#and think sketch pages aren’t good enough

[mel0vly]

Guys I’ll post art soon dw im just super self critical

[prettyyoungandbored]

saw you wrote for Charlie and I desperately need to read Charlie fanfics that aren’t my own. So here I am, being that girl, who is requesting a Charlie x FemReader in college. I was thinking that they’re in the same class and Charlie thinks she’s beautiful and tries to work up the courage to ask her on a date. Nothing crazy, just something fluffy and sweet ❤️

M’am, you helped really ignite my love for Charlie Dalton with your brilliant work so I am truly honored by this.

I hope you love it!

Doodles - Charlie Dalton

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x Fem!Reader

NOT MY GIF

For as long as he could remember, Charlie always opted to sit in the back row of every class he ever attended. He loved that it gave him a chance to drift off when needed.

It was no different when he attended Harvard University.

He took a seat and opened his notebook, ready to doodle for the next hour and a half. Just as he reached for his pencil, the damn thing fell on the ground.

He leaned down to grab it when another pair of hands got a hold of it first. His eyes trailed up the hand and he found himself eye-to-eye with her.

Her being the girl who sat next to him. When she took the seat next to him on the first day of class, he thanked whatever higher being there was for giving him the opportunity. But just as he went over to talk to her at the end of class, she’d left.

Before every class he’d promised himself he’d talk to her. Talking to pretty girls had always been easy for Charlie. He’d never had a problem talking to girls.

Why is she any different? he thought to himself.

The answer came on the second day of class when she giggled at one of his doodles and suddenly, Charlie felt like the king of the world.

In the next couple of classes, he would doodle something and she’d smile or giggle. Sometimes it was a characature of the professor, other times it was just random doodles.

And yet, he’d never uttered a word to her, nor she him.

Until now.

“Can’t draw without your pencil,” she chuckled softly.

The fact she was smiling at him made him lose his breath. For the first time in his life, Charlie didn’t feel worthy of a pretty girl’s smile.

He took the pen, trying to hide his own smile. “No I can’t.”

She took the seat beside him as he stared off, excitement brewed inside. She’d noticed him. She probably did only because she was curious as to why he stared at her from the corner of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure why but something inside of him - maybe it was the old Charlie - told him to seize the opportunity.

So, while the professor droned on and on, Charlie was busy conjuring up a way to ask her out. Then he realized his answer - a doodle. But it needed to be good enough to get her to say yes.

That’s when he started drawing a flower. He tried with a rose first but it proved to be a difficult task. Rose petals were not his strong suit.

So he started on asters. Asters had to be easy right?

Wrong. Again, petals were his worst enemy as his aster pedals looked like hot dogs.

He moved onto cosmos and started to get somewhere. He sighed in relief. He was finally getting somewhere.

That’s when he saw a folded note on his desk. He picked it up and in cursive handwriting it read, “No boob drawings today? Are you ok?”

He looked over at her and she smiled at him. He smiled back and mouthed, “you’ll see.”

He continued on with his cosmos flowers until he felt it was enough.

Now it was time to bring it home with the question. What could he write to make this girl go out with him?

That’s when it hit him.

=================================

As Y/N gathered her stuff at the end of class, she noticed a folded piece of paper on her desk. On it was a handwritten note.

OPEN ME.

She opened it to find a bunch of flowers sketched out all over the lined paper. Then, in the middle of the page in red ink, it read:

I suck at drawing flowers, but I’ll have some real ones for you on Friday night. Meet me at the library at 7 pm.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

Next

[thepickledmermaid]

A Halsin fanart piece over on twitter inspired me to write this…. Just a little Drabble set far in the future of the BG3 fanfic I’m working on. Enjoy ☺️

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Halsin’s ears twitched in the direction of his study’s entrance. He’d heard the patter of little feet long before the little voice attached to them called out to him. He looked up from the papers he’d been bent over for the last few hours and gave the small girl peeking out from the doorway a bemused smile.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” he asked gently as he took the pipe from his lips.

“I can’t sleep,” the child replied, shuffling barefoot a little further into the room. “Will you tell me a bedtime story please?”

Halsin leaned back in his chair a bit while chuckling, “Surely you’re not going to claim your mother hasn’t already told you one?”

“She read one from a fairytale book,” the child grumbled, folding her arms in an adorable stubborn pout “I wanna hear a real story.”

“And how do you know those aren’t real stories?” Halsin teased. “I happen to have it on very good authority that fairies are quite real.”

Amber brown eyes fixed him with an exasperated look.  “Paapaaa!” She whined.

Halsin laughed and set his pipe down on its holder. He leaned over and opened one of the desk drawers, withdrawing a worn leather bound book from it. Turning back towards the child, Halsin held out a hand to her, “One story. Then it’s off to bed with you, My Joy. Lest your mother find you missing again and scolds the both of us.”

A large smile spread across the girl’s face before all but running to jump into Halsin’s arms. The Arch Druid scooped her up effortlessly and propped her on his lap. The child nuzzled herself into the crook of his arm before laying her head down on his chest to get comfortable. She pulled the well loved stuffed bear she’d been holding closer and stuck her thumb in her mouth, waiting for her papa to start.

“Now then. Which one would you like to hear?” he asked, holding the book open with one hand. The little girl reached out and turned several of the pages until she found one the was covered in almost as many sketches as it was words.

“I like this one,” she said, pulling her thumb out of her mouth just enough for Halsin to understand her.

Halsin hummed in approval, “An excellent selection, My Joy,” he smiled. “Ready?”

Halsin felt the little girl nod against his chest, her thumb already back in her mouth.

“Alright then…. It’s been several weeks since we arrived back in this terrible place. The grip of the shadow curse remains unwavering as ever but my new companions have given me something I haven’t dared to entertain in over a century…. Hope….”

The little girl felt her eyelids start to droop as the low rumbling of her papa’s voice wove her a tale of magic and heroes. Papa always told the best stories. Her favorite part was when the silly wizard starts yelling about spider butts. Papa always did funny voices for that part so she didn’t want to miss it… or the part about the Angel! That part was good too.

She was getting kind of sleepy though… maybe she’d just close her eyes for a little bit until he got to those parts….

Halsin continued to read until he felt the child go slack. He glanced down to make sure his willful little wildflower was actually asleep this time and smiled to find her softy snoring face first into her bear. Now if he could just get her back up to bed before…

“Why am I not surprised?”

Halsin’s hazel eyes snapped up to see his love leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a mirthful smirk on her lips as she surveyed the two. Halsin tried to look remorseful but they both knew his guilty grin was just as much of a lie as her disapproving stare.

“In my defense she asked very politely this time,” the large elf said.

“I’m sure she did,” Taverah replied, her tone giving the impression she didn’t believe that for a second. “Sometimes I think you’d abandon nature itself if she asked you nicely enough.”

“You say that as though I would not still be surrounded by natures perfection purely by being in both your presence.”

Taverah shook her head chuckling softly as she pushed away from the door frame to enter the room. She walked over and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. Halsin's teasing smile melting into one of pure adoration as he watched them.

“Pushover,” she chuckled again, placing a much different type of kiss on Halsin’s lips.

“A fair assessment,” Halsin replied. "Though if you are waiting for a penitent response we might be here for a while."

“You’re going to spoil her you know.”

"A bed of flowers can not be spoiled by receiving its gardener's time and attention, My Heart," he said softly. "So neither can she be spoiled by receiving ours."

Taverah hummed, “A very valid point.”

“Tho admittedly there is a selfishness to it on my part,” Halsin looked down at the child in his arms before brushing a lock of brown hair away from her face.

“I never would have guessed,” Taverah teased.

