.

Aaron, he is the only one who sits out, he's slender, tall, long hair, he's quite good looking in his own right, but he's not athletic, he's not smart nerd either, sometimes he joins in, but doesn't do much on the account of not being able to or want to, he quietly just draws in his book., he doesn't have many or any friends at all, he's a wall flower , no one really pays attention to him

Well .. except me I guess

I watch in disappointment again, it's always like this. Though what's odd is whenever we have football practice, he seemingly likes to stare at the players , deep in thought , I notice it at times, and wonder what he's thinking, he draws at the same time, so I've always been curious to what he draws.

Today in class It was a small game of football. Girls Vs boys. A regular exercise in this class. I'm planning on watching Aaron again, to see what he does.

*alright class!*, I shout out, * today is girls Vs boys football!, get ready*

I glance over at Aaron's and there he is looking, though it's just minor glances, it intrigues me.

The boys, and girls put on either their own cleats or extras we have in storage and Everyone gets in their positions, the boys getting pumped up and the girls look excited to try and beat the boys.

Aaron looks over at the boys , a glimmer in his eyes, I wonder what he looks at.

*alright class, we want a clean game, no cheating, ready? GO!* I blow the whistle and both sides go at each other.

I go off the side lines and watch, I stand near enough to Aaron to keep an eye on him.

No much happens the next 20 minutes, though Aaron seems to be in deep thought as he draws.

The game nears it's end as the victor is concluded.

The boys win, as I expected of my jocks, never letting the team loose.

I go off to check on everyone and conclude the class, behind me I hear a scrunch and a sigh, I turn and see aaron left a scrunched up ball of paper where he once sat, he walked away along with everyone else.

This was my chance, I had my expectations as to what I'd see, maybe it was empty and I'm over thinking it.

When everyone leaves the field, I go over to the paper and pick it up, once back in my office, I sit down at my desk and place the ball of paper on my desk, my heart races. Why I have such an obsession with this guy, idk, it's almost concerning, maybe I see potential in him, yeah.

I slowly unfold the paper, what I see shocks me,but also I'm not surprised?

It was a half finished sketch of a football player...

A football player I think? I wondered why, but then I noticed the hair of the player, long hair...

Is this supposed to be him?, my lips curve up into a devious smile..

So.... He's interested in football after all?

Oh my dear Aaron... I'll help you out one way or another. Not until you're one of my obedient and horny jocks.

_____

That night I devised a plan, I'll try to get close to him, speak with him, maybe I can get him to confess what he really wants...

The next day at school, I see Aaron at his locker, he's wearing long baggy towers, a black t shirt and sneakers, a comfortable fit.

I go up to him..

*hey Aaron, got a minute?*

He turns to look at me, tall and muscular,

*er .. sure* he says

I pull out the flattened paper ball, *so.. I found this yesterday, I assumed It's yours? You shouldn't litter you know*

Surprised, Aaron takes the paper away *oh... Sorryy. . won't happen again*

*oh it's ok, anyways, is that you drawn on that paper? It's really good? Didn't know you liked football*

Aaron gets visibly nervous *oh... Er... Yeah... Just a bit*

Noticing this, I see his eyes, a glimmer in them, a yearning for more, *now come one now, no need to be shy*, I smile, * why don't you come by my office later? We can discuss a few things?*

Aarons more surprised than ever, in a bit of a cold sweat, *I - er... Sure... I guess we can talk*

*sweet ! Meet you later champ!*I pat his back and walk away! My grin evidence to my excitement, I can't wait to see what this boy is hiding..

____

Many hours later, I wait in my office, patiently but excited, hoping he shows up, my muscles bulge in my lycra shirt, my feet shaking slightly..heart pounding, if he doesn't show up , I'll have to call in one of my jocks and have him pleasure me.. , I my dick bulge throbs , I'm extremely horny , at the thought of turning Aaron into a jock...

Then it happens.. the door opens and I see Aaron coming inside and closing the door , my vision clears and I jump up excited, *oh hi ! Er.. Aaron, glad you could make it* I sit back down on my chair, *come ..sit..* Aaron sits down at the chair in front of the desk. *What did you want to talk about?* Aaron says

*well my boy, your attendance in class isn't going so well. It's required you join in, unless you're physically ill or have a medical condition, not being able to do the activity because you don't want to or can't s no excuse*

Aaron tenses up *oh...* Unable to form an answer that isn't an excuse, *idk sir..*

*I don't know won't cut it.. i know it can be hard, but you gotta give it a ago, do. You have a sport your interested in? how about football? , I saw your drawing , what's the story behind that?* Internally im screaming to find out more about Aaron,

Aaron tenses up again and looks nervous, his eyes shine with a yearning upon hearing the word football, *oh.. well... Its nothing.. really...*

I look disappointed *now now, why else would you draw yourself as a football player? Is that you want to be one?*

Aaron sighs and relaxes.. *well... It was a dream of mine.. you can say... But I was unable to join in , and I'm not a child anymore..*

My heart races , yesss.... This is perfect... The plan is working perfectly.

* a dream you say? But it doesn't matter the age , you can join in and learn to play at any time, and since you seem so interested in football, why don't I coach you? *

Suprise fills his eyes,* what? Why? But I can't.. I don't know think I could.. I'd be wasting you time*

*nonsense! I can see it in your eyes, the yearning for more.. you want it deeply don't you? I believe you can do it*

Aaron looks down in shock...*do you really think I could do it? But I've never played ... Idk where to start*

I exclaim back* and that is why I am a coach. Listen Aaron.. you got what it takes , I'm sure of to, tell me .. what is it about football do you like? What attracts you to it?*

*oh. Well .. I really want to feel like air in my hair, the breeze as I run free, the bond between teammates as forever friends, I really like the kit too, cleats mostly ..*

*that is all I need to know bud! You have the want, you have the drive ,a dream, you want this don't you? To be a football jock?, like the boys on my team, I see you look at them every pe class*

Aarons face turns red with embarrassment*oh.. .you saw that?* ...

Yes, I do want it, I want it so badly* Aaron exclaimed.

I go over to him and look him in the eyes

*Aaron, I can make your dream come true, will you let me hell you?,you don't have to worry about how hard it might be, leave that to me*

Aaron's eyes shine with hope* sure... I'll do it* he smiles.. *what do I do first?*

*that it's Aaron!* I pat his back with excitement,

*what to do first? , well , we will have to test your skills on the field, and don't worry about the kit, I've got your covered, how does tomorrow sound for a start?*

*tomorrow? Oh .. ok, , thanks coach, see you then*, Aaron leaves the office with speed*

Clearly both of them are as excited as each other

*Soon Aaron... Soon you'll be just like them... A big, dumb, horny.. obedient, football jock,* i grab my bulge and moan in excitement

_____

The next day Aaron enters my office with a pep in his step

*him here coach..*

*Aaron! Great to you see you! I've got a little surprise for you!*

In my arms is a folded kit, clean and neat, with school colours, and the cleats , shiny and fresh, an entirely new football kit! The jersey even has Aaron's name on it , emblazoned on the back,

Surprise fills his eyes, *coach... You bought me a kit? But why... This is... Too much ... So sudden*

*now come on now. I know you can it, and a jock needs his gear doesn't he?*

*me?... A jock?... *Aaron closes his eyes a bit and opens them, *I won't let you down coach... I can do this!* Eyes filled with determination

*that's the spirit Aaron!* "Sinister inner laughing. Soon Aaron... You'll become one of my jocks"

Aaron takes the kit and goes into the locker room to change, the place is a mess, stinks like sweat and axe body spray, there's kit pieces all over the floor, the smell making Aaron disoriented a bit, making his brain foggy .

I go in after he's done changing, I almost cummed right then and there, Aaron dressed up in a full kit, although he's skinny, the kit is already doing its magic slowly, his muscles bulging ever so slightly, slowly growing., Aaron's bulge seems bigger too.. the more he wants this, the quicker the transformation.

*Er... I'm done coach, how do I like*

I go slap his back in joy

*DAMN Aaron, you look like a true jock... Bet you like it don't ya?*

Aaron blushes a bit *well.... Yeah...*

I can see his visible excitement.. he might even be turned on ... This is perfect...

*now come now Aaron, we must test your skills!*I guide him to the field, watching him walk in his cleats, the echoing sound of the studs, I can see it now, his muscles are bulging more, and his eyes seem foggier, but also filled with a passion for football, his dick bulge twitches slightly too

When we get to the field, we step into the grass and Aaron turns to me.

*so coach.. watch first*

*right . Go run, kicking this ball around, dribble around those cones and dummies I set up as training, a few laps every now and then will get your stamina upp and test your hold on the ball, got it?*

Aaron nods his head *yes coach I'll try my best*

A grin wide as it can be spread on my face *good boy Aaron... Now , if you feel like quitting or don't feel like you have what it takes.. repeat these words,

I am a football jock, I am strong, I am big, i am a jock,

Got it?*

Upon hearing those words, Aaron's seems to pause and go quiet. His eyes fogged up and his muscles are getting tighter against his kit. Almost gonna rip it, if it wasn't for the fact it was made of stretch material, then he responds in a minor monotone voice*

*Yes coach.. I am a jock... I will remember*

That's when he runs off with the ball

I watch ,my dick rock hard in my pants, at the sight before me.

That young boy is growing.. his muscles are expanding , his height increasing, he's getting fast and fast on the field, he went from stumbling around to having more control with the ball.. when he stops for water I can hear the chanting under his breath, I am a jock .. I am a jock... Must... Obey...,

His dick is hard in his jock strap too..

Finally almost ready...

*there's my star player!* I pat him on the back, he's sweaty and panting, drooling slightly, *you're a natural there bro! Aren't ya?*

Aaron looks up , his eyes filled with nothing but football, coach, and cumming.

*yeaahhhh... Hiccuppp. Fuuck brah... Fuckin love beein a jock broo* he squeezes his bulge

Finally... He's ready.. he's almost under my command, he's almost a true jock...

*come now jock boy, let's get to the locker room shall we?* He obeys my command and we go to the locker room where I sit him down on a bench, with a TV, and play a Hypnotic video of players and football jocks, with text that will finish the job on his reprogramming*

*now Aaron.. stare.. listen... Obey.. stroke...* Aaron takes out his dick and starts edging to the video..

*yeahhhh brahhhh, *.he drools and leaks cum, his muscles.grow to there final form,.his legs the size of trunks and his face more defined .. his hair is cut into a short under cut haircut like rest of the guys

All that is on Aaron's mind is sex, football, jock, Cumming , and the fact he must obey..

*must obey coach brahh...*

Yesss yesss! I exclaime

*yahh. YAHH, fuck yeah brah....* He's reaching climax

*who are you boy, what are you?*

*fuck brah... I'm Aaaron, a football jock brah*

*And who do you obey*

*I obey you coach... I am a dumb, horny football jock.. I must obey you*

*yes Aaron... That's right.. you are a jock.. a big. Dumb , football

.. jock.

Cum jock. CUM

*FUCK YEAH BRAHHHHHHHH!

*jock Aaron cums rope after rope of cum, his old self leaving with it, leaving mess on the floor*

*fuck brah.. got carried away there... Fuck me.... I'm so fuckin horny bro...* Aaron flexing his muscles and puts his dick away*

*it's alright Aaron, your a jock remember, this what the team does remember?*

*oh yeah... Fuck me bro... Thanks brah... I forget a lot... And on that bro.. I have a party bro.. see you later coach !*

I watch as my new football jock Aaron leaves the locker room. I cum at the sight of him..

His dream came true... He became a big, dumb.. football... Jock

Are you next?

______

RIGHT, hi. Long time no see,

I hope you like it . I tried my best

Untill next time bros!

Bro out!

[ethernights]

Arthur Morgan Headcanons :3

he’s a killer no he’s my little pookie bear (gn! reader)

I feel like he’s super domestic - that one of his favourite things in the world is just to be at camp with you

Not even doing anything particular he just loves being around you while being safe and comfortable in camp

He most definitely loves cuddles in the mornings. He roles over in the morning and takes in your sleeping form, slowly and tentatively he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him planting soft little kisses and with his large hands tracing the lines of your back.

“Mornin’ sweetheart” he says as you stir with that handsome goofy smile he never does as often as you’d like.

You plant a soft, lazy kiss on his lips “Morning handsome”. He opens his mouth to object but you shush him and settle down into his arms.

“I don’t want to get up” you mumble into his chest. He lets out a hearty chuckle, “do ya’ want Miss Grimshaw to beat you up?”

You laugh too, “No, but i want to just say here a little longer”

“Me too love. Just a little while longer ok?”

