#acrylic paint brush set

[ayushpaper]

Guiding Your Brush: Tips for Successful Painting on Black Canvas

When delving into the realm of black canvas painting, artists embark on a distinctive journey encompassing both challenges and rewards. The act of painting on black canvas introduces a departure from the conventional white or light-colored surfaces, inviting the exploration of contrasting colors and the creation of strikingly dramatic effects. Just as a seasoned artist meticulously curates their array of tools, the selection of canvas emerges as a pivotal determinant in the composition’s ultimate brilliance. This is precisely where Ayush Paper, acclaimed for its unwavering commitment to excellence and the fulfillment of artists’ requisites, takes center stage. Within this context, the significance of the right canvas, including their specially tailored acrylic painting canvas, becomes indisputable in elevating the zenith of your creative ventures.

Though it may initially appear formidable, the act of painting on a black canvas holds the potential to yield truly enchanting creations when approached with adept techniques and the appropriate mindset. Throughout the course of this article, we shall delve deep into the enchanting domain of black canvas painting, offering a wealth of invaluable tips curated to ensure your artistic accomplishments flourish. Here’s some insight from Ayush Paper.

Understanding the Allure of Black Canvas Painting

Before delving into the intricacies of painting on black canvas, let’s pause to bask in the captivating charm and enchantment it lends to your creative journey. A black canvas emerges as an enigmatic backdrop, amplifying the brilliance of hues set upon it. The profound juxtaposition between dynamic pigments and the profound obsidian surface has the power to evoke a dramatic depth of emotion that remains unmatched. From the portrayal of otherworldly galaxies to the depiction of vibrant urban nocturnes, a black canvas becomes the gateway to an infinite realm of creative prospects.

Selecting the Right Materials

Embarking upon the journey of black canvas painting underscores the vital significance of meticulously choosing the appropriate materials. Your selection of materials becomes an integral partner in transforming your artistic vision into tangible reality. Opting for top-tier paints and brushes becomes your guiding light in this endeavor. Acrylic paints, with their rapid drying properties and vivid chromatic rendition, stand out as an exceptional choice. Furthermore, their affinity for adhering seamlessly to the black canvas empowers you to delve into a myriad of innovative layering techniques. Ensuring a well-rounded toolkit, it’s advisable to invest in a diverse array of brushes tailored to your unique style, spanning from bold and sweeping strokes to intricate and delicate detailing.

Priming the Black Canvas

Establishing a strong foothold for your artwork, priming the black canvas emerges as a pivotal undertaking. This step paves the way for the creative journey that follows. By applying a coat of gesso or a white acrylic paint, you establish a foundational layer that accentuates the vibrant presence of colors. Beyond this, the act of priming bolsters the bond between the canvas and the paint, serving as an assurance of your masterpiece’s enduring vitality. Executing this phase calls for the application of smooth and uniform brushstrokes to ensure an impeccable surface. To optimize results, grant the primer ample time to thoroughly dry before embarking on your painting voyage.

Harnessing the Power of Contrast

The secret to creating captivating black canvas paintings lies in how you use differences to your advantage. These differences, called contrast, involve the mix of bright and dark areas in your artwork. On a black canvas, colors really pop, creating an exciting blend of shadows and bright spots. Try mixing colors that are opposites on the color wheel – like vivid yellows and oranges against the black – to make eye-catching scenes that grab people’s attention.

Playing with Light and Shadows

Shadows take on a new dimension when painting on a black canvas. They become more pronounced and dramatic, contributing to the overall depth of your artwork. When adding shadows, consider the direction of your light source and the way it interacts with the subjects in your painting. By strategically placing highlights and shadows, you can achieve a three-dimensional effect that brings your artwork to life.

Embracing the Ethereal

Painting on a black canvas lets you dive into the imaginative and magical parts of your creativity. Picture a dark sky sparkling with stars or a mysterious forest covered in shadows. The black backdrop can help your art blend perfectly with what you’re creating. This technique can add a dreamy and unreal feeling to your artwork, catching people’s interest and encouraging them to discover the wonders of your imagination.

Incorporating Texture for Depth

Adding texture gives your artwork an interesting touch that you can feel. When using a black canvas, textures become even more noticeable, catching the light in fascinating manners. Try out techniques like impasto or using palette knives, and you can even get creative with different materials to create raised areas that make shadows and highlights pop. The mix of textures against the black backdrop can make your artwork visually exciting and engaging.

The Magic of Metallics

Imagine metallic paints as precious treasures on a black canvas. These paints have a special shine that really stands out against the dark background. Colors like gold, silver, and bronze can make your artwork feel rich and fancy. Whether you’re painting a night sky full of stars or a detailed piece of jewelry, the way metallics and black work together makes a bold and exciting contrast.

Patience and Layering

Creating art on a black canvas usually needs patience and adding layers. Because black is strong, getting bright colors might need many layers. Let each layer dry before you put on the next one, and slowly make your colors stronger. It might take more time, but the depth and richness you get will totally be worth it in the end.

Adding a Splash of Color

Even though the charm of black canvas painting is in its darkness, don’t hesitate to bring in a pop of color to make things stand out. Just one bright detail against the black can really catch the eye. Think about adding a glowing moon in a night-time sky or a colorful flower in a secretive garden. This trick grabs people’s attention and adds an extra layer of interest to your art.

Black Canvas Painting: A Journey of Creativity

To wrap up, stepping into the realm of painting on black canvas is a voyage filled with both difficulties and benefits. It’s a chance to step outside the norm and delve into the depths of your artistic creativity. By getting the hang of contrast, embracing the dreamy, and experimenting with light and shadows, you can create artworks that genuinely capture attention.

As you set off on your journey into black canvas painting, keep in mind the importance of picking top-notch materials that let you bring your vision to life. Feel free to try out various methods, textures, and color choices. While the process might need some patience and layering, the end outcome will beautifully reveal the depth and passion of your artistic expression.

Therefore, whether you’re a seasoned artist aiming to broaden your creative horizons or a newcomer brimming with enthusiasm to delve into a fresh medium, take that step forward and let your brush glide across the captivating expanse of a black canvas. Set your imagination free, welcome the enigma of the dark backdrop, and craft artworks that radiate vividly against the backdrop of the night.

In the world of art, the canvas is where you hold sway, and the brush serves as your trusted companion. Allow the enchantment of the black canvas from Ayush paper to spark your creativity, propelling you to forge masterpieces that imprint a lasting legacy in the world of creativity.

[clumsypuppy]

Gaspard et Lisa drip

[01alxg]

13. 'WAKE'

[soomid]

ArtRight 14 Pcs Handmade Professional Artist Assorted Painting Brush Set for Acrylic

Professional-grade 14-piece brush set with durable synthetic bristles and wooden handles, suitable for acrylic, watercolor, and gouache. Includes a brush holder for organization. https://artright.in/product/artright-paint-brush-set-mixset10-mopbrush4/

[artrightofficial]

Art Right's drawing brush set includes a variety of high-quality brushes designed for artists of all levels. Each brush features durable bristles and comfortable handles, making them perfect for detailed work, sketching, and painting. Elevate your creativity with our versatile set tailored for precision and control.

[zionmantis]

Hoooo boy. It's finally finished. This only took me eight months to paint. T.T

Disco Elysium is soooo good y'all; I feel like I'll never give it the credit it deserves.

I'm not even sure it's finished, but I'm just going to set this down now, though.

Clip studio paint and a ton of downloaded watercolor and acrylic brushes.

Let me know if you want me to pull out any closeups or anything

[pleasantboatpress]

so, you wanted to start bookbinding?

so @princetofbone mentioned on my post for "factory settings" about wanting to know more about the binding style that i used for it. so i thought i might make a post about it.

i was as terrible as i always am for taking in progress shots, but i can link you to the resources i used in order to make my book. i would also like to point out that "factory settings" is my 120th bind, and i have been doing bookbinding as a hobby for just over 3 years now. unfortunately this means some of the methods that i used for that bind aren't particularly beginner friendly, just in terms of the tools and methods i have used, but i would love to point you in the right direction when it comes to resources. i dont say this to sound pretentious which i fear i might come across, just so that youre fully informed. getting into this hobby is fun and rewarding, but it can definitely be intimidating.

with that caveat, heres a list of links and resources that i have used for bookbinding in general, with additional links to methods i used specifically in regards to this bind.

ASH's how to make a book document. it gives you a great introduction into typesetting fics (where you format the text of fics to look like a traditionally published books) and then turning them into a case-bound book (the style i used for "factory settings"). it is comprehensive, and explains how to use microsoft word to do your bidding. it was invaluable to me when i was just starting out! currently i use affinity publisher to typeset/format my fics for printing, but i only bought and learned how to use that after i had been binding books for a year and a half. i made some beautiful typesets with word, and some of my close friends use it still and design stuff that i never would be able to in my wildest dreams (basically anything by @no-name-publishing)

DAS Bookbinding's Square Back Bradel Binding. a great style to do your first bind in! this method requires, when making the case, to attach the cover board and the spine board to a connecting piece of paper, which makes it so much easier to match the size of the case to the size of the text block (your printed out and sewn fic). using this method is what allowed me to get much more accurately fitting cases, and made me much more confident with the construction of the books i was making. a well-made book is something that is so wonderful to hold in your hands!

DAS Bookbinding's Rounded and Backed Cased Book. This is the specific method that i used to create my bind for "factory settings"! even before i could back my books, i found that watching DAS's videos in particular helped me see how books were traditionally made, and i was able to see different tips and tricks about how to make nicer books.

Book Edge Trimming Without... i trim the edges of my text block using my finishing press and a chisel i have sharpened using a whetstone and leather strop with buffing compound on it. i follow the method for trimming shown in this video!

Made Endpapers. i follow this method for my endpapers, as i used handmade lokta endpapers, and they can be quite thin, but they look beautiful! i used "tipped on" endpapers (where you have your endpaper and then put a thin strip of glue on the edge and attach it to your text block) i used for a very long time before this, but these feel like they are much more stable, as they are sewn with your text block.

Edge Sprinkling. this is the method that i used for decorating the edges of my text block. but the principle is basically clamping your text block tight and then sprinkling the edges. i do not believe you need to trim the edges in order to do sprinkles on the edges, and that's what makes it accessible! i personally just use really cheap acrylic paint that i water down and then flick it onto the edges with my thumb and a paint brush.

Double-Core Endbands. i sew my own endbands, which i followed this tutorial for. that being said, it's kind of confusing, and this video is a bit easier to follow, but it is a slightly different type of endband.

Case decoration. i used my silhouette cameo 4 to cut out my design for "factory settings" in htv (heat transfer vinyl). i also used my cameo 4 to cut out the oval of marbled paper on the front, as i honestly didn't want to try my hand at cutting an oval lol. i also glued some 300 gsm card with an oval cut out of the centre of it onto the cover before covering it with bookcloth, to get a kind of recess on the cover. i then glued the oval of marbled paper onto the top of the recessed area once it was covered with bookcloth, so that it was protected. the images i used were sourced from a mix of rawpixel, canva and pixabay. a more accessible way to get into cover decoration is by painting on a design for your cover as described in @a-gay-old-time's tutorial just here. or even doing paper labels, which look classy imo.

physical materials. sourcing these will depend on your country. i am located in australia, and have compiled a list with some other aussie bookbinders of places to buy from. here is a great post describing beginning materials for getting started binding.

