#and DAMN look at how much my art has improved

[queenendless]

YOU FOUND ME

A/n: THNX U ALL FOR GETTING THIS SIDE BLOG TO OVER 800 FOLLOWERS! ♥︎

Credit to @livviespixels for these graphics. I need banners, art, fanart, fanfics, and MORE for our beloved Shadow Lord PRONTO PEOPLE!

I adore this man. So damn much. But I've been all over the place. GlimmerFics but imma take a break from writing there especially cause I get emotionally crying over Jinwoo for weeks now, moody over ZZZ gacha troubles and now that's P5X. So sorry for being gone for over a month and if this fic ain't that good for my Shadowlord's greatness.

CW: Self awareness AU brief/implied. Personal issues I've dealt with this past month like emotional depression, gut pains, etc. Tickle fluff, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort.

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGARIZE, EDIT, TRANSLATE AND/OR USE FOR AI. Rather reblog, like and follow thnx u very much.

Another insomnia fueled night.

Grinding through the newest hit game that everyone has been raving about.

On your laptop, resting on the kitchen chair, as you lay on your family living room couch, earphones plugged in as you toiled away the dead of night while the rest of your relatives sleep.

Despite having made many friends and some hateful choices along the way, your selfish bias had you pining for one character in particular.

Whether as a horned skulled creature composed of human and animal bones and shadows or as a emo human twink with a passion for the role, you adore this entity. This cool dork. Your beloved Shadow Lord; Skips Shadley.

Besides, the voice sold you on the character. That particular range, richness, versatility, whether gruff and theatrical or gentle and soothing.

Unbeknownst to you, the metas this game has pulled is about to take another big leap. So you thought it was all just a dream, believing you had conked out on the couch in the midst of playing.

Betty was used to your night owl habits so she still missed you sleeping at night with her like the old days. But she appreciated it when you return to her as you sleep through the day.

You could have sought out Farya; the first aid expert might be able to treat your flared up nerve damaged limbs that could involve improving your circulation. But you doubted it, your own personal ailments being incurable.

Gaia was understanding of how you kept coming to the corner of the house most of all to see the evident shadow beneath her stand, but is appreciative of you eventually befriending her, even more because she in a sense kept watch over your favorite house dweller.

Despite the Dateviators technically being on to allow you to be able to interact with these dateable objects and concepts, you didn't feel anything on your face as you were endearingly wrapped up in the familiar cozy darkness. The sight of your chosen lover appears out of the endless dark of his domain, making himself quite visible.

"Welcome back, my dear —!" He cut himself off as he looked at you like he's seeing you for the first time. His charcoal pupils lost in a daze. His glowing yellow blush dusting his face. "You ... you're here."

That's when he noticed the emotional distress on your face as your hands press to your chest and belly, pain evident, snapping him out of it. "Penumbra? What's wrong? What happened?!"

His panic and concern layered with tenderness as he hurries over makes your heart flutter, his misty back length hair sentient as he curtains both sides of you, his moonlight glowing hands carefully raking over your form to find any sorts of physical injuries on you.

"My chest, my stomach, my gut - especially my gut - dull flares of pain! I've been emotionally overwhelmed for weeks now. Am I eating too much? Been drinking coffee a lot too. They say bad sleep can cause gut issues. Or is it just that I'm getting older now? I don't fucking know anymore!" Your blubbering puffy self, wallowing in misery, crumbled apart in Skips' startled, anxious grasp.

"Please don't cry. Pretty please?" Your sniffles smother his chest, his smoky gray scarf he uses to dab your face with, not minding it getting soiled, easily able to clean them out since his attire is composed out of darkness itself. He pat and rubbed your back in gentle circular motions, letting you get out all those pent up emotions, nuzzling his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. "There there, angel~ I've got you."

"I'd rather be a shadow at this rate!" The sudden mood shift created from your moody words had Skips looking downtrodden, his eyes hidden underneath his wispy hair, reminding him of his failed ritual in reconfiguring you. You're the one panicked now. "I'm sorry beloved. I didn't mean to — !"

"Oh really now?" That ominous tone he took gave you goosebumps; that mischievous gleam in his eyes peeking out between his wisps. "Such a particular choice of words there, my dark ally~"

His shadows envelop you as he laid you down on plush comfy padding on his floor. He morphs into his alternate monster form. His towering frame envelops your sensitive teary-eyed self, his gruff rough voice seeped with mischief. "Hmm, perhaps I can remedy this dastardly situation."

The gentle yet thorough examination his giant clawed hands gives your vulnerable body leaves you feeling giddy as you giggle and squirm in his hold. "Nohoho stahahahp~! I'm so ticklihihish~!"

"That's the whole point, love. My punishment for your choice of words is most merciful, most bountiful, and most enjoyable~! Fwa hah haha!" His gravelly, wicked cackling only adds to his tickling more.

Pinned in between his arms, he keeps you caged between the puffy floor and his boney shadow form. Squeezing and pinching your hips, kneading and rubbing both sides of your folded belly, wiggling his lone curled claw along your neck and underneath your chin.

His careful tender touch leaves your heart quaking and your nerves firing. Your upper body quakes and your legs kick out underneath him as your laughs raise a pitch higher.

“That's it, my cute penumbra. Let all your unbridled energies spill out. Become untethered and enter the void~!" His spooky drawl got a watery chortle out of you amidst your squeamish state as his boney snout nuzzles your flushed smiling face.

Despite the predicament you're currently in, you hadn't remembered the last time you laughed. Days came and went in depressing sobbing episodes. It felt so long since you last felt elated. Could that be why he's doing this?

"To bare witness to the sight of you in the flesh ... your adorable real self~ I'm honored." His deep voice rumbles richly, his crinkled eyes sockets bore into your squeezed shut eyelids, his curling grin with boney teeth grows to match your own.

His words are nearly lost on you through the tingling, overwhelming high. All of him gets to you. His attention, his touch, both sides to him, you thrived off it all.

He releases you after a bit longer, letting you breathe, ghostly tickles still racking your curled up form as tired giggles slip out of you. His form reverted back to his human coil, brushing your hair away from your face, cradling your bright warm cheek, doting pecks on the tip of your nose, in between your brows, your forehead.

"I enjoy tickling your heart quite fiercely, my dear human. Especially if it helps you smile again." His shadows returned, this time however, to massage and caress your abdomen, your hips, your chest. Working out the stiff kinks. "To think this is how I'm actually seeing you for the first time."

You finally had your head clear from the ticklish overlay, finally able to ask about it between your pleased sighs and thankful hums. "What are you talking about?"

"I've always seen you on the other side of the screen whenever you play the game. So how ... how are you are here? Then again, lots of weirder shit goes on in this house so this shouldn't be so surprising. But even so," His yellow blushed paired with his lovesick smile made your toes curl and your heart race. "I'm actually meeting you face to face. And you're lovely."

You flush bashfully as he cradles you in his arms now, having you draped over his lap as you play with his scarf and his long shadowy hairlocks tickle your face when you decide to get it all off your chest.