He’s so gentle towards you, not because he thinks you’re fragile but because he’s so afraid of hurting not just you but everyone he cares about.

Is always sketching you, wether you’re looking or not. Even before you got together, he’d have just pages dedicated to you (not in the creepy way) doing the hundreds of different things you do each day.

Pretty sketches of you picking flowers with Jack, with said flowers in your hair, chopping vegetables with Pearson, carrying in kindling from the forest and cutting wood. Anything really - it’s the only drawings that he really loves to look back on, especially when he’s away from camp and missing you.

With your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you wipe the thin sheen of sweat from your forehead after chopping up some wood for camp - you spot Arthur sitting on his bed, nose in his journal sketching away. When his looks up, his pretty blue eyes meet yours- he adverts his gaze and shoves his nose back into his journal with a blush spreading over his cheeks and nose.

When he sees you walking over to him, he (not very discreetly) closes his journal and places it beside him as you sit next to him.

“What you drawing cowboy?” you smile, noticing the redness of his cheeks.

“I uh, jus’ pretty things i seen” he says avoiding your gaze.

“Can i see?” you ask as he looks a little hesitant.

“I guess-“ He says opening up his journal to his recent page.

You read your name scribbled atop of the page in his pretty cursive writing, however the charcoal drawing of you drawing the axe down into the wood makes you blush a little. The other sketches of your face and side profile make you smile - you admire the scratches of the charcoal against the page, how he captures the high points and the low points of your face.

“These are beautiful Arthur” You say, amazed with his talent.

Instinctively he goes to say some self-depreciating comment, not used to accepting praise but he sees your wide eyes and large smile. “Thank you sweetheart”

He also really likes riding with you on the same horse, in-front or behind him he doesn’t care. He loves the way you wrap your arms around him and hold onto his gun belt. Or way that you lean back into his chest while he has one hand on the reins and the other resting atop your thigh or his arm wrapped around your stomach.

Overall i think he loves physical affection - giving and receiving, it’s definitely his love language. Just holding you and admiring you is his personal definition of heaven. PDA is definitely not his thing though, he much prefers the privacy of his tent or the quietness and peace of the wilderness even if it doesn’t last long while the two of you are there.

[munson-blurbs]

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork. 

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO. 

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks. 

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride. 

“Yeah, Har?” 

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another. 

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice. 

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper. 

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication. 

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband. 

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris. 

--

[inksplotch00]

@crittercatt asked me to make a 'sketch' of how I envision the Doodlesphere, soo,,

Here it is in all its glory.!!! I imagine it to just be very.. full. Full of colour, music, texture. Life, in general. I would've added more but I got a little tired eheh,, the two doors I decided to do are the original Undertale and Something New, theres little details when you zoom in!!! Click!! CLICK IT PLS :3

I'm aslo really ivnested in the idea of the Multiverse itself, so I did a little additional diagram to how I think it all kind of connects, in a way. Also additional idea dump. Look!! ↴

It's like an onion skin essentially, and theres little bits and bobs all around.

The arrows on the left symbolise circulation between worlds, basically Ideas, Creativity and Artblock go through into the Doodlesphere, but nothing from the Doodlesphere can go into the real world. Then between the Doodlesphere and Multiverse, things like ideas and code can move between each other (code being the 'fictional' things we know, like objects and characters in the Multiverse)

I made a line to show that AUs are connected to both their base world (Undertale/Deltarune) and the Doodlesphere, but in my eyes everything is connected. That's how outcodes travel between AUs, and in rare cases the connection can be severed for places like Error404's domain, and no one can go there except him.

I also think that even though not every idea forms into an AU, Ink can still travel to most of them. I see him as more of a concept, not bound by a physical form and code. They can go anywhere, and he could even immerse himself in something such as a song or physical painting, whether you see him or not.

To add onto that, I like to think Ink and the Doodlesphere are the closest things to the Creators world, possibly alongside Error and some other outcodes. Error himself can hear the Creator's voices, but Ink directly uses their emotions to survive, he fights off their Artblocks and does their best to inspire them. He has a direct connection with the Creators, something not many characters have. I think that's really interesting.

Phew

I'll probably make an entire seperate post on all my ideas about Ink and the Doodlesphere at some point

Ink⭒Comyet

[zomb-rabbit]

Rubbing my hands together evily again

Wondering if I could make another request of it's alright

Tim, Brian, and Evan (I have favorites hehe) with a gn or Afab s/o whos an artist and sees them as a muse

(could be sfw could be nsfw whatevers more fun)

Tyty and your works are great :3!!

-🐟

hi !! glad to see you're taking requests for evan :) I was wondering if you could do some hcs for Evan with a reader who draws/sketches a bunch?? like they always use evan for inspo in drawings and they draw things they do in their relationship?? maybe something about how evan catches them looking and drawing him when they think he's not looking.. and maybe if you'd like you could include habit and his reaction to it as well.. I hope this makes sense and isn't too much!! if it is feel free to ignore 🫶

i decided to combine these two just to make it easier for navigation and all that, i hope that's okay !! thank you both soso much :) <333

🚬📹☠️🐇 Tim Wright / Brian Thomas / Evan Myers / HABIT x artist!reader

· · ·

Tim :

listen

he hates to pry. he really does.

but he wants to see EVERYTHING

he's trying to sneak peaks going behind the couch when your drawing in the living room, oh-so-conveniently needing to be in your guys' room when you're working on something at your desk- he thinks he's being very covert

he's an awkward and easily embarrassed man, he doesn't think to just ask to see no matter how many times you tell him he can

he is thoroughly thrown through a loop when he sees you drawing him

he has some. not great self esteem regarding all of the things he's been through and been told, and he has good reason to be anxious about most things- especially someone important leaving him

him getting reassurance that you actually do like how he looks and that you love him so much he's stuck in your mind when he's gone means so, so much more than he could ever comfortably express.

he does try to, though

through embarrassed and deeper mumbled praise, some red tinted cheeks and his finger nervously rubbing at the edge of the page

he asks if he can keep a smaller doodle on him :)

Brian :

YOUR !! BIGGEST !!! SUPPORTER !!!!

he's hyping you up however he knows possible

he was a theater and film kid, there's no way he didn't meet a couple art kids in there

he'll get a real good look at whatever it is you show him before he points out things like the shading in a particular area looks really good, the line art flows really well, things like that

as a former (short term lol) actor, he knows how frustrating it can be to just hear a "that looks great!" when you've worked really hard on something

if you draw HIM?? he's beyond flattered

and a little taken aback by how much you remember of him

Brian's big on trying to figure out other people, understand what makes them the way they are, what they're gonna do- so much so i think that he can forget how much other people soak him in, too

so when you showcase all of your focus and love for him through your art, it fixes up his worldview a little bit

he has a big burst of that "this is why i love you" feeling and he looks at you with the biggest dopiest smile

if you let him keep any of the work you do he'll try to find a way to keep at least one of them on him at all times

in his wallet, phone case, jean pocket, something like that

he just wants a little bit of you wherever he goes :)

Evan :

HE LOVES IT SO MUCH

little doodles on the grocery list, scribbles on the corner of a reminders list, drawing on his hand when you get bored; you name it and he's gonna cherish it

he thinks it's the cutest thing when you think he can't see you looking up at him every now and then while you're buried in your sketchbook across the couch

you have an entire page that's getting decorated with scattered snapshots of your life together

the two of you with your foreheads pressed together laughing at each other from when he was trying to butter you up to try and get you to go to a specific place for dinner, how he looked at you when you cut your finger making lunch and he decided he hand to kiss all over your hand for good measure- so many small moments that meant the world in both of your hearts and, eventually, you end up wanting to show him what you've been working on

and he may or may not have gotten a little bit very emotional about it

you just mean so much to him

this poor man has been through and lost so much

he's so grateful for you, and to know that you're so grateful for him as well? and enough to cherish the same moments he does and immortalize the two of you like that? he's gone

HABIT :

NOOOSSSSYYYYYYYYYY BASTARD

you couldn't hide a crumb from him

he's known you've been drawing him since the first time you did it because he is a little SPY

he can be so quiet when he feels like it, and he wants to see eeeeverything you draw

the process intrigues him

if he caught you looking up and back down to your sketchbook at him, i can see him doing two things

going over and seeing how the drawing looks already because he wants to know what you think he looks like

OR rapidly switching positions for you to draw him in, "is this my good side? make sure you get my face. can you draw me with blood? i want blood-"

he is very proud to be your muse, though

he'll hang up any finished pieces you let him have

[pervcoded]

DOG-EARED AND DOUBTFUL starring yuuji itadori. part iii.

──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: amab!reader (referred to as a boy), canon divergent, college au (18+ characters) inside of the hybridverse. artist!reader, sukuna is related to yuuji. awkward meet-cute, but yuuji is implied to be (and is) slightly unhinged. reader is human and yuuji is a doberman hybrid. fluffy, safe for work-ish. nude modelling. bashful , sorta pushover reader. reader has a stutter. invasion of privacy (yuuji goes through your sketchpad and gets comfortable fast). british use of trousers (pants) and pants (underwear). scent stuff going on, yuuji has a good nose. yuuji is sorta feral and reader's not in a position to (nor does he quite want to) argue. mdni! reblogs and comments appreciated!

wc: 4.2 words.

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment. One more page wouldn’t hurt.

You’re just like any other boy in class, really. Maybe the round ears and lack of fur are a bit of a weird look, but Yuuji wasn’t popular when he first transferred to the university either - and some change is always good, he thinks.

“And your tongue—is it really that small?” Someone had asked on your first day in, your classmates ogling your skin, analyzing its novel texture. You’re good at acting nonchalant when you’re placed on the spot. Tone even, eyes level, posture loose and relaxed as you fold your arm over the back of your chair. You’re smarter than they’d ever give you credit for—laughed along with their jibes so they wouldn’t see how gently you swayed. Trembled. The claws of some touchy Wolverine mutt glancing at your collarbones, and you laughed it off, never once minding the sweat cascading down the apex of your temple.

But your scent is disloyal to you. He never thought to mention it. The sour notes of tangerine, key lime, crescendo in the spot where you stand, a heady cocktail of anxiety and embarrassment and horror. 

You’re quite popular for a human, however. Maybe that was your conventional appeal. Or rather stood next to them you stick out like a sore thumb, and that makes you far more interesting—purely by virtue of your association. But Yuuji likes to think you have your own redeeming qualities too. You’re an artsy type. Try and spend a lot of time by yourself if you can manage, but your peers seem intent on laywaying your silence; coveting your time like shiny trinkets in a magpie’s nest.

Still, you’re nice to him. 

You remember his name. Say “Itadori, hi,” and give him a solemn nod before going on your way. You give him your leftovers you don’t want if your class schedules happen to line up that day. You share your notes from Anthropology, and sketch him in the margins of your notebook on the days you can’t focus.

The patience of hybrids doesn’t often extend to their own kind, and Yuuji’s felt terribly lonely since his grandfather passed - what with his uncle not being much in the way of making conversation. But you’re easy to talk to.

“Ah, Itadori, can you come here?”  His tail wags a little at the acknowledgement, but if you notice you failed to comment. “Uh, yeah? What’d you want? I’m a little busy right now, so,” He smiles half-heartedly, suddenly a little uncomfortable to be seen with you like this. You move your stuff away from where you want him to sit at the table, and his eyes are acutely drawn to each movement of your hands. Gathering up runaway pencils, stacking textbooks. “You can call me Yuuji, by the way. I don’t mind.”

Your face lights up at that, and you tell him your name in kind. He tries it. Once for his pleasure. Again to make sure he got it right. He looks back down at the now emptied table, though he doesn’t go to take a seat.

Your lunch is sparse. Two pieces of bread with peanut butter and something else sandwiched in the middle. A browning apple eaten to the core. He thinks about mimicking the impressions of your teeth.

“Ah, well, I know we don’t talk and um - I’m still kinda new here and - please, you can sit,” Your hand fans out to gesture at the chair in front of you, and Yuuji settles into it uneasily. He can smell you’re afraid of something.

“Yuuji…” You tap your pencil on something he can’t see, draped over your thigh. “I.. wanted to draw you.” Yuuji tilts his head, finger absently reaching towards his chin. “Me?” “Yeah. It’s for an art assignment. We’re practicing portraits.” Your smile is disarmingly charming. “If it was okay with you, I wanted to see if… we could find some time to—y’know. Have you model for me.” Yuuji doesn’t let himself get excited so quickly, the hair on his forearm bristling a bit as he digs his nails into his thigh. Keep it from bouncing. “Okay. Yeah. Sure - that’s fine. I’d love to.” Yuuji sounds like he’s speaking through grit teeth, but his expression doesn’t expose anything other than slight apprehension. You sigh, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders. “Oh! Okay!” You try not to sound too happy about it, but a smile keeps weaseling onto your face. “Okay so, we’d have to book one of the art rooms, but that shouldn’t be too hard—nobody really lingers around after class. Lucky us, right?” You’re fishing your phone out of your pocket, and Yuuji nearly forgets to grab it with his unbloodied hand.