“She’s just growing so fast,” he said wistfully. “It is the natural order of things of course, but a day will eventually come when she will not need to seek us out for comfort or care at all, never mind an extra story past her bedtime. That day might not be today, but it will be upon us sooner than we think. And I shall miss this.”

Sometimes Tav wondered how her heart hadn’t exploded with love for this man.

“She really is growing like a weed isn’t she?” She mused. “She’ll probably be able to start reading this by herself soon.”

Taverah gently took the well worn journal from Halsin’s hand and began idly flipping through the pages that he had used to document their adventures together. She stopped on a page of sketches, her eyes lingered on one in particular. A sad look settled on her features as her fingers brushed over the drawing of a smiling shaggy haired man. “I’ll admit I’m… sort of dreading the day we have to tell her the whole ending of this particular story.”

Halsin reached over and took her hand, careful not to jostle the slumbering child in his other arm. “That story has not yet ended, My Heart,” he said gently. “That story continues on in her. He continues on in her. And when the day comes that she is ready to hear it, I’ll be right there with you to tell it.”

Tears swam in Taverah’s eyes, taking solace in the feeling of Halsin’s thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of her hand. She watched the slow even rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing, a warmth and an ache sat in her heart.

“Do you… do you ever regret… This,” she asked in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Do you ever regret choosing to walk this path with me?…. With Us?”

Halsin brought Tav’s hand to his lips and kissed its palm. “Never,” he said as she cupped his cheek. “…well the potty training years gave me some pause but…”

Taverah snorted a laugh and flicked the tip of her love’s ear in response. She bent down to scoop her little one up into her arms and started towards the door. Halsin did his best to stifle his laughter so as not to wake anyone up and stood up to follow. They made their way upstairs to the second floor of the little cottage that had been their home for nearly five years now, until coming to a door with little blue and purple flowers painted along the edges of the frame. Taverah expertly stepped around the toys and books littered across the floor until she reached a carved bed under the window. Halsin turned down the covers as she laid her precious arm full down. Moonlight flooded in from the window, illuminating the beautifully decorated headboard of the bed. Little silver stars and moons had been lovingly painted into a pattern across the wood that almost looked like a protective halo was arched over the child’s head. Tav kissed her daughter’s cheek as she laid her down.

“Goodnight, Abigail,” she whispered as Halsin pulled the blanket back up to make sure the sleeping child was tucked in snugly.

“Sleep well, My Joy,” he whispered as well, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her still baby soft brown hair.

Halsin stood up and wrapped his arms around Tav from behind, allowing her to lean against him while they waited for the child to fully settle in. The little girl stirred slightly once more for just a moment but stilled again after instinctively curling in on the bear she kept a death grip on.

“You know… I just realized that there may be a day we should dread more than the one you spoke of,” Halsin whispered in her ear.

“What day is that?”

“The day Karlach fixes her engine and comes asking for Clive back.”

“Good gods…” Taverah turned around with an expression of horror on her face “Faerún may not survive.”

-fin-

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I kinda wanna draw something for this Drabble myself if I can find the time at some point…. Stupid adulthood obligations getting in the way of my hobbies 🫠🥲

(also side note this is the piece that brought on this bit of inspiration)

[riordanness]

does he know? — [emercy]

pairing: perseus jackson x emma rebekah

wordcount: 2.2K

warnings: none i think

dedicated to @kozumesphone , the emercy captain 💿🫧

Does he know? That was always the question lingering in the back of her mind, whenever she laughed at one of his not-so-funny jokes, when he caught her gazing at him a little too long, when she slipped up and mentioned something about him she probably shouldn’t know without being obsessed with him.

Does Percy Jackson know? How much I love him?

Emma sits in her usual place, perched right on the edge of the pier, one battered Converse dangling while the other is tucked up under her thigh. Her blue sketchbook is open in her lap, but her pencil is idle.

Her blue grey eyes are fixed on the ocean horizon, but they aren’t seeing the view. Instead, all she can picture are his sea green eyes, the way they glitter with mirth the same way the ocean does. The way his black hair is impossibly messy at all times, no matter how many times he tries to smooth it down. The single dimple in his left cheek when he grins like a maniac after teasing her about something.

She glances back down at her sketchbook, the page open to a messy sketch of her best friend.

Emma chews her lip, her pencil fixing up a few small details in his hair.

If only he knew.

If only… two words she found herself thinking and wishing and saying almost everyday now. Two words, wrapped up in delusion and hopeful dreams.

“Em!” Her thoughts are broken by a familiar, boyish voice, and an equally familiar footstep pattern as Percy Jackson runs down the length of the pier.

Percy scrambles to a stop beside her, flinging himself down to sit with his legs dangling beside hers. “Hey,” he says easily.

“Hey, back,” Emma says, a smile on her face, the one that always is when Percy is around.

Percy’s sea green eyes are first on the water, then they drift down. “What’s that?” he asks, and his voice sounds kind of funny, like he can’t decide whether to be amused or confused.

Emma frowns, following his eyes. Oh. She’d completely forgotten to close her sketchbook. It lay open in her lap, the page covered in tiny little Percys, a dozen or so messy sketches.

“Oh, um…” Emma isn’t sure how to reply. Unfortunately, she’s just gifted enough for the likeness to be fairly accurate. She can’t exactly pretend it isn’t him.

“Do you like it?” she offers.

Percy grins, looking up at her. “Em, that’s insane. That’s—like, so good! You’re incredible.” He reaches for her sketchbook, then hesitates. “Can I?”

Emma nods, handing him the book.

Percy spreads in on his lap, thumbing through the pages. Only now does Emma realise how often she draws him. Or things related to him. The ocean, a trident, sea animals, skateboards, glittering sea green eyes, and dozens of sketches of Percy.

He’s quiet for the whole time, silently studying her art. Finally, he closes the book and hands it back to Emma.

“So?” she asks nervously, chewing the inside of her cheek as she watches him. “I haven’t really shown anyone my work before, cause it’s just for fun and I’m not like, super good or anything—“

“Emma.”

Percy’s voice stops her nervous ramble.

“You’re incredible. Like, dude, that’s really good art.”

“Even the creepy ones of you?” she jokes.

Percy smirks. “Kinda weird that you know my face that well, to be honest. You’re kind of a stalker, Rebekah.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Okay, Jackson. You’re my best friend! I know your face well, weirdo. And, you’re easy to draw.”

He laughs, that boyish, fun laugh she adores. “I’m joking. If I could draw, I’d probably just draw you all day too.”

Does he know how much that comment alone made my stomach erupt? Does he know how many nights I lie awake, replaying the sound of his laugh around in circles in my head? She thinks, studying his face for as long as she could, before her gaze flits back to the ocean.

“Whatcha doing out here?” Emma asks finally.

“Looking for you.”

His easy and simple answer sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach—so she just grins into her lap to hide the flush in her cheeks. “Yeah? Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echoes, and something about the way he says it feels… strangely intimate. Emma isn’t quite sure, but the look in his eyes is something that she hasn’t seen before. Something more.

She clears her throat, changing the subject and clearing the weird, uncomfortable tension in the air. “Hey, wanna go swimming with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Percy laughs. “Yeah, of course I do. Always.”

Emma grins. “Okay. Meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Ten?” he jokes incredulously. “I can be changed in three.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Bet.” She clambers to her feet and is off in a second, running towards the little cluster of cabins at the edge of the woods.

Soon, they’re both back. Percy in his blue board shorts, his black hair messed up from yanking his shirt over his head. Emma has pulled on her black bike shorts she always swims in (she claims they are more comfy than typical swimmers), and a modest lavender bikini top.

Chucking the towels to the deck of the pier, they race to the end, like they always do. “First one in the water is a rotten blueberry!” Emma yells at the last second, watching with glee as Percy doesn’t have time to stop, and jumps into the canoe lake with a splash.