"I'm so tired, Skips. Of feeling all this pain. Of being alone. Of not having anything worth living for back home. I don't want this to be a dream. I don't want to go back either. I want to stay here. I want you. If I have to Realize you to make you human so we can be together, I'll do it." Your rambled words seep with worry, anxiety, hope and need.

"I'm all too familiar with the negative nosedives." His own face nuzzles yours, his arms embrace you, holding onto you, both of you serving as each other's anchor. "You've accepted my true self. You chose me ... all of me. How could I not accept all of you in return?"

His whole being envelop you, submerging you in that tingly cozy warmth that soothes away the cramps, the dull aches within, and the emotional weight that pooled in your mind and your heart. "I'd be honored if you do Realize me. Being human with you, seeing this world for ourselves, or even just staying here in this house together, I want to be with you too, more than anything."

His shadows formed pillows and comfy bedding, laying you down with him joining you, facing you, but keeping you in his arms still. "Until then, you can sleep during the day and I'll watch over you until we can hang out at night. I'll make sure the silverfish don't bother you when you're sleeping."

Your eyes ripple up at him, swelling with hope. "Really?"

He blushed harder, smile dopey like, as his nose brushes yours. "You're a denizen of my realm now. And the Shadow Lord treats his darling penumbra with the most endearment."

You melt in his grasp, taking in his scent, relishing being in his grasp. "Thank you." His darkness made you feel so safe, easing down your sleep anxieties, nuzzling his chest in response to that. "I'll think of you always throughout my days." When you sleep through the daytime, dreaming of seeing him again.

"And I of you, through and beyond my nights." He followed you up, repeating your love lines to each other, humming deeply at how perfect. "Is it alright if I call you by your real name too?" Your sweet nod, your gentle whispering close to his face, made it all the more sweeter when he spoke your name at last with his cute smile. "Y/n L/n. You've made me the happiest I've been in a long time."

"And so have you." Your arms hugged his slim waist, your knees brush his peeking through his ripped tight pants, and your feet brushed his black boots. You just can't get enough of him. He is really truly yours.

"I love you, my beloved dummy."

"I love you too, my angelic dork."

And you're his. You're the Shadow Lord's now. Sharing a kiss or two ... or many pecks and hips and smooches as his shadows keep you both comfy as you two curled up together, intimacy setting the mood.

You'd take his loving darkness over the lonely light, always.

[thebirdarts]

Mura Hagdaughter<3 its been a while but i found a great ref and she just called to me! in a way this is a redraw of my previous Mura portrait [under the read more] and so i used the shattered stained glass imagery once more. Given that, its fitting that this is also my 100th post on this blog!

shattered glass and face portrait

[whereismyhat5678]

Guys, the new year hasn’t started for me yet, I still got a few hours to go but I’ll mine-as-well make this post since I’ll probably go to bed anyways- 😂

First, I’d like to say

WE GOT A NEW BANNER LET’S GOOOOO‼️‼️‼️‼️

HELL YEAH! -I mean it’s just the characters but- HELL YEAH‼️‼️‼️‼️

SECOND. I want to show you something AMAZING and that something I’d never expect??

321 FOLLOWERS????

YOU GUYS ARE INSANE THANK ALL OF YOU SO MUCH MY GOD‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

It really makes me think how all of you guys really like and appreciate my art, and the fact that so many people encourage me to keep doing it, it brings me to tears! 🥹

Every one of you are the best thing in my life!! The first time I got Tumblr I started in:

March 30?? That’s insane- 💀

And the fact that I’ve improved SO MUCH is just INCREDIBLE!

You wanna see the FIRST drawings of Peppino??

YEAH THAT’S ME I DID THIS-

And you’re telling me that this was in what- THE START OF MARCH?? (Or February I don’t remember-) But this is just the PINNACLE of how much I’ve changed in terms in art style and experience.

I bring this up because I think Tumblr is the REASON why I improved so much! I experimented with brushes (digitally) and I found my brushes!! I learned how to EXAGGERATE AND ACTUALLY DRAW CARTOONY LIKE I’VE WANTED TO FOR SO LONG!!

(And NEVER took an art class. That’s fucking what- 💀 I need to take one I actually need to at this point-)

Also also also- I’ve learned a lot of things! Anatomy, exaggerative expression, stretchy cartooniness, ALL OF THESE ARE JUST- I can’t believe I’ve learned all this because one day I decided: “Maybe I should ACTUALLY get a social media for my art? 🤔” AND I DID IT AND CHANGED MY LIFE‼️‼️‼️

YOU GUYS CHANGED MY LIFE!-

My followers!- My mutuals/friends- I NEED TO SAY HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE ALL MY MUTUALS, ALL OF YOU 💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕

Everything about Tumblr has changed me in SUCH a positive way in not only terms of art but with how many people (TALENTED PEOPLE) I’ve made FRIENDS with AND ACTUALLY got to know!!!

I already said it but you guys are absolutely AMAZING and I just CAN’T FATHAM how much this year has just been a BLAST.

My mutuals:

@noodletime @moon9931 @marclef @margarita-the-pizzeria-worker @lucia-the-mii @lovestryke @lord-yiikes @ijusthavefun @linhfoxmoive @kate-bot @nomlioart @boogiestronic80s @zedortoo @jarroyave4637 @atlaslovesedm @alaskacoolkid1 @remaking-machine @average-amount-of-chaos @cherryxsapphic @dingle-dee @eyeballdrawer @tailsdollsnewlife @radaverse @gongustheawsome01 @fluffygiraffe @qwertykeyboard045 @w00den-h3ad @the-little-knight @oddpizza @misdreavusplush

(OKAY- I may have added some people on here that I think ARE REALLY COOL, I may not talk to you much but I’ve seen you guys like my art and I think ya’ll deserve to be on here 🫶💖✨)

AND IF I MISSED ANYONE PLEASE TELL ME I’M SO SORRY BUT JUST KNOW I LOVE ALL OF YOU THE SAME (Platonically) I HOPE YOU GUYS HAVE A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR AND HAVE A GOOD ONE 🎉🎉🎉

GOOD NIGHT TO ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE YOU GUYS MEAN THE WOLRD TO ME AND HAVE A GREAT NIGHT 💖💖💖💖

[solazu1]

If any of you guys knew me during my TOH hyperfix,,, NO YOU DIDNT

[sevikaswifegurl]

THE FUCKING PHOTOS IN THE WALLET

Daniel Ricciardo X Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Daniel Ricciardo has a habit of losing his wallet in unusual places, and when the new employee finds it in the paddock, he can't imagine what he's going to discover inside.

Warning: Explicit sexual content, vulgar and sarcastic language, scenes of privacy and invasion of boundaries, as well as intense sexual tension.

Word count: 3300

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors and promise that I will improve the templates

Daniel Ricciardo had many questionable habits, but perhaps the most infamous among them was his chronic inability to keep his wallet in his pocket.