“Here. Add your number, take a photo if you’d like.” You’re teasing, but Yuuji never was good with sarcasm. He smiles big and wide for it, pointed teeth all in the front row. 

He saves his name as ‘Yuuji 😎’, and hands your tech back to you. You send a quick ‘hey’ to make sure you got the right number. When his pocket rumbles he’s off no later, barely waving goodbye as he leaves you to your own devices.  

You text out the details later. Tomorrow, at 7:00. 

He gets there at 6:56 on the dot. Campus has been largely deserted this time of day, and the few stragglers left, student and faculty, each flock to their club space or the odd, afterhour meeting. You’re all set up by the time he’s there. You’re well-prepared, graphites and eraser shavings finding a home on the floor around you. Sticks of pastels lie short and chipped on the easels mantle, your fingertips already blackened by charcoal. This wing is new to him, but the hallways look just like this rooms walls. Student made murals scaling taller than him, ferals unfurling across the unorthodox canvas; a magnificent sky. Ceramic busts settle atop storage cabinets; baked and glazed vases filled with paper flowers, tucked into empty corners. Paintings hung to dry. Thick ink stains as he sidesteps a rolling chalkboard, gently pushing it to the side.

You glanced up when the door opened, but it was more reflexive than comprehending. You saw him, then looked back at the canvas, focused. Only when he nearly stumbles do you look back up again, and you’re smiling really wide. You wave excitedly. “Hey Yuuji!” His ear twitches near imperceptably, tail high and wagging. “Hey.” He’s decent at acting, if you think he’s faking casual you don’t mention it, just gesture to the seat beside you. The chair you saved for him has tall legs and a strong, straight back; perfect for a model.

“Well, you can take this chair when you’re ready,” he’s taking a peak at the easel sat in front of you, identical setups matching yours haphazardly set up around a squat stage in the center of the room.

Your sketchpage: marked with vague gestures and dancing, people-like shapes. You’ve been practicing. You absently tug at your collar at the lack of distance between you two (forgot you were using charcoal, so you quickly stop) and a strange aura radiates from you, the smell of frayed nerves stinging his nose. His tail lulls in its movement, a tad disappointed you weren’t as comfortable with him as he thought you were.

“For a portrait, you being closer is ideal, so we don’t h..have to use the stage. I’ll just do my thing over here and… Oh! I brought some water and um, snacks.” You tilt your head in a familiar, curious motion, ”You like shrimp chips?” 

He shrugs at you and smiles. “They’re okay.” He’s flattered you considered him, mostly. He really did like that about you humans, such soft and compassionate creatures; moreso than any of the hybrids he knew. Where they-mournfully, himself included-took a unique pleasure in watching another squirm, your kind wasn’t like that at all, were they? Perhaps an underdeveloped survival mechanism. A tail to tuck in the presence of a predator’s bared fangs. Regardless, your grin crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes his heart soar, your anxiety easing out as you stand from your seat, revealing your true smell. Heat and sweet and pastry-light; a creme bruele after the top has been carefully cracked open. Tickles his cheeks pink.

“So, how long you been doing this art stuff for anyway?” You seem startled by the ask and pause before you answer, probably not used to being asked about your interests by the other hybrids. “Years now. E..ever since I was a kid I always liked art, drawing-” You curse as something rolls out of your bag and say sorry to nothing and no one. “Drawing, traditional, digitally. I was thinking about going into graphic design! - I’m still technically undecided, but I love art… It just calls to me, you know?” Oh, he has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. But he hums in the affirmative and reckons now’s a good a time as any to check. Take a peek through your lens and see the shape of your artisan mind. An artist’s sketchpad to him seemed the appropriate equivalent to their soul; so he takes the opportunity to flip through the pages on your drawing pad. 

He’s admittedly expecting something grander. Maybe the inside of an old world colosseum or perhaps something abstract and profound, the kind of things disheartened schoolchildren write essays about; A Great Wave or Thinking Man, befitting of the brand of mystery he’d superimposed on you. Nothing suitably miraculous happens. The task merely becomes more intimate by virtue of your artistic repertoire. Surely, not the fault of his plain nosiness.

All flesh upon the paper is laid entirely bare. Inscriptions of bodies wrap around the canvas from the top to the very bottom like the prayers in a holy book. Any free tarp is not spared, a bared torso and breast here, the sole of a foot en point over there. Largely unfinished yet tangible, beginnings and inbetweens and many more ends; scores of tails, teeth, tongue and claws. “Oh, wow.” You’re still digging through your bag so you don’t mind him, preoccupied second guessing kneaded erasers and rags to wipe your creativity off on.

To describe your work as a product of mere fascination would be a woefully inaccurate assessment. Not a proper acknowledgement of your time, effort, sweat, (more than a few smudges in the graphite, a whiff of salt that sticks out above the rest) and conviction. 

There’s quick notes scribbled between poses and observations, some names - none of which he immediately recognizes, but makes his head fog with some vague posessiveness regardless. Jealousy maybe. He doesn’t linger on it, instead flipping to the next page. Bodies more and more bodies, some without heads; long torsos; hips; thighs and legs and asses,

Lips, mouth wide open, teeth and tongue presenting. There’s a notable lack of vulgarity to the images. A seemingly clinical observation of how the parts move, some independent of the others; but when it all comes together…

It’s beautiful, truly. Yuuji is admittedly philistine in his artistic taste, never had a muse for it; but he finds himself wholly appreciative of the opportunity to become yours- even if it’s only for the evening. He can’t control the way his tail wags, heart pattering quicker in his chest as the excitement overrides his previously projected aloofness, his hands moving faster than his mind in that moment.

One more page wouldn’t hurt. (It’s just admiration he’d say, when the real reason he’s so riled up is because he’d been hoping for this moment; all his anxieties of pursuing you assuaged by your apparent obsession for him- er- hybrids like him—can’t get ahead of himself just yet—) His fingers move with deft purpose. 

You come back with a whole bag of stuff; chips, ramune, what smells like pocky, but he’s not looking towards you as you return. Surely, you think, a blank page can’t be that interesting, and you’re right; that’s not what he’s staring at. 

He’s found your page.

Your life drawing class encourages you to practice still lifes in your free time. There aren’t many hybrids tripping over themselves to be ogled by a human - some models even abject to posing in the room while you’re there - so when the opportunity presented itself to observe something more than a picture, someone else, removed from your wheedling peers, obviously you lept for it. 

You’d grown tired of drawing yourself.

“Ah, Yuuji-” Your inhale quick and sudden, the sharp clatter of a glass bottle twitching him out of his stupor. You stiffen up when he looks back at you despite his brevity (because he is just fascinated with your canvas all the sudden), your hands flapping anxiously as you step close, you’d collapse in on yourself if you had the option. “Um wait, please! That’s private!”

You are deeply gifted. He doesn’t have to stare it like he did the other ones cause he recognizes it as you so immediately. (Letting his eyes wander all those times seems to have payed off). Recognizes the arch and swell of your muscles, the slope of your back and the softness of the dimples in your hips, the gentle curve of your -

A hand darts over the artistic nudity before he can fully commit it to memory, and you shout: “Yuuji! I got the snacks, okay? Just- we can get started now,” He can’t read the expression on your face as you reset your canvas and flip to a blank page. He desperately tries to meet your eye; but your gaze is leagues away. An inkling of some base, carnal attraction blooms in his chest; your unwitting submission appealing to some feral hindbrain before he recalls your humanity, disappointingly gentle emotions and sensibilities. 

He feels sad for you after though it only lasts a moment, his tail drooping pathetically and eyes sagging similarly as the compunction grapples him; and in a frenzied moment of attempting to sooth your shame (smells dull and salty like wood grain) he gets a good idea. According to his standard, anyway. He smiles at you and pants a little. His finger is digging into his collar at an angle, tugging up; in demonstration.

“If you want me to get naked, I really wouldn’t mind!” His whip tail thud-thuds into your easel. “Excuse me?” You initially abject, dumbfounded. Your face feels warm and your skin tingles, the blood in your cheeks stinging it darker, body tensing up. “W-why would you..? I..I wouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. I-it’s a, well - Portraits are mostly sup..supposed to be your face, so, getting naked? Really not necessary,” 

He’s already taking his sweater off. “Yuuji, please.” His tail wags a little when you whimper and he has a mind to admonish himself for taking pleasure in such a thing.

“It’s fine, really!” Sounds so easy for him to say, when you’re on the verge of an aneurysm. “I was reading a little about it-” (and hardly did he ever read), “-and apparently, portraits can be half, or full bodies. Well, you’d probably know that better than me anyway.” His voice is dampened by the fabric, but you’re too dazed to notice he said anything. Everything is happening too fast.

He kicks off his shoes and drops trou in your choked silence, your hands tremble as dread wars in your mind and you remain uncertain of where to put them. Nevermind your eyes. The thought of trying to stop him warrs with the concept that having to touch him, see him, will surely kill you. “You seem to draw a lot of hybrids- so I assume you’re already used to seeing us naked? Though I didn’t see a lot of dogs in there…”

The room kicks up a few degrees and your blood simmers beneath your skin, your boundaries bent and bowed as you struggle to figure what happens next. Your shirt feels too, too tight. His is starting to come off. The slow drag of cotton across his body is amplified by the emptiness of the space, at a pace entirely too casual for an impromptu strip tease. “But there’s nothing wrong with trying something new every once in a while, y’know?”  He stumbles a little when it’s past his shoulders, self consciously fixing his hair after he’s gotten it slung over his arm. 

As if he has anything to be nervous about. He looks at you triumphantly when he’s finished (pants regretfully still on), and he wishes you couldn’t meet his eyes this time; get a good eyeful of how excited he is for you. In what must be respectful to you, you catch his gaze this time, with these big round prey eyes that makes the fur on the back of his arms bristle in the studio’s cool air. A vein in his throat jumps and his pupils dilate, but (too) soon you turn away.

You’ve seated yourself back on your chair and fixed up the workspace, though he has a hard time gauging this new expression on your face. Maybe apprehensive, again? Bashful? You chew your lip with this insistence, bruising the delicate skin there. Your hands move with opposed intention; flattening out the canvas and arming yourself with graphite.  “O-kay. Y..you can.. Make yourself comfortable I guess..” He can still smell you, too.

This scent is new. Near cloying and knitting to the inside of his nose as it pours off of you, slight, topping off that twinge of orange peel and grapefruit. 

“Okay!” He brusquely shoves past your apprehensions; looking mighty pleased with himself-the dog-the muse’s chair dragging agonizingly against the floor as he goes to set it in place. You do nothing at first. He is seated within seconds and after your hand suddenly is no longer your own, flexed potential in every muscle put to pause in the air, your brows furrowing in newfound frustration.

You don’t look at him, still. Yuuji’s triumph of domination having past, he finds the selfish desire to be observed and admired comes gnawing back to him. He doesn’t want to push you (so he says while shoving you) but he really is going all out. He’d like some of that signature human hospitality back, pretty please? He leans closer. 

You get infinitely stiffer and he whimpers. An honest to god beaten doggy whine, and your shock is what finally gets you to look up. He’s far more relaxed than you at present, pouting expression at odds with his slouched posture and occasional pant. His floppy ears tilt open and he momentarily mirrors your wide-eyed wonder. “Finally,” he chirps. ”I was starting to think we weren’t actually friends!” You scoff, still staring saucer-eyed. Your eyebrows go up and down and up, your forehead wrinkles. “You ge-get naked for all your f..friends?” The incredulous twang to your voice wants to read to him like jealousy, but projection is a fickle thing.

