#don't judge too harshly

[kit-ta]

i'm back and can't stop making sims, i never thought i'd come back to the sims but i'm having lots of fun. 〰・♡・〰 also featuring @sentate & @serenity-cc new Sophomore collection. i loooove the mock tommy hilfiger swatches. sentate's side | serenity's side

[kingofdorkville]

i tried to do a little mikedude kiss gif

stolen borrowed from pardners:

[lanterns-and-daydreams]

Forbidden Fruit

A Grayson Hawthorne x oc fic

Warnings/notes (regarding the whole fic) : slight cursing, sexual innuendos, no smut, MLM, friends to enemies to lovers, might be a lil ooc (forgive me first fic ever if you dont count 'Wine and Woes'), i also changed Cassian to a human instead of a faerie, also, it's gonna be a little slow, please bear with me.

(please heed that this only a work of fiction, so do not be influenced by it, and for the love of God don't do anything that's happening in this fic.)

(trespassing is not a light matter, especially when you're breaking into a multi-billionaire's house. Doing this will have its consequences 🙏💀)

Word count: Idk man, lots of words here 💀

Summary: Grayson Hawthorne had always wanted to be like his grandfather. He had never been in the business of making friends, until he meets someone who is going to turn his life upside down, and possibly make his brain short circuit

Prologue

Part 1

"your ego is bigger than Jupiter itself. Your IQ on the other hand, is the complete opposite"

"i know you ain't talking like that when you don't know what basic slang is, blondie"

"i prefer doing more productive things than spending all my time on such uselessly mind-consuming pieces of media"

"........ This is why you have no friends and no bitches"

"i have you." Grayson smiled, something he rarely did "maybe that's all I need."

Pre-Timeskip

Grayson Hawthorne was not in the business of making friends, much like his grandfather, Tobias Hawthorne. Even though he was only 13 years old, he relied on himself, he did not ask for help. Grayson knew he was extraordinary, his grandfather had made sure he knew.

He was prepared for every possible outcome in every possible situation. Or so he thought, until he was face to face with a rather unusual looking boy

Unusual in the sense that the boy was wearing muddy overalls, his fluffy brown hair had leaves and twigs stuck in it. His smile is too big, too bright, much like the sun shining overhead. Grayson's eyes trail down the short boy's appearance, hes holding his hands out to Grayson, holding two red geraniums in them. The geraniums are muddy too. Grayson's face scrunches up looking at the filth.

"Who are you?" Grayson glares at the boy "And how did you get in here?"

For anyone else, Grayson's glare would have been terrifying. His silver eyes making them uncomfortable in their own skin. But this boy? He kept grinning, and holding out his flowers. The audacity he had to ruin Grayson's peaceful garden time agitated Grayson.

"My name is Cassian!" Cassian smiles brightly "Whats yours?"

Grayson did not want to answer, this boy's innocence was.....annoying, but he did so out of politeness, and perhaps the hope that maybe this boy would leave if he knew who he was talking to was far superior.

"Grayson" Grayson introduced himself "My name is Grayson Hawthorne."

Grayson did not see any flash of recognition in the boy's midnight blue eyes. That agitated him more. First, this boy had the audacity to interrupt his peaceful garden time, Now, he didn't even know who Grayson was?!

"Woah! You have a cool name! Grayson. Gray, like your eyes" he says in awe, as if he had never seen gray eyes before

What was Grayson even supposed to say to that? Grayson frowns at Cassian. Hoping that maybe he'll see the obvious annoyance and leave. But Grayson's hopes were nothing if not futile, because Cassian just smiles at him.

Instead, he just tells him something Grayson does not want to know

"My last name is Moonbeam!" he smiles

Cassian Moonbeam? What a ridiculous name..... Grayson thought

It was also not a name Grayson recognised, so one, this boy was not from a prominent family, and two, he was not a worker's son. Since those children never approached Grayson, knowing who he is.

"You do realize that you're trespassing, right?" Grayson raises an eyebrow, looking down his nose at the boy

Cassian cocks his head to the side a little "Trespassing?" he says, expression neutral "but there's only one of me, wouldnt that make it unopassing?" he grins

This boy..... Grayson's mind comes up with a few rude words, but he decides to keep them to himself.

Instead, he calmly says "That wasn't funny"

"it wasn't meant to be."

"How did you get in here?"

"i slid through the tall border thingy" Cassian points at the tall border that separated the woods from the estate. Grayson's eyes slid from the metal border back to Cassian

"And no one saw you? Not even one of the guards? And how in the world did you manage to slip through the gap?!"