It was an inside joke in the paddock, and whenever someone found that lost wallet lying around, the reaction was almost automatic: “Hey, anyone seen Daniel’s wallet?” It had become an unofficial catchphrase among Red Bull crew members, McLaren mechanics, and even a few FIA stewards. That damned thing had been found wedged behind a seat, on top of a toolbox, and — in one particularly memorable instance — inside the team motorhome's fridge.

And without fail, whoever found it knew exactly what not to open, but always did anyway: the photo compartment. More specifically, the photos.

One of them, you only let him take after much teasing, on a hot night in Monaco. The city’s sticky heat filtered through the cracks in the bedroom curtains, while the sheets, in a careless moment, slipped down to your ankles, leaving your body completely exposed. The image captured more than just your skin — it captured surrender. That raw, unguarded surrender, and he had known exactly when to press the shutter. He printed it, and the photo ended up in his wallet. He never carried it without it again.

The problem was: Daniel kept losing the fucking wallet.

Oliver was almost done with his shift in the garage. The tools were already packed, and the place had quieted down. He was finishing the last tasks of the day when he spotted something on the floor and immediately recognized it. That wallet was practically an extension of Daniel himself.

“Again, Ricciardo…” he muttered, already bracing himself for the chaos to come. He picked it up and, with a resigned sigh, looked around. No one else was there. He knew very well where this could go.

He wasn’t naturally a curious person, but the things he'd heard about Daniel’s photos — always spoken in gossiping, joking tones — still intrigued him. He’d heard the rumors, of course. The Red Bull driver's Polaroids were legendary.

With a scoff of disdain, Oliver gave in to temptation and opened the secret compartment. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did it anyway.

The first image that came up made his heart clench. It was… beautiful. Almost like an artistic photograph. You lying on the bed, your naked body, the sheet strategically placed, just covering what it needed to — but your gaze... That gaze seemed to strip you down even more than your bare body already had. You were smiling, but not just any smile. It was enigmatic, like you knew exactly the effect it would have. He couldn’t help but notice how comfortable you looked, how confident. A work of art more than just an intimate capture.

Oliver swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. The photograph stirred something in him, and the way it was kept, the way the light seemed to caress the image, only made everything feel more intense. But that was nothing compared to what came next.

He hesitated, but what he found next pulled him in like a magnet. When he grabbed it, the reaction was immediate. The photo in his hands was completely different. It was more explicit. Bolder. A scene of complete abandon, and what struck him most was the intensity of the moment.

He saw the intertwined bodies of Daniel and you. The image showed you with your eyes closed, your body arched in pleasure. And Daniel was over you. Fully exposed, both of you naked, in a moment of raw, unfiltered surrender. The kind of scene rarely witnessed. There was no glamour in it. No attempt to be anything more than it was: a moment of total intimacy.

And your expression in that photo wasn’t just provocative. It was fierce, defiant, as if you knew that anyone who saw that picture would be completely captivated, unable to look away. The way you looked, the way you were positioned — it was the certainty of someone who knew that photo would carry consequences impossible to ignore. It was almost like, in that brief second, you knew the camera was there, that the photo was being taken — but you didn’t care. It was a moment just for the two of you, a moment to get lost in.

Oliver stood frozen. He didn’t know whether he should look away, walk off, hide the photo and hand the wallet back to Daniel like nothing had happened. But he couldn’t stop staring. He knew he shouldn’t be seeing that, knew he was invading something private. But he just couldn’t look away.

That’s when he heard a familiar voice — Daniel, of course.

“That’s mine.”

The phrase was calm, easy. Like nothing serious was happening, like this was just another ordinary situation.

Oliver froze, blood running cold in his veins. He turned, wallet still in hand, unsure what to do, unsure what to say.

Daniel was at the doorway, wearing that wide, easy smile, as if he were seeing something completely mundane. He didn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed. Not at all surprised. He was just there, watching, like he already knew what was going on.

“You found my photos,” Daniel said, stepping closer with a slow, almost lazy stride. “Ah, someone finally found the fucking wallet.”

“I… found it on the floor… I didn’t know…” Oliver tried to explain, but his words came out shaky, unsure, like he didn’t know whether to look at Daniel or the photos still in his hand.

“But you opened it.” The sentence hit like a weight. Daniel wasn’t angry, but the way he said it made everything feel heavier, more loaded with meaning.

He extended his hand, eyes fixed on the photos Oliver was still holding. It was more a command than a request.

“Give it to me.”

Oliver swallowed hard and, almost involuntarily, handed the wallet back, the weight of shame still tightening in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to think. Everything was happening too fast, and he didn’t know how to react.

Daniel didn’t rush. He looked at the first photo with a crooked smile, his gaze a little more wistful. “Beautiful, right? Took that one after a whole afternoon where we couldn’t leave the bed.” He turned the second photo more carefully, still with that same smile on his face. “This one… she didn’t even know I was going to take it. It was in the middle of the fun. I like keeping the kind of moments that make me come just remembering them.”

Oliver couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. He just stood there in silence, breath slow and heavy, while Daniel seemed entirely unfazed by what had just happened.

Daniel looked at him, his expression softening, and let out a short, relaxed laugh, like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Relax, man. It’s all good. They’re just pictures. Help me get through lonely nights, you know how it is.”

With an easy motion, he slipped the wallet back into his pocket and turned to leave.

But before walking out, he paused at the doorway and, without looking back, said over his shoulder — his tone almost a warning:

“But don’t worry, man…”

A pause, heavy with irony.

“You haven’t seen the really wild ones.”

And then he was gone.

Oliver just stood there, in the middle of the garage, unsure if he should laugh or cry. The tension still hung in the air, and he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. But one thing was certain: he would never look at Daniel Ricciardo the same way again.

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?” you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O’Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

me and my husband after making a contract with a little cat looking creature

[shysuccubusstuff]

l&ds nsfw links! pt. 2

Content: Zayne + Xavier + Rafayel in various NSFW imagines!

Note: It's so hard to find actual good content for these kind of imagine... How is everyone doing? I miss holidays so much... I did four instead of five cause I keep trying to find more accounts. Let me know if you liked it! Also, if anyone has any kind of request, my requests are always open tbh!!

Zayne:

Starved Zayne arriving after several days on a trip, he looks so exhausted but even if he has eyebags the only thing he can think of is grabbing you and letting you know just how much he actually missed you.

Zayne knows he should reject the idea, but how could he reject you when you keep begging him to fuck your throat, with your sweet eyes looking at him in such a way... He accepts, even if he still feels slightly guilty about it, but deep down, he may be enjoying the bulge that appears in your throat each time he shoves it deep inside you...

You sent him as a joke a supposedly true research about how sucking on your nipples could avoid you getting breast cancer... Despite Zayne looked almost ammused at first, you soon noticed how he had started to suck on them much more than often... Was this a mere coincidence?

Enforcer! Zayne taking all his anger out on you... He tried so hard do maintain his frenzy, biting his lips and leaving them all bruised just to stop himself from doing anything to you... But as soon as you use that damn enhancer on him, it's a matter of seconds before he has you lifted in the hair, your eyes rolling back as you keep pleading him to at least slow down for a second.