“Hey!” he yells indignantly once he surfaces. “No fair!”

Emma points at him. “Rotten blueberry.”

Percy sticks his tongue out at her, which she can’t pretend isn’t completely adorable.

“Okay, okay, you totally cheated.”

“Cheated?” she repeats, standing at the edge of the pier, one foot dangling over the water. “I didn’t cheat; I tricked you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get in already so I can dunk you for that.”

Emma laughs, gazing at him for just a second before she jumps in. She can’t deny that part of the reason she loves going swimming with Percy so much is so that she can check him out subtly. At least, she hopes it’s subtle. His abs are tan and gorgeous, and his sea green eyes always glitter to match the sunshine on the water. His dark hair curls slightly at the ends, especially when it’s wet, which matches her curls—making her happy inside.

The water explodes into bubbles around her when she jumps, and she smiles underneath it, the water being one of her most happy places. When she surfaces, Percy is right there, looking amused.

“Ready to drown?” he teases.

“Drown? Nuh uh,” she says back, splashing him a little.

“You are so going down now, Rebekah,” he laughs, lunging at her, his strong arms wrapping around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides.

Emma squeals, then laughs, then tries to squirm out of his grasp. “Hey, let go!”

“Nuh uh,” he jokes, echoing her earlier tease. “You’re going down.” And down, she goes, underneath the water. Normally, being dunked by anyone even half as strong as Percy would freak her out, but she knows him. Better than anything, and good enough to know all of his tricks.

A swirl of current is now in place of his arms, holding her underneath the surface, trapped in a watery embrace. And then, just as she can’t possibly hold her breath for even one more second, a bubble appears around her, and Emma gasps for air.

Percy’s water bubbles always amaze her, and this one is no different. It surrounds her completely, firm and smooth to the touch. She sits cross legged on the bottom of it, sucking in the clean, cool air.

Percy is visible, a few metres away, grinning. He swims over easily, and slides into the bubble too.

“Hey, stranger,” Emma says.

“Well, hello, miss.”

She can’t help but smile again, her heart full of Percy. Emma leans back, eyes shut, her curls resting on the curved edge of the bubble. Relaxed and happy, she lets out a contented sigh.

Percy knows what she means by it. He always seems to. “This is nice, isn’t it? When it’s just us. We don’t get that as often anymore.”

Emma hums in reply, not opening her eyes.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Percy says suddenly.

That’s when her eyes open, and she pushes herself up. “Um. Yeah. Sure.” It sounds kind of ominous.

“How come you draw me so often?”

It sort of catches Emma off guard, but of course he’s asking that. He saw the sketchbook, the dozens of pictures of him inside of it. Hell, she’d be bloody curious if someone ever drew her like that.

“Um…” Emma isn’t exactly sure how to answer this straight away. But then, she closes her eyes for a second, grabs onto her shred of courage, and just says it.

“Because you’re my favourite thing in the world, and people always draw their favourite things.”

Percy almost looks… confused? “Me? Why on earth am I your favourite thing? Also, I am not a thing. I’m a Percy.”

Emma laughs, then nods. “You’re my favourite Percy, then.”

Percy grins, that dumbass troublemaker smile that always makes her heart flutter and her mouth feel warm. “I’m your favourite Percy,” he repeats quietly, in a happy, gentle kind of way.

“And you are my favourite,” she continues, “because… well…” Emma takes a deep breath. “Because you just are. I adore you with every single part of my being. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, the only person in the world who understands me perfectly and accepts me completely the way I am. You’re my protector, my muse, my tease. You share your snacks with me, you let me steal your clothes, and you never care how many Taylor Swift songs I make you listen to. You always match my energy perfectly, and our sarcasm is exactly in tune. You let me play with your hair as I tell you stories about what our future will be like. You’re incredible with kids, and every time I see you with the younger campers I fall deeper in love with you. You’re the perfect mix between skater dork and lover boy.”

Emma breaks her rant for a breath, but then leaps back into the ramble.

“Remember the first time we met?” she asks, a nostalgic smile on her face. “You were a soggy twelve year old boy, half drenched in the rain and crying over your mother, dragging poor Grover. I told you that demigods have to be better than that. You retorted that ‘You’d be sad too if your mum died’. And I replied that ‘Well, better that than frostbite’, and that confused you so much you laughed. And ever since, we’ve been best friends. We’ve gotten through every quest together, every monster we fought side by side. You understood my humour when no one else did, you comforted me when nightmares got too embarrassing for me to admit. You were the reason I got through my really bad year mentally when we were fifteen. You are the one I crossed the country for. You jumped into the River Styx for me. I still wear this stupid thing—“ she holds up her wrist, which bears a woven bracelet of black, sea green, and orange thread. “—Because it’s the colours of your hair and eyes and camp shirt. You are the reason I keep going, Percy Jackson. And I am not letting you go. Because I love you.”

There are seven counts of heartbeats before Percy replies.

“Oh, Em…” he manages, before there are literal tears glinting in his gorgeous eyes. Emma has never seen him cry from something like this. From being… happy.

“I love you too, you dumbass,” Percy laughs. “And even though that speech was both the most adorable thing in the world and entirely corny, I—I loved it. Thank you for being you, Em.”

Her heart is full, warm and so happy she wants to cry too. No one has ever been glad that she is her. That is, until Percy.

She does cry, then, a few grateful tears on her cheeks.

There, in the middle of a bubble under the canoe lake, Percy pulls her into the tightest hug he’s ever given the Daughter of Aphrodite.

“You mean the universe and back to me, Em,” he whispers into her hair, and when he finally dips his head down to kiss her, it’s like bubbles are shooting up around her insides, popping and flooding her system with salty sunshine.

He does know, she thinks giddily.

[kayentokk]

Portraying Bakugo Katsuki

— Pairing; Katsuki Bakugo x GN! Reader

— Synopsis; People often see Bakugo in a harsh light, and he’s gotten used to it. However, when you portray him in your fluorescent light, he thinks he likes it a bit more. Based on this Drabble I made. —contains; fluff, doting, frustration, soft! Bakugo(?)

—wc; 682

—A/N; just a cute lil thought

“Ughhh,” that was the 10th time you sighed, in 3 minutes.

You frantically dragged your poor abused eraser across your paper, for the 6th time, and created a hole in your erased pencil stained paper. Angrily, you balled up the paper and threw it in the trash bin by your desk, which was overflown with countless of your other crumbled up drawings.

It was like nothing was working. You had great models right in front of you on your tablet screen, and you just didn’t like what you were producing.

Shutting the computer screen, you dug your head into your arms and closed your eyes. Deciding that he’d had enough of your ‘fits’ Bakugo gruffly asks,

“The hell is wrong now?”

“I just can’t do it,” you reply defeatedly.

He sighs, ”do what?”

“This art class assignment,” you groan, “no matter what I do or who I draw my creative juices just aren’t flowing to me, ya know?”

He just grunts a “mm”

Then it hit you, and you sat up to stare at him. And almost like clockwork, he had sensed what you were thinking and immediately huffed out a,

“No.”

“Awww cmon’ pleasee?”

“No Y/n.”

“Please? I’ll help you with anything, anytime.”

“No.”

“You just want me to fail,” you mumble under your breath with a pout.

“Oh for fucks sake,” he says running a hand through his hair, “make it quick.”

He gives in. He always gives in to you. Most times, he wants to punch himself in the face for it, but he just can’t say no.

“Yay! You’re the best Kats!” You quickly perk up.

“Yeah yeah,” he replies.

You got him a stool from your kitchen and placed it next to your spinny desk chair.

“Okay sit and I’ll tell you how to pose.”

He sat with hesitance, as you pulled up a picture on your phone of a model with their arm over their head facing towards the left, the perfect pose.