@renegadepublishing. this tumblr is great! its what got me started bookbinding, and being in the discord has been inspiring, motivating, and honestly just one of the best online experiences i have ever had. it is full of resources, and most people in there are amateur bookbinders, with a couple of professionals thrown in. the discord is 18+, and anyone can join!

i'm sorry this post got so long, but i hope that this has a lot of information for you if you would like to get started bookbinding. its one of the best hobbies ive ever had, and i genuinely believe i will have it for the rest of my life.

[ankol-heap]

» in a room full of art, he'd rather look at you; itoshi rin x gn!reader

synopsis; itoshi rin is failing his art class. in order to graduate his senior year of high school, he needs to pass the class with at least a b grade. you're assigned to tutor the hot-headed soccer athlete—kind and eccentric, you throw rin's entire world off axis.

a/n; my first post on here! this is set after sae abandons rin, but he still goes to school. enter stage left, front and center—asshole, but very much in need of some love, itoshi rin!

word count: 5.0 k words | now playing every breath you take, by the police

itoshi rin didn't have any friends. it's a fact all his teachers know by now. he's a stoic student, one that doesn't participate in group projects and eats his lunch alone in the library. normally, this type of behavior exhibited by students should have been noticed by his teachers and counselors. but rin was seemingly well behaved, and he had straight a's in most of his classes—so nobody took notice of him. he felt like a ghost, drifting through the walls of his high school without a single person by his side. it was his first day of senior year, and itoshi rin had no expectations for this year.

the phantom ache in his chest is harder to ignore nowadays. he doesn't realize he's been spacing out again until the bell rings, signaling the start of the next class period. rin is snapped violently out of his daze. he glances at the blank canvas in front of him before realizing he's spent the past fifty five minutes doing absolutely nothing. the students around him file out of the room—chatting and laughing as he stands there, a bit dumbfounded with how this class seemed to suck the life out of him.

when itoshi rin was little, he loved drawing. his imagination would run wild, and sometimes—he couldn't always act out the magnificent battles he wanted his toys to perform. dragons and princes and volcanos—his medium of choice used to be these scratchy crayons his brother, sae, would get for rin from the corner store. rin remembers how his parents had to force him to put his crayons down just to make him eat dinner. and now, he can't even manage to put a single mark on a canvas.

during his teacher's instructions at the beginning of class, he was, quite vaguely told at that, to use whatever colors and styles he wanted to on a 12 by 12 canvas to reflect his soul. bitterly, rin thinks his canvas reflects him perfectly. he'll turn this in tomorrow, he decides. a blank canvas—no feelings, no purpose, nothing. just like him.

he'll take the shitty grade and move on with his life. rin wonders if there's even a language that exists to put his feelings into something other people can comprehend. he doesn't think there is. if he wants anyone to understand how he feels, they'll have to tear his ribs out one by one to reach the barely alive beat lying inside.

itoshi rin is seventeen years old when he falls in love.

"do you need some help cleaning up?"

rin glances away from his blank canvas, looking up to meet whomever it is speaking. the class is empty now. his art teacher is busying herself in the back of the classroom, unboxing a new pack of paintbrushes when rin swallows the lump in his throat.

"i'm fine,"

your smile is hesitant. understanding, almost, as you look at rin's canvas and the tubes of unopened acrylic paint surrounding him. the window panes hanging high towards the ceiling welcome in the rising sun outside, and rin can see the light shimmering in your eyes—glittering shards of gold gleam like morning stars in your irises as you wordlessly pick up the neglected paint and brushes on his desk—carrying them over to the back of the classroom and putting them away as rin watches silently.

slowly, he picks up his own canvas—and he stares at his classmates' drying ones with an almost envious kind of sadness as he places his untouched canvas beside theirs. where they had explosions of colors, reds and yellows and greens and blues blending and combining into the most wonderful art—rin didn't. he had nothing.

rin turns around to where he'd seen you last in the back of the classroom, before clearing his throat. he doesn't lift his gaze from the tiled floor beneath him, pressing his hand flat against the surface of a nearby table to steady himself before speaking up

"thanks..." he begins, but his voice trails off when he realizes you've already left.

—

rin was sitting in english class when he heard your voice again. to be completely honest, he had no idea you were in this class. rin didn't talk to anyone in all of his classes, so hearing the sound of your voice was a surprise. and where he sat in the back of the classroom, you sat towards the front. you're asking the teacher a question on last night's homework, and rin takes his chance to watch you freely.

you have a tote bag slung over your shoulder. there's a landscape painted on it, with little pins placed all over. you have your hair down today compared to the updo you wore yesterday. it's only when you turn towards your seat that rin finally makes eye contact with you.

time slows, and the conversation around rin drowns out as if he's ducked his head underwater. his brain is nothing but white static for that one second you look into his eyes.

actually, you didn't even hold his gaze for a full second, it was more like a fraction of one—but rin's heart rate didn't calm until the bell rang, and he was the first student out the door. he left class that day with clammy palms and pink-tinted cheeks.

rin didn't have art class today, but he was called down regardless during study hall. his art teacher was an old woman with a wrinkly smile who always wore colorful cardigans. rin enters the room, moving through the empty desks and chairs before he stops in front of her with a quiet greeting.

"rin! it's so nice of you to come so quickly, students aren't usually so courteous! please have a seat," she says warmly, and rin eyes the blank canvas—his blank canvas—laying beside her on the desk.

rin takes a seat, fading in and out of the conversation as she talks. he already knew what to expect, and of course, he was right. akamatsu sensei had the type of voice rin imagines story tellers have, or lullaby singers do. she tells him that she's having trouble seeing signs of progress in his art and wanted him to be doing better. but her last sentence is what catches rin off gaurd. this he did not predict.

"a tutor?"

akamatsu sensei nods her head slowly, folding her hands in her lap at rin's apprehensive expression. she watches his delicate brows pinch together in discomfort, soft lips pulled into a small frown filled with silent frustration. rin didn't understand why he had to get another person to tutor him—he thought art was subjective.

"i promise you, rin, i have just the perfect person in mind. they're my best student—i think if anyone can get your imagination flowing again, it's them."

—

akamatsu sensei introduces you and rin to each other the following morning—and rin's learns that your name is y/n. he repeats it in his head a few times, committing it to memory before you speak his name in the sweetest voice he'll ever have the pleasure of hearing.

"rin-san, i think we're going to get along well! we can sit together in class and work on assignments with each other, but we'll also have to meet after school. what days are you free?" you question, and rin's heart positively plummets to his feet when you grab his hand and lead him towards his seat—you occupy the usually empty chair beside him, and he follows your lead.

"that's fine. i'm free every friday, every other day of the week i have football practice."

rin's hands clutch his knees under his desk when you pull your hand out of his, a fruitless attempt to try and calm himself after you so casually held his hand. your fingers curved around his perfectly—and while the gesture might not have meant anything to you, it meant so much to rin. he doesn't hold hands, he can't even hold a conversation—but you're bubbly and bright in a way that has him submitting in one second flat.

"football? that sounds like fun! i'm sorry, i'm not very well versed with sports. do you like it?" you ask, organizing the paints in front of you as rin nods wordlessly, staring at the gentle manner in which you treat the art materials. you smile at his confirmation, grabbing a tube of a radiant midnight blue and placing a dollop of it on rin's blank canvas with a grin

"when we're in doubt, it's like our minds subconsciously pull away. they shut down and sorta refuse to do anything, right? i want to push you out of your comfort zone and give you a blue canvas to work with rather than a white one. we'll see what you do with that, okay?"

rin nods, fingers moving to take the paintbrush you hand him before he turns to the awaiting paint in front of him. his brushstrokes are slow and a little messy, but five minutes later—the canvas is entirely blue.

"what do you see?" you question softly as rin stares at his canvas. he stays silent for a heartbeat, two heartbeats, and then—

"i don't see anything."

rin's inner turmoil is a storm. was he supposed to be seeing something? all he sees is blue. there's nothing coming to his mind, no connection being made—his bites the inside of his cheek, angry at himself and his clear lack of creativity.

"that's okay. let's think together, okay? what do you think of when you think of the color blue? it can be the simplest thing of all, rin-san. anything at all," you assure, gently scooting your chair closer to his as he nods, clenching his jaw as he thinks. blue. blue. blue. what the hell is blue?

"the sky."

you're silent a for a few moments before he hears it. it's soft and muffled with the back of your hand, but you're laughing at him. his cheeks burn in an instant, and his lips transform into a scowl immediately

"whatever, i know it's stupid—"

"no, no! i was thinking the same thing, that's why i laughed! now, the sky is a painting all in its own! think about it—it's orange and pink during sunrise, like a fruity drink on the beach. it can be a misty, pale haze during snow storms. but, i want you to think of a time you saw the sky like this—an inky void, like a dark blue veil's been put over the world. can you do that?"

rin doesn't respond. he stares at the sea of blue in front of him—blue blue blue.

"...sometimes, football practice gets cut short on rainy days. the sky sorta looks like this blue on those days. dark. blurry—but it's still...i can see some stars. and the moon peaking out from behind the clouds, too. i guess this kind of looks like that."

rin's brows furrow together in concentration as he stares at the canvas after speaking. he turns away from it and towards you after another moment—and he's met with your gentle lips parted in awe. he blinks rapidly a few times to confirm the sight of your awe struck face in front of him is real, not something his imagination made up, before you break into a breathtaking smile.

"well then, let's get some black to add some darker shading to the sky! and some white—for the stars and moon...come on!"

—

itoshi rin is attentive. it's something you would come to learn soon enough. you're an avid artist—truly, it was your passion. rin can watch you scribble away in your sketchbook from where he sits in the back. english class is droning on, and for once, he's not paying attention.

you tilt your head over your notebook, staring at your drawing before you erase something and redraw it. rin watches the way your hair shifts and moves around you as you look at your sketchbook from different angles—perfecting your art. his lips twitch at the sight of your pout when the tip of your pencil breaks. you're restless, quickly sharpening it and continuing your drawing when the teacher's voice breaks him out of his daze.

"all right class, partner up! i'll let you chose your partners this time. please don't make me regret it," she sighs, and the excited chatter of the students quickly fills the once silent room.

rin straightens in his seat. he had absolutely no idea what the assignment was since he wasn't paying attention—but, right now, he didn't care. his eyes stayed glued on you, waiting to see who you would partner up with. rin has to crane his neck a bit as his classmates moved around and shifted seats—effectively blocking his view. once everyone settled down with their partners, rin was able to see you again.

and you're sitting by yourself.

rin doesn't know what urged him to walk towards you. he can hear his heart pounding—tugging him closer and closer towards where you sat. he swallows the lump in his throat, standing behind you silently before he taps your shoulder

you turn around, obviously not expecting him—because your eyes widen a bit when you see rin. and rin just...stares. he doesn't say anything, and it's like the two of you were sucked into a bubble, separating you from everyone else—you both stare at each other, blinking blankly and staying absolutely silent

"do you want to—"

"are you—"

rin wants to crawl into a hole and die. he shakes his head, pressing his lips into a firm line before speaking again. the flush of embarrassment in your cheeks was making him feel flustered.

"sorry. i was asking if you wanted to be partners with me," he speaks. rin places an awkward palm on the nape of his neck, silently questioning where he got the sudden boost of confidence to approach you from, because it had suddenly, and very inconveniently, vanished into thin air—leaving him defenseless. you smile warmly at him, quickly moving over and beckoning to the open seat beside yours.

"yes! i'd love to be partners," you say, quickly closing your sketchbook and putting it away as he nods gratefully, taking the seat beside you.