Xavier:

Jealous Xavier making sure to leave a lasting mark in your body. He knows it's dumb to feel that way because of some dumb barista clinging a bit too much on you, but he can't just help clenching his fist and forcing a kind smile towards you.

Just some warm-up between the two of you. You keep asking him to help you improve your stamina, what's better for that than riding him for some time? Don't worry! He will help you a bit, just make sure to get down all the way, ok?

Contrary to what many people believe, Xavier is one of the fittest LI, even if he doesn't look as strong. Just let him show you just how much he can last holding you up in the air, legs dangling as he keeps hitting your cervix with his tip.

Aftermath of that one card in which Xavier keeps getting teased while he wears his working out outfit... It is oly fair that he is able to tease you, right? He keeps taunting you, telling you to quiet down as he keeps rubbing his hardened cock against the crook of your ass. As soon as he releases, just now that this is far from over.

Rafayel:

After leaving due to work for a couple weeks, you end up receiving this video late at night... Who would imagine such a re-known artist would dare to do this kind of thing? The video has a small comment written by him: "I miss my cutie so much... the wait is becoming unbearable".

Just Rafayel giving a taste to that sweet nectar that is dripping down your legs. What do you mean that is unclean? Just relax and let him show just how much he adores you.

After acting as a butler for you, it is only fair for him to see you in those short and cute maid outfits! Just... don't blame him when his eyes begin to drift, ears starting to heat up as he keeps trying to stop his mind from imagining the many ways he would just take you right then and there. All he needs is you pulling him towards you to lose himself, one of his hands playing with your tits as the other circles around your clit.

You keep teasing him during the whole art exhibition, with you constantly wrapped around his arm, your chest pressing against his arm even as some of those supposedly art experts ask about the inspiration behind his latest paintings. Oh, you just knew he wouldn't let it slide the moment his eyes glistened with a dangerous look. As soon as you arrive to his studio... Well, let's just say that he made sure to give just as much as you had given to him...

[justlemmeadoreyou]

meet-cute

okayyyy so here is something short n shitty on these new pics that my brain whipped up! tell me if you like this!

words: 1.3k~ish

warnings: flirting, fluff.

***

You loved coming out to this little nook to capture scenes of the city on canvas. Today felt especially inspiring with the beautiful spring weather.

You begin laying out your brushes and squeezing out vibrant shades of paint onto your palette. Losing yourself in the simple motions, you barely notice the passersby around you. That is, until a very familiar voice pipes up from behind.

"Excuse me, miss? Your paintings are absolutely lovely."

You freeze, brush hovering in the air. No, it couldn't be... Slowly, you turn around and your jaw drops. There, flashing his signature dimpled grin, stands Harry Styles himself. Your ultimate celebrity crush in the flesh, mere feet away.

"H-Harry? Harry Styles?" you stammer out, eyes wide.

He chuckles softly. "The one and only. I'm out on a morning stroll and I couldn't help but stop to admire your work. You've got a brilliant talent there."

Your cheeks flush bright pink. "Oh my gosh, thank you! You're—you're really here. I can't believe it!" 

Trying not to completely fangirl and scare him off, you take a deep breath to collect yourself. Harry Styles is complimenting your art. This is actually happening.

"Sorry, I'm just—wow, I'm such a huge fan of yours. Your music means so much to me."

He smiles warmly. "I'm glad you enjoy it, love. Say, would you maybe be interested in doing a little commission for me? Painting my portrait?"

You nearly drop your palette right then and there. "You want me to paint you? Like, really?"

"If you're up for it, yeah! I'd be honoured."

Nodding fervently, you scramble to set up a fresh canvas on your easel. "Yes, absolutely! I'd love to! Just...just tell me how you'd like to pose." 

As Harry arranges himself into a relaxed seated position, you take a moment to study his striking features. From the soft chestnut curls framing his face to those entrancing emerald eyes, he is perfect subject material. Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.

"Okay, perfect, just like that. Stay right there and I'll get started!"

You take a steadying breath before putting brush to canvas, carefully mapping out Harry's form in broad strokes. The two of you fall into an easy back-and-forth conversation as you work, chatting about everything from his latest album to your shared hometown.

"I've gotta say, your Cheshire accent is pretty damn charming," Harry remarks at one point with a playful wink.

You giggle shyly. "Why thank you, kind sir. Yours isn't too bad either."

Harry throws back his head with a deep, raspy chuckle that has your toes curling in your shoes. "Is that so, darling? Well in that case..." He leans in close enough for you to smell his intoxicating cologne, voice lowering to a sultry murmur. "Perhaps later you'll allow me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Harry!" you gasp in flustered exasperation, half-heartedly swatting his arm as he cackles victoriously. The two of you are so caught up in your playful banter that you barely notice the small crowd starting to gather, whispering and snapping photos as word spreads that the one and only Harry Styles is getting his portrait done.

Harry waves jovially at his fans but remains focused on you, keeping up the easy banter.

"How's it looking over there, Picasso? Doing me justice?"

Glancing up, you smirk. "Well, it's hard to improve upon perfection, but I'm giving it my best shot."

He smiles, and swears he felt his heart skip a beat at your words. "Such flattery! And here I thought you were just a pretty face with those big doe eyes."

You roll said eyes dramatically as your cheeks flush. "Oh, stop trying to put me off, you flirt!"

Over the next little while, you alternate between studying Harry's striking features with lazer-like intensity and flushing furiously whenever he catches you staring. At one point, he pointedly clears his throat.

"You know, most artists usually start on the face when doing portraits," he remarks with a teasing lilt.

Cheeks flaming again, you force your gaze away from the rippling muscles of his forearms where you'd been fixated like a teenager. "Hush you, I'm simply taking my time with the background work first."

"If you say so," he chuckles but obediently returns to stillness, allowing you to slowly build up brushstrokes on the canvas.

Time seems to fly by as your brush strokes bring Harry's image vibrantly to life on the canvas. The swarm of onlookers grows steadily bigger, phones clicking away to document the scene. Several times you have to politely ask people not to get too close and obstruct your view.

With one last few delicate strokes to bring out the shine in Harry's eyes, you finally lean back with a satisfied smile.

"Well, Mr. Styles...what do you think?"

Harry rises from his pose and steps over to admire your handiwork, lips parting in an impressed grin.

"Wow...Y/N, this is incredible! You captured me perfectly!"

You beam proudly, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his praise. "I had some pretty gorgeous subject matter to work with."

Chuckling, Harry carefully plucks the canvas from the easel. "You've definitely earned your payment and then some. Name your price, love."

After some back-and-forth haggling that has the crowd laughing, Harry hands over a generous sum of cash and pulls you in for a warm hug.

"Truly, thank you for this. I'll cherish it forever!"

You bite your lip shyly as he pulls away. "You're more than welcome. Can't say I mind immortalizing that handsome face on canvas."

Harry tosses you one last wink before turning to greet his clamoring fans, the sea of people quickly engulfing him and carrying him off down the street.

As he's shuffled away, Harry feels a pang of disappointment that he didn't get a chance to ask for your number or make plans to see you again. He spent the whole time shamelessly flirting and getting flustered by your adorable blushes and quips. Now he may never get the opportunity to take you out on an actual date.