Yuuji  genuinely thinks about your question, further astounding you. “Well. I guess only for the ones I really like.” The statement is made sincerely, the smile accompanying it darling, and could have perhaps romanticized the situation had you not been a sane-minded human man. The warmth in your face has turned to fire hot heat and you sputter on your words. “I’m fl..flattered. But humans? Don’t do t..this,” you attempt to gesture to the entire situation, “With their friends! This is, frankly, too, too-” You stutter into nothing, the thought dying on your tongue. “Too what? I mean, you don’t smell like you hate it,” he sniffs. “My nose is pretty good! If you-” you dislike the way he stresses the syllable, like you’re special some how, “-were scared, I’d smell that miles away. You have a very strong scent you know? It’s not a bad thing though, don’t worry! At least, it isn’t for me anyway. It makes you feel more.. Genuine.” He hums matter-of-factly, your pencil beginning to tremble above the page. “But aren..aren’t you cold? Or-or something? It’s always freezing-freezing in here!” Yuuji shrugs, ”Aw, it’s no worries really. I sorta run hot, so,”

You knew a lot of things about hybrids. About their keen noses, most gifted with perceptive capabilities beyond that of your kind. Still it feels no better to hear that for despite your subtlety, you never had a chance to evade their prying eyes. You sigh with a shake of your shoulders, and Yuuji takes your silence as an excuse to move closer. “Hey, don’t worry. What’d I say about new things?” You don’t feel terribly reassured, but you nod along for your own sake. “You got an assignment due, don’t you? Just focus on that. Forget Yuuji, focus on capturing..” “The form.” You finish. Yuuji would have said ‘these guns’, but shrugs. “Yeah, that.”

You look at him again, but only now do you truly perceive him, resigned yourself to capturing his image and replacing the blankness on your canvas. Your gaze is sharp and surgical, your pencil connecting with the paper as you change focus between him and it. Him, his infuriatingly cheeky grin and easy-going eyes and loose limbs. This body worthy of envy. Laid bare for you to wrangle and tame, reduce to your second dimension.

You begin to draw.

Yuuji sits in a silence punctuated by the sounds of your scribbles. Upwards stroke, down again; quick curving motions. Stare right at him, into the depths of his soul. Turn away, and sketch some more.

It’s a lot more boring than he’d imagined it. He is very excited you have your eyes on him; don’t get him wrong, but your stare doesn’t possess any of the fullbodied fascination, like he has for you. He almost wished he could give you his nose just so you could smell his pheremones, or his eyes, so you could catch every little jump of his muscles or twitch of the tail. He’d refrain for a few selfish reasons; Your changes in mood. The straightening of your spine and the twitching of your eye after you got a rhythm going. You ditch the graphite, go for the charcoal, and make some bigger shapes, Strikes some fine lines. Stillness comes simply to him, studying you as intently as you are him. 

Your movements slow to an inevitable stop after a time, “Okay…” You stare stonily at your canvas. Briefly compare in silence. “I… think I’m finished.” You don’t move away, seemingly taken by your own creation.

He shoots up from his seat and moves close. “You’re no..not gonna put your c..clothes back on?” He looks down at you with his head at an angle, suddenly peered over your shoulder. “You want me to?” Your silence is loud. “Okay then.” He smiles, finally taking a look at your drawing.

The expression you gave him is burrowing and severe. An intense glower that catches even him off guard. An unbidden hunger beneath his eyes accentuated by whisps of charcoal, a pinprick of yellow nestled into his irises. He is in both awe of it and horrified that is how you saw him. How he truly was. You define the slant of his collarbones after the fact, rounding out the muscle of his pecs. You sketch and erase, sketch and erase under his curious eye, sketch. Your palette grows. Swirled into colorless grey by your finger, pencil replaced by your finger. You draw without a model, so he no longer sees the point in teasing you with his nudity. Forgive him for expecting something more dramatic- he’s been reading too much manga, surely…

He gets dressed slow and gets as close as possible to your face whenever he has a question. 

“Is art always this boring?” He whispers close to your ear and you shiver. “M..maybe if you’re not the one…the one drawing. This.. I-I’m having fun, actually.” He tuts at you, “You need to teach me how to draw then. Next time when we do this, I can take a crack at drawing you!” His clawed finger crawls down your shoulder, you sweat a little under his attentions. 

“Y..yeah,” you swallow. “Maybe..” He smiles cooly as he eases back into the seat opposite you. “I just don’t think it’s fair you get to have the fun all to yourself, y’know?” You shoot him a look, lip pursed. “A-a lot more people would be more … excited about getting a free portrait.”

“Well, a lot more people would be more excited about getting to see me half naked.” Practically naked, to be a precise as possible. Your exasperation beats out your nervousness and you’re no longer afraid to set your brows with attitude, scoffing in irritation. Like he knows how you feel. The sheer restraint you’re exercising. How adamantly you will not allow this to get out of hand; you will not allow yourself to do something you'll regret- “G..get them to draw you, then!”

“Nah.” He drags his chair closer, but it’s not casual like before. Now the oxygen feels stuffier. Hotness that makes the air thicken and drag you down, a heat that blazes too close to your ears and seemingly makes the air tremble before you. You look toward him, not knowing what to expect (but twitching, aching for it). 

His tongue runs over his canines in a raw, animalistic fashion, the deep pools of his amber eyes threatening to drown you beneath their surface. “I don’t like them nearly as much.”

all content written by me @pervcoded is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

[luvrsux]

“Bubble Bath”

word count: 3k

summary: luffy has been cracking attention while you’re preoccupied with work. after you promise you’ll spend time with him, he evades your bath time for quality time

cw: nsfw!! bath sex, creampie, clinginess, riding

a/n: i don’t plan on making much luffy x readers because i have a strong headcanon that he’s aroace, sorry :(( </3

“I see an island up ahead!”

The long nosed, afro haired boy said from up top with binoculars cupping his eyes. Everyone relaxing on the infamous Thousand Sunny began to abruptly scurry to the front deck to view the piece of land gradually increasing size.

“Alright! We’ll stock up on supplies. I’m not sure how long the log pose will shift, hopefully nothing long”

The orange haired navigator instructed, who received a bundle of loving compliments by the chef. Everyone went back to their own business, excluding the you and the captain.

The captain just stayed on top of Sunny enjoying the breeze of the sea, like he usually does. Hearing there was an island up ahead, as well as seeing it first hand, had his nerves rocket in the air of excitement. The sound of his sandals making contact with the ships mascot could be heard as he stood up straight. He spun his head left and right, like he was on the search for something. He groaned upon seeing nothing he was looking for.

“What’s up now, Luffy?” Usopp says, hopping down from the lookout up top. He placed his hands on his hips as he saw Luffy sluggishly and dramatically plopped on the floor.

“Where’s (F/N)?” He extended his words like a child, which was nothing new. Usopp exhaled, growing tired of his constant childish behavior over you.

Meanwhile, you were scribbling into a book about a previous island you docked at. You became the Strawhats Journalist not long ago, so you’d document each and every important thing that you discovered on each island. The previous island you had stayed at lasted a long while and was filled with things you’ve never seen before. That was the pure magic of being a pirate in the Grand Line. No one disturbed you, except Sanji who’d occasionally give you a loving drink or snack.

You’d been in a rather intimate relationship with the Strawhats Captain for a little while now, and people were growing tired of Luffy’s clinginess. He’d often wrap his rubber arms around your body and spew out that iconic giggle into your ear. You appreciated his love for you, but it’d sometimes get in the way of your work as a journalist.

“(F/N), your boyfriend won’t shut up about you” Usopp bursted through the door. The snap of it made your body flinch, causing a minor hiccup in your work. You grumbled at the messed up ink in your sketch.

“Yeah, got it” You huffed, not really worrying about Luffy’s attachment and more about your work. If you hadn’t poured this down on this paper, you were bound to forget.

“We’re also about to dock at an island in about an hour or so” Usopp continued. You placed your pen down and finally looked at him.

“Already? I’m not even done journaling about the previous island” You sighed, knowing all your time was consumed by giving your dumbfounded boyfriend attention.

“I’d blame Luffy” You sighed in defeat at Usopp’s correct words. You hated every moment of doing it, but you rushed to write and sketch the last few pieces of data before you went adventuring on the newfound island.

“(F/NNNNNNN)! C’mon!” Luffy wrapped his gum-gum arms around your own while you were ready to leave the ship. You tried breaking free of his locked-on grasp but no avail.

“Luffy, I need to buy some things and write some things down. I’m kind of behind” You lecture. Luffy just responded with a dramatically sad expression. Those puppy-dog eyes were always your ultimate weakness. You placed your soft lips on his forehead with a smile.

“I promise, when I’m done we can spend all the time you want” You cooed. Luffy practically had sparkles in his eyes when he detached his uncanny arms off of you. He jumped high in the air in excitement.

“Ya-hoo! I’ll see ya back on the ship!” He planted an eager kiss on your cheek before springing off the ship and collapsing onto a green haired swordsman. You heard Zoro grunt and shake a fist at the laughing rubber boy, which made you giggle.

You strolled alongside the ship’s archaeologists, Nico Robin, since you both shared similar ambitions. You made sure to go to the towns small shopping center where you could buy more ink and blank books. After your small shopping spree, which was vastly different from Nami’s, you sat on a cliff secluded by trees to finish your journaling.

The view wasn’t far from where the Sunny was docked, so you’d be able to see your fellow crew members approach the ship for regrouping. Your stomach laid on the rather soft, prickly grass and you fluently grazed the tip of your pen along the cream colored paper. The temperature of the island was more on the hotter side, and you were slowly regretting on wearing a longer sleeved shirt. The breeze helped the heat, though. You’d feel the air graze through your hair and scalp every few moments.

After about an hour or so, you finally wrote down everything you wanted to for the day. To your luck, a whiff of fresh barbecue filled your lungs. You immediately knew who’d be burning up on a grill at this hour and poked your head to the window of the cliff. You saw the blonde frying up skewers and other selections of meat right by the sunny.

Luffy was dancing around with the tiny reindeer doctor, and you couldn’t help but smile at his cuteness. Robin and Nami sat beautifully under an umbrella sharing a glass. Zoro was laying under a palm tree, snoring away into his deep slumber. Brook was filling your ears of elegant music like he’d usually do. Franky and Usopp were absent, which could mean they were doing their workshop duties right in the sunny beside the group.

You finally got up from your ground seat and stretched your tensed body. You felt lingering feeling on your knees and chest. Upon looking down, you were completely covered in grass and minor spots of dirt. You groaned, but this was entirely expected.

“I have to wash up before I eat”

You trotted your feet down the hill to make your way back to the sunny. You internally thanked yourself for not having Zoro’s awful sense of direction since the hill was a bit far from the group. While walking, you tried flicking off lingering strands of grass and flower petals, now only left in small patches of dirt around your clothes and body. The group immediately greeted you as soon as your feet landed on the sand they relaxed on.

“(F/N), my dear! Would you like your plate now?” Sanji said with practical hearts in his eyes. You immediately shook your head no.

“Not right now, Sanji. I need to wash up” You smiled. You could hear him sheepishly agree behind you, like the lover boy he was. As soon as you were ready to enter the Sunny, a scruffy, now shirtless, boy slid right in front of you in your tracks.

“Hey! You said we’d spend some time” He crossed his arms with a playful angry expression plastered on his face.

“We will, Luffy. But I’m covered in dirt, I need a bath, honey” You nervously giggled. He let out a loud groan that alerted the entire group. It only made you giggle. With a chaste kiss on his sad lips, you finally made your way back onto the ship.

Nothing but relief flooded your body as soon as you entered the bath house. You began flooding the massive bathtub with steaming water and poured in a tad of soap for fragrance. You saw the bubbles beginning to form above the surface of the warm water while you stripped your body naked.

You exhaled upon sinking your feet in first before slowly lowering your entire body into the body of warm, relaxing water. You rested your back against the wall of bath and shut your eyes. Your sense of tranquility was taking over your body by the sudden relaxation of the single bath tub. Your moment of relaxation was disturbed by sudden footsteps coming towards the bathhouses door.

“Hm?”

You hummed. The person didn’t have the curtsy to knock, but then again that was completely normal for the man himself. You shrieked, immediately placing a hand on your expose chest to censor it. Your body relaxed when you realized it was none other than your clingy boyfriend wanting attention.

“Luffy! I’m bathing right now” You scolded. He didn’t hesitate to throw off his shorts and jump into the water next to you, making a bit of a mess on the ground.

“I’m ya boyfriend right? I can do this” He smiled brightly, swimming his body up to yours. Your face was complete red from seeing his nude body for the first time. You then realized you were dating a boy with zero shame.

“Okay? But I’m in the middle of washing myself. I told you we can spend time when I’m finished” You scolded, jerking your body the opposite way. Luffy pouted and leaned his body closer to yours. His naked body so close to you made your face blush.

“That’s too long!”

His face was dangerously close to yours and he seemed completely oblivious to it. You still had your arm cover your exposed chest and your legs tightly closed together. He had a beaming smile.