"thank you," rin says. and then, it's quiet again. the tension is as thick as butter, and you look around awkwardly before laughing, nervously.

"so...do you know what we're supposed to be doing, rin-san?"

this was the first time you saw rin smile. and laugh. well, not laugh, per say. but he snorts, and it's almost as if he was surprised by his own reaction as he shakes his head with a soft grin.

"not a clue."

the rest of class consisted of the two of you leaning towards each other with bowed heads, you soft giggles and rin's low voice filling the void between you two.

—

itoshi rin has a friend.

this is what friends are, he decides. people who smile at you when they see you, people who help you with your homework and expect nothing in return. slowly, but surely, fall turned into winter, and winter turned into spring. friendship is a blossoming thing, he thinks. because it felt like every day that passed, you and rin became closer. like a knot tightening further and further—he was growing closer and closer to you.

your guidance is what rin needs. direction and kindness—you helped rin navigate his own mind through art, a language he could use to spill his heart's deepest desires. every stroke of his brush came straight from the core of his soul.

charcoal was your current medium of choice this friday afternoon. every harsh fingertip pressed into rin's paper and ever gentle brush of his knuckles against the page has its own meaning—its own purpose. his tongue is poked out in concentration, and you watch rin work quietly as the quiet sound of akamatsu sensei's record player filled the silence. rin thinks of the way your delicate fingers transverse and move when you make art, and he mimics your movements—your gentle voice reassuring him.

"beautiful," you breathe breathlessly, tentative hands carefully taking the paper rin hands you as you stare at the art piece he'd just created. a battle field—it's set up like a football field, but instead of players, there were towering presences instead. swords and shields, a storm in the background, long blades of grass and a constellation of stars—rin's spark and love for art had been rekindled.

"thank you, y/n. i...i couldn't have done any of this without you. you're the only reason i'm not failing right now," he says softly, his voice almost sheepish as your eyes flit towards his—welling with pride.

"i wish i could frame this! it's beautiful...akamatsu sensei is going to be so proud of you, rin-san! this talent has always been with you. i just got the wheels rolling. you're very talented, i hope you understand." you smile softly, your eyes crinkling with the motion as rin's heart rate spikes at the sight

"rin," he whispers, and you blink in confusion before he clarifies himself

"call me just rin, please."

"oh! okay, rin," you smile, the familiar flush returning to your cheeks as rin smiles softly. if he moves even an inch closer to you, his knee will bump against yours under the table. rin is suddenly hyper aware of the space between you two. the music playing in the back ground fades to nothing, just like the world did, when rin stares at you. your eyes soften, and rin's positive his heart is going to burst right out of his chest and into your lap.

friends don't want to kiss their friends. the realization is chilling, and rin's eyes dart towards your lips for a split second—he couldn't stop himself, and the sight makes his breath hitch. soft, pink, plump—he wants to kiss you. rin really wants to kiss you.

the screeching sound of his chair against the floor shatters the serene moment of peace. you blink rapidly from the loud interruption as rin wordlessly picks his bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion before exiting the classroom. you're left stunned and alone, your smile falling as he leaves without saying goodbye,

alone again.

—

rin is not familiar with love, you have to understand this.

in his eyes—love was a transaction. a give or take scenario, and if you can't give something useful—you get your heart trampled on. a certain brother taught rin that. he leaves school that day sullen and empty, his heart physically hurting in his chest as he walked home.

rin started ignoring you after that day. he didn't show up to your after school tutoring sessions on friday, he stopped turning towards you when your english teacher told the class to partner up—and your seat in art class beside him was now occupied by his backpack, a clear message telling you he didn't want you sitting near him.

you have to understand—rin didn't have anything to give. he'd taken your kindness, your love, your guidance—but what did he have to offer? he's not very gentle, and as graceful as his movements may be, he can't always control the bite in his tongue. and he's sensitive. his humor borderlines between dry and downright crude. and he's not used to having a friend, forget a lover—so, itoshi rin will ignore you. he will love you from afar, but he won't so much as glance in your direction anymore. because he cares too much, and rin thinks you deserve better. he doesn't thrive like you do, he destroys. and he's certainly not your mess to clean up.

"y/n,"

you glance away from rin's retreating figure. once again, he didn't bother to look at you all day or say goodbye—he simply left class. akamatsu sensei's voice pulls you away from rin as you quickly approach her desk, bowing your head in greeting.

"sensei," you greet with a weary smile as her gaze softens. she hands you a slip of paper, her voice gentle as she speaks

"rin has been leaving class far too quickly for me to catch up with! would you be a dear and give this to him for me, please? it's a permission slip he must sign for our upcoming field trip,"

the words otsuka museum of art were printed neatly at the top. you'd been looking forward to this trip for months—you vaguely remember mentioning your excitement for it to rin at some point when he still spoke to you.

the otsuka museum of art scaled five floors, three underground and two above—of the richest art history ever. there were reportedly over a thousand paintings—masterpieces ranging from ancient times to the present day from all over the world. it was your dream to have your own art in a museum like the otsuka museum one day.

"okay! that's not a problem at all for, akamatsu sensei," you reply softly, bidding her goodbye as she waves enthusiastically to you. you manage a meek wave, offering a small smile as you exit the classroom.

this was your chance to talk to rin. determined to find him before he left school for the day, you move swiftly through the crowded hallways—keeping a firm grip on your tote bag and the slip of paper between your fingertips as you push open the front doors of the school

and there he is. his strides are slow and long as he walks on the sidewalk about a dozen meters away from you. your feet hit the pavement as you quickly make your way towards him. he doesn't look up from his path to the school's football field—his hands remain shoved deep in his pockets and completely unaware of your approaching steps

"rin! rin, wait!"

rin pauses mid step, and you watch every muscle in his back tense the moment your voice reached his ears. he swallows the lump forming in his throat, closing his eyes for a moment before reluctantly turning around. his eyes are round in an almost childlike manner as you approach him.

you take a deep breath before grabbing his hand—and he's startled for a moment before you place the field trip slip in his hand. he blinks down at it in confusion, squinting at the small text before they widen a bit in realization

"akamatsu sensei couldn't give it to you earlier, so, uh, she asked me to," you quickly say, wringing your hands together nervously as rin stays silent, blinking at the paper in his hand.

"i...i'd be really happy if you came. of course, it's a voluntary thing but..."

even though rin won't look at you, resorting to burning a hole through the paper slip in his hands again, you continue with your words.

"rin, i don't know if i did something wrong to upset you, or if i said something you didn't like—but...i'm sorry."

rin's jaw clenches, and a frown digs its way onto his face as he stares at you. he shakes his head as if to say no, and just when he opens his mouth to say something—a loud voice comes barreling your way.

"itoshi! you're late! on the field, now!"

rin's coach's voice is booming and demanding of attention—and you're startled enough to flinch. rin exhales sharply through his nose, a vein threatening to pop on his forehead as he fights to keep himself from cursing out his coach, something he'd done many times before, in front of you.

"...we'll talk another time, all right?"

he doesn't seem to want to leave until he gets your confirmation, and you quickly nod

"i...okay."

he frowns at your hesitance, taking a half hearted step back, sparing you one last glance, before walking away. his shoulders are slumping just the slightest bit with defeat, and you don't have the strength to keep watching. you begin the walk home, thoughts scattered and heart hurt.

—

thankfully, rin did show up the day of the trip.

your breath hitched when you saw him board the bus—his dark, inky strands mused from the wind outside as he huffed, handing akamatsu sensei his field trip form before he turned towards the open seats. yes, there was one right beside you—but rin took the seat on the other side of the aisle.

doing this, he kept himself both near you and faraway—you heart sinks at the silent rejection. you spend the bus ride sketching in your notebook, trying your best to not look at rin.

—

you fell asleep on the two hour drive there. rin thinks you look a lot like an angel when you sleep. your face is composed entirely of peace. your sketchbook lays idly in your lap, and rin frowns when he notices it's slipping from your grasp.

he waits for the bus to approach a red light before slipping into the vacant spot beside you. he grabs your sketchbook, prepared to close it and put it safely away into your tote bag, when he sees what you were drawing

it was him.

—

everyone arrives to the museum after another fifteen minutes. and after going through security, your classmates and akamatsu sensei stand in the foyer—buzzing with excitement. you leave the group the second you're given the green light. everyone is given ninety minutes to explore the museum on their own before you all have to regroup and grab lunch. you slip away as quietly as you can, moving through the crowd of people in search of some much needed solitude.

you let out a breath of relief once you escape rin's presence. now, you can't see him at all—all you can see is the hundreds of art pieces and hallways waiting to be explored. they beckon you forward and call your name. your first step is hesitant as you remember how much you wanted to explore this beautiful building with rin just a month ago, but you take it anyway.

you move through the museum slowly, allowing your body to sink into the moment and absorb the entirely new world around you. the domed ceilings themselves have art painted on them, and you twirl and waltz through the halls, taking it all in.

your heartbeat calms. your nerves, fears, sadness—it fades to background noise as you take it all in.

unbeknownst to you, rin follows you the entire time.

his movements are precise and elegant. he can duck behind a nearby family or statue the moment he anticipates your gaze nearing his vicinity. he keeps a healthy distance, his eyes never leaving your form.

there's a soft smile on your face as you explore the museum. rin can't help but watch the way you excitedly chat to the security guards posted by the arts and explain each piece's history. he watches your animated gestures to the enormous structures as you explain the myths and stories behind them.

you're far too kind for this world. truthfully, rin thinks your heart is bigger than the entire museum—bigger than the entire world, really. you give, and you give, and you give—but you don't ask for anything in return. you're selfless—offering your sweet smiles to passerby’s and dorky art facts to anyone willing to hear.

rin would soon learn the love you offered was unconditional.

you're moving from exhibit to exhibit, before you finally enter an empty one. he stands by the entrance where your back is facing him. rin is nervous beyond belief—but he takes the step inside, anyway. you don't notice him at first, too busy staring at a painting the same height as you with a feverish type of awe.

he steps beside you, not meeting your gaze as he peers up at the painting. a man and a woman sit at a piano, playing together in harmony. they're in a ballroom of some sort, both dressed in formal wear. rin can tell they're in love with the way they look at each other.

"i'm sorry."

rin can feel you go rigid beside him—he can hear the silent hitch in your breath as you keep your gaze glued to the painting, your fingers tensing at your sides as rin looks away from the painting, turning towards you.

he takes a moment to admire you. your lips, your lashes, the slope of your nose and the curve of your neck—before speaking

"i'm not good with my feelings. i push people away before they get to close, but it was like you slipped through the gaps—i...thought i'd hurt you if i stayed. but i hurt you by leaving. i like you, y/n. i like you more than any person i've ever known—i-i think i love you,"

the words fall from his lips in a broken whisper, and he wants to reach out and play with your fingers—have something to fidget with as he awaits your response. he wasn't going to shy away from admitting his feelings anymore, that wasn't rin. the only reason he messed up with you the first time was because he's never been in love before. but, he was willing to learn everything about it with you—he didn't want to do it with anyone else.

his eyes are glazed with unshed tears, because not once, not ever—has itoshi rin so clearly expressed his heart to another person.

this moment would forever be engraved into his heart, brain, and soul—but the sight of your face when you finally look at him steals the air from his lungs.

your lip trembles in disbelief for a moment, tears of joy springing from your eyes as you laugh—the sound a melody all in its own to rin's ears as you smile with all your teeth.

his mouth slots over yours a moment later. soft and oh so sweet—itoshi rin's kiss was like pressing your mouth against the petal of a flower. his hands cradle your face, his breathing coming out uneven and quick—he kisses you hard, and you laugh into his mouth as your hands wrap around his neck. he tugs you infinitely closer, molding his form against yours.