Once he's finally escorted into his awaiting car, Harry lets out a frustrated huff and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He'd been so wrapped up in your captivating presence that he didn't even think to get your contact information before being mobbed. Rookie mistake.

"Stupid, stupid," he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Just as he's resigning himself to having let a potential connection slip through his fingers, something catches Harry's eye. He glances down at the canvas you had been painting him on, safely tucked onto the seat beside him, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

There, just peeking out from the backside wrapped around the frame, is a scribbled set of numbers. Hurriedly, Harry flips over the painting to inspect further. He lets out a delighted laugh at what he finds.

It's a phone number! Trailing below it in your handwriting are the words "In case you need your portrait updated ;) -Y/N"

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

feedback | masterlist |

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@imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

[gingerteafairy]

𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐭 𝟐

luke cooper – acts of service + physical touch

The first thing Luke told you is that he hates PDA. Not because he’s cold, but because he just feels shy being seen kissing you. But at home, he can’t stop touching you. If you’re making popcorn, he’s standing behind you. Watching a movie? His arm’s around you. Lying down? He’s running his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep. His mom even thanks you because he’s started cleaning his room since dating you. "She said that? No, look. Why would i make my bed if I'm gonna mess up anyway? I just do yours because it's comfier to cuddle."

max cooperman – words of affirmation + quality time

Dating Max comes with a major perk—a great eye for photos. You wouldn’t have to think about your poses because he’d tell you exactly what to do, helping when you’re unsure what to do with your arms and legs. Without realizing it, he’d shower you with compliments as he took pictures. “That’s it, you look gorgeous.” “Wow, you’re perfect like this.” “How are you this beautiful?” “Smile like that—perfect.” Physical touch would be great too, but getting to go everywhere with you would be even better, especially when you watched him fight from the crowd. And what’s better than a victory kiss after a win?

warren lipka – physical touch + gifts

Warren loves kissing. That’s the first thing you need to know. His life’s dream is to spend an entire day kissing you, maybe mapping every inch of your body with kisses. Anything that involves feeling close to you—he’s in. Corny pick-ups to tease you. "Are you a drug dealer? Cause I'm a kiss addict. Pfft. Fuck, that was awful. But no seriously, i'm having abstinence without 'em." He’s respectful, not clingy, but if you’re open to it, he’ll be attached to you 24/7. As a good klepto, he’d steal random stuff to give to you. “Why a Sonic soap bar? No clue… It just suits you.”

alex – gifts, quality time + physical touch

Alex is pretty reserved, but he’d find subtle ways to show you how much he cares beyond touch—especially through art. He’d sketch you while you were focused or sleeping. He’d draw something you love and give it as a gift. And there’d be gifts from the shop as part of an inside joke "Check this out. I have no idea how this... weird shit works. wanna find out and see if it's good?" Midnight conversations would be a given between deep conversations about life or just silly stuff to past time. He has a list of things he wants to do with you and plans to do them all before sharing the list with you. "Why did I buy this ticket to Japan? Dunno, felt lucky. Wanna come? It's saturday."

peter maximoff – gifts, acts of service + quality time

Peter would be the silliest boyfriend ever—he’d spoil you until you told him to stop. Want ice cream? Here it is. Need to pick out clothes? He’d show you all the options in a second. Too lazy to do the dishes? Done—though he almost broke a plate. He might steal that computer you wanted, but he’s trying to improve and actually work for things (though stealing still seems easier). "I'd steal the moon for you if i could. Wait. Is it the perfect time to say that I love you to the moon and back? Man, gotta talk to Xavier. I'mma make it work. Write my words."

colin zabel – quality time + acts of service

Colin is shy and would take some time to open up with compliments and touch. For a while, you’d mostly go out to different places together. "You're so damn beautiful. I mean, if it's not disrespectful to say, i... you're beautiful. You probably know that, right?" Consent king!!! Always asking if you're okay or if you like what he's doing. Over time, this would evolve into random acts of help—picking up your clothes from the laundry or helping with things around the house. "I feel useful when i help you, don't worry. Uhm... Are you hungry? Got this on the way back. I know how much you like this."

todd haynes – physical touch, quality time + words of affirmation

Todd loves nothing more than playing video games by your side. He’d read comics in bed with you and watch series together—never watching an episode without you (scout’s honor). He’d find things online and try them out with you. “Hey, there're a bunch of different types of kisses—wanna try?” "Hey, you wanna do a spa day? You mentioned that the other day. I bought those weird face masks. Cucumber or something like that. Can't risk acids. Anyway, why the hell are you putting acid on your face? It burns!" He’d also drop random compliments like, “Your kisses taste like pink and hot chocolate." or “As twenty one pilots say, my music taste is your face. This song reminds me of you."

masterlist part one

[corporalellie]

(going on anon so now one finds my main blog here...)

HI IM VAL! and i have but one simple question-

HOW in the EVER BEING DISCOVERED WORLD DO YOU DRAW PHILLIP GRAVES' HAIR SO DAMN WELL-

i've tried every single youtube video tip, hell i even tried TIKTOK for tips. n o t h i n g helps. if i could get some advice that would be AMAZEBALLS. thanksssss (love how you draw phillip btw. very smexy)

-@valscodblog

Ahaha 😂 Got an interesting question here! I’ve been kinda busy lately, so sorry in advance if I can’t give the most detailed answer. (And yeah, I used a bit of a translator for this.)

Tbh, when I draw characters, it’s all about capturing their key features. That's all. Let me break it down with Graves as an example.

His hair is short but has bangs—though he sweeps them to the side, leaving some space between his forehead and the hairline. It’s straight, not super soft, kinda spiky, but styled neatly. Maybe “clean” is a better word? Also, his mid-face isn’t too long, which makes his head look a bit rounder. (*Check the in-game scenes.)

Hot damn.

So once I get these details down, here’s how I’d approach it:

➡️ Draw the bangs with a decent gap from the eyebrows. Since his hair looks swept to the side by the wind, sketch it at an angle. To keep that slightly spiky feel, make the ends sharp, but not too much—just enough to balance his clean hairstyle. (I just sketched it now! And these are some of my drawings as examples.)

This is pretty much how I break down any character before drawing them. And it applies to everything, not just hair. If you wanna get better at this, the best way is to observe and sketch a character multiple times. Seeing them from different angles really helps you understand their structure.

Looking at drawing tips and references is great, but honestly, nothing beats studying objects, people or characters by sketching them yourself. That’s how I improved the most.

Anyway, hope this helps! And thanks for loving my art ➰🖤

[viceria]

Lui character analysis/rant

Before I start my character analysis on Lui, can I just say the number of content my guy has is diabolical. He is literally part of the main four, what do you mean he’s like a rare pokemon where most of their content appeared years ago??? Maybe I still don’t know how to use filters (and please tell me otherwise because he’s such a cool character my god), but it’s just so disappointing.