“I really missed ya” He placed his hands on your hips to slide you onto his lap. You could feel his length graze against your slit and you hitched your breath. You grazed your hand on the pale, smooth skin that marked an ‘X’ on his toned chest.

“Luffy, I’m bathing though-“

“So? I can help”

He giggled, lathering the upper half of your body with the lingering soap. He started at your arms and back. You felt goosebumps from along your body by his touch on your bare body. Your arms didn’t disconnect from your chest. There was no point in objecting or pushing him away since Luffy was the most stubborn person you’ve ever met. You exhaled and let Luffy explore his needy hands around your bare body. You appreciated the kind efforts, though.

Luffy trailed his hands to your locked arms and trailed his midnight eyes up at your flustered expression. He had half lidded eyes that spoke to you. He wanted you to remove what’s covering what he wanted to touch.

“C’monnn… I need to finish” He tugged on your arms. You hesitated, but you eventually separated your arms to reveal your bare breasts. Luffy’s cheeks flared up and you could feel his member harden below you. You whimpered at the slight feeling of it.

He lathered the soap over your chest, but more slower than he did compared to the rest of your body. You let out a soft whimper that only he could hear. The sound only driven him more. He cupped both of them into his hands to throughly massage them. His movement made more simple, soft noises to come out your lips. Luffy didn’t stop. He had no intentions in helping you clean yourself anymore from the sudden distraction of your breasts.

You slithered a hand through his shaggy black hair. The feeling caused a rumble out of his chest. You gave it a slight tug, which was a single trigger for Luffy to trail his lips on your neck. He left marks upon marks on it, a new way to publicly display your relationship like he always does.

“L-Luffy…~”

You mewl out his name. At this point, his member was rock hard and eager to feel your walls wrap around him tightly for the first time. He growled, sexually frustrated by the immense teasing.

“I need ya, (F/N)…” His needy voice sent shivers down your spine. Those words made your arms wrap around his neck to elevate your body.

“You’re so needy, Luffy…”

You sunk a hand into the water to guide his member to your submerged entrance, that was still hot and ready for him. He shivered at your sudden touch and began quicken his breathing upon feeling your sleek entrance.

As soon as you felt the tip in your cave, you slowly sunk your body to succumb each inch inside of you. You heard Luffy hiss at the feeling of your walls wrap around his member. Arms wrapped around your waist once you took him whole. You were both heavily breathing.

“Ya feel sooooo good, baby” Luffy said with a devilish smile and those same half lidded eyes. You whimper, not expecting the long length but you remember he can stretch anything and everything on his rubber body.

He gripped your lower bottom and guided your body up and down on his shaft, receiving a pleasured exhale from the guy himself. You followed his rhythm at a decent speed before he stopped moving his hands for you. You bounced on his lap, his tip softly kissing your cervix.

The water in the tub began to create small waves of your momentum. Some began to slowly splash out of the tub itself, but two could care less. Your lungs began to fill in with the steam from the bath with every heavy inhale and exhale. You rested your forehead against your lovers, staring deep within his eyes while you lovingly made him feel good. His eyes were droopy and washed with lust.

Your pace was still slow. Luffy groaned and gripped your thighs tenderly. He cocked his head to the side to connect his lips on yours. The passionate, yet sloppy, kiss made your pace quicken and grow rougher. You heard Luffy release a shaky groan.

“Jus’ like that…” He breathed between your lips. You hummed at his words, understanding each word.

You kept a slow pace, nothing crazy for your first sexual experience with Luffy. You figured he was a simple guy that preferred simple pleasure, but his sexually frustrated demeanor said otherwise. He looked eager or antsy as his hands gripped and tugged on the fate of your thighs. You heard his chest rumble.

You felt Luffy buck his hips into you with force, sending a shockwave in your body when you felt his member crash against your cervix instead of the light kisses. You threw your head back and let out a hearty moan. Your reaction made Luffy only do the same movement more, hitting your sensitive spot with ease.

“Nnggaah~!!”

You bounced your body to reciprocate his force and increased your speed dramatically. Luffy’s eyes were hypnotized by the jumping motion of your breasts. He was stuck in a gaze, his brain completely going blank by your body. All he could do was recklessly groan and inconsistently breathe.

“Damn..~ I th- mmmph~ I think m’gonna cum soon” He breathed out. Your thrown back head pulled forward to rest in the crook of his neck. Your teeth sunk into the skin of his neck, muffling your moans. Luffy gritted his teeth in frustration.

Not even a few seconds in your new position, you felt a hand yank you by your damp hair and saw eyes staring deep into your soul.

“No, I wanna hear ya loud and clear”

He began to take control of your movement, forcefully and recklessly slamming inside of you. His change in force made the room full of your messy moans. You’d think the water would dull down his energy but the way he was forcefully plunging into you said otherwise. Luffy let go of your hair and had his hands completely occupied with slamming your body down onto him. A menacing smile grew on his face while he chuckled through his thirsty moans.

“L-Luffy~! M’gonna-!”

“Do it. C’mon, do it, yeah?”

Luffy growled before sloppily placing his lips against yours, ramming into you so you can feel the rush of your climax to its fullest potential. You dug your nails into his broad shoulders, sending chills down his body.

You grazed your nails down from his lower back to his upper back forcefully once you felt your juiced spew outside of you and mix with the water. Your lungs shrunk from your powerful moan, you’d thought you would lose your voice after.

“Oh, fuck~!!”

Luffy mercilessly pounded your insides in as you rode your high. He still had that same devious smile on his face while he witness your hard orgasm, done completely by him. He chuckled and cocked his head back. He let out a shaken whimper when he felt his fluids build up to pour out inside of you.

“I fuckin’ love ya, (F/N)~ Ooooh, I fuckin’ love ya” He pulled his head back and spoke right into your ear. Your body began to feel overstimulated by Luffy’s vast endurance. He giggled deviously at the drool spewing out the corner of your lips. Your brain was going just as blank as him from before.

“M’gonna cum! M’gonna fuckin’ cum!” Luffy growled.

With a few more pumps, Luffy dumped each and every last drop he had inside of him to soak your walls. That last slam birthed a loud groan from his chest and a powerful shriek from your mouth. Your volume was enough for the other Strawhats to faintly hear you, especially Franky and Usopp who were minding their business in the boat itself.

Luffy laughed like he usually does after he finished his own orgasm. He met his eyes with yours, now his energy completely drained. Suddenly, Luffy’s body grew completely limp and sluggish, as if his energy was completely sucked out of him.

“I forgot, water makes me feel funny…” He grumbled. The mixture of the fruits side effects and his orgasm only made him more exhausted than ever. You giggled.

Luffy hissed when you pulled your body off of his shaft, his fluids slowly swarming in the bath water. The water was far from clean now.

You lifted your body up, washing your sticky and soiled thighs with the water. You pulled, and struggled to, your limp boyfriend’s body out of the water before you threw a towel on his rubber body.

“C’mon, dry up. You wanna cuddle, don’t you?” You wrapped a fuzzy towel around your drenched body. You combed through your wet hair as you watched Luffy suddenly spring up with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah! I missed ya so much!” He wrapped the towel around his torso. You felt his lips smash against your cheek before he bounced out of the steaming bath house.

You giggled at his excitement. He was truly very two faced when it came to anything sexual. Your legs were twitching and shaking, slightly struggling to keep your complete balance. You found it hard to believe Luffy was the one to leave you in this state, even though you had just finished your session.

You drained the sin filled water down the drain to forever conceal the devious acts that occurred in that tub for the sake of everyone else’s sanity. You walked out of the bathhouse, preparing to spend the rest of the next several hours under Luffy’s tight embrace.

all licensing and ownership belong to eiichiro oda

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

things that the sketch rebecca just posted on tiktok, involving rose & bismuth, mean for pearlrose shippers:

if people didn’t believe rose was sapphic before, they should know now. this will (hopefully) be the end of that argument we often have to have with folks who claim rose was straight. so tired of those jokes that are along the lines of “lol pearl fell in love with the only straight gem” like please stop

gem love !! gem relationships !! are not like human relationships !! pearl has no bitterness towards bismuth, in fact, it’s very much the opposite. things like polyamory and open relationships are not labelled, but everyone loves each other and there’s not even a hint of a love triangle. they all explored what love means and how to express it on earth, and pearl was comfortable with her place in rose’s life for thousands of years

this says a lot about pearl’s feelings toward greg. people see this as jealousy because “rose chose greg over pearl.” she uses that term as a gem because rose’s death is very confusing to her and it appears as if rose chose greg because she died having a child with him when pearl believed she would live with rose on earth forever. she doesn’t understand that rose’s death has nothing to do with who she loved more—the reasons behind rose’s death involve a lack of love for herself and her love for steven/the earth. and it takes awhile for pearl to process this. i think she would rather believe that the reasons behind rose’s death involve rose loving someone else more. she doesn’t want to come to terms with the fact that rose didn’t want to live and thought everyone would be better off without her. the thought of rose loving someone more hurts pearl, but the thought of rose not loving herself hurts pearl more. this tells us that pearl was not “controlling” or “possessive” or “needy” as her haters in the fandom say she is. hopefully people can understand why she feels the way she does—everything that happened between rose, pearl, and greg is SO much more complicated than “love triangle.” it’s about death and the differences of human relationships clashing with gem relationships and wondering why certain things happened

this rosemuth kiss can mean anything. i personally think it was something rose only recently learned, as it happened during the war, and she wanted to show bismuth some affection when she was stressed about something. it’s up to you to interpret it how you want, and in this case, there really are no right or wrong answers since the sketch never became part of the show & there’s no further canonical explanation

that being said, prepare for some exhaustion on some other platforms. you know how some people still think pearl + rose is unrequited ?? or that rose never loved pearl as much as pearl loved her, and they completely misinterpret what pearl’s love for rose means? despite all the canon evidence and confirmation that pearlrose was not unrequited?? pearlrose haters might use this sketch as “proof that they didn’t have a relationship” or “proof that rose didn’t care about pearl” and honestly, we’re so tired of this, aren’t we? at least this is a space where we think similar things about pearlrose, and the sketch really doesn’t prove anything other than poly rosemuth + bispearl would be very cute, it reinforces that rose was sapphic, & it proves that pearl’s dynamic with greg is more about bitterness related to grief rather than possessiveness or pettiness. again, gem relationships are different from human relationships, and they simply just love each other and don’t label things. there’s no “cheating” or “fumbling,” just issues such as communication or personal struggles impacting relationships. and those are exactly the issues that pearlrose dealt with. it was never because of any lack of love for each other or loving someone else more.

[blackboard-monitor]

how i've finished inktober every year for eight years and counting

Every time I mention around other artists that I finish inktober every year (meaning I draw and ink 31 drawings, one every day in October), I get questions like "how???", so I figured I'd make a post about it on the off chance it's helpful to someone. Please note that all my advice is based on my personal experience and you're a different person so what works for me may not work for you, and you can do whatever you want forever.

What it boils down to for me is two basic rules: 1) keep it simple and 2) manage your expectations.

Tools

Paper/sketchbook

I started my first inktober in my journal at the time, and because I'm neurotic like that, I've had to do every subsequent inktober in whatever journal I was using at that point.

The benefit of this is that each journal has had a page size of A5 or smaller, which can be tricky when trying to get in a lot of detail, but on the other hand forces you to limit the size of your drawings to a pretty managable size.

Paper type can also be important! Last year in 2023, my journal was a Moleskine sketchbook (image 1), which was actually designed to handle some degree of wet media, which was a game-changer for me as an ink wash enjoyer. Don't get me wrong, I've been using ink washes in most of my previous journals as well, but inking is a lot nicer when your paper isn't constantly buckling (image 2) or pilling and the ink isn't bleeding all over the place, inclunding through the page (image 3). Pages that stay flat instead of buckling are also a lot easier to scan or photograph, if like me you want to post your art online.

In short, my inktober paper recommendation is to use a sketchbook no larger than A5, and go for one with nice, thick paper if you intend to use wet media.

Sketching

I sketch everything with a single 6H pencil that I got from my brother in 2019. Because the lead is so hard, it allows me to scribble to my heart's content without the sketch getting too dark or hard to erase. Sometimes I'll refine the sketch with a HB mechanical pencil, which shows up really nicely on top of the 6H lines, but I may skip that step if I'm feeling lazy or the first sketch is clean enough.

Inking

I've used a variety of art supplies in my inktober drawings. For the most part I've always stuck to greyscale, with the exception of a couple of red or gold accents some years.

My main inktober tools are a set of Micron fineliners in various sizes, and liquid India ink, which I use with a dip pen and with brushes. I usually mix up a mid-tone ink wash in a small bottle, and use that throughout the month.