"oh. Um. Well, i kinda watched the guards routine a lot, so I slipped in when they were away." Cassian grins "And it's not that small of a gap. Plus, I'm small and lean"

Grayson was so done with this kid and this whole conversation. He wanted this boy gone

He sighs and states "Trespassing, especially onto the Hawthorne estate, is a crime"

Cassian's grin disappears and he cocks his head to the side "Crime? Are you saying the police are gonna arrest me?"

"im saying they can if they are notified"

"Then let's not tell them." Cassian slightly juts out his lower lip

Grayson was appalled. Things like this should be notified. So no one else creeps onto the territory. Tobias Hawthorne was a man whose head multiple people wanted. Grayson didnt know who those people were or why, but he knew that with power, came risk.

"Are you seriously telling me I shouldn't tell someone that someone trespassed onto the territory?!"

Cassian shrugs and Grayson wants to strangle him, instead, he sighs exasperatedly

"How old are you?"

"11. Why?"

"Doesn't that explain so many things" Grayson says sarcastically and rolls his eyes

"What does that mean!?"

"Nothing you should be concerned about considering the situation you're in. How do you even plan to get out of here?"

Cassian looks a little confused "Huh? What do you mean? I'll just go back out the same way I came in"

Grayson scoffs "Thats not what I meant. Now, hypothetically, I don't tell on you, but do you really expect to just leave without a scratch? One of the guards could see you as you're trying to get out. Fate isn't in your hands"

Cassian pauses "But I already have scratches"

Grayson grits his teeth "Those are not the kind of scratches I'm talking about, Cassian"

"Doesn't matter." Cassian frowns slightly "What about you? How old are you?"

"I have no reason to tell you" Grayson replies dismissively, pauses, and then says "13"

The smirk on Cassian's face is smug "oh, so you're a baby. Like me"

"Baby?!" Grayson looks offended "I am not a baby!"

"You are" Cassian leans forward, and with one muddy finger, boops Grayson's nose "Boop!"

That's it. How dare this....this commoner touch him?! It was bad enough not knowing who he is, now this?!

"Do that again-" Grayson starts to threaten, but is cut off with another boop to the nose "Wha-"

"You said 'do it again' " Cassian smirks cheekily

"I swear to God-" Grayson takes a deep breath, composing himself. It was not like him to lose his temper over something like this "Do not do that again. Now, state your business for bothering me"

"Flowers." Cassian holds up the geraniums "For you."

Grayson paused, processing this information "......"

"you trespassed onto Hawthorne property to give me flowers?!"

Cassian nodded excitably

"You are either exceptionally smart or extremely stupid" Grayson sighs "i do not want your flowers"

"ill forgive you for calling me stupid, since I want to be your friend."

"i do not want you as a friend. Why would you even want to be friends with me?"

"Because you're a loner with no friends to bring you flowers" Cassian shrugs

Grayson had to admit, that stung. He did have so-called "friends", but he never was close with them, so they were more like strangers that he knew. But was he going to admit he didn't have friends to Cassian? Absolutely not.

"i have friends" Grayson grits through his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. He was getting impatient.

"No, you don't. I would've seen them if you did" Cassian says smugly

Grayson pauses, inhaling a sharp breath "you were stalking me?"

"i wouldnt say that," Cassian takes a step closer as Grayson takes one back "More like, saw you sitting here alone everyday as I passed by."

"And if i dont believe you?" Grayson says, internally prepared for a fight

"Well, I'm already here and giving you flowers. Red, right? Your favourite color?" he holds up the flowers again

"Youre a wierdo," Grayson slaps his hand away "i dont want your flowers."

Cassian frowns a little "oh. That's okay, maybe you hate these ones. I'll bring you some more tomorrow"

"Do not come back" Grayson grits

"im gonna" Cassian places the flowers at Grayson's feet, stands back up, looks at Grayson, shoots him a mischievous grin, and boops his nose again, making Grayson's nose officially the most booped part of his body.

Grayson opens his mouth to finally curse but Cassian starts running away "Oh, no, you don't." Grayson runs after him

But Cassian is surprisingly fast, and dodges Grayson multiple times

"We're playing tag, now?" Cassian snorts a laugh

Grayson realizes what's happening and stops dead in his tracks and frowns, glaring at Cassian.