"i love you too, itoshi rin..!"

rin's eyes crinkle with a rare show of genuine joy. his eyes don't leave yours as he watches your thumb gently caress his cheek. because in a room full of art—itoshi rin would rather look at you.

[sunskisser]

hii i love your writing!! can i please request a scarf 🧣 with james potter + "my hands are freezing, just let me warm them on you for a second," please? thank you!🩷

of course you can, thank you for your request!! here’s your scarf, angel <3

hot cocoa | j.p.

— "My hands are freezing, just let me warm them on you for a second."

james potter x reader

“Jamie! Look at how adorable this is!”

“Huh?” Your boyfriend trudges through the snow from a short distance away, wrapping an arm around your waist as soon as he gets close.

“Oh, yeah. This is really cute,” he grins, taking the miniature from you and examining it. It’s an acrylic-painted Santa Claus, riding a sleigh pulled by a couple of reindeers. “It’ll look perfect on the table in the hallway.”

You place the miniature in your basket, nudging him back towards the stall he was patronising with a peck on his cheek.

James and you were spending the evening at a Christmas market near your place, which he’d spotted during a morning run. 

Your day had started at an ungodly hour when he pounced on you and excitedly shook you awake, sweaty palmed and panting. You listened begrudgingly, half-asleep, as he rambled on and on about the numerous stalls and decorations being set up.

It was impossible to say no to his big, brown eyes and pouty pleading — so here you were a couple hours later. To his credit, you were having loads of fun. You’d managed to find gifts for all your friends. James had even bought a whole new tree, almost as tall as himself. Now, he was looking at ornaments for the tree while you scoured the stalls for decorations to brighten up the apartment.

“Hey, sweetheart. How about this set?” he calls out, waddling over to you with a huge box of shimmering golden baubles and ribbons hugged to his chest. You pull your scarf tighter around yourself, chilly wind nipping at your skin. He hands you the box, fingers brushing against yours.

You shake the box, peering at its contents. “Yeah, I think a gold theme would be nice —“

“Babe.”

“Hm?” You stick a hand in, pulling out a bauble and squinting as you examine it. “This one’s got little hearts —“

“Babe.”

“Yeah?” you look up, and James’ eyebrows are bunched together in a frown. He takes the box from you, half-mindedly closing it and setting it down.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighs and gently grabs your hands, gloved fingers brushing over your reddened knuckles and fraying skin. “You’re cold, sweetheart.”

You smile sheepishly, meeting his gaze. “I’m okay, really. I’m not that cold.”

“No, you are,” he mutters, teeth pressing into his gloves as he pulls them off. “Here, put ‘em on.”

James helps you pull the gloves on, lovingly berating you for not heeding him when he told you to dress warmer before leaving the house. You try to deny feeling the cold, but he’s right — your hands are shaking, teeth jittering when you speak.

He continues to rub your gloved hands between his, worry still contorting his features. “Better?”

You nod, grinning. “Yeah, thanks. You’re my hero.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs you closer to peck your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go get some hot cocoa to warm you up a bit. I can still feel you trembling.”

James goes to pay for the set of baubles and the trinkets you’ve collected in your basket. He comes back and wraps an arm around your shoulder, steering you towards the café nearby with a kiss to your frigid nose.

You can’t stop the widening smile on your lips as you enter the café, much-needed warm air instantly hitting you. James seats you down, asks you if you’d like a snack with the hot cocoa, tells you to sit tight and that he’d be right back after ordering.

You feel the love like a numbing ache in your chest, worse than the chill in your fingertips. You’d known James a long time. But this was your first year as a couple, first Christmas together. And in moments like this was when you knew how much he really loved you — not that there wasn’t an abundance of affection and kisses everyday, but it really was nice to know how much he cared about something as simple as your feeling cold. 

“What are you smiling at?” he asks with an arched eyebrow, returning to the table holding two mugs. He passes you one and you murmur a quiet, “Thank you,” shaking your head indulgently as you take a sip.

“Nothing. Just… I love you.”

He beams. “I love you too, sweetheart. But what’s this about? Did I win your affection by dramatically giving up my gloves?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, reaching across the table to whack him. “You’re a jerk. My affection can’t be won.”

“Oh, really?” he chuckles, pulling his hands off the table before being met with your attack. “Fine, then. No more hugs for you.”

“Jamie!”

“What? You’re not feeling cold anyway, a hug wouldn’t do you any good. Your words, not mine.”

You sigh good-naturedly, rolling your eyes. “Actually, my hands are freezing.”

“Oh, are they?” he teases, gently easing your mug of hot cocoa out of your grasp. 

“Yes, they are! Just let me warm them on you for a second,” you laugh, making grabby hands towards him. He puts the two mugs where you can’t reach them, standing up and sliding into the booth seat next to you.

“If my best girl needs to be warmed up, what other choice do I have?” he sighs dramatically, bundling you up in his arms and stamping a kiss to your cheek as you giggle. “You’ve made a loser out of me, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

san’s christmas sleepover

[ayushpaper]

Exploring The Versatility of Acrylic Painting Canvas: A Comprehensive Guide

Acrylic painting is an exciting way to express your creativity and bring vibrant colours to life on canvas. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll delve into the world of acrylic painting canvas and discover its versatility. Whether you’re a seasoned artist or just starting out, Ayush Paper guide will help you understand the ins and outs of using acrylic paint on canvas.

Understanding Acrylic Painting Canvas: A Solid Foundation for Your Art

Acrylic painting canvas serves as the foundation for your artistic journey. It’s the surface on which you’ll create your masterpiece. Acrylic canvases come in various sizes and shapes, allowing you to choose the perfect canvas for your vision. The texture of the canvas can vary as well, from smooth to rough, giving you even more creative control over the final look and feel of your artwork.

Advantages of Acrylic Painting Canvas: Why Choose Acrylic?

Acrylic paint has gained popularity among artists for several compelling reasons. When applied to canvas, acrylic paints offer a range of advantages that enhance both the painting process and the final outcome:

Durability and Longevity: One of the key benefits of using acrylic paint on canvas is its durability. Acrylic paint adheres well to the canvas surface, creating a strong and lasting bond. This means that your artwork can withstand the test of time, and you can enjoy your creations for years to come without worrying about fading or deterioration.

Vibrant Colors: Acrylic paints are renowned for their vibrant and intense colours. When applied to canvas, these colours appear bold and striking, instantly capturing the viewer’s attention. Acrylics have the ability to retain their vividness even after drying, allowing you to achieve a captivating visual impact in your artwork.

Quick Drying Time: Unlike oil paints, which can take days or even weeks to dry, acrylic paint dries relatively quickly. This fast drying time opens up opportunities for layering colours, experimenting with different techniques, and making changes on the canvas without the need for extended waiting periods. This efficiency in drying also makes acrylics a favourite among artists who prefer to work on multiple pieces concurrently.

Texture Possibilities: Acrylic paints offer incredible versatility when it comes to texture. Depending on your desired effect, you can apply acrylics thinly for a smooth finish, or you can use impasto techniques to create thick and textured brushstrokes that add depth and dimension to your art. This textural flexibility enables artists to convey emotions and details in unique and captivating ways.

Versatility in Techniques: Acrylic paints accommodate a wide range of techniques, making them suitable for artists of varying skill levels. Whether you’re interested in the fluidity of watercolour-like washes, the layering potential of oils, or the boldness of opaque colors, acrylics provide the perfect medium for experimentation. From wet-on-wet blending to controlled brushwork, artists can explore an array of techniques to achieve their desired effects.

Preparing Your Acrylic Canvas: Tips for a Smooth Start

Properly preparing your canvas sets the stage for a successful acrylic painting experience. Here are some important steps to consider before you start creating:

Canvas Priming: Many acrylic canvases come pre-primed, which means they have a layer of acrylic gesso applied to the surface. This pre-priming provides a smooth and consistent surface that’s ready for painting. However, if you’re working with an unprimed canvas, it’s advisable to apply a layer of acrylic gesso to create a suitable base for your paint.

Surface Preparation: Before you begin painting, take a moment to ensure that your canvas is clean and free from dust, debris, or any previous residues. A clean surface guarantees better paint adherence and prevents unwanted particles from affecting the final appearance of your artwork. If you find that the canvas surface is too rough, you can lightly sand it to achieve a smoother texture.

Choosing Brushes and Tools: The choice of brushes and painting tools can significantly influence the outcome of your acrylic painting. Acrylic brushes come in a variety of shapes and sizes, each suited to different techniques. Round brushes are ideal for detailed work, flat brushes are great for broad strokes and layering, and fan brushes can create interesting texture effects. Additionally, don’t hesitate to experiment with palette knives, sponges, and other unconventional tools to achieve unique textures and effects in your artwork.

Acrylic Painting Techniques for Canvas: Getting Creative

Now that you’ve prepared your Acrylic Painting Canvas and selected your tools, it’s time to explore various acrylic painting techniques. These techniques allow you to create diverse visual effects and styles in your artwork:

Layering Colors: Acrylic paint’s quick drying time makes it ideal for layering colours. Start with lighter colours as your base and gradually build up to darker hues. This layering technique adds depth and dimension to your artwork, giving it a sense of realism and vibrancy.

Blending and Gradients: Acrylic paints can be blended together seamlessly to achieve smooth transitions between colours. The wet-on-wet technique involves applying wet paint onto a wet surface, allowing colours to blend naturally. This technique is perfect for creating gradients and subtle colour shifts in your artwork.

Impasto and Texture: If you enjoy adding texture to your paintings, acrylics offer the ideal platform. Impasto is a technique where thick layers of paint are applied to the canvas, creating a three-dimensional effect. Palette knives are commonly used for impasto work, allowing you to sculpt and shape the paint for added texture and visual interest.

Dry Brushing: Dry brushing involves using a relatively dry brush to apply paint onto the canvas. This technique creates a textured and scratchy appearance, which can be particularly effective for depicting surfaces like rough tree bark, stone, or weathered wood.

Sgraffito: Sgraffito is a technique where you scratch into a layer of wet paint to reveal the underlying layer. This technique can be used to create intricate designs, patterns, or even text within your artwork.

Sealing and Finishing Your Artwork: Preserving Your Creation

After you’ve completed your acrylic painting on canvas, it’s important to protect and preserve your masterpiece for years to come. Applying a clear acrylic varnish is a recommended step to ensure the longevity of your artwork:

Choosing the Right Varnish: Acrylic varnishes are available in various finishes, including gloss, satin, and matte. Select a varnish that aligns with your desired final appearance. A gloss varnish enhances colour vibrancy and provides a shiny finish, while a matte varnish offers a subdued and glare-free surface.

Application: Apply the varnish evenly using a soft brush, ensuring smooth coverage over the entire canvas. It’s important to follow the manufacturer’s instructions and recommendations for application, drying times, and the number of coats needed.

Protecting Against UV Light and Dust: The primary purpose of varnishing is to protect your artwork from environmental factors such as UV light and dust. UV light can cause colours to fade over time, while dust particles can settle on the canvas and affect its appearance. A quality varnish acts as a protective barrier, shielding your artwork from these potential hazards.

Final Thoughts

Acrylic painting on canvas opens up a world of possibilities for artists of all levels. Whether you’re drawn to bold colours, intricate details, or textured surfaces, Ayush Paper brings your artistic visions to life. So, gather your supplies, choose your canvas, and let your creativity flow onto the versatile surface of acrylic painting canvas.