Fineliners pros: portable, require minimal setup, can use on the sofa or in bed or wherever Fineliners cons: creating texture and filling large areas is a lot more time-consuming. In 2021 I did inktober exclusively in fineliner because I was tired and couldn't be bothered to deal with liquid ink, but I ended up spending more time than maybe ever on the drawings because it took so long to add texture with pens.

Ink pros: you can achieve small details with a dip pen as well as quick texture and fill in large areas with a brush and ink washes Ink cons: can be messy (protip from 2022 Liekki, don't spill ink water all over your laptop), usually you have to sit at a table of some kind, you need to wash your brushes and dip pens, if your paper isn't designed for wet media, it'll buckle or bleed

Pick your inking tools and techniques based on how much time you have!

Prompts/ideas/subject matter

I've always stuck to the "official" prompt list, because it brings me joy to scroll through the tag of the day on instagram and see how others interpreted the same prompt. Or, rather, it used to bring me joy to do this, until instagram's enshittification stole our ability to look at tags. Maybe I'll have some luck with that on Cara going forward; here's hoping.

As for ideas, sometimes they come easy, sometimes it's like pulling teeth and I have to enlist all my friends to brainstorm with me (sorry, y'all). When in doubt, draw the first thing that comes to mind when you read the prompt; don't overthink it (like I often do). I like to try to come up with a less obvious interpretation of a prompt, but this is also where I often get stuck and have to harass my loved ones for ideas. Sometimes it helps to relate the prompt to a tv show/book/etc. you're into; I've done quite a bit of inktober fanart, as well as art of various DnD cahracters from games I've played/DM'd. If all else fails, just look at what everyone else is drawing that day.

Time management

Be realistic about how much time you have in a day to work on inktober, and then set your expectations accordingly. If you only have an hour, stick to a size and level of detail that you can realistically finish in an hour. I've done some very quick scribbles in my years of inktober when I've been busy that day.

My personal philosophy is that I try not to plan too much ahead; I don't do any sketching until day of, and ideally I don't try to come up with ideas for a prompt or at least decide on an idea until the day before at the earliest. Containing each drawing in one day helps me have realistic expectations of what's doable. This does mean drawing late into the night sometimes after procrastinating or struggling to find an idea all day, but it's what works for me.

If your goal is to complete inktober, it's better to do a small shitty drawing in ten minutes than to fall behing by starting something way too ambitious that you'll never be able to finish in a day.

Secret third rule!

Accept the fact that you aren't going to be happy with every drawing.

Inktober was created as an exercise to practice inking. Think of your drawings as sketches, not finished masterpieces. Some of them will be bad, at least in your own eyes. Sometimes you'll put a lot of effort into something that just doesn't work out. For example:

To quote Joe Hills, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of practice. So you fucked up today's drawing. Tomorrow is a new day – that's the beauty of inktober. "Ever tried, ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." (Samuel Beckett) Progress isn't linear, either; some years are consistently mediocre, other years it's all over the place with a couple bangers and a couple really shitty ones.

Every inktober I've made drawings I love,

drawings I'm indifferent to,

and drawings that straight up suck.

And I'm at peace with that.

Thanks for reading what turned into a pretty long post, and I hope some of it was helpful. Happy inktobering!

[jadeee]

Ambrosia

Help, I'm thinking of Nanami as a budding artist during the Renaissance and I can't deal 😵‍💫

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ things MDNI

When he sees you, he's blown away by your beauty. He's an artist so he studies every single detail of your face, which is why you see him daily.

He doesn't approach you at first. he studies you from afar and it works until his perfectionist side comes out. So, he musters up the courage to approach you. Of course, it's under false pretenses. He buys an apple from you then decides to buy more just so he can look at you a bit longer.

One day, you're not working and he's stunned. He doesn't know what to do. He's an artist so he should be able to draw from memory but he's a lover and he needs to see you.

The next day you're working, he approaches you and mentions your abscence. He uses the moment to his advantage — gathering the curves, dips, and lines by your cheeks, brows, and lips. He can't help but smile when you do and even more, he takes note of how different your face looks then: beautiful and familiar.

Eventually, you ask him what he's doing with that notebook of his and he shows you his sketches. He's careful to not show the ones of you though.

When you praise his work, his cheeks burn a crimson hue. His heart beats proudly in his chest when you ask him how long he's been drawing, if he works with paint or marble. He's had people ask him the same questions but he enjoys talking about his craft with you. Maybe it's the way your eyes light up or the smile that takes over your face.

This becomes a routine: Nanami standing by sketching people stopping into the shop and you when you're chatting with them, showing off fresh produce and telling them which ones they should get.

He's helping you close up the shop when he starts venting about frustrations for this new thing he's trying. You offer to help, like any good friend, and he freezes.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Why not?!" you chuckled as you placed the last peach into the wooden crate.

He studied your lips, ones he drew so frequently he'd know them on his. "It's," his hazel eyes glanced into yours "it's nudity."

"Oh," your brows jumped up an inch or two. That was a new expression he hadn't seen. Within seconds, he committed the image to memory.

"You really don't have to do that." he rushed to your side to lift the crate of peaches then lugged it inside. You fiddled with your fingertips as you trailed behind him.

"Is it full nudity? Or are you drawing..." you cleared your throat then looked around. When you saw that the shop was empty you quietly inquired "breasts?"

As you turned to face him, he accidentally clashed into you. "I'm sorry. Are you ok?"

His hands held you by your shoulders and he gazed into your eyes with pinched brows. his eyes scanned your lashes and the hairs of your eyebrows, have I ever been this close?

Without thinking, your hands rested on his forearm "I'm fine."

Your voice was a mere whisper while your eyes locked on his. The mix of produce you sold day in and day out along with the paper he religiously used for his work washed over you. Your chest rose and fell triple time. His eyes noticed how the fabric of your shirt moved with it, "Yes."

You scrunched your brows, "Pardon?"

"You asked if it was full nudity or breasts. It's both, so... yes."

Your breath hitched in your throat "I see..."

His hands relaxed on your shoulders but never left you. "You don't have to do this."

Your hands lightly squeezed his forearms then trailed up to his biceps, "I want to."

"We can start slow." Nanami set the pencil down on paper then approached you.

"What would you have me to do?"

Your eyes remained on him with each step he took toward you.

"Do you feel comfortable taking this off?" his fingertips touched the linen sleeve of your shirt, eyes never leaving yours which continued to bore into him. You nodded since your heart was lodged somewhere between your throat and thighs.

"Will you watch me?" the corner of your lip morphed into a smirk and he chuckled.

"Of course not." his fingertips brushed against your skin before turning his back to you.

Goosebumps pricked your skin once exposed to the air. Your blouse bunched at your hips. You bit the inside of your lips as you peered down at your chest.

"Ready?"

Your head popped up at the sound of his voice, "Mhm.. I mean, yes — just... don't laugh at me."

"Never. Why would I do that?" he faced forward with a smile at your request.

"I'm not sure." your laughter filled his studio.

"I can assure you, I would never laugh at you." he cast his eyes at the floor, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." you placed your hands in your lap then straightened your posture.

Color rushed to his cheeks as he faced you. He pressed his lips together as they dared to form a devilish smirk. The fabric of his pants suddenly feeling oh so tight. The urge to drop them and plunge into you without warning.

Your eyes focused on his knitted brow, set jaw, the hand that rested on his hip. "Am I not good enough?"

"What?" his eyes suddenly locked onto yours, brows raised in slight offense. "What did you say?" he took a step closer and you raised your head while maintaining your posture. "Am I not good enough?"

Your voice suddenly felt smaller as he stood inches away from you. His breath landing on your cheeks, eyes trying not to stare at how your bare chest was rising and falling because of him.

"You are perfect." the calluses of his fingertips touched your shoulder while the palm of his other hand rested on your hip. The touch alone made you gasp softly, causing you to bite your lip then glance at the floor.

"Look at me,"

Your eyes focused on his, which were filled with adoration.

"I can't sketch you looking at the floor. You're too beautiful for that." His hands carefully positioned you into place, the movement accompanied by his voice saying "just like that" and "drop your shoulder". As his hand traveled across you, you felt your hardened nipple brush against the back of his hand. You suppressed a moan, failing horribly, while Nanami held his breath still continuing as if nothing happened.

He let out the breath slowly by the second then felt the tenseness that remained in your muscles, "Just breathe, ready?" a small smile rested on his face as he squatted in front of you.

You were careful to not move since he spent the last few minutes getting you into position. You nodded and smiled down at him.

"Wonderful," he said softly. He stared at you for a moment before going back to his post. the room was silent as he sat at a distance sketching your form. Taking his time to fully admire you in silence and forever capture this moment in graphite and paper.

A few minutes had passed before he asked if you needed anything. You declined water and fruit but gladly accepted a break. Once he set down his pencil and paper, you stretched in your seat. When you rose to your feet to extend your arms past your head, your blouse folded over itself, hanging at your waist.

"You can put it back on if you'd like." Nanami started to turn away but froze at the sound of your voice.

"I'd rather not. I'm... comfortable around you."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

"May I ask why the last model proved a challenge?"

He faced you, "She wasn't focused."

"And I am?"

"You listen."

"You mean I take orders?"

He smiled as he walked toward you. "What would you do if I said "yes"?" he saw the possibilities dancing around in your mind from the look in your eyes.

"Say it." you commanded.

He stood in front of you toe-to-toe. "yes."

Your fingertips sank into the waistband of his pants and pulled until he was flush against you. His hands found their way to your hips and gripped them when you pressed your lips against his. A moan left his body as his knees started to buckle. He was slowly stepping forward and guiding you back to the chair you were in moments ago. His lips traveled to your jaw, neck, then chest, while his hands searched for the hem of your skirt.

Your bated breaths filled the space of his studio then turned into a groan when you felt his mouth working at your bud. The artist released a groan when you clutched a handful of his hair. His tongue plunging into each fold and savoring the taste on his tongue. It was a mixture of peaches and berries. The finest fruit. His ambrosia.

Your thighs pressed against the sides of his head as you released another dose just for him. Your hand squeezed his forearm with each moan you released and he held it in his as he gripped onto your hip with the other.

"Did you finish?"

"I thought that was obvious."

You swatted at his arm, "I meant the sketch."

He laughed then reached for your hand "Yes, do you want to see it?"

"Absolutely."

Nanami lifted his head from your lap, giving you one last loving look before standing to his feet. He helped you up then wrapped his shirt around you.

"Be honest with me, ok?"

"Always." you nodded as you gripped the edges of his shirt. He placed a kiss on your forehead then guided you toward the artwork. Your eyes scanned the blend of curves, lines, and shading which created your form. You leaned in to marvel at the masterpiece and he did the same as he admired you from behind.

"How do you do this?"

You glanced back at him with your mouth slightly agape.

"Having a gorgeous muse helps." his hands wrapped around your waist. Hearing those words brought warmth to your very being. He basked in the glory of your subdued smile, instinctively placing his hand on your cheek, eyes scanning left to right and every which direction to admire the piece of work that stood in front of him. That walked with him around the townsquare for the past several months, gave him joy with a simple look or smile, inquired and endlessly praised his artwork. His encouragement, light, warmth... ambrosia.

"Be my everything."

You placed your hand over his then gazed into his eyes with tears welling in your very own. Your hand guided him down to your lips which were becoming home.

You stood in front of the sketch studying how the faded graphite persisted through time and god knows what else. You leaned forward then read the scribbled cursive, "For my dearest Ambrosia."

"Some people think it's his wife,"

The sudden voice made you turn.

"He wasn't Da Vinci or Michelangelo so we don't have all the records but it's theorized this series is for her."

The blonde man finally looked away from the sketch then in your eyes. His hazel eyes were soft in the dim light of the museum, shoulders relaxed and being stern but gentle.

"Have we met before?"

He shook his head "I think I'd remember you."

You couldn't help but chuckle "Well," you sat up straight "indulge me anyway. What's your name?"

"Nanami," he faced you fully "and you are?"

When you said your name, he felt a twinge in his heart. A sudden warmthn if you will and there was a hint of peaches and berries on his tongue. His brows pinched momentarily, before he focused on what you were now saying about the artwork. He was too busy admiring a separate masterpiece.

— Author's Note — Although you take up every second of his life, Nanami still devots himself to his craft. He hates when people watch him work, especially you because you're so distracting, but he'll ocassionally allow it. You're truly his everything. You're constantly inspiring him; even more so when you two start a family. You're always encouraging him as well and keeping his spirits high.