You showed him with the biggest smile on your face,

“No.”

“Aww cmon,” you whined.

“Y/n.”

“Fine, just sit still, straighten your back, and lift your chin.”

He did as you asked, a bit awkwardly at that but he did it. You turned your lamp light on the right side of his face and sat for a moment amazed at what you saw.

His sharp jawline relaxed but still prominent in his features, the vein in his neck bulging a bit at you staring deeply at his features. His beautiful dark crimson eyes aren’t tensed or harsh they’re just perfect, and his skin almost glowing from the radiating fluorescent lamp light.

You quickly began sketching, noticing the small drop of sweat that rolled off of his neck and down to his collarbone, he was nervous. He’d never been sketched before.

“Calm down I’m almost done,” you said trying to ease his nerves.

When you were finished you put your pencil down, looked at the drawing, looked back at him, and smiled. You were content, no more than that, happy? You finally got the drawing you wanted. You captured his full essence on the paper, from the neck up.

You turned the notebook around to show him, well there wasn’t many pages left after an hour of you trying and failing, with the biggest grin on your face.

“Look! It’s good right? You’re such a good model maybe you can do this for me all the time-“

“Y/n,” he promptly cut you off.

“I know I know, thanks for helping me. I’ll go get some water for my hard working model,” you giggled while getting up to walk to your kitchen.

Bakugo found himself staring at the drawing intently, was that really him? The way you captured him on the blank piece of paper made him seem almost, calm?

You came bustling back into the room with two chilled glasses of water.

“Here ya go, and thanks again,” you said handing him the water.

“Mhm,” he grunts.

And deep down inside he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind you drawing him again…

@/firefly-graphics for the divider

[moldspace]

new year new news

hey everyone! wow! 2022 is over! what a year! i made a lot of art, had some cool opportunities (painting a mural!!!) and some challenging transitions (quitting my job, switching academic programs!) but i think, overall, i’m glad to put this one in the rear view mirror. 

now, to get out of the rear view mirror and look forwards into the metaphorical windshield - my resolution this year is to MAKE MORE ART and to GET OUTSIDE OF MY COMFORT ZONE and with that in mind, my first actionable goal for 2023 was...

to start a patreon!

not gonna lie, i’ve been just as nervous as i’ve been busy setting this up the past few weeks (and the imposter syndrome has kicked in HARD), but hey, doing new things is always scary and awkward. and i really wanted a good excuse to put some time and energy into behind-the-scenes stories, progress shots, sketchbook pages that aren’t pretty enough to post on their own, and rambling talks about the winding path my own art tends to follow. so maybe check it out and throw some money my way, if you’ve got extra and are curious!

currently i’ve just got one $3 tier up, but i’m sure that will change and evolve as i figure out what i’m doing. but what can i access with three dollars, i hear you ask? well...

full digital copies of all of my zines! with transcripts, and personal commentary!

polls! maybe i'm making new stickers and don't know which design to go with, maybe i'm amassing work for an update and don't know if i should make some more selkies or some more sphinxes - these polls will help ME decide what to make more of, and help YOU ALL see more of what you want from me. win-win!

behind the scenes posts and videos! i have to admit that i harbor a secret love for video editing, but I have so far had no real outlet for it (aside from the AMVs that i occasionally make in a fugue state and NO i’m never showing them to a soul) - but i've just filmed and edited the first full start-to-finish process video for patreon! watch me make a ceramic beasty from sketch to glaze firing, with full voiceover commentary (my voice was once described by a child as “why do you sound like that? you sound like you’re going to cry” so look forward to that!) i have plans in the future for tutorial posts and videos, more process timelapses, and full behind the scenes zine-making retrospectives, from writing to illustrating to binding.

this month (january 2023) only, sign up as a patron and i will personally send a little doodle to your house! yes, like in the mail. feel free to send me a prompt with your pledge, otherwise it’ll probably be some sort of creature with a human face and stars on it. maybe it will still be that, even if you give me a prompt.

finally, you will get my eternal gratitude! i truly cannot thank you all enough for the support and love over the years. it's been such an amazing honor to find other people who like the wacky little critters i make, and whether you've purchased art from me, follow me, or are even just someone who's seen and liked a piece of mine, i am forever grateful to be able to connect across space and time, with you, over art. 

whether or not you decide to pledge, from the bottom of my heart, thank you! i am so lucky to have this space on tumblr to share my work - every kind comment means the world to me, and i just hope my work can be enriching to your worlds in some small way, too! i know making it enriches mine :^)

[mirllop]

Pages Full of Maybe (BakuDeku) - drawing!katsuki

basically katsuki is a chronic doodler/artist as a way to deal with his emotions. legit let my imagination run wild w this one soooo

––––

Katsuki has anger issues. He knows he does. He just feels this overwhelming rage well up inside of him and has no idea how to handle it other than shouting and screaming. His therapist (that Aizawa forced him to start going to, much to his chagrin) said some bullshit about his anger controlling him and about how it should be the other way around. Whatever. Some stupid shit. It was irrelevant.

But when he feels that full-body frustration, frustration so deep in his bones he can barely do anything but scream and shout and rage at people, he knows it’s best to lock himself in his room and wait it out. If his anger is like a deep well, it's best to wait until the bucket comes up empty rather than try to tip it over manually.

Sometimes Kirishima (or other nosy do-gooders of the "squad") will pester him, but for the most part, when he’s in that sort of mood, his classmates know to leave him alone.

So, what does he get up to during his alone time?

Katsuki draws. He fills pages upon pages, sketchbooks, notebooks, post-its, cards, sometimes even his own arm, filling his skin with ink when he’s run out of paper. There just aren’t enough canvases to contain his sprawling doodles, sketches, and full works. He's at the stationary store every other week.

His class notes are practically graffitied with the amount of ink he manages to plaster on, coherently coming together to portray the visions in his mind. Aizawa says nothing when the tests he hands back are filled to the brim with doodles in the margins.

Maybe he likes it because paper is the only thing that can't fault him for his emotions. It can’t shun him after he’s been too harsh, it can’t tell all its little friends about his issues. It can't rage back. It simply sits patiently on the desk in front of him even when Katsuki presses his anger too hard onto the sheet and it tears. The only indication of its pain is the small cry it emits in the form of a krrshh –– but he can't even be painted as a villain for it. After all, it's just paper.

His hand traces anything he can think to draw. Sometimes, when all he's trying to do is make heads or tails of his frothing emotions, the pieces come out beautifully abstract. Sometimes he draws objects, places on campus, scenes from movies he watched with Izuku.

Sometimes he draws the faces of his friends (not that he'd ever admit to calling them 'friends'). Kirishima, laughing at something Bakugou did (he doesn’t even remember what it was. He just remembers the lightheaded feeling that came from causing that sunshine-like grin). Mina with her gossip face on, telling the group about so-and-so’s crush (that Bakugou definitely did not care about. Sue him if he listened. It was only because he should have the most intel possible to be a good hero, okay???).

Kaminari, getting really passionate about different electrical gadgets and showing the group a new type of charging plug. Sero’s surprised yet beamingly proud expression as a result of finally nailing that lasso he'd been working on for weeks.

His friends.

Izuku. Getting excited over something stupid, his cute round face lighting up, forest eyes shining with passion. Izuku. Rambling about some hero’s Quirk, coming up with infinitely clever improvements to their style. Izuku. Hovering over him after having pinned him down in a sparring match. Eyes shining with victory. Face streaked with dirt and sweat. Izuku.

Pages and pages and pages and pages of Izuku.

If anyone discovered these pages, Katsuki would be done for. He’d never show his face again. They weren’t just drawings to him — no, more like a chronicle of his life. He refused to call them a "diary" of sorts because diaries are for thirteen-year-old girls to gush about their stupid crushes that will never love them back. So no, his endless drawings aren't a diary. Fuck that.