[introloves]

can we puh LEASE get a drabble or a one shot on that gojo undercut thing u posted im beggin on my hands AND knees 🙏🙏

you knew he wanted something from you. you could feel it in the way he folded his frame down against yours. borderline suffocating, a malformed pout stretched across his face while humming against your neck.

“what is it.” you wondered, tapping away on your laptop without so much as paying him any attention- wounding him further.

he scoffed, wondering how you could be so cruel considering the fact he was dying. his eyes painted against the sheen of gloss painted over your newly done nails.

pink.

they were pretty and pink, and oddly resembling a part of him you just loved sucking on. his ego absolutely through the roof with that fact. you hadn’t put up your usual fight when he suggested the color brushed over that acrylic.

“nothing.”

a lie.

he himself knew what he wanted, but he never gave it up easy. choosing instead to wander away from the back of the couch you were so prettily purchased on. walking to stand directly in-front of you- the laptop screen doing nothing to block the majority of his body. tight shirt tucked into sweats that were hung a little too low for your tastes to be casual.

eyebrow raising and huffing with the hint served on a silver platter before you. smiling knowingly while closing the device and setting it aside.

opening yourself up to receive the heavy weight of his body, an exclaimed huff of air leaving you when his arms braced your body. engulfing them with ease- face planting first into your chest and groaning like he’d just found nirvana.

lifting his face to really show up that pout. letting those arms wrapped around you leave the circumference of you to grab at your wrists and plant them firmly against the shortened hair laying against the lower part of his head.

giggling when you finally got the unspoken hint. taking those newly manicured nails and raking them through the translucent hair.

“nothing, huh?” you teased, finding it easy to follow along to his whims. it was him who had paid a pretty penny for your current set after all.

answered with only a groan- eyes shut tight while you traced your initials into the hair there.

a vein prominent along the curve of his jaw with the force of his clenching teeth, something inside of him purring with the fact that you were so well taken care of.

taken care of on his money, with the color of his cock head painted on your nails.

shamelessly moving his face to nestle further against you, hands grabbing at you with an intensity not in proportion to your actions. wondering why the singular act of you running the tips of your styled nails across the short hair of his undercut had him reacting like this.

“satoru?” you inquired when his breathing nearly heaved while he let the full weight of him lay against you. answered with another near incoherent hum.

“is this okay?” words giggled sounded just a little teasing- but you truly wondered if this was fine. you’d never seen his body react in this fashion- not unless he was buried deep inside of you.

and with that realization, it seemed like a veil had been pulled from your eyes. looking over the curve of his back, over the defined planes, and watching the shifting of his hips against the couch cushions.

glossy lips pulled into something that resembled a smile before bringing your nails back and running them over the surface with just a little more pressure. making sure to watch for any shift in his demeanor.

barking out a bell of a giggle when his body tensed, coils of muscle wound tight and with an intensity that would have scared anyone that wasn’t you.

“feels good?” you wondered, and he could only nod. looking up and marveling at the pretty face smiling down at him. choosing to stretch himself back up to his full height. looming over you with that same intensity highlighted seconds previous.

“yeah, that feels good baby.” satoru huffed, letting you see for yourself when those horrible, teasing, wonderful sweats detailed the throbbing outline of his cock.

“do you wanna feel good?” he wondered, not letting you answer before tugging down the front of his waistband. finding it funny how close in color the pink tip of his matched your fingernails.

[iriswritesforyou]

His Mona Lisa

Warning - small violence, prejudice against mutants, and maybe some other things? IDK

Word count - 1,889

Description: Reader is a human art teacher at the school. You and Logan had both been giving each other eyes for a while now but things heat up during a field trip.

Charles Xaiver had asked you, a human, to teach at his school for mutants, as an art teacher. You were reluctant at first, not because you were scared of mutants but because you felt as if you had nothing to offer them. Your only gift rested in your ability to paint and draw, to bring the images in your mind to life, and to help the youth do the same. 

It was rocky at first, the kids were hesitant to warm up to you and you were hesitant to discipline them but that all changed one day when you introduced them to what you liked to call ‘splat balloon painting’. You had set up a canvas for each kid with balloons filled with paint next to them outside, encouraging them to throw them at the canvases. The kids loved it so much and getting paint all over you was definitely worth watching them smile and laugh. The true solidarity came when one of the kids' powers acted up and you got freezing cold acrylic paint all over you. The kid expected you to be angry like most humans would but you werent, to their surprise you just laughed it off and assured the kid you were fine. 

After that day your class was one of the favorites among the students, even the kids who had hated art in previous years found themselves enjoying your class. 

And then there was Logan, the combat instructor teacher who plagued your thoughts and little did you know you plagued him as well. It all started when one of your kids came to class all battered up and looking worse for wear claiming it was from Logan’s combat class. You didn't know much about Logan and you didn't know much about his class but you did know that your students shouldnt be showing up to class looking like they just got beat up in an alleyway. 

So you marched down into the lower levels of the school determined to scold Logan like a parent would a child. 

He was quite surprised to see a young human woman dressed in paint covered overall hanging off one of her shoulders, paint brushes stuck in her hair, and mismatched jewelry stomping up to him.

He had heard about you of course, there was a stir when you joined the campus, people whispered about you with some saying you didn’t belong and others thinking your presence would be good for future relations between humans and mutants, he didn't particularly care. This was the first time he had seen you through and you certainly left your mark on him huffing and puffing about how the kids shouldnt be showing up to class battered and bruised. 

If Logan was being honest, despite what most people thought his reaction would be, he wasn't annoyed or angry, in fact he found it a little endearing how you cared for the kids, but he pushed that down and explained to you how it wasn't his intentions but the kids have to learn somehow. 

A couple months had passed since then and you and Logan were cordial to each other, you smiled at each other in passing but nothing more than that but the rest of the teachers and even students could see how both of your eyes always found each other in a room. 

Things started to heat up when you scheduled a field trip for the students to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Logan was going with you to help you watch the kids.

Logan knew he should have been paying more attention to the kids but he couldn't help but keep his eyes on you, the way you smiled when you explained the exhibits or how you lit up when they would ask questions. And you couldn't help but notice his watchful gaze, mostly on you and it unnerved you. Why was he staring? Was there something wrong with the way you were dressed? Something on your face? 

“Alright I want everybody to find a partner and split up, the sheet of paper I handed you all lays out the entire place and all of the attractions. Please, remember to meet up back here in an hour.” You told the kids as Logan came up beside you and you smiled at him gently “And you and I will be walking around keeping an eye on them.” he didn't say anything but nodded. 

You both had wandered over to the Museum history panel and read the date 1870, was Logan born just after that? 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He didn't even have to think about it before answering “Yes.”. 

“It says this place was founded in 1870.” your voice dropped into a whisper “weren't you born around then?” He snapped his face towards you while you stayed looking away. He wondered how you knew that you and him hadn't had a conversation in months. 

“How did you know that?” You now turned to face him completely, faces close and heart racing, he could hear it. Your eyes were locked onto each other and he couldn't help but study how the light danced in them and skin became flushed under the cool lighting, he thought he was making you scared and took a step back. He wouldn't admit it but he didn't want to take a step back. He wanted to take a step closer. 

“I’ve been - asking around, about you. I'm sorry, I should have asked you but-.” Unspoken words held in the air. 

It was your guilty pleasure to find out more about Logan, the more you knew the more you had answers and you couldn't ask him, he was, well, him. 

“You could have just asked me.” He said. You thought he would be mad, furious even but instead he looked hurt. “You're right Logan, and I’m sorry. If I’m being honest you intimidate me a little.” 

He raised one of his brows at you, he knew he had that effect on people but he didn't want it on you. “Well, you don't have to be. I don't want you to be.” His gruff voice made you stay locked onto him. 

Time could have passed for a hundred years and you both could have stayed right there forever but time didn't care what you wanted as a blood curdling scream snapped you both back to reality. 

Over in the Egyptian side of the room one of your kids and a human boy were having an all out brawl with your kid winning. Logan got there faster than you and pulled him off while the human boy quickly got up and spat at the ground by your feet, “mutant.” 

That one word was all it took for your kid to start kicking in Logan's arm, trying to claw his way back over to the human boy while he just stood there glaring. You quickly walked over to the human boy and grabbed his forearm,  “where are your parents?” and it was as if they heard you. 

A lady in an expensive looking green suit and a man twice the size of you came over, the woman with tears in her eyes, hyperventilating and the man getting red in the face with anger. 

“Let go of my son!” the man huffed getting up into your face, so close you could see the pimple about to burst on his nose. Letting go of his son you took a step back and he took one again closer to you. “Mutant bitch” It was two words now that snapped Logan into action, as he had been watching the exchange with the kid still fighting in his arms. Quickly, Logan let him go, not caring if he went back over to the human boy and started another fight. No, his only concern was you. 

Stepping in between you and the man, blocking him from your sight, they stood toe to toe. Logan was clearly taller and stronger than the man but that did nothing to deter him “And you must be her mutant bastard”. You grabbed the back of Logan's clothes hoping he wouldn't start something “Logan” you gently whispered. Logan may be an angry man but it was never for himself, he wouldn't start anything. 

It wasn't until you stepped around Logan hesitantly, still keeping your grip on him and started to try and mend the situation. “Please, ma’am, sir, we are truly, very sorry. And -”, a sickening slap echoed around the now quiet room, he had hit you and Logan wasn't going to let that slide. 

In the blink of an eye Logan pulled you back and into the arms of your mutant students who had now gathered around the both of you and punched the guy right back. 

Chaos exploded, the woman shrieked as Logan had the man jacked up against the wall as he cried, half of your kids went for the human boy who had bullied your kid and the other half stuck by you as you stood there in shock. 

It took ten security members to pry off Logan and the aftermath was quite horrific. Blood was on the walls and floors, but only the man and his boy had seriously gotten injured with your mutant students only having minor bumps and bruises. 

They would have hauled Logan off to jail if it wasn't for Charles showing up and sweet talking to them, promising not just financial compensation for the museum but for them personally as well, the human family too. 

It wasn't until you got back to the school that you really felt the pain in your upper cheek bone and eye. As you were about to open your door Logan stood there with his fist raised about to knock. 

“I’m so sorry Logan.” He didn't say anything back, his eyes not wavering from a particular spot on your face. He reached towards it and gently touched it making you hiss and jerk back “I should have hit him harder.” 

You shook your head in disbelief  “No, anything more and you would have gone to jail Logan.” 

“You need to go down to the infirmary.” He took your hand in his. “That's actually where I was about to go.” but he still held your hand and led you to the infirmary. 

“I’m sorry.” The gruff man apologized this time.

“Why?” he stopped and fully turned to you, feeling ashamed for running your first field trip. 

“It was a shitty field trip, your first one.” you shrugged but still stayed looking at him “I'm more upset about not being able to tour the museum, I've always wanted to go.” 

He felt guilty now, he knew art was your passion and he didn't even think about that part of the debacle. 

“I'll make it up to you, I'll take you next time.” He couldn't even believe the words that had come out of his mouth but he wanted to take them back, not because he didn't want to but because he assumed you wouldn't want to go with him. But to his surprise a smile grew on your face “Like a date?” 

There was a beat of silence as he gazed down at your beautiful face and gave a small smile down at you “Like a date sweetheart.” 