I don't think he'd be super popular but his work becomes well known in his city and around the area. After death, centuries later, he does gain his long awaited recognition. I imagine your children would be a huge part of that since they're always spreading his legacy and sharing his artwork. I want to write more for Renaissance Artist Nanami. He's just so soft and quiet and observant and caring ... I love him so much.

[cozage]

Hi! Could you write something with Sanji, Zoro, Law (maybe Izo) with a S/O that likes to do graffiti? Like, they have a small ring notebook (idk if it's this, but it's the one that opens and close and u can put more pages) where they keep their small arts, incluiding their name? Pretty pleasee

A/N: I hope I did you justice!! I kept Izo off because I haven’t met him yet (Still in Wano!) but when I get to him I might revisit this and add it!

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Law

Cw: just cute fluff :) 

Total word count: 600

Graffiti on His Heart

Sanji

He finds your notebook by accident. He was cleaning up your room to surprise you, and found your binder in a pile of scattered files

You found him a few hours later, mesmerized by your drawings. You rush over to him, trying to cover it, but you see him staring at some decorated block letters “Sanji + Y/N” with a heart around it. 

There’s other things around it, quotes you’d heard from the crew and things that happened around the ship that you doodled to make cute page accents, and you can see Sanji’s eyes looking at every single thing you drew, his fingers sliding down the page as he looks. 

“You weren’t supposed to find that,” you say, your hands gripping around your notebook. 

“What?” his eyes are still on your pages even as you take them away. He looks up at you, and it’s like he just realized you were there. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He blushes hard when he realizes he's been caught snooping. “You never mentioned being an artist! This work is magnificent!”

“I dabble sometimes,” you say, closing it quickly. “Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?!!?” he scoffs. “You could design our logos! You could decorate this whole ship and give it some real character! You should talk to Franky!”

“Oh, thanks Sanji.” His compliment makes you blush. “But I don’t really like to show my work to others or show it off. I just use it as a creative outlet sometimes.”

“Oh!” He looks back at the notebook at smiles. “Well if you ever want someone to show it to, I would love to see the rest of them.”

You sheepishly give the notebook back to him, and the two of you flip through the rest of it together. 

Zoro

Zoro walks up to you while you’re sitting on the deck. “Is this yours?” he asks, holding your sketch binder. “I found it in our room. Never seen it before.”

He opens it and flips through it, and you jump up to grab it. “It’s some really good stuff,” he mumbles, and you snatch it out of his hands and snap it closed. 

“Thanks!” you say, holding it close to your chest. 

“Hey wait, I was still looking!” He reaches out for it but you pull away.

“It’s mine!” you say, taking a few steps back from him so he can’t leap forward and grab it. 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, turning away from you to go back to whatever he was doing. 

“It looked really good,” he called back to you. “I liked the themed pages you made for each crew members. Especially ours.” He winked at you and walked away without another word.

You’ll occasionally find your binder moved from where you last placed it, or find little extra things (like subtle lines or shading) added to doodles as proof that Zoro was occasionally checking it out, but he doesn’t comment on it or tell anyone else about it. He just waits for you to bring it up and show you again before he outwardly comments on how much he likes your work. 

Law

“Law,” you call out, walking into his office. “Have you seen my green binder anywhere?”

“Over here,” he yells from the back room. You walk into his lab to find it sitting on top of his books. He’s measuring out some kind of liquid, focused on getting it perfect. “I really liked what you did with our jolly roger on page three. I was thinking we could adopt it for some of the gear we have.”

“You looked through it?” you gasp, your eyes flicking over to your sketchbook. 

His gaze moves away from the beaker in front of him and over to you for a moment. “Was I not supposed to? It was on my desk.” 

You cursed silently. You had been doodling last night while he was reshelving some books, you must’ve left it behind when you all went to bed.

He stood up, abandoning his project to put his full attention on you now. “I didn’t know you liked to do graffiti and sketches. We could definitely spruce up the outside of the ship soon and use some of your designs, you know? Or have a crew wall in the common area. The names you did on page ten really captured the essence of each crew member, it’d be cool to have that displayed somewhere.”

You feel anxious at the thought, and Law can feel it. “You don’t have to,” he rushes to say. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can I think about it?” you ask, and he nods in agreement. 

“You should show them though. The others. You’re talented, and I’m sure they’d like to see it.”

He goes back to his work, and he doesn’t bring it up again, but he clears off a wall in the common room and sets out some spray paint if you ever feel up for it. And he always keeps his eye out for a chance to steal a glimpse of new work you’ve done in your green binder.

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — wonder

prev: guilt | masterlist | next: spaces inbetween

he’s a little startled to see her already inside the studio, waiting for him. her attire is a bit more comfortable than what he’s used to seeing her wear in public, but he pays no mind to it. instead, all he can focus on is the task at hand — hauling all of the paintings to a museum thirty minutes away, before their dinner reservation.

her panic is clear on her face. a box of wrapping that’s almost clear and a handful of translucent brown tape sits on the ground beside her, where she stands with her fist to her lips and her hand against her hip, as if deep in thought. he takes a moment to observe, just as he always has. there’s a few more paintings placed against the walls, each of them imprinted with her signature on the side. those weren’t there a few days before. he wonders how much she went through to get it all done.

slowly, he traverses around the room, strings of sunlight spilling through the small windows a few feet above him and illuminating his path. he traces each detail, each line, each hue that’s been embedded on every canvas, and he thinks about what it was like for her to paint them. he thinks of the hours she’s spent in here alone (he hasn’t seen many other students come to this building, after all), and he questions how she puts up with it; how she can bear to sit on a stool for an eternity painting and sketching whatever image comes to mind.

each work tells a different story, ranging from soft and delicate bodies to scenes that are more saddening and gore-y. the girl and her two-headed lamb sits in the center of the line. it remains his favorite of all.

“i’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” she says once she notices his observations are complete. “i’ll pay you back tremendously. not just for this, but for putting you through so much over these past few days.”

“it’s no problem,” he reassures her. the words spill out instinctively. “you did a lot for me already. you know, with the tutoring and all.”

his remark has her pausing in her tracks. “oh,” she begins, her memory of the exam (that they were supposed to prepare for together) dawning on her. “how did the math exam go for you?” to combat the guilt crawling up her spine, she draws her attention to the packing materials and gets to work while waiting for his response. her hands drift across the surface and trace each line made by her own hands before concealing it all beneath the wrapping. she watches as he copies her movements.

“it went really well,” he exclaims, seemingly proud about his score. “i scored much higher than i thought i would. thanks to you, of course.” the sentiment catches her off guard, and she pretends it doesn’t affect her. it’s sickening, how malleable she is when it comes to him. she swears she was a mess just a few days ago. but now, everything seems fine. it feels like she’s capable of getting better.

he’s much stronger than her, she realizes, and he goes through the wrapping process with ease, contrasting her struggle to fit the material over the entire canvas. eventually, his hands find hers and lift the plastic over the edge she can’t quite reach, and for a moment, she feels his breath on her skin. it’s electrifying. it’s horrifying. she wants more.

but she can’t have more. so, instead, she begins to open the back door of the studio, the afternoon sunlight seeping into the room as the heavy metal creaks open. she did ask tsukishima for permission to borrow his car, thankfully. the vehicle waits outside the backyard, conveniently parked right against the curb. kageyama is already taking the artworks from the studio before she can say a word. she nearly smiles at his eagerness to help, to be there for her.

instead, a small frown finds its way onto her face.

she’s not meant to be attached, she reminds herself. it’s the same words she told herself a few weeks ago. and yet, regardless of how often she repeated it in her head, she managed to fall victim to his generosity.

it feels wrong. she isn’t sure why — maybe some subconscious in the back of her head is telling her that she’s undeserving of his kindness, or maybe it’s the bitter taste on vulnerability on her tongue. she was meant to work, to strive, to succeed independently, but something about him fights against the methodology that’s been ingrained into her since she was young. for a moment, she watches him pace back and forth between the car and the building to bring each canvas into the trunk, and despite his strenuous efforts to ensure each one makes it inside safely, he doesn’t ask her for help once. as if he’s content doing these little things for her.

the guilt comes crawling back, once more. she lifts the last few pieces into the back before he can do it himself and closes the door with a soft thud. kageyama sits at the driver’s seat — another overwhelmingly nice surprise he throws her way.

“why are you driving?” she questions him, as it’s in her nature to oppose what falls against her routine. he only smiles at her, softly, the corners of his chapped lips curling up ever so slightly. he seems to be out of breath, and she feels too bad to let him drive but she doesn’t have the time nor patience to argue. begrudgingly, she finds her way to the passenger seat, and as soon as she buckles herself in, he’s already leaving the campus. the directions are already on his phone, and a soothing playlist is already on the speakers. he already knows her too well. it’s haunting, but she can’t find it in herself to complain.

when they pull into the staff parking lot (as directed by her lovely event coordinator), a handful of people and a person she assumes to be the director stand at the door. they’re already rushing to help her with her items by the time she can even step foot outside the car, and briefly, she feels special. the dreams from her youth once contained in her little heart of fancy dinners and a group of her own servicemen are being showcased before her, just in a more mellow fashion. the remnants of that little heart blossom at the sight.

kageyama sits back as the staff carries the canvases away and watches as she converses with the director. she’s nervous, as told by the fiddling of her fingers against the hem of her shirt and the constant shifting of her posture, but it’s clear that she’s even more excited. he likes seeing this side of her — the one overflowing with love for the arts and an unrivaled passion. it’s refreshing to see hints of a smile on her face as opposed to furrowed brows and baggy eyes (although, the baggy eyes never quite go away), and he longs to see more of it. he yearns for toothy grins and heartfelt expressions and genuine joy out of her, but his heart and mind can’t handle that realization just yet. so he shoves it back down to the pits of his stomach, acts like he isn’t discovering just how much he likes being around her, and observes in silence as she returns to the car, the air around her much lighter.

the drive to the restaurant (which yachi picked out as soon as the plans were made) is silent. it's an hour away from the art center, but with the afternoon traffic, it may as well be two hours. however, she doesn't stress over it, so he doesn't either. there are hints of exhaustion riddled all over her face, and he wonders, again, what it must be like to see the world through her eyes. to live so dangerously within a tango of self-destruction all for the sake of a dream to create. he admits his obsession with volleyball isn't very different, but within her, there's something more than just that. it's something he can't put a name on, and yet, he sees it within her every time — when she's studying, when she's working, when she's conversing about the thing she loves the most — it's always evident.

he thinks, for a moment, that he likes that part of her the most. whatever he had buried deep down within himself resurfaces, this time stronger. in his peripherals, she's fast asleep, her head limp against the window just as it was when they picked her up from the studio a few nights prior. he wonders why she didn't choose to dress up for an occasion celebrating herself. he wonders why she's so drawn to the arts. he wonders why he's so attracted to her passion, unwavering and quiet all the same. he wonders why he can't bring himself to hate her, even if her inability to prioritize herself over her craft hurts both herself and those around her in the process.

he doesn't want to admit his lack of immunity to her. so instead, he continues to drive. his eyes stretch across the horizon of cars before him, and the scenes of the city on his left and right, as if to distract himself from whatever cognizance is coming upon him now. but no matter how hard he tries, he can't escape it. so much so that, when they pull into the parking lot beside all of her friends (if she considers most of them that), he doesn't get out for a while, nor does he bother to wake her up. all he wants to do is bask in her presence. it's terrifying.

it only takes a few minutes for her to stir from her slumber, and when her consciousness slowly slips back into her grasp, she's almost startled to see him still sitting beside her.

"what are we waiting for?" she asks, the remnants of sleep still laced in each syllable.

he doesn't want to look at her, in fear of doing something he definitely shouldn't do. he looks straight ahead into the fancy double doors and replies, "nothing. i just wanted you to rest up first."

she doesn't question him any further, and slowly, she begins to collect herself. she removes the hoodie she's wearing to unveil a slightly more formal top, adorned with a ribbon in the center of the neckline and bits of lace peeking out from the short sleeves. it's the version of her he had grown accustomed to before he bothered to speak to her. before he got to truly know her.

he waits patiently as she straightens herself up, delicate hands smoothing out wrinkles in her pants and the stray strands of hair. they exit the car together, and when their presence is made known to the group (who have been waiting inside the lobby for a little too long), there's an amalgamation of complaints regarding their tardiness and excitement at their appearance.

it's peaceful. he looks to his right and sees her smile, once again, although this time, it's full of warmth. he can’t stop staring. he wonders if she truly feels happy, at this moment in time. he hopes she is.

𝜗𝜚 blue spring is half written half smau atp

𝜗𝜚 yn in her healing era after going thru the worst breakdown of the century thank god !!