Back on track, but I believe Lui is by far one of the most observant people in the series. He can understand a situation with a single glance and identify the improvements a blader requires off the bat. He saw Valt once and already knows the potential Valkyrie has, met Red Eye once and connected the dots that he’s Shu, and was the only person to realise Shu’s true goal when he joined forces with Lean by his own. (I know Valt knew, but it was implied that Shu informed him earlier of his plan. Did Valt agree with it? Hell no, but he trusted Shu to not go evil again). Moreover, all of his ‘critiques’ towards people are all factual. They’re just incredibly said out wrongly. While this could just be Lui’s natural behaviour, I think it has something to do with his childhood.

I mean, it’s kinda obvious how he has neglectful parents, considering they allowed a six year old to travel around the world. But on a deeper note, I feel like his character was built on harsh criticism. It would explain how his comments came off as natural, as if it were in his nature to point out someone’s faults than their skills. Moreover, it explains how he never cared when people insults him, since it would be so normalised to encounter. An example would be Gou stopping his teammates from cheering him on in the finals, claiming it would only distract Lui. Just imagine having faced so much disproval in your life that someone’s cheers would act more of a distraction than encouragement. He might even believe that they were nothing more than empty words. I know it’s a minor comment, but it makes Lui’s situation much more grimmer when taken into consideration.

Another analyst is how he isn’t the typical ‘genius’ people claim him as. That is the natural genius, like Free. Instead he trains as hard, or even more harder than Shu throughout the show. Every time we see Lui outside of a battle, it’s always when he’s training, and when he’s not, he would only stay for a few seconds to amuse his interest before returning to his training routine. The only difference between Shu and Lui is experience, literally. Unlike Shu, he knows his body’s limits, and he knows that treating your body poorly would be detrimental to your performance. Using his knowledge over himself, he made an entire training session that aligns perfectly for him. According to the manga - or maybe I’m delusional and imagined it - Lui lacks muscle or the strength most bladers have. So what does he do? Makes a machine focusing on his launching form, training his arm and leg muscles. Which would explain why he has more defined legs and arms than everyone. Moreover, according to the manga, he had to study martial arts to gather enough power despite that lack of strength.

Even then, when Shu does take breaks, he doesn’t seem entirely uncomfortable. At most times, he seems relaxed and generally happy spending time with the people he loves. While he does stress on growing stronger, back then in Burst, he doesn’t make a beeline to train the moment he feels like he isn’t included. It only worsens when he gets manipulated and mentally tormented by Ashtem. On the other hand, Lui looks immensely uncomfortable, often shielded with boredom. He wants to train, and feels like he is getting worse if he doesn’t train every damn second. Hell, he would actively leave a conversation if his use was finished or useless. His team against a weaker opponent? No point in attending when he could train instead. Lost a match? Laughs then walks off. Lost a tournament? Immediately walks back to train. At least Shu is trying to hide it, Lui is a walking workaholic. Hell, he tells Hyuga he trains 24/7 as if it were a normal thing or something praise worthy. Like no that isn’t impressive, that’s depressing.

I would like to point out that this guy has trained for nearly five years and was still way below Free’s level. Sure he was ranked second in the world, but it was so clear that Free saw him as a playmate than anything threatening. Which was why it shocked Free so much when Lui won. Because up until that point, it was hinted that Lui barely won through anything that wasn’t a ring or spin finish. Also to put it into retrospection, Valt trained for one year - excluding the year he bought Valkyrie since he was basically having her as a good luck charm than really trying - and took the belt one try. Shu trained for two years and while thanks to the Requiem Project that exceeded his strength, bet Lui and came close to first against Valt, who was on par on Free’s strength.

This guy is a lot of things, but a natural genius ain’t one of them. The only reason why he was able to win and achieve so much was because of his observation skills and intelligence. Without that, he would be a typical side antagonist against Valt. However, I’m not saying he isn’t talented. I’d say he has ~40% of natural ability and ~60% of hard work. Looking back, he resembles Fubuki more than Suoh. Crazy enough.

Also some side note, since I love his guy (as if that weren’t obvious), this guy is a walking introvert. I don’t understand why people write him out as this angry, always violent guy in some fanfics. Like yeah he is rude, but only when you annoy him. Aside from that, he wouldn’t even bother talking to anyone. He was a loner in school, not a bully. Another thing, it really shows his character development throughout the show as he starts to show more compassion towards people. And before anyone say it- HE WAS ALWAYS COMPASSIONATE. Just towards the people he cares about.

I know very crazy, but HEAR ME OUT.

The only people he cared and respected in Burst were Xhaka, Zac, Gou, and Longinus. However in a more emotional dynamic, Gou and Longinus takes first easy. (The list extends more but for now we’re focusing on pre-timeskip) When he came to Zac’s birthday party, he hated it, but he stayed because Gou asked him to. He hated going to his teammate’s matches because he saw it as a waste of time, but since Gou asked in a serious tone, he obliged. Hell, before he could leave, when Gou told him to stay, he gave in. When Longinus told him to battle Valt, he might’ve groaned a bit but he listened. Same with Aiga and his gang. When Longinus got shattered, bro stared at him like the world fell apart. LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN THE DISTRAUGHT FACE HE MADE STARING AT HIS PARTNER??? He was shaking, genuinely shaking. Eyes darting around at the pieces of Longinus. Like that was more than Valt and Valkyrie and that’s saying something. I kid you not, he should’ve shed tears if Longinus didn’t use the last of his strength to comfort him with a dim glow. I genuinely think that was the first and last time he has ever shown fear towards anything, and the fact it wasn’t some typical overpowered kid with an immense aura to do that, but the wellbeing of his partner shows so much of the person he tries to hide.

Moreover, for Free - YES HE ALSO CARES FOR FREE I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. Lui wasn’t an idiot and knew that Free saw him as a playmate and nothing more, then. I can imagine him hating tardiness, especially when it comes to training. Also considering that Free was the world champion, he would hate to have him be late to their training matches. However, he allows it because despite everything, he has slowly grown to care for him. This is especially shown where Lui showed off his natural personality around him - reserved and dismissive - and even gestured a few genuine smiles towards him.

I could rant off about their growth together but this post is already getting long as it is. If anyone read the entire thing, boy I love you.

[hyenafu]

Hey Hyena, you have years of experience when it comes to making a webcomic. Do you have any tips or advice for someone who has been thinking of starting their own with their original characters? That someone is me.

Though I do have a lot of advice to share, I will preface this by saying that general advice can only take you so far. I'm not familiar with you, your work, or your goals. It feels a bit like trying to tell someone how to play video games well when you don't know what game they're playing. But I'll try to share some practical wisdom that I hope will help folks who are just starting out.

Research: I've been recommending Scott McCloud's "Making Comics" to new creators for years, and I stand by that recommendation. It contains a ton of useful information about how the language of comics works while being a comic itself. McCloud talks about character design, the balance of words and images, pacing, backgrounds, and all sorts of subjects while pulling examples from many different types of comics, including European graphic novels, webcomics, manga, and American newspaper stripes. Whether you're just starting to appreciate comics or you've been making them for a while, I think it's a great source of inspiration.