Hours upon hours, alternating between furious scribbling and meticulous measuring, always resulted in a messy pile of papers surrounding Katsuki like a mad composer. He might as well have taken a stack of papers and tossed them in the air –– the space surrounding his desk would have looked the same. But after seeing the scraps of paper and the endless drawings scattered around him after each emotion-fueled session, he could breathe. Calm was washed over him like a gentle, cool wave to his bubbling, boiling magma.

He knew he'd never show them to anyone, but he secretly hoped he could. Maybe someday. The only person... it'd be Izuku, and it'd a small drawing of some random object. Meaningless. Insignificant to anyone but him.

Maybe he'd move onto showing him some of his people drawings. Then, and Katsuki barely allowed himself to imagine this future, maybe he'd finally show Deku himself through the lens of Katsuki Bakugou.

Maybe.

But for now, these drawings were locked up tight in top right drawer of Katsuki's desk. He kept the key pressed between the pages of his favorite childhood All Might biography (that he and Izuku had spent hours poring over the pages of) on the fifteenth page of chapter 7. Sue him for being a sentimental bastard, alright?

For now, this secret was all his. For now. But maybe that future would come. Maybe.

Maybe.

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (6) - My Thoughts You Can't Decode

I have been looking forward to this chapter for so long!!! I'm so excited to share this one with you all- I worked hard, and I think it shows, and I hope it's good! 💖 Please let me know your thoughts, and have a wonderful night! 🦇

FYI- This story will be going on a 2-week hiatus as I'm going to the east coast of the US for vacation!! Please look forward to Sunday, September 8th for Chapter 7!! 🖤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,184

Please enjoy some screenshots below as well as the opening under the cut! 🖤

“Ugh, what is it that you’re furiously scribbling down?” Astarion asks, folding his legs over his lap as Ofelia hunches over that journal she’d shown them the first night. She flicks her eyes up at him and he tenses.

That’s right. She’d seen a little too much today- ever since the boar she’s been distancing herself from him. It’s slight but still noticeable, and he needs to get close again or else he may lose her…

“I’m drawing,” She murmurs, uncrossing her legs to stretch and hold the book against her thigh. They sit near the fringes of camp, Gale beginning to prepare for dinner as the others set up tents and wind down for the day.

“What is it you’re drawing?” Ofelia perks up, and he mentally breathes a sigh of relief that she seems to want to engage with him again.

“I like to journal, and when I’m done I’ll fill the spaces around the page with things I’ve seen that day. Here look,” She scoots over to him and he stiffens in her presence as she thumbs through it. His eyes track over the wizard’s face, Shadowheart’s, Lae’zel’s, and even Wyll’s. There’s another form on the opposite page beside her messy penmanship, and instead of a bust, it’s the entire figure. The angles are sharp, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. The more time he spends looking, the realization begins to dawn on him who she’s drawn, and the ruby irises glare back at him disapprovingly.

“Oh,” He murmurs, regretfully watching her flip the page to a warg, a goblin, and Withers. There are a few spaces where she’s filled them with just eyes, more of them red than any of the others. He sees birds, the tiefling man- he snorts- depictions of the moon and different weapons. They’re impressive for just sketches, and she turns to another page where she’s been focusing on each of their heads. His breathing goes still when she shows him his.

“Sorry if it’s a little strange, I usually draw from memory or references, so I’ve been going with what’s around me, hence sketching you all.” Her smile is sheepish and fragile and he nods, not paying too close attention.

He reaches up to touch his lips- are they really that plush? Are his brows that full? Are his ears really that long, or is she exaggerating? And the dot on his cheek- there’s no way he has blemishes. What’s she playing at?

He smiles softly, covering up the warble in his voice with a slight laugh.

“Darling, my ears aren’t that big.” She chuckles.

“They’re pretty big, trust me,”

[sunsafewriting]

for the prompt: do a flip universe + TLOU

“Well, obviously more than one. Two or three, at least, right?” Ava says. 

She's got her head in Beatrice's lap, having usurped the print-out Beatrice was reading a few minutes ago. It's inarguably the best setup in the world: she's got the whole rest of the couch to stretch out on, and both of Beatrice's hands on her — one gently stroking back her hair, the other resting on Ava's arm. 

“Three seems like a lot,” Beatrice replies.

But that’s not a no, and Ava can work from there. “Diego will help us, won't you, bud?” 

He looks over at them from where he's sitting on the carpet, sketching out a new comic. He prefers to draw on the floor rather than at the table, which is presumably because the artistic vibes are simply better lower to the ground. “Totally,” he confirms. 

Ava beams at Beatrice, reaching up to catch her wrist, to sweep her thumb over the soft skin there. “See? We can do three. Or four.”

There’s a moment of deliberation, but Ava knows when she’s won. Not only does Beatrice have about six different tells — microscopic, but observed by Ava over the years and lovingly documented — but also Ava has a compelling track record when it comes to this sort of thing. 

“Okay. Three,” Beatrice agrees. “But four is definitely too many.”

“True. It might get confusing.”

“Also, I don't feel that a zombie apocalypse is likely enough to merit four separate survival plans.” 

“HBO makes a very compelling case, babe. A lot of things can go wrong.” 

Which Beatrice is aware of, because she sure doesn't turn a lot of pages of her book while Ava's watching The Last of Us on the TV. 

“Plus, it's best to be prepared,” Ava adds. “You love being prepared. This way, we have a backup for our backup.”

While Ava still prefers a general guns-blazing, swing-first-think-second approach to life, she has come to appreciate the value of planning ahead. For example, she’s managed to streamline her morning routine to maximise the window of time she has for making out with Beatrice before one of them has to go to class or work. 

“I have paper,” Diego says. “We can write them up now. I think the most important thing is probably to get a catapult, or a sword. But there aren’t a lot of good places around here to get swords.” 

“Put down get a sword as step one anyway, that’s a great start,” Ava tells him. “I also vote that we steal a really cool car for step two. Obviously, it has to be heavy-duty enough to plough through zombies, but the most important thing is that it’s super dope. Better than Mary’s. I’ve got to have this, because you know she’s going to out-apocalypse me.” 

“Steal a car,” Diego echoes back. “Brackets, cool.”

He’s been getting very into brackets, as of late. Also semicolons, but he seems to just pepper them into sentences whenever he wants, with no regard for their intended function. Although it’s very possible that he actually does understand how they work, and is just drunk on the power of learning a new punctuation mark. 

“Clean water. Or some means of effectively decontaminating water,” Beatrice suggests. 

Ava shakes her head. “No, that’s too legit. We can put that in our, like, good plan. The second plan. This first one should just be based on what you’d most want to do if all of society fell apart.” 

“I’d most want to make sure we had clean drinking water.”

“It has to be ridiculous and fun. Like, we should also steal a boat. The zombies most likely won’t be able to swim. And I think I’d rock a captain’s hat.”

“Or a pirate hat,” Diego supplies. “Boat is step three. Hat is step four.” 

“Exactly. See?”  

“This is starting to seem less like a survival plan and more like a list of your dream crimes.”

“The beauty of the apocalypse is that nothing is a crime,” Ava tells her. She kisses the back of Beatrice’s hand and then nudges it back up to her hair. Beatrice automatically resumes her steady, gentle motions, and Ava settles into the feeling with a pleased hum. 

“Well, I don’t really have a list of dream crimes.”

Ava can’t say that comes as a surprise. Beatrice does have a list of dream bookstores to visit though. If the zombie situation isn’t too out of control, they could totally manage to hit a few of those locations post-apocalypse, too. 

“You can borrow some of mine,” Diego offers generously.

Ava nods. “And then we can put your clean water in the third plan.”