[cloudyluun]

Lash Out (And Love Me) | nailtech!reader

Summary: When your sweet, silly boyfriend Harry volunteers to be your lash and nail guinea pig, you expect giggles and glue—what you don’t expect is him fully committing to his Bratz doll era. With glitter acrylics, wispy lashes, and enough sass to rival your clients, Harry turns your beauty studio into his own personal runway. But behind the drama and the tapping acrylics is the same boy who brings you pastries, cleans up your space, and tells you you’re magic. Who knew self-care could be a team effort?

A/N: HIIIII ANGELS 😭💗💗 Sooo this fic is inspired by the most ICONIC request ever!!! I saw “Harry with lashes and acrylics” and immediately dropped everything because YES. THIS is the kind of cracky fluff my soul lives for. Imagine soft boyfriend Harry blinking dramatically with 16mm wisps and tapping his pink glitter nails like he’s the CEO of Slay?? I was giggling the whole time writing this. I hope it makes your heart melt and your inner glam girl scream 💅✨ ty for reading I love u mwah mwah mwah

Word Count: 5,1k

Warnings: 

Extreme levels of fluff 💖

Mentions of beauty salon tools (lash glue, acrylics, etc.)

Harry being dramatic with fake lashes

Reader lovingly clowning Harry

So much pink it's practically a Barbie dream

Slightly suggestive jokes, but still sweet & soft

✨ Tap tap ✨ noises from acrylics

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The scent of lavender cuticle oil and sweet vanilla wax hung in the air like a signature perfume. Her studio was always warm, always inviting, even when the outside world felt like a spinning mess. Half the space was dedicated to lashes—plush recliner, ring light, neatly arranged trays of tiny black fans that could flutter anyone into hot girl heaven. The other half was nails—acrylics, gels, brushes, powders, glitters, rhinestones. Everything had its place, a cozy kind of chaos that only she understood.

She was perched on her stool, mid-paint, tongue poking out in concentration as she dragged a fine-tipped brush over a client's ring finger, crafting a perfect little flame.

"Okay, babe. These are officially fire," she said, flashing the nails under the light. "Literally."

The client grinned, nodding in approval as she waved her hand slowly, admiring the reflection of the red and orange tips. "You’re a magician," she said.

“I try.”

The front door chimed then, a familiar little ding that always made her heart do a dumb skip. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

“Is it the hottest lash tech in the land?” came a voice, low and teasing, already halfway through a smirk.

She turned, and there he was—Harry Styles, in all his casual glory. He had on a knit sweater with sleeves pushed up to his forearms, a cap low over his curls, and a brown paper bag in one hand, two lidded coffees balanced in the other.

"Hi, baby," she said, voice soft in a way it wasn’t with anyone else.

“Hi, love,” he grinned, walking the rest of the way in. He greeted the client with a polite smile before setting the bag and cups down on the small counter by her mini fridge. “I brought the goods. Flaky boy from that place you like, and the brown sugar one with the foam you always forget you love until you taste it.”

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You remember my order now?”

He puffed up like she’d handed him a Grammy. “Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t rattle off your coffee order in my sleep?”

“A terrible one. You’d be single. Alone. Cold in the streets.”

“Harsh.”

The client laughed as she gathered her things, carefully avoiding bumping her freshly done nails on anything. “You two are disgustingly cute. Thank you again,” she said, waving her fingers like a hand model.

“Text me if you pop one!” She called after her, already wiping down her station.

Harry wandered over, snatching a paper towel to help without being asked. He moved around her space like he belonged, which he did—he was there more often than not, whether dropping in for ten minutes between interviews or killing time on a slow afternoon.

She nudged him with her hip. “You don’t have to clean.”

“I know. But I like it.” He glanced around at the freshly wiped surfaces, her well-loved tools, her little pink fan still humming faintly in the background. “This place’s got your whole vibe. Feels like you.”

She paused for a second, glancing up at him. He wasn’t looking for brownie points. He just said stuff like that. Simple, direct, heartfelt. It was his thing.

“I like it here,” he added, taking a sip of his own coffee. “It’s warm. Peaceful. You’ve made a whole business where people walk out feeling better than they did when they came in. That’s kinda magic, isn’t it?”

She squinted at him. “Are you trying to make me cry at eleven in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing. You look cute when you cry.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, smiling as she sipped her drink.

Harry leaned against the wall, watching her reload her brush pot and refill a bottle of rubbing alcohol with practiced hands. There was something kind of hypnotic about the way she worked—focused, fast, but always with care. It was the same when she did his nails sometimes for fun or patched up his cuticles because "you're not going on tour with hangnails, baby, absolutely not."

He loved seeing her like this. Not just because she looked hot with her lashes curled and her apron smeared with glitter, but because she lit up here. She was in her zone.

“So,” he said, dragging the word out. “Got any openings today, or is your schedule full of baddies?”

She gave him a look over her shoulder. “You tryna book a fill-in?”

He held up his hands. “Just saying. I’ve got some down time and ten perfectly good fingers. And very plain lashes, might I add.”

“Not the lash envy.”

“Maybe a little.”

She laughed, then gestured to the lash chair. “Come sit. I need to reorganize my lash trays anyway. You can be my moral support. And my taste tester.”

“Dream job,” he said, flopping dramatically into the chair, long legs sprawling. “This better be the flaky boy with the raspberry filling, or I’m gonna file a formal complaint.”

“I’ll file your nails down to nubs.”

He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Kinky.”

She tossed a clean towel at his face, shaking her head. This was how it always was—him showing up with breakfast, her pretending not to be thrilled every time. Their relationship didn’t need grand gestures or long speeches. It was the everyday stuff—the way he knew exactly where she kept the almond milk in the mini fridge, how he refilled her paper towel roll without being asked, how he always asked about her clients like he genuinely wanted to know.

He reached for the pastry and took a dramatic bite, making a face like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. “God, you deserve awards. For taste. For style. For boyfriend selection.”

She snorted. “Modest.”

“Just accurate.”

She finished tidying up her station, then leaned against the table across from him, sipping the rest of her coffee. They sat in silence for a moment—comfortable, familiar, full.

Harry looked around the studio again, eyes lingering on the shelf of sample nails, the tiny framed photo of them in the corner, her name on the sign outside the window. “Y’know,” he said, softer now, “I really am proud of you.”

Her stomach did a little twist, the good kind. “Yeah?”

He nodded, still looking around like it was the first time he’d seen the place. “You built this. All of it. You didn’t wait for permission. Just... made it happen.”

She smiled, cheeks warm. “You’re gonna get me all sappy.”

“Good. You get all sappy, and I get more pastries. Win-win.”

They stayed like that for a little while longer, sunlight filtering through the blinds, pastries half-eaten on the counter, coffee slowly cooling. Just a regular day in the salon. But if you asked either of them, it was kind of perfect.

She finally peeled herself off the counter with a sigh, brushing a few flakes of pastry from her lap as she walked over to her lash cart. There was a new tray she’d been dying to open—extra wispy fans with staggered lengths that gave off that “effortlessly dramatic” vibe everyone wanted lately. She picked it up, turned it around in her hands like it might whisper secrets if she stared hard enough.

“I swear, these brands are making lashes out of clouds or something now,” she muttered.

Harry tilted his head from where he was still sprawled in the lash chair, eyes half-lidded, toe tapping in time with a faint beat playing from the Bluetooth speaker.

“That good?” he asked, sipping what remained of his coffee.

“That pretty,” she corrected, holding the tray up to the light. “I need to try ‘em. They’re supposed to have that barely-there, doe-eyed finish. Kinda like you woke up perfect but obviously didn’t.”

Harry smirked. “That’s your whole brand, innit? ‘Oh, this? I woke up like this, and also spent $120 to do so.’”

“Exactly.” She turned, hand on hip. “The lash girlies want soft glam that slaps. I gotta get it right.”

He watched her carefully select a few more tools, laying things out on her rolling tray, clearly falling into prep mode. The zone.

“You gonna call up one of your test-dummy besties?” he asked.

“Probably,” she said. “Or… I mean, you do have free time today.”

Harry raised a brow.

She grinned, almost sheepish. “I could practice on you. Lashes and nails. Kill two birds. You’d look hot.”

“Hot, huh?”

“Devastatingly hot.”

Harry pretended to consider this, setting down his coffee and folding his hands over his stomach in full melodramatic thinking pose. “Tell me more. Will I look like a pop princess or an early 2000s boyband member?”

She chewed on her lower lip, mock serious. “Mmm. Somewhere between Nick Carter and early Britney. A sprinkle of woodland fairy. With just a touch of ‘I own a pink convertible and wear bedazzled crop tops.’”

Harry burst out laughing, his head tipping back against the chair. “Honestly? Sounds iconic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Wait—are you actually saying yes?”

He shrugged. “Why not? I trust you. Just don’t go posting me lookin’ like a Bratz doll on the internet.”

She blinked, surprised but not shocked. Harry had always been game for her weird ideas. He let her pluck his brows during a sleepover phase early on in dating, let her use his hand in an Instagram reel showing how to hold a brush “for max precision,” and once sat in full eye masks during a girls' night because “self-care is for everyone, babe.” But this? Lashes and acrylics? That was a new level.

“No posting,” she promised, crossing her heart. “But I am taking photos.”

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “For your private collection?”

“Obviously.”

He snorted. “You’ve got a folder of cursed boyfriend content, don’t you?”

“Oh, several,” she said casually, flipping on the ring light.

Harry kicked off his shoes and got comfortable, clearly committed now. “Alright then. Glam me up, baby.”

“You’re not gonna regret this?”

“I probably will the second I can’t scratch my face or blink right, but it’ll be worth it.”

She beamed and got to work, washing her hands and setting everything up like it was a real client appointment. Which, in a way, it was. Harry Styles was about to be her glittery guinea pig, and he was already making dramatic blinking noises just thinking about it.

She held up two lash trays in front of him. “Okay, serious question: Do you want full fairy fantasy or subtle glam?”

Harry leaned forward, examining the tiny fans like he had any clue what he was looking at. “Give me... the drama. If I’m doing it, I want to be able to blink and cause a breeze.”

“Say less.”

She prepped his lashes, brushing them with a soft spoolie, while he hummed a random melody under his breath. When she pulled out the lash glue, he immediately started flinching.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” she laughed.

“I’m mentally preparing! I’ve never had hot glue near my eyeballs!”

“It’s not hot,” she corrected. “And you said you trust me, remember?”

“I do, I do,” he said, eyes fluttering closed as she leaned in.

The first lash went on without incident. Then, Harry started in.

“Am I giving pop-punk princess yet?”

“Not even halfway done.”

“Do I look like I should be in a girl group?”

“Almost.”

“Which one? Don’t say Spice Girls, that’s too easy.”

“You’re giving... Little Mix but, like, in their early days.”

He grinned, keeping his eyes closed. “Jade would be proud.”

She tried to stay focused—precision was key with lashes—but he kept interrupting her with increasingly ridiculous questions.

“What if I love them and don’t want to take them off?”

“Then you’ll be high-maintenance with high standards. Join the club.”

“What if I start influencing your clients?”

“Honestly, free marketing.”

By the time she was on the last lash, she was shaking with laughter, trying not to botch the placement. Harry had invented three fake personas for himself in the span of twenty minutes: a pop icon named Starlight Vixen, a lash influencer called Blink Twice, and a dramatic nail reviewer with the handle “ClackDaddy.”

When she finally finished, she held up the mirror.

Harry blinked slowly, then gasped. “Oh my god. I feel gorgeous. Like a Bratz doll that got lost at Coachella.”

“You’re stunning,” she agreed, snapping a dozen photos before he could protest.