Planning: I would do some research into how other webcomic artists plan. You're going to find a plethora of answers. Some people are really organized, others fly by the seat of their pants, and there's all sorts of valid approaches somewhere in between.

Slightly Damned is a mix of planning and improv. It's a very slow-moving story, and I've literally changed as a person with the passage of time. I have very clear goals with only a vague idea of how I'm going to get there or how long it's going to take. I just point myself and my characters in the direction I want to go and procedurally generate art and dialog along the way. This way, I'm able to set up story beats that actually (eventually) pay off, while keeping things fresh and interesting enough that I actually want to keep making it.

My usual process involves maintaining an outline in a text document. The advantage of keeping the outline in a digital text document is that I can edit and rearrange things as needed. It's a jumble of notes and snippets of dialog in rough chronological order.

When I need to make more Slightly Damned pages (usually a few weeks in advance), I adapt my notes into sketches of comic pages called thumbnails that I keep in a small notebook. Then the thumbnails are what I base the actual comic pages on when I start penciling them.

A warning against too much planning: Planning only works up to a point. At some point, you just gotta get started and gain some experience.

I think the most common problem people have when planning to make comics is that they're planning too much. It makes sense to want to be prepared, and it makes sense to be afraid of messing up. But there's a lot that you can ONLY learn from putting your art-making tool* to use and seeing where you end up.

(*Just to make sure we're all on the same page here: GenAI is not an art-making tool, it's a plagarism tool. If you rely on it, you'll only be robbing yourself of learning anything or discovering your style.)

For example: do you even like making comics? I feel like you can't really know this unless you've spent some time making them. Comics are excrutiatingly labor intensive and notoriously bad for making money.

If you don't enjoy the work of making comics, I don't think there's any reason to force yourself to make them. There are so many awesome ways to express yourself: visual novels, animatics, prose, video games, modeling, music, cosplay, concept artist, etc. I don't want anyone committing themselves to an art form because they think they have to; I want them to commit themselves to an art form because gosh dang it it's just SO rewarding to do it!

And when you start making stuff, you can look at what you've done and start asking questions about how to do it better next time. You can show the stuff you've done to others, and their reactions can help you find your direction. You can do all sorts of research based on what you think you want, and what you think you can do, only for all of that to be thrown out the window once you get started.

It'll also help you find what you're good at, which is usually whatever you think is the most fun to make.

Practice: Everything gets easier with practice. And I mean everything. If you want to get better at doing something, then you have to actually do it. Suck at drawing elbows? Draw some elbows. Bikes are impossible? Draw some bikes. Wanna write fantasy? Write some fantasy. Wanna write sci fi? Write some sci fi.

Do it bad, do it scared, and it will become easier. I can't guarantee that you'll be able to, say, freehand the skyline of San Francisco with total confidence after trying it a couple times. But you may stop giving a shit about doing it badly, and then the attempt can be fun regardless of the result! Doesn't that sound powerful?

Art is hard, and we can all be hard on ourselves. Try not to overly focus on the results. Practice mindfulness and enjoy the process of making things. Others will be able to see the spark that fuels your creations even if you feel your technical skills aren't exactly where you want them to be.

Putting it online: Don't rely on social media to be around forever. Being online since the 90s, I can tell you that it's been a long process of jumping from one sinking ship to the next. You want people to be able to reliably find you and your work.

I've know people whose layouts were destroyed when tumblr pushed an update. Creators had to scramble to make new sites for their webcomics when SmackJeeves suddenly went under. Who knows when the next billionaire or hedge fund will threaten the livelihoods of thousands for the sake of filling their already-bursting bank accounts?

If you know how to make your own website: look into Wordpress, which has several plug-ins that work with it, such ComicEasel and Toocheke, for making websites specifically for webcomics.

But if you don't know how to make your own website: use ComicFury. I've heard nothing but good things through the grapevine about how good it is and how passionate the owner is about webcomics. I've heard it's very easy to set up and I'm strongly considering making a Slightly Damned mirror on it myself.

What about Webtoon? Well… ymmv, I guess. They definitely have shady business practices and encourage unhealthy, overly demanding amounts of work from their creators. Their rating system was also another point of contention (I think ratings systems encourage a narrow-minded view of art), but they recently got rid of it, I think?

Other problems include limited control over comments section, no ability to flesh out your account with interesting side content for your comic, how much the site pushes people to jump from comic to comic, ads, content restrictions…

I do have friends who use Webtoon with the attitude of "being where the people are". That makes total sense to me. Ultimately, it's a decision you just have to make for yourself based on your values and comfort levels.

If you're a furry, then FurAffinity is a good place for your first archive. You can make (a) folder(s) for your comic, then set up navigation links in the description to help people read comic pages in order.

Places like tumblr and Bluesky are good for sharing stuff regularly, but they make terrible archives. Social media is very much about being "in the moment" and sharing new things regularly. It has its uses, but it's not the best for reading through a comic archive.

I'm not going to pretend that FA is perfect, but it is independently owned and anti-AI, and that's something to celebrate.

===

I feel like I could go on forever, but I hope that's a helpful start. If you or anyone else would like some more specific advice, shoot me a question in my inbox. It can be hard to know what to talk about when giving general advice because there is SO much talk about.

[riveroftales]

Hello! Can I ask for Genya x reader who a artist and and designer? Basically reader draws alot of pretty outfits and would sometimes imagine Genya wearing fancy things and he caught the reader drawing him, sorry if this doesn't mean scene english is not my first language

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩𝐂𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

ɢᴇɴʏᴀ x ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴀᴜ

𝖢𝖢'𝗌 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾: YOO IM FINALLY BACK TO WRITING🔥🔥

Art is vast. Music is art. Photography is art. Designing is art. Anything which uses one’s creativity is art.

Through all of that though, drawing is like the main stakeholder of art.

It was also how you expressed yourself.

Funny enough, a lot of your relatives told you that you had started drawing before you learned how to read or write. With time came practice, and with practice came skill.

Your art style had improved from 2D shapes and characters to semi realism and you loved how your own work had turned out. You learned how much you loved drawing your characters in beautiful clothes, so you took the fashion design course when you reached college.

But every artist has a muse, and you knew you found yours when you sat on a campus bench, drawing one of the trees out of boredom when you saw him.

You were never a fan of Mohawks because of how ridiculous it looked, but you were sure it was because it made just for him. His hair was long — long enough for you to run your fingers through, braid, style, do whatever you wanted with its length. The scar running across his face made you so curious about how he got it, wondering if you could feel it when you dragged your finger across it or if it was sunken in completely, letting you caress it without feeling the rough bumps and instead feeling the smoothness of his perfect skin. He was laughing with his friends as he ran with them. He was so tall and muscular, and you could tell he was a little intimidating and even scary. But his smile was so radiant you would think he was incapable of doing anything bad.

You learned his name was Genya when you overheard his friends call out for him one day. It easily slipped out your lips, like it was meant to be there.

He became your muse.

Every ideas you had for men’s clothing, you would draw him wearing it, and damn did he look great.