“I thought it was going in the second?” 

“I demoted it. I think our second plan should be to secure a mall. Then we’ve got everything we need. We can just lock all the doors and keep the zombies out. Boom. Nailed it. Can’t have a boat in a mall, though, so that needs to be its own separate plan.”  

Malls are also currently in Ava’s good books because when she went to buy a jacket last week, she got to kiss Beatrice in the changing room. But they’re also strategically defensible strongholds. Never let it be said that Ava's decision-making is too heavily influenced by opportunities to make out with Beatrice. Even though it is. 

“That’s so smart,” Diego says, scribbling down the idea on another sheet of paper. “Malls even have water, too, so that works for everyone.” 

“And we should get a horse for the mall.”

“How does the horse help with the zombies?”

“I don’t know, but that had horses in The Last of Us, and it just feels right.” 

“So then also cowboy hats,” Diego reminds her.  

“Of course.” 

[gaybananabread]

⁠✧.*Are You Listening?*⁠.⁠✧

~Ehehehe the brain maggots won and I can’t say I’m upset by it (＾⩌＾). I’ve binged this show enough times to be put into all kinds of moods by these men, so I might as well write out my feelings. This is set right after S1 Ep. 7, so if you haven’t watched up to there, expect some spoilers! For anyone else who has pirate-based thought goblins, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Edward

Ler: Stede

Summary: Stede goes on a small rant about what happened on their latest adventure, though Edward isn’t fully listening. When he notices this, he calls the man out, but is met with a rather fascinating reaction.

Warnings: mild Our Flag Means Death spoilers! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Bobbing with the current, the Revenge drifted peacefully through the sea. Most of the crew was on-deck, chatting and messing around in their moment of peace. However, in the captain’s quarters, two men relaxed, one info-dumping while the other thumbed through random numbers of Stede���s vast collection of novels.

“And did you see that bird’s nest? They had to be Snowy Plovers, no question. Oh, I wish Lucius had brought his sketching journal.”  Stede sighed dreamily, slowly pacing around the room as he spoke. 

Ed hummed, not looking up from the copy of Hansel and Grettle. Stede had allowed him to browse whatever he wanted in the library, though he rarely read anything cover-to-cover. The blonde man continued, not yet noticing his companion’s lack of attention.

“There were so many interesting creatures on that island! I mean, the orange was the real treasure in it all, but I do so enjoy exploring nature when we travel.” Turning on his heel, he spun to face the bearded man once again. “What do you think, Ed?” 

“Uh-huh, yeah. Good, uh, land and shit,” Edward half-heartedly replied, flipping a few more pages into the book. That’s when Stede finally noticed that he wasn’t really listening.

“Edward!” The pirate jolted, shutting the book and actually meeting Stede’s eyes. “You weren’t even listening to me, were you?” Stede huffed, crossing his arms with an almost adorable pout.

“Uh…kinda? I mean, I heard the bit about the birds…” Ed mumbled most of his response, looking away. Yeah, he’d only heard a few words of the other man’s spiel. “Fuckin’, uh…book was distracting.”

With a huff, Stede sat down beside him, picking up the book. “I’m glad you’re interested in literature, but I was talking. It’s a bit rude to ignore people, isn’t it?” While he was a bit annoyed, Stede’s tone was a joking one. He even poked the man’s ribs in a playful manner, though he hadn’t expected Ed’s flinch.

“Damn, did I hurt you?” Stede sounded worried, a profanity even slipping in. He was more panicked than a normal friend should’ve been, though neither commented on it. 

“No, didn’t hurt. Takes more than a fuckin’ finger to hurt me.” Ed swatted Stede’s hand away, his beard hiding the very slight blush on his cheeks. He hadn’t felt a touch like that since…well, it’d certainly been a while. “Just felt…I dunno, fuckin’ weird.” 

“Weird?” Stede spoke softly, his worry melding into confusion. What could possibly feel weird to Blackbeard? He’d only lightly poked the man, and his ribs aren’t…oh. Oh. It took everything Stede had to keep a straight face as he said his next words.

“Might your ribs be a bit sensitive, Ed?” 

Edward nearly did a double-take at the words and his tone, snapping his head in the other man’s direction. “Sensitive? I’m…I’m fuckin’ Blackbeard. Sensitivity doesn’t apply to me.”

Stede rolled his eyes. Yeah right… Stifling a smirk, the blonde slowly slid his hand towards Ed’s side. Before he could do anything, though, a rough hand snatched his wrist. Edward’s eyes met his, full of some unreadable emotion.

“Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Bonnet.” His tone was gruff and dark, though the emotion in his eyes gained some depth. It was almost…giddy? The word felt foreign when describing Ed, though it fit to a tee.

“Hmmm…I think I fucking do.” Using his other hand, he squeezed Edward’s side. The feeling was such a shock that a damned giggle left the dread pirate’s mouth, his arms moving to clamp to his sides.

That sound made Stede’s stomach fill with a strange fluttering feeling—one he often felt around Edward. He decided to pursue it, scooting closer and wiggling his fingers into Ed’s stomach. 

The feeling wasn’t that intense through his layers of clothing, but it definitely still tickled. Biting his lip, Ed squirmed, trying to shove at Stede’s hands while still protecting himself. It should be noted, however, that he didn’t put up much of a real fight.

“My, Edward. I think someone’s a bit ticklish…” Stede chuckled, trying to slip his fingers under Ed’s arms. He’d had a small taste of the other man’s laughter, and had become hooked, He had to hear more. “I think it’d feel a bit nicer if you let out that laughter, Ed. Don’t you?”

When the eccentric man managed to wedge his fingers up to Ed’s ribs, the pirate knew he was done for. The dam broke, surprisingly bright giggles filling the quarters. They were still gruff, of course—still, the happy air was hard to ignore. 

“Oh dear. I think someone’s got a case of the giggles~” Stede cooed, one hand wiggling on the man’s ribs as the other poked and spidered on his belly. Was he pushing his luck? Oh, absolutely. It was, however, well worth it to see Ed’s silly smile.

 “F-fuhuhuck- Stehehede! Fuhuck ohohoff!” Twisting and wriggling around, Ed hid his face in his shoulder. The bearded man’s heavy boots skidded on the wooden floor, leaving small scuffs. Stede would deal with that later.

The feeling was…well, it wasn’t awful for Edward. He would never let the crew see him like that, of course; he had a reputation to maintain. With Stede, however, it felt nice to laugh. To let a few of his walls down without the fear of the mental rubble coming back to crush him. He wasn’t going to admit any of that, but it was true: his blush, however, was a different story.

“Well, I would, but I think I can see some pink underneath that salt and pepper of yours. Are you blushing, Eddy?” Stede used a slight nickname, his tone incredibly playful and teasing. He was determined to keep Ed giggling for as long as possible. 

“Screhehew youhu!” Edward tried arching his back, but that only freed his ribs up more. Slipping his fingers beneath Ed’s leather, Stede wiggled his fingers against the thinner fabric of his undershirt. That got quite the reaction.

“GRK- FAHAHAHAHA! FUHUHUCK YOUHUHUHU!” Ed’s bright giggles ramped up to loud, raucous laughter. A few snorts worked their way in, making Stede’s heart melt. Oh, how he loved that sound…

“I must say, this is a fine symphony. I’m loving all the onomatopoeias, and your laugh is so melodic!” Wanting to be a bit more mean, Stede hummed a lovely tune by Bach, pretending that his fellow seamen’s ribs and belly were piano keys. “I just love tickling the ivories, don’t you?”

The bearded man couldn’t respond, too lost in laughter to form a coherent sentence. While it was nice to laugh his cares away, he was starting to wear out. His throat was drying up, and his sides were starting to ache. He patted Stede’s wrist, managing to speak through his amusing cackles. “S-STAHAHAP! STEHEHEDE!”