“No posting, woman.”

“These are for me,” she said, saving them in a hidden album on her phone. “For emotional support purposes.”

Harry fluttered his lashes dramatically. “I feel like I could cause problems with these.”

“You already do.”

“Okay, but more problems.”

She laughed and leaned down to kiss his forehead, lashes and all.

“Can we keep them on for the rest of the day?”

“You’ll forget and rub your eye in like twenty minutes.”

“True,” he admitted. “But for now, I’m living my best life.”

He fluttered his lashes one more time for good measure, then gasped. “Wait—what if these change me as a person? What if I get emotionally attached to them?”

“You already are,” she said, laughing. “You’re naming them in your head, aren’t you?”

“Left side’s Veronica. Right side’s Dominique.”

“Of course they are.”

He beamed. “Veronica’s my edgy side. Dominique’s all vibes and velvet.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the used lash brush into the trash. “Alright, Vixen. Ready for your nail appointment?”

He cracked his knuckles dramatically. “My time has come.”

“Hands on the table, pretty boy,” she said, patting the plush towel she’d laid out.

Harry obeyed with the seriousness of someone preparing for surgery. “Be gentle. These hands have held Grammys.”

“They’ve also dropped your phone in the toilet twice.”

“Allegedly.”

She snorted and grabbed her file, gently shaping his nails. He winced at first, clearly expecting it to hurt, which made her laugh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just adjusting to life as a hand model.”

“You’re about to have pastel pink coffin tips with tiny hearts. Not sure that’ll land you the Chanel campaign.”

“First of all,” he said, completely serious, “pastel pink is timeless. Second, hearts are very me.”

“You want hearts?”

He nodded, lips pursed. “Hearts. Glitter tips. Full Barbie glam. If we’re doing it, we’re doing it properly.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Absolutely. This is my moment.”

“Oh, you’re deep in character now.”

“I am the moment, babe. Click clack bitch, part two.”

She giggled, reaching for her swatch wheel and holding it out like a treasure trove. “Pick your shade of pink.”

He pointed decisively. “That one. The one that looks like strawberry milk.”

“Solid choice.”

While she prepped his nails, pushing back cuticles and buffing the surface, he tapped his phone with his pinky like he was adjusting to life post-nail-enhancement already.

“Feels weird,” he muttered. “Like, delicate. Powerful. I feel like I should be emotionally distant from everyone and start a feud on Instagram.”

“You’re gonna be unbearable.”

“Oh, I already am.”

Once she finished the prep, she gently applied the tips, sculpting them just long enough to be dramatic without compromising Harry’s ability to live as a functioning adult. He examined them mid-process like they were tiny art installations. “This one’s giving... main character energy. I think she’s the leader.”

“You’re naming the nails now?”

“Of course I am. That’s Gloria,” he said, pointing to his ring finger. “She’s been through things.”

“Okay, I can’t do this,” she said, stifling a laugh as she started laying down the pink base. “You’re too much.”

“I’m just emotionally connected to my glam.”

“You’ve had it for forty-five minutes.”

“And yet it’s changed me.”

By the time she started painting the little hearts—perfect, tiny, hand-drawn with a dotting tool and steady precision—he was absolutely glowing. Lashes still intact, head tilted to the side like a proud glamazon.

“You’re really good at this,” he said, quieter this time.

She looked up, surprised by the sudden softness. “Thanks, babe.”

“No, seriously. You could be charging triple. You’ve got the hands of a magician.”

“I’ve got carpal tunnel, but thanks.”

He laughed. “Still. You’re brilliant.”

She gave him a small smile and went back to top coating his left hand. “You’re only saying that because I’m holding you hostage with a UV lamp.”

“And because I love you.”

She froze for half a second, then glanced up. His expression was so soft, it made something ache in her chest. “Love you too, Glamazon.”

He smiled like he’d just won something.

Once she finished curing the top coat, she sprayed his hands with alcohol and rubbed off the tacky layer. The moment she was done, Harry immediately began tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap. On the counter. On his phone. On the glass of the mini-fridge. It was relentless.

“Stop it,” she warned, already grinning.

“I can’t,” he said, eyes wide. “They make noise. Beautiful noise. I’m like a rich aunt passive-aggressively texting her Pilates instructor.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“You’re gonna break them.”

“I would die before I broke Gloria.”

She crossed her arms. “You keep saying ‘click clack bitch’ and I will soak them off.”

He gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“But I haven’t even sent my dramatic voice note to Jeff yet.”

Before she could stop him, he lifted his phone and hit record.

“Jeff,” he said, clicking his nails against the phone mic like a Real Housewife in crisis. “I can’t come to the meeting. My lashes are too heavy, and my nails are too long. You wouldn’t understand. I’m different now.”

He hit send before she could snatch the phone away.

“Harry!”

“He’ll think it’s funny!”

“He’s going to think I’ve trapped you in a glittery nightmare.”

Harry grinned, completely unbothered. “Let him. I’m thriving.”

She watched him admire his nails in the mirror, fluttering his lashes, tapping the glitter tips gently on his cheek like he was testing how they felt against his skin.

“Can you believe I’ve never done this before?” he asked.

“I can,” she said. “Most people don’t immediately jump to full Barbie glam when trying something new.”

“Well,” he said, hands on his hips. “You deserve to practice on the best.”

“Oh, is that what this is? Practice?”

“It’s an honor, really.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And beautiful.”

She laughed, grabbing her phone again and snapping another picture before he could protest. “You keep talking like that, I’m putting these in the salon slideshow.”

He gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Private folder only.”

She winked. “We’ll see.”

As he posed again, showing off the nails like he was about to start his own press-on line, she couldn’t help but feel a strange burst of warmth.

This was the kind of thing that would’ve scared other guys away—too extra, too silly, too “not manly”—but Harry? Harry was here in her lash chair with butterfly wisps on his lids and baby pink hearts on his fingertips, smiling like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

And honestly, it was. He’d made that more than clear.

She smiled into his chest, nose tucked just under his jaw, fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. She stayed there for a while—just breathing him in, warm laundry and skin and the faintest trace of vanilla latte—but then she pulled back slightly and tilted her head to get a proper look at him.

The lashes were still holding strong, each little cluster fanned out just enough to make his eyes look even greener in the soft light. His nails, glossy and perfect, tapped idly against her thigh like they had a mind of their own.

“Okay,” she said, sitting up. “Before you ruin this masterpiece with something dumb like cooking or... zipping a jacket, I need photos.”

His eyes widened instantly. “No.”

“Harry.”

“Nope.”

“C’mon!”

“I draw the line at photo evidence.”

“You already let me glue lashes on your face and hearts on your fingers.”

“That was private,” he said, as if that settled it.

She leaned in close, flashing him her best sweet-evil grin. “So let me keep it private. Just for me. Promise.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Define private.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up her locked album folder. “I have a whole section already titled ‘My Princess’ with, like, three blurry photos of you eating ice cream and one where you're asleep on the couch with a face mask on. This will fit perfectly.”

He stared at her. “You named it my princess?”

She nodded solemnly. “You were wearing a robe and fuzzy socks. It was fitting.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Smile,” she said, raising her phone.

He tried to block his face with his hands, but the second he did, he caught his own nails in the reflection of her phone screen and cracked up.

“You’re actually loving this,” she teased, snapping a photo mid-laugh.

“I am not,” he said, fully smiling now.

Click.

“Okay, but what am I supposed to do with my hands?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious, holding them up awkwardly like mannequin claws.

“Anything. Literally anything,” she said, already clicking away. “Pose like a housewife. Pose like a pop star. Pose like someone who just spent ninety minutes getting pampered and secretly loved every second.”

He raised one pinky and gave a dramatic side-eye to the mirror.

Click.

He pouted, blowing her a kiss.

Click.

He sprawled back on the couch, hand resting against his temple like he was fainting from glam.

Click.

She was giggling so hard she almost dropped the phone. “Oh my god, you’re giving Vogue cover.”

“I’m giving get me out of here before this ends up on Twitter,” he said, even as he held the pose.

“You’re safe,” she said, locking the album and tucking the phone into her back pocket. “Swear.”

“Not even to your group chat?”

“Especially not to them. These are for emergencies only.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like...?”

“Like if I’m sad or stressed or you’re on tour and I miss your face. I’ll open that folder, see you with a full set and baby lashes, and everything will feel lighter.”

His smile softened, and he reached for her hand, nails clicking gently against her skin. “That’s allowed.”

She grinned. “You sure?”

“As long as you never post them.”

“Never. Cross my heart.”

They sat there in silence for a beat, just the two of them in the soft hum of the salon, surrounded by the faint scent of topcoat and sugar. The kind of silence that felt easy, like a blanket thrown over the day. She curled into his side again, the weight of his arm wrapping around her.

His fingers traced idle shapes on her arm, the pads of his fingers cool against her skin. He looked down at her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, then wiggled his own dramatically.

“You know,” he said, “I feel kind of... powerful like this.”

She looked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Lashes like butterfly wings. Nails like daggers. I could destroy a man.”

She laughed. “You can barely open a Snapple.”

“Still,” he said, holding his hand out in front of him, admiring the shimmer, “this is art.”

“You’re my art.”

He gave her a pleased little grin. “You’re just saying that because I let you practice on me.”

“I’m saying it because you’re ridiculous and wonderful and also very sparkly right now.”

He leaned in and kissed her softly, just once, then rested his forehead against hers. Then he pulled back slightly, lashes fluttering again with over-the-top drama. “Now do you think I could pull off rhinestones?”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles @alohajix

[meanbossart]

Hey, I was wondering if you had any starter tips for digital art? I'm a traditional artist and have been for years, but I was recently given a tablet and clip studio. I am having SUCH a hard time getting anything to look right: shaky lines, flat/too soft pieces, just an absolute childish mess every single time. I see all these gorgeous digital pieces and have NO IDEA how to get there.

Heya!

So, it's been a very very long time since I transitioned from traditional to digital art, but I DID do proper traditional for a few years; we're talking ink pens, color pencils, markers, watercolor, fancy papers, the works. I did some acrylic painting too but only monochrome (and before anyone asks, these works no longer exist so I can't share them) all that to say that I do have some experience with the former and definitely felt the learning curve when I changed to a tablet.

To get the unhelpful advice out of the way first: It's a different and unfamiliar medium, and there is probably nothing significant that you're "missing" about it except time and exploration. There are pillars to digital art just like there are in traditional art, but when it comes to personal process everyone has their quirks and habits - you gotta mess around and find what works for you. I suggest looking up tutorials and speedpaints on youtube even if you know all the basics or if the style you see doesn't appeal to you; just watching how others do their thing might help you figuring out how you would like to do yours!

Now, for the more practical advice:

-I don't know what kind of tablet you got, but assuming it's a non display, that's an extra hurdle you have to get over in developing the eye-hand coordination necessary to use it. This feels very alien at first but it shouldn't take longer than a few weeks to feel completely natural.

-On that note, if there is a significant size discrepancy between the tablet and the screen you are looking at, that might mess you up. Try adjusting the size of the CSP window so it fits the size of the actual drawing surface you are using more closely.

-Every drawing tablet's pen has pressure settings that can be tweaked to your liking, I for one always make it a little softer than the default.

-BRUSH STABILIZATION! That's a setting every individual brush (and almost every tool, I believe) on CSP has. It does as advertised: stabilizes your brush strokes. A lot of people like this set between 8-20 depending on the brush, and it can make a huge difference to the way you draw.