𝜗𝜚 btw everyone gets drunk at the party except for yn tsukki and kenma (two of which are designated drivers)

𝜗𝜚 tsukki yachi and yams were struggling on their commute to the restaurant since they’re so used to driving tgt. they kept arguing over which stops to get on and off at

𝜗𝜚 kageyama’s last text to her was genuinely the most impulsive decision he’s made in relation to her so far. he sent it with one hand over his eyes his phone far away and his face turned away

𝜗𝜚 yn almost went on an unprompted rant to the director about her exhibit but remembered the dinner party </3

𝜗𝜚 i’m so sorry for making kags n yn so dense but it had to be done. awkward unable to comprehend own emotions guy x passionate cold-shoulder shoves all her emotions so far down she doesn’t even recognize them anymore girl is the trope for this one

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @gumiiiiezzzz

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Remus Lupin x fem!reader [2K] protective!you, soft!Remus

Honestly, Remus should’ve seen it coming. You were never one to back down from a fight and the whole reason he was missing from class that day was the same grounds for your eventual argument. 

Professor Marigold had spent the best part of Care of Magical Creatures explaining moon phases and the effects each stage had on lycanthropes. You had been sitting between James and Sirius, squished in the middle as they doodled on their book margins, not really listening. Because, well, they’d had some first hand experience, hadn’t they? Which is why the professor was so surprised when she called on Sirius and he answered correctly, barely looking up. 

You were more on edge than the boys, wishing you’d skipped with Remus, wondering if he would’ve let you hide out in the boys dorm with him, sharing James’ hidden stash of Honeydukes loot everyone knew he kept at the bottom of his trunk. You spent most of the class eyeing your fellow students, Gryffindors and Slytherins divided in rows of three, sometimes four, a neat separation of red and gold, green and silver. 

You wondered if someone would say something, you wondered if someone would sneer, if they’d pull a face at the sketching of a werewolf in the textbook, if they’d shudder in fear or say something awful. It was silent as Professor Marigold spoke about the ramifications of being bitten, the changes the host went through each lunar cycle. You hated the word, ‘host’. It sat bitterly at the back of your throat and you changed it to ‘person’ when scribbling down your notes, more messily than you’d usually be. 

You felt Sirius watch you, dark gaze lingering on the way you sat up too straight, how your shoulders were tense and unyielding when he brushed against your own. If the boys shared a look over your head, well, you didn’t notice. 

Class was almost over, in fact, you were only mere minutes away from the finish line. But then a Slytherin you didn’t know the name of narrowed her eyes and said something you only just heard, a scorned hiss of:

“…the Ministry should do something about them. They’re a danger to everyone. Full moon or not.”

James’ hand found your knee before you could stand, nostrils flaring and heart pounding, but his touch kept you in your seat. You stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm but he merely shook his head, subtle and soft. Knowing. 

“S’not the place,” he whispered, still bent over his own notes. “Don’t get yourself into trouble, sweetheart.”

Then class ended and it was fine until it wasn’t. 

The same Slytherin student was lagging behind you as you all made your way back to the castle, morning dew dampening your ankles as you all took a shortcut over the grass. Sirius was singing a song you didn’t know under his breath, James was still trying to stuff his book into his bag and the girl behind you was too fucking loud. You heard the way she gasped and cried out, all horrible dramatics as her and her friend spoke about the recent class subject. 

“I mean, really,” she intoned, walking closer and closer. “It’s not like they can live normal lives, can they? They’re practically monsters, I don’t see why they’re allowed to walk around freely like they have the same rights as—”

You spun, wand drawn, clenched tightly in a white knuckled fist that you barely managed to keep lowered by your side. 

“Well, that actually took longer than I thought,” Sirius mused quietly, stopping beside you with one arm across your chest, holding you back from making any other unwise decisions. “Settle yourself, darling.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you ignored the boy and spoke to the girl, brows stitched together as you tried to work out if you were going to cry or yell. Maybe both, perhaps at the same time - your chest was burning, a sickly kind of anger lingering in your stomach, rolling over and over until it simmered into a rage. The girl hadn’t said Remus’ name, but she might as well have. “You sound so— so ignorant! Have you ever met someone who has to go through something like that? Don’t you understand they’re just like us?”

The girl, Tabitha, maybe, you still weren’t really sure, blanched, staring at you as if you’d dropped from the sky. “What on Earth do you mean?” She laughed and it was a nasty sound, scathing and condescending. “Like us? Are you joking? They’re wild animals, they should be hunted down as such.”

James snatched your wand before you could lift it, red and orange sparks flying into the grass instead of the air and you scowled at him. He grimaced, hardly apologetic but Sirius soon stood between you both, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“Let’s go,” he told you, a gentle command, his hands on your shoulders. “She’s not worth it. Moony’s waiting, c’mon.”

That should’ve been it. The idea of Remus waiting for the three of you at the library should’ve been enough to make your legs work again and pull you away. But the girl was still laughing, an ugly noise, one that made your jaw tick. Sirius tugged at you, hands dropping to curl around an elbow and you took a step, just one. 

“Honestly, if I ever found out I’d shared the same air as one of those creatures, I’d have daddy on the phone to Dumbledore. One curse to the head is all it should ta—”

You ripped yourself from Sirius’ arms quicker than he could grab you, ready to throw your first into the girl’s face - her nose, if you could get your aim right. You watched as she paled, her footsteps fumbling as she backed away faster than you could catch up, all whilst your friends yelled your name from behind you.   

And then, an arm, needling around your waist to haul you up and backwards against a very solid chest. You squirmed, face scrunched in anger, cheeks aflame. 

“Hey, at ease solider, c’mon now.”

Remus. 

You deflated, breathe leaving you in a sigh, knowing that there wasn’t much point in trying to wrestle your way out of his grip. Your feet were dangling a good eight inches off the ground and Remus dropped his mouth to your ear, his voice soft. 

“Leave it, yeah?” 

You nodded, barely perceptible but Remus saw. You saw Sirius take a step towards the girl, eyes narrowed. He looked roguish and dangerous as always, and when he stepped forward once more, this time uttering a soft “boo,” the two girls took off without another word. 

Your wand was given back to you once they were deemed out of sight, your feet firmly back on the ground but Remus kept hand at your lower back, fingers lingering in your sweater, a reminder that he was close. 

“What was your plan, huh?” James’ asked, still wide eyed and surprised that you’d reacted in such a way. “Knock her out with just your fists?”

You rolled your eyes and started back to the castle, embarrassed at being seen having such a response to what was no more than some uneducated - albeit cruel - words. “Yeah, and what about it?” You sounded sullen, a little moody. “I can throw a punch as well as I can cast a hex, Potter.”

Sirius puffed out his chest, smirking. “I taught her.”

James scoffed, muttering something that sounded like, “was that really necessary?”

“What? D’you think she’ll always have her wand on her? What if she doesn’t, what then—”

Remus’ hand, warm and large, caught your own, keeping you from following the other boys and their conversation. He was frowning a little, brows knitted despite the way he was pressing his lips together, as if to hide a smile. He ducked his chin to meet your gaze, too tall otherwise, fingers twisting between your own. 

“What was that all about?” He murmured and his voice was low, pretty and raspy. “Huh?”

You sniffed, emotions catching up to you as the adrenaline faded and you toed at the grass, Mary Janes digging into the wet weeds. You tried to look away, somewhat embarrassed but Remus caught your chin with nimble fingers, scarred and calloused and entirely too lovely. His thumb tapped the space just below your mouth and he waited, quiet and patient. 

You shrugged. “That girl.” You nodded to the Slytherins retreating figure, glaring when she stared back at you from the safety of the castle steps. “Tabitha? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. She was talking about—” you almost said ‘you,’ but that wasn’t true. She hadn’t spoken about Remus at all. How could she? She didn’t know. 

Remus waited, brows raised, his hand still on your jaw to keep your gaze on him. His touch was soft, more gentle than it needed to be and it made any explanation you wanted to give him a little harder to piece together. 

“Professor Marigold spoke about lunar cycles today,” you swallowed and Remus nodded. He knew this, of course he did. It’s why he spent that hour in his dorm, pretending to be sick. “That girl. Whatever her name is, she started going on about how, how werewolves shouldn’t be allowed to have the same rights as Witches and Wizards, how they should all be—” 

You stared at the boy, lips pressed together, deciding you didn’t want to explain anymore. The bitter feeling in your stomach was still bubbling, acidic and awful, but Remus dropped his hand from your chin to your waist, pulling you into him and it settled, if only slightly. 

He was too tall, his half hug had you face first into his chest, his school sweater smelling like laundry detergent and a little smoke, something sage and citrus that was seemingly just Remus. You clung to him, hands fisting in the familiar grey wool, your lip wobbling against the fabric because it was all suddenly a little too much. Remus rested his chin atop your head, his nose pushed into your hair when he felt your shoulders shake. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Remus whispered, wrapping his arm around you a little tighter, hand travelling upupup until he could pull you closer still by your shoulders. “S’fine, really. I’m used to hearing shit like that.”

His reasoning only made your chest feel tighter and your breath shuddered. “That’s worse, Remus!” You intoned, speaking into his chest. “She was saying vile things, absolutely awful stuff and it’s just not—”

“Fair?” The boy mused, his lips brushing over your hairline. You wondered if Sirius and James had stopped to wait for you both, you wondered if they could see, if they were watching. You found you didn’t care. “The world isn’t fair, love, m’sorry to break it to you. But I’ll survive, no matter what Tabitha Rosethorne says.”

You leaned back, just enough to rest your chin on the boy’s chest, pouting as you gazed up at him, glassy eyed. Remus prodded at your cheek, brushing away one lone tear that had managed to escape out of anger. “She’s a dick,” you mumbled woefully. 

Remus snorted, nodding. He wasn’t used to you using such language, only giving him and the others in trouble for it. “She is a dick, you’re right,” he agreed. “But she’s not worth getting detention for. Were you really going to punch her?”

“I was going to try,” you enthused, flushing at the idea of starting an actual fight, completely wandless. “Sirius told me to keep my thumb on the outside of my fist.”

“Of course he did,” Remus mused, sounding unimpressed. “You shouldn’t be starting fights, you know, you’re too lovely for that. Especially on my behalf.”

Normally you would’ve preened at Remus’ sweet words, his soft compliments, but you were scowling, a full pout on your lips as you shook your head. Remus looked amused, knowing that expression all too well. 

Stubborn. 

“I’ll start fights, only for you,” you corrected him, not leaving much room for argument. “And Sirius will back me up. And more than likely, James too. Once he stops arguing.”

The boy laughed, a bright, sharp sound that had your frown fading quickly. You grinned up at him, smile growing wider when he squeezed at your shoulder and let his nose nudge against your warm cheek. 

“You’re not wrong,” he murmured. Remus kept you tucked under his arm as he lead you back up the grassy knoll, towards James and Sirius who were pretending they hadn’t been watching you both the entire time. “C’mon, hotshot, the library awaits.”

[bastart13]

Hey, so a few years back you stated that to start drawing you replicated the styles of works you liked. How did you go about replicating the styles. I’m currently trying to create ocs that fit into a style similar to Clone High and Total Drama, whilst not being a carbon copy of existing characters.

Also, would it be easier to use 2d or 3d shapes.

You're quite lucky because Total Drama is an incredibly varied style, so there's a lot more flexibility to making OCs in the style without being carbon copies! To study styles, I tend to draw from reference, collecting how they draw head shapes/hands/different facial features/bodies, etc. in different sections to see what variety exists. Here, I've done bodies, heads, and faces, but I recommend creating sketch piles of whatever style elements you can think of.

(Total Drama/Clone High is one of the flattest styles possible. It's incredibly 2D and geometric, focusing on shapes rather than anatomy.)

You can really see this if you try to break down the characters into their basic shapes. Everything can be broken down into a single shape that are overlapped to form the body. By tracing over the existing characters, I can figure out what shapes they use for each character.

The head shapes are nearly always flat on top, with any sort of curve to represent the face shape, and a flat triangle-ish shape for the neck. Depending on how definied the jaw is, there can be a line spearating the head and neck, or not. The ears are always a quarter-circle shape.

The faces are then quite high up on the face and condensed. The eyes and nose don't usually overlap but they're very close together. The mouth is never directly below the nose, placed closer to one eye than the other.

Then, to put this into practice, I try to turn three of my OCs into the TD style. Trying to caricaturise existing characters helps you connect how certain features look in the new style.

I start with the basic shapes, then add the hair/clothes details.

So yeah, just a bunch of tracing/drawing from reference, and then trying to put it in practice, going back to references when you're uncertain.