Immediately, Stede pulled away, sensing Ed’s weariness. He didn’t want to push too much. “Goodness, Ed, I-I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away. Are you alright?”

Closing his eyes, Edward took a few deep and giggly breaths. He was certainly tired, but not to an uncomfortable degree. “Qu-quit worryin’... Takes mohore than a little laugh to knohock Blackbeard down.” The red hue on his cheeks slowly subsided, his giggles drying up. Ed recovered pretty quickly.

“Good, good,” Stede sighed, smiling softly. Finally noticing that his hands were still on Edward, he scooted away, blushing. Ed cut him off before he could make a fool of himself. 

“Ya know, it’s been a while since anyone’s had the balls to do somethin’ like that to me. Good on ya, Stede.” He clapped the blonde on the shoulder, though didn’t let go after. Instead, he flipped their positions, swiftly pinning Stede to the couch and nearly straddling him.

Ed made quick work of Stede’s resistance, even though there was hardly any to deal with. “There’s a reason for that, though. Wanna guess why?” He pinned the flamboyant man’s arms above his head without any hesitation. Stede couldn’t help the squeaky giggles that bubbled out of him, already squirming. He shook his head. Edward leaned down and whispered in his ear, scraggly beard hair tickling the poor man’s neck. He was in for a long evening...

“I always get my revenge~”

[glettokono]

I just wanted to say that I always get super excited when I see that you’ve posted something new. Your style is so cool and it just really flows. I was wondering how you make your panels interesting and not too grid like, but not hard to follow. Any advice?

Hi!!! Thank you for the kind words and im so glad you like my works!! Unfortunately, I cannot give any practical advice, because I always do everything SO HAOTIC because I have ADHD and have a very hard time finishing an idea. An idea just flashes in my head, and what I manage to sketch becomes the basis . And most often nothing works out for me) Usually, I draw a storyboard on paper in the office, and in the evening at home I transfer it to the computer, and I always have too many frames and they don’t fit into the format, or too few frames and I have to - either remove or add something. I don’t make a very precise sketch, I just throw out ideas and see how it goes) And to be honest, most often I miss and I can’t fit all the frames into one page, and there aren’t enough frames for the second page) Comic where i needed to add more frames to make it more understandble:

Comic where i made the final page the way i made it on paper(but it is sometimes to hard ro understand what i made in paper xddd):

or the bad example where the skethc was good but i didnt make it right so at the end the finale comic is so messy and hard to read)

so I’m not an adviser, I just insert frames as they are inserted, and try my best to make them clear to read) sometimes I succeed, sometimes not) I think my main advice is to read more good comics, look at beautiful pictures and try to repeat it) learn, get inspired and work, work and work! Over time, you will learn) I myself am still learning, I make mistakes, but every time I try to do something new and more correct!

[isbus]

So I’m back…

But this time, I have a tutorial!

Do you have a 3DS?

(If you say yes to that, then we’re cooking).

Do you want to draw something similar if not better than…

THIS?!

Then boy I have a tutorial for you!

Since this was drawn on a 3DS, I can’t really tell you anymore than for a 3DS. Sorry..

Step One: Prep!

Grab your 3DS and go to “Nintendo 3DS Camera”! Or whatever it might be called if you have a “New” one.

Optional: If you want you can take a picture within the game- if it’s capable of doing so.

For me I’m gonna use a screenshot from Miitopia.

Step 2: Background!

Part 1: Plain Backgrounds

If you want something like the following image, follow this part’s instructions.

Take a random full screen sized image. Any image will work as long as it fits the screen perfectly. (Take a screenshot from a game such as Tomodachi Life or Miitopia).

Tap the image so that it says graffiti.

Then use a stamp, such as the dialogue bubble.

Hold the stamp and make sure it fills the corners.

Then you have a plain white background! This one you can press finish,but the other method you can’t.

Here’s a quick video tutorial, because I don’t think I phrased it right!

(I took it on my phone, that’s how easy it is).

Part 2: Backgrounds that aren’t pure white!

If you want to make the starting image (but your own), then follow these steps!

(Once again, I’m using Miitopia screenshots for an example).

Once again, GRAFFITI!

Instead of using a stamp, you might have to just color it yourself. Mainly because the stamp method is harder for backgrounds like the first one.

COLOR THE BACKGROUND, BUT DON’T DRAW ANYTHING ELSE. (Unless you just want to draw a background). Trust me, it’s easier.

Boom! Plain background ready for sketching.

Don’t press finish cause it can decrease the quality with enough graffitiing and finishing.

Step 3: Draw the Base!

You gotta draw that body-ody-ody!

Just draw a bust or whatever is easier for you. “Omg IsBus you have to have drawing skills?!” Yeah I know. How could I?

I’m gonna draw the bust up because it’s easier for me.

(Don’t look at me like that.)

For the plain BG ones, just do the same thing for the rest of the steps but for your screen.

Since the background hasn’t been saved, don’t use the eraser because it will remove the white BG. Unless you are using the first background method, that is. (Use the white pencil.)

Step 4: Draw the character / Coloring Page Step!

On the plain BG you can draw what ever but for me and my Miitopia character, I’m gonna draw him. If you did the color-only-a-part-of-the-drawing method (like I’m doing), you can do whatever still.

Think of the white area as a green screen; you can draw whatever you want on it.

This phase is like the pencil part of a physical drawing. White out the base as you get to parts you want over it (for example: hair or clothes).

Bam! Coloring page!

Part 5: Coloring!

Remember when I called it a coloring page? This is why.

Color the drawing how you see fit!

If you’re using the all white bg, then you might have to use the stickers or the rainbow pencil. I recommend the stickers if you want to shade/shine, but if you want more options, use the rainbow brush.

If you’re basically doing what I’m doing, you can use the colors from the image to color your character!

Once you’re done coloring the image, remember to ink the lines again! Use a medium brush for coloring but a thin brush for inking the lines.

Part 6: Final Details!

For people who want any additional details, or need to clean up edges.

If you did the plain bg you can decorate and clean up as much as you need!

If you’re doing what I’m doing, you can clean up the edges of the white spot and add additional details.

And Voila! You did it!

If you have a 3DS and followed my tutorial, show me what you did! I wanna see it!

Have a good day/night! And thank you for reading!

~IsBus

[ivory--raven]

angelfish femslash feb day 10 ft. pre(?)-ineffable bureaucracy because it's IB's @rareomens day

The sky seems to crack as Michael appears just outside the door. Annoyance fizzes around her. She comes into the house holding The Celestial Times, which Jeanne plucks out of her hand.

“That was my newspaper!”

Jeanne is already paging through it. “Did you really need it?

“Gabriel is in it,” says Michael, frowning.

Dagon springs up from the sofa she was lying on. “Gabriel in the paper?”

“It’s a fashion feature, of all things,” Michael says.

“I found it!” says Jeanne. Dagon peers over her shoulder. Sure enough, Heaven’s own newspaper contains a sketch of Gabriel dressed in the finest men’s fashion, and an interview about where he gets his clothes. “‘I go to a fine tailor, Davidson, on Cork Street in London,’” Jeanne read aloud.

“Gabriel goes to a tailor on Earth?” Dagon blinks at the page.

“It’s his worst vice,” sighs Michael, shaking her head. “He and Sandalphon both spend hours visiting that tailor. He’s insufferable when he gets back.”

“I used to think you angels were all perfect and flawless and majestic,” says Jeanne. 

“Gabriel certainly thinks he is perfect and flawless and majestic.” Michael crosses her arms over her chest.

“I know an angel who is better than Gabriel, an angel who is definitely majestic,” says Dagon.