You just wished you never played your music so loud through your AirPods because while sitting under a tree, someone sat next to you and immediately took your pencil and book.

“Hey-!” You protested as you took out one of your AirPods before you instantly froze.

“My hair flows this way…” Genya said softly, adjusting your drawing. “And my scar’s a little longer at the end, but other than that, the drawing’s great.”

You were frozen in the spot. Neither of you had officially met, and your very first meeting was him corrections your portrait of him.

Crawling in a hole and dying in it wasn’t so bad after all.

Genya seemed to notice your lack of words, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’m flattered to be your muse.. I’ve seen you draw me a lot in most of your sketches, and honestly, I’ve never looked better.”

“U-Uhm-”

He chuckled softly as he stuck his hand out.

“Can we let this be our official meeting?”

You slowly shook his hand.

It was rough and really calloused, but warm.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[storyweavingspider]

Since you are a goddess, what would your ideal temple/place of worship look like? What kinds of practices would your followers have?

I actually just wrote out/compiled some of my thoughts on Goddesshood finally so you get a copy/paste Infodump of excerpts, as it’ll help you understand my followers practices too. I put extended excerpts under the cut!

Anyone who Follows me believes similar, and devotes themselves to their growth, however that looks to them.

My temple/altar isnt a physical space but the communities my followers build and the care they show their community as they help it grow in turn. If I had to have a physical space, it would be a community center that cares for all who need it, houses and provides services where it can.

~~

As a marginalized person, an Apotheosis can come when you decide to reclaim the power that's been stolen from you both systemically and individually. Being Black, trans, and especially disabled, cultivating an Apotheosis is a practice in recognizing that so much autonomy gets stripped from people like us, so damn right you’re going to worship what still thrives.

I am the Deity of Connections. Not just in the sense of the bonds between people and the networks we build, but in the sense of the knowledge we link together to help ourselves grow or teach others, how the disparate segments of art come together into a masterpiece, and similar things as far as you can imagine.

Friendship is worship, education is worship, sex is worship, growth is worship, healing is worship, anything in search of connections, is worship. There is no such thing as perfect - we are all always growing, should always be striving to be better. Perfection is gilded stagnation, and doesn’t serve us at all. Even as a Goddess, I am constantly growing, improving. Flaws are not inherently bad, but they adjust the path we walk.

~~

We all have a choice between the path of uncertainty, and the path of mediocrity.

To take the path of uncertainty is to keep in motion, to accept change, whether good or bad. There may be more uncertain paths diverging off of the one I walk, and it is up to me to choose when I take a new one. Once the path I have walked no longer has anything to offer me but the comfort of the familiar, it becomes the path of mediocrity, and I am compelled to take the next uncertain path.

The only thing truly abhorrent to the path of uncertainty is stagnation, which is what the path of mediocrity leads to. To accept things solely as they are - the comfort of the familiar, of what is expected. Stagnation is the death of the self. Complacency, a shell that crushes the growing self by not growing with it, until the self can no longer survive. This shell must be shed, for while it may keep me safe, it is at the same time a prison, and the longer I reside within it, the harder it will become to break free.

Everyone walks one of the paths, whether they know it or not. I am free to counsel them, and to help guide them, but in the end, it is their own choice and I cannot control that. If they choose to follow the path of uncertainty, then I will do everything within my power to facilitate that. If they choose the path of mediocrity, I shall hope they find their way back to the path of uncertainty eventually.

Motion, change, and uncertainty are the things I strive for. Stagnation, perfection, and complacency are what I seek to avoid. Even should I fall victim to the latter, I will always have the chance to escape them, and take the path of uncertainty once more.

There is no end state, simply the infinite paths.

~~

I will not allow my story to be written by those who wish to kill me. I will not die at their hands.

I do not need to be the “better person” - my word need only hold as long as theirs does. I owe nothing to those who harm me. My survival is more important than my honor.

My words are both shield and sword, and must be considered as such. Flailing in the hopes they’ll save me is useless, I must use them with precision and accuracy. I am a virtuoso with them, and must use them as such. To do otherwise denigrates my skill and my being.

Nobody else will save me, I must save myself always. Others may support me, but I should not expect them to put themselves on the line to protect me. I am more than enough to save myself, using everything at my discretion. I must believe in my own competence. I must be the one with the strongest faith in myself.

I must move beyond excuses. Yes there are reasons but they do not affect the outcome. My story so far is my story, regardless. While I need not accept falsehoods within it, while I can speak my truth, I also must acknowledge choices I made as just that - choices I made. My story is what it is, I cannot rewrite it.

I must live my story through to the end, no matter what comes.

[rosenclaws]

Ok first thing‘s first, I am absolutely adoring how you write these characters, Leopold in particular. Came for Logan and discovered a world of new possibilities 😄.

I was wondering what you‘d think of the idea of Leopold sketching stuff either because it looks nice, or to try and figure out how it works (new tech and stuff maybe, because I‘ve seen a clip at the beginning (?) of the film where he‘s drawing a bridge) either taking him places to draw stuff or finding a sketchbook of his by accident.

thanks for putting up with my brainworms,

love your work

ooo yes I love artist Leopold. Also sorry this took so long I've been swamped since last month asdfjhkl

Leopold and his Sketchbook

So in my head I think Leopold has a part of him that is incredibly technical and smart, I mean the man invented the elevator but he's got that soft artistic side to him too. He's literally both sides of the brain to perfection because of course he is.

I think he actually leans more towards the technical side of his brain than the creative one just because he thinks a lot. Like he likes to look at things and wonder just how they work and it lead to him sketching which improved his artistic ability.

The one thing he missed from his time was his notebook. It was filled with his old drawings and now it's gone. So of course you buy him one for the present day as well as some new art supplies.

I think he's constantly sketching. Just when he's walking around or even just at home. This world is full of new things for him to discover.

This is how you come home to find him dismantling your toaster. He doesn't know how to put it back. He promises to buy you a new one.

You cannot let this man walk around New York alone either. He will get lost because he sees something new and goes towards it. It's like a crow when they see something shiny. He could spend hours out just observing and sketching.

He fills his books with all kinds of things. I think he also starts to sketch people. Like he people watches from the fire escape of his apartment and there's just so many different characters in the city that he starts to draw them.

And of course he has pages dedicated to sketching you. He doesn't show them to you because he gets nervous. Would you think it was creepy? He just liked to sketch you in your natural beauty.

Anything you do he finds enchanting. So much so that he just wants to draw.

Eventually he needs a new sketchbook so you buy him one, finding his old one laying on his bedside table. You don't pry but when it falls on the floor and opens, you can't help yourself.

His drawings are beautiful. So detailed and intricate and then you find the ones of you.

They take your damn breath away. He draws you so beautifully, you wonder if this is how he sees you.

He finds you sitting on the floor going through his book. He gets shy at first but you're bursting with joy at his drawings, fawning over his art.

So he sits by your side and tells you the stories of each drawing. Even the ones of you. He speaks so eloquently that it's impossible to be bored.

He offers to teach you to draw one day and you happily accept.

God isn't he just perfect I swear.