It is usually always visible in the tool properties, but if not, you can toggle it on through the "sub tool details" menu by clicking the little wrench symbol on the bottom right.

Hopefully this has been helpful at all. Good luck!

[gorgeys]

imagine….

gently holding maddy’s hands while applying a topcoat of nail polish on her fingernails. you treat her so delicately, the brush barely grazing her nails and your fingers cautiously holding hers, afraid of pressing too hard.

your eyes are trained on the slight movements of the brush, your eyebrows knitted in concentration, and your lips pursed ever so slightly. you’re afraid of messing up.  you always are, but especially on her. luckily the soft, familiar music playing in the background and the silkiness of your sheets beneath your knees is comforting against the sensation of her in front of you.

she’s just as focused on you, her brown eyes unable to retreat from your face. she’s come to love the way you focus on your craft, the way you focus on her.  she’s learned every little quirk of your lips and twitch of your nose from the times you’ve worked on her, committing them all to memory.

she feels awkward and obsessive about the way she thinks about you but she can’t help herself.  she loves the way you care, the way warmth radiates off of you whenever you’re touching her, the way you look up at her every so often to check on her.  its a sort of calm that she hasn’t felt before.

you had only begun giving her manicures a couple months ago when one of her friends recommended you for a cheap set.  you had learned how to do nails from youtube tutorials and it had become your talent, but never in a million years did you think you’d be good enough for the most perfect girl in school.

but you were sat across her on your bed every couple weeks painting intricate patterns on her acrylics. you talked frequently during your sessions but seldom outside the confines of your room.  nevertheless, conversation flowed smoothly.  she always made you nervous but she was surprisingly easy to talk to. you were like the oasis from her usual, dramatic world.

but then there were moments of silence. there were moments where the only thing you could feel was the soft skin of her hands and the beating of your own heart. and moments when she felt her chest tighten as you made the simplest eye contact.

as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew she felt things for you, even in the short time you had spent together. she knew when she got home each time after leaving your house and was already craving to be with you again.  sometimes she tried to ruin her nails just so she had an excuse to see you again.  she knew when she laid in bed at night after a bad day and the one thing that made it a bit better was the thought of your sweet smile.

and she must have known you felt things for her. the way your eyes gleamed when she complimented you was almost embarrassing. a single word from her would make your entire day. and every single time you went the extra mile to add painstakingly complex details to her nails and give her a discounted price.  though she always paid you more than what you asked of her.

when you were done, you looked up at her with a smile, pushing the brush back into the nail polish jar.  you didn’t let go of her hand and she didn’t pull away.  the corners of her lips curled upward, her heart melting when she recognized the pride in your eyes and your smile.  she slightly squeezed your hand, a silent thanks and praise.

your gaze flickered to your hands and then back to her face, your heart beating faster when you realized just how close you were.  you waited patiently, hoping that the adoring look in your eyes would coax her into making the first move.  luckily you wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

[kolutshanpress]

as per a request in my local renegade server: here is my process (such as it is) for the stenciled covers i've done for my binds. obviously, huge thanks to everyone in the renegade discord for teaching me most of what i know about bookbinding. this tutorial only exists thanks to the resources they've made available and the conversations i've had there.

material list

vinyl cutter (i have a silhouette portrait 3) + mat + blade

stencil vinyl (i have this one, but have had some adherence troubles with it. unclear whether this is just The Nature Of Stencil Vinyl or whether there's a better brand out there. adhesive vinyl can also be a viable option, although i haven't personally experimented with it yet.)

transfer tape (i have this stuff. it's fine.)

weeding tools (i have this hook and a very fine tip pair of tweezers. i highly recommend getting a hook, especially if you—like me—are haunted by the specter of carpal tunnel. get an off-brand one or get one on sale, though. i only have the silhouette brand one because it was on clearance.)

acrylic medium (i have this one because it was on sale at the time i was buying acrylic medium. when i replace it, i will be replacing it with a matte one. the gloss definitely has a noticeable sheen that i don't love.)

acrylic paint (literally any paint will do. i've been mostly using the decoart extreme sheen because it's $4 at michaels. you may be noticing a theme here.)

stiff stenciling brushes (the ones i have are similar to these but cost even less. again, there's a theme here.)

an iron and some parchment paper (jury is still out on whether using heat to "set" the pattern is necessary, but i do feel like it melts the paint a bit into the bookcloth and lessens the extent to which the pattern sits above the bookcloth.)

your trusty bone folder

instructions and a truly hideous number of words under the cut.

step 0.5: discern what will make a good stencil and what will make you hate yourself, your life, and the art of bookbinding

there are a LOT of different ways to put titling on a book. you could do a paper cover with a printed design or paste paper labels onto bookcloth or foil your title onto your cover with heat activated foil. the best method depends on what kind of design you have in mind, what tools you have available to you, and what materials you're working with (for example, i've had very bad luck getting acrylic paint to adhere to Allure bookcloth, but Allure does foil like a dream).

as far as stencils are concerned, you can kind of sort cover designs into three categories:

BEST for stencils: big, bold shapes on larger format books (think letter folio or letter/legal quarto)

OKAY for stencils, but you might hate yourself: intricate detail at a large enough form factor for it to be cut well by your vinyl cutter

BAD for stencils, you will die and it will hurt the entire time you are dying: lots of intricate detail and lots of fine lines

below are examples of category 1, 2, and 3 (all designed for letter folio). to be clear, category 3 can technically be possible, depending on the design. but only undertake it with the awareness that you will die, and it will hurt the entire time you are dying.

step 1: design a thing to put on your cover

i'm not going to go too in depth on this because cover design is a HUGE can of worms. a few pointers, though:

i never start designing my cover until my text block is done. this allows me to design my cover at "full size" based on the measured size of my text block and cover boards.

i fully lay out my cover in a separate program before exporting a transparent PNG to silhouette studio (or whichever proprietary software you have to use to communicate with your particular vinyl cutter). i use affinity designer. some free options would be inkscape (if you want to work with vectors) or gimp.

i design my cover on a document with dimensions of (HEIGHT of boards + 20 mm) x (WIDTH of boards or spine + 20 mm) and 10 mm margins. the area within the margins represents the actual dimensions of the thing i'm designing, while the area outside of the margins creates a mask that prevents me from getting paint on things i don't want paint on (like the covers, if i'm creating a spine stencil).

i always outline my document with a 3 or 4pt black line. this creates the outer edge of my stencil and provides my vinyl cutter with a cut line. if you're working with a smaller vinyl cutter (like the cricut joy) there are ways to jigsaw designs together from smaller pieces of vinyl, but i'm not the person to ask about that. i specifically bought a portrait so that i didn't have to worry about that.

here's an example of one of my affinity files from a recent cover. i've exaggerated my outline to make it clearer. you can also see that i use affinity to experiment with color combinations. before i export, i turn all my elements black and make any backgrounds transparent, meaning that the PNG i import into silhouette studio looks like the one on the right.

step 2: cut and weed your stencil

again, not going to go terribly in depth here. there is a veritable army of youtubers out there with tutorials about how to use [insert propriety vinyl cutter software here]. but, again, a few pointers:

with my particular vinyl cutter and stencil vinyl, i usually cut my stencils with the material set to "washi," depth at 1, force at 13, and speed at 4. google, experiment, see what works. also, you want to put your stencil vinyl on the mat with the blue vinyl facing UP, and you don't want to mirror your design. with stencils, what you see is what you get.

i cut my vinyl a bit bigger than necessary because i'd rather waste a bit of vinyl than have to worry about a stencil falling off the edge of my vinyl because i misaligned it on the mat.

unlike HTV, you will be weeding out all the black parts of your original image. be prepared to hate the letters "e" and "a" forever, because you will have to somehow keep the little eye of them in place while you pry out the rest of it.

step 3: apply your stencil to your case

alright, now let's get into the meat of it. i always stencil after my case is finished but before i case in my book. this means that if i totally fuck it up, i can trash the case instead of the entire book.

additionally, i completely stencil my spine first (as in lay down stencil, paint, remove stencil) and then stencil my covers. i've found that it's easier when you don't have stencils overlapping and sticking to each other.

OPTIONAL STEP: mark guides onto your cover to help you position your stencil. whether or not i do this step depends on the design. a lot of the time, i just eyeball it. but for some designs, precision is key. for those projects, i use my ruler to mark out guides in white chalk for where i need certain elements of the stencil to fall. (i used guide marks for the "penguin clothbound" copies of the The Weight Collected that i've been using as an example in this post—the black rectangular boarder would've made uneven placement REALLY obvious.)

use transfer tape to remove your vinyl from its slick backing. what i've found is that you really, really don't want your transfer tape to be too sticky. you want it just barely sticky enough to pick up the stencil if you rub it down with a bone folder or your fingernail. i have a piece of transfer tape that i stuck to my jeans a bunch of times and then proceeded to use for 8 books in a row. it is, frankly, still a little bit too sticky. i have rolled it up so that i can use it for the next 8 books, at which point it will presumably be the right level of stickiness.

position your stencil. when you're happy with it, rub it firmly down with your bone folder. then do it again. then use your fingernail to score down over the titling text. then pray. in my experience, stencils prefer to stick to transfer tape rather than bookcloth. ymmv.

start at one corner of your stencil. carefully begin peeling back the transfer tape. i've found that essentially folding back the transfer tape (like, the corner that's been freed from the stencil being folded back away from the stencil) helps the tape to release. go slowly, rubbing down with the bone fold as necessary.

after you've finally manage to pry the tape off, go back and smooth down the stencil and firmly rub it down to get it to adhere to the bookcloth as thoroughly as possible with as few ripples or air bubbles as possible.

step 4: paint time!

here is a secret that the renegade discord taught me that i am now passing on to all of you: before you put any paint on your stencil, put down a layer of clear acrylic medium. the medium will finish the job of pasting down the stencil to your cover, and any leaks that happen in the process will be clear medium instead of colored paint (and will therefore be basically unnoticeable). ergo:

stipple a thin coat of acrylic medium over your stencil. you want to use an up-and-down daubing motion, not a brushing motion. brushing will get paint under your stencil. let dry.

after your medium is dry, stipple a few thin coats of your colored acrylic paint onto your stencil. let dry between coats. (i usually find that two coats is enough.) again, try to keep your coats thin. you don't want a thick layer of paint because that will create a raised surface above your bookcloth.

let your paint fully dry. i usually leave it overnight, but if i'm feeling especially impatient, i still make sure to at least give it a good three or four hours.

peel up your stencil. your weeding tools will once again come into play here to pry up little bits and pieces of stencil (like the stupid eyes of the "a"s and "e"s that were so annoying during the initial weeding stage).

step 5: optional setting stage

again, jury is still out on whether or not this is necessary, and the effects are pretty subtle. but i do it every time anyway. some tips:

use an iron on very low heat (i keep mine at the low end of the synthetic setting) and with steam turned OFF

keep a piece of parchment paper (NOT waxed paper. you want the slick paper that you put under cookies to keep them from sticking to the pan.) between the iron and your cover.

press the iron down, don't rub it like you're ironing a shirt. it's possible to smear your paint doing that (ask me how i know).

i usually lay the iron down on a section for 10-15 seconds at a time, then lift it and move it to another section.

start with less of everything (less heat, less time) and build up. always better to be conservative with this.

i usually continue until the paint is warm to the touch, then move onto another section. after it's cooled, i evaluate if i feel like it's melted into the cloth enough. if not, i repeat the process.

step 6: BOOK

congrats, you have put a design on a book cover. the world is your oyster. go forth and make books. become ungovernable.