“One who has better things to do than arrange for the paper to interview them about their most annoying habit,” adds Jeanne. 

Michael smiles. “You’re sweet, both of you.”

“We’ll rot your teeth.” Dagon sidles up to her. “Mind if I take that paper to work?”

“Don’t tell everyone, we can’t have demons thinking archangels are soft.”

“We can’t have that, of course not,” agrees Dagon, bringing Michael’s hand to her lips and kissing her knuckles. “It would only be Beelzebub.”

“That would be fine,” says Michael.

“If you bring me more copies, I’ll shred them and use them as bedding for the chickens,” says Jeanne.

Michael smirks.

Half an hour later, Dagon leaves for Hell with The Celestial Times. She makes a beeline for Beelzebub’s office and finds it empty. Of course. They’re in the throne room.

Demons gather near the throne room in hopes of having a proper audience. There aren’t many formalities observed, except that there are guards outside and only one demon at a time is allowed to make their case. It’s unlike visiting their office because in the throne room, the average demon has a reasonable expectation that when it’s their turn to speak, they will be heard out.

Dagon ignores the guards and marches inside. Some demon she doesn’t know is in the middle of an impassioned speech. “Get out,” she tells them. She faces the watching crowd. “All of you. We’re pausing.”

“Come back later,” says Beelzebub, and at their word the gathered demons actually leave. Once the throne room is empty, they turn to Dagon. “This better be good.”

Dagon produces The Celestial Times and turns to Gabriel’s page. “Voila.”

Beelzebub leans forward. “Izz that Archwanker Gabriel?”

Dagon nods.

“He goezz to a tailor on Earth?”

“Apparently!”

Beelzebub throws back their head and laughs. “Satan, that’s fantastic. Dare I azk where you got thizz?”

Dagon smirks. “If you don’t ask, I’ll let you keep it.”

Beelzebub pulls the paper out of her grasp. “All right. But I was going to keep it anyway.”

[quibbs126]

hmm... kumidark (kumiho & dark choco) fankid maybe?? 👁️👁️

I got you bro, this boy is Mallomar Cookie

So I wanted to name him after chocolate covered marshmallows, since Kumiho is a marshmallow fox, and I wasn’t initially going to go with Mallomar, since from what I understand, that’s a brand name, and those aren’t really used in Cookie Run, unless there’s a crossover or something. But when looking at the other names I could find (chocolate kiss, chocolate teacake, whippet), I didn’t think they really fit him, so I just went back to Mallomar

I feel like Choco Kiss could work, but only if it was a fusion

These are mallomars, but I based him more off of just regular chocolate covered marshmallow cookies

I feel like his hair looks too big and poofy, but what I was going for was his hair looking like tails, sort of like Kumiho, as well as making them look sort emulate a chocolate covered marshmallow. I added the blue because I thought his colors didn’t have enough Kumiho

But anyways, on to this kid, since I have stuff for him

So Mallomar Cookie is a small little kid, but he’ll eventually hit a growth spurt and become large like his father and grandfather. But until then, he is a tiny gremlin

He’s a bit of a mischief maker, but usually gets stopped by his parents. Or at least Dark Choco, Kumiho might enable him. But at his core, he’s a good kid, he just likes playing pranks

He’s also a lover of foxes, for probably obvious reasons. I was thinking that the fox whiskers on his face might be painted, but I’m also considering just making them something he was born with

So I was thinking that the two had Mallomar after Kumiho became a real Cookie, but I’m also considering the idea of Kumiho still being a fox. Like, I want to draw Mallomar hugging a fox, and maybe it could be Kumiho? I dunno. But regardless of whether or not Kumiho is still a fox, Mallomar definitely inherited some fox weirdness. And possibly he might be able to turn into a fox as well? Apparently there’s at least one story of a male kumiho in folklore, so it’s not out of the question. But I imagine Kumiho was convinced they’d have a girl, only to be surprised and have a boy

Oh, also to explain that picture of him with the glowing eyes, another consequence of his heritage (which could just be Kumiho’s fox magic, but possibly left over influence of the Strawberry Jam Sword) is that Mallomar has the power to basically mind control people when they look into his glowing eyes. He can’t really control it yet

But yeah, I think that’s it for Mallomar. To be honest, I really like him, I might draw him again. I wanna do like, a whole sketch page with him

Hope you enjoy!

[bylerbigbang]

What a Time to be Alive

Fic by @newlesbianprideflag | Art by @teabagboy

Teen | 20k words

Mike is haunted, Will is haunting.

Or: when he was 12 years old, Will Byers was taken to the Upside Down, and with no Eleven-ex-Machina, he stayed there, and was assumed dead. Through sheer force of will, he finds ways to contact Mike and his mom and brother through lights and electricity and, as he spends more time there, ways to manifest physically. He remains invisible and inaudible for the most part, but present enough to write notes and occasionally be touched, heard, or even seen, in flashes. He becomes a haunting, constant presence in the life of Mike, who never wanted to let him go in the first place, and they fall in love through notes and music and whatever touch Will can manifest. (Mike, meanwhile, is somewhat adopted into the Byers family in Will’s place.) When they’re about 15, Vecna gains power in UD, threatening Will’s way of unlife, and, related, Eleven stumbles her way into Hawkins. Mike, with Eleven (and Joyce’s and etc)’s help, goes into the Upside Down to save Will, is confronted by Vecna who tries to convince him that Will is dead. Will saves him, and though they aren’t able to defeat Vecna, they return to Hawkins. Mike and Will, back together, confess their love and kiss and even with whatever will come next, with Vecna and the Upside Down that did not want to let Will go, they have each other, and that will be enough.

Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Mentions of Homophobia, some Internalized Homophobia, Grief, brief UD-typical horror

Read on Ao3 | View Art

Read an excerpt below:

So, Mike has a ghost, and it doesn’t bear much thought.

“Did you draw that?” Dustin asks in a hushed, library-appropriate tone.

“What happened to you being shit at art?” Max follows with immediately, in a much less library-appropriate tone.

What Dustin’s pointing to, and what Max is clearly referencing, is a small sketch of a three-headed dragon in the corner of his math notebook — one head is breathing fire on the quadratic equation, one has its open jaw around an x variable, ready to bite, and one is lazing, likely asleep, on one low college-rule line. It’s fucking adorable, and no, Mike didn’t draw it.

A ghost did.

Mike shrugs. “Yeah.” Max looks unconvinced. “Well, I copied it.”

“From what?” Max asks, more genuine curiosity than light derision.

Mike doesn’t say anything for a second (he’s still not a great liar, about the ghost thing, even though he really should be by now), which is long enough for him to catch the bow of Lucas’ head, the way his fingers skim the corner of the page, face tangled up. “It looks like what…” Lucas trails off, then clears his throat. “You copied it from Will’s old sketchbook?” Dustin winces with the name, and Mike’s sure he does about the same. He’s surprised, honestly, that Lucas was able to recognize it, and then immediately feels guilty for being surprised. It isn’t like Lucas would forget about him. It isn’t like Will is something he and he alone carries, even if its different for him. He didn’t leave any of them.

“Yeah,” Mike confirms, voice a bit caught-in-the-throat. “It’s...” he trails off. He doesn’t know what he would say next, and expects his reticence to be read as an end to the conversation. As inescapable as Will and his absence is, they don’t really like talking about him. Max never even met him, and it fucks with Lucas and Dustin. So. Quiet.

“It’s good, though,” Dustin says, head tilted to the side, a bit unsure. The undertone — better than he ever got a chance to be — is unspoken. “You think he would’ve been an artist?”

“Maybe,” Lucas offers, leaving back and looking away at the nothing that surrounds them. Cramped library shelves of books none of them have the time to read. Old chairs. High school.

On Mike’s hand, the ghost taps his assent.

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