"Leave." he says, barely holding on to his anger

"Why-" Cassian begins, but Grayson interrupts

"Leave before I tell on you. I'm giving you a free card once, don't expect it again" Grayson takes a breath through his teeth

Cassian slowly blinks at him, but then smiles softly and says "Okay! I'll figure out how to get out by myself next time"

Grayson watches as the boy sneakily watches out for the guards, and then darts into the woods without being seen, and eventually vanishes out of sight.

Grayson lets out a huff of irritation, and begins to walk back to the House, when he notices the muddy geraniums on the grass in front of him.

He hesitates for a second before picking them up.

I'll just throw them away, it doesn't matter. He thought

But a small part of Grayson, that he desperately tried to push away, wants to keep them. He doesn't want to admit it, but he really did not have any friends to bring him flowers. He was still suspicious of the boy, but he decided to see where all of this would end.

But for now, all he had to focus on was getting inside, taking a much needed shower, because of that pesky boy, and then attend lunch with his brothers and Grandfather.

Prologue part2

Tagging:

@never-enough-novels @pink-mask-06

@x-liv25-jamieswife

[chronicbeans]

Y'all, look at my Poorly Painted Wally Darling Mug

I'm probably gonna add more to it, since my buddy ol' pal-eronni brought me some of their food safe paints from home, but with just the paints that came in the package, I made this thing. I just thought it was a silly little thing so yeah.

PLS BE GENTLE I HAVEN'T PAINTED A CERAMIC THING IN YEARS AAAA-

Also here's a bonus "Blob Wally" from when I was trying to mix the red, yellow, and blue paints into black in a bottle cap.

[tears-as-ink]

Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry, my love

References:

Scenes from Youtube channels: AZureMaxx, MaxLeveL, Streetwise Rhapsody.

Music: Don't Cry, My Love by Cha Eunwoo

All media belongs to their respective owner(s).

Masterlist

[snapeysister]

One of my own favourite drawings of Severus (sorry-not-sorry for the self-promotion 😁). I drew it with a possible headcanon in mind of his grandfather being Jewish ( I think I had called him Avtalion). Watching from the Other World over his actions, frowing at some, disappointed at others, sometimes enraged, then again pleased and touched, proud and in awe, but mainly very, very caring and badly wishing he could have been there with him at his most difficult moments...

[finnsrightarm]

"I think the reason I don't want a new look is because I'm finally happy with who I see in the mirror right now. So what ever I put on, I just want to be able to see the same me looking back."

reposting the animatic i made for that one contest bc of the quality

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

Blood pounds in Buck's ears along with the sound of his frenzied footfalls echoing around the stairwell, but it's not nearly loud enough to drown out his spiralling thoughts, the thrum of helicopter blades picking up speed, of explosions and gunshots and every single thing that could possibly go wrong before this day from hell is over. He's pretty sure the only reason he's not having a full-blown panic attack right now is because he doesn't have either the time or the oxygen to spare.

Please, God, don't let him be too late.

He bursts out onto the rooftop with enough force that the door bounces back against the wall and slams behind him, and Buck can't tell if the spotting in his vision is from the sudden blinding sunlight or because he's forgotten to breathe in what feels like hours. But it doesn't matter. The helicopter is still there on the helipad, blades motionless, and there's a familiar silhouette walking towards it.

"Tommy!" Buck scrambles closer, before he can reach the helicopter and escape, again, before Buck has chance to explain, to fix things. He's too far away. Even at Buck's breakneck speed he won't reach Tommy before he reaches the helipad. "Tommy!"

The figure stills, and turns.

Buck stumbles to a halt in front of him.

In the golden light of the setting sun Tommy looks gorgeous — and wary, and torn, and Buck's every impulse is screaming at him to take Tommy's face in his hands and kiss all that pain away. But he bites it back. He's let his impulsiveness take over too many times when it comes to Tommy; it's time to be deliberate. If he doesn't get the words out now…

Tommy's head turns towards the helicopter waiting for him, the responsibilities, the reminder that the world is bigger than the two of them as much as Buck wishes right now it could be otherwise. He looks back to Buck, pleading. "Evan—"

"I know," says Buck. Each breath feels like a knife between his ribs, but he forces himself to take one, to shape what he's needed to say to Tommy for far too long. "Just — please, just give me a second to say this before you go."

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches into a wry smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "That's not a ringing endorsement of my chances," he quips, but if Buck lets himself think about Tommy's chances right now whatever force has been powering him through past the fear clawing up his throat and threatening to suffocate might finally up and leave him, so he shakes his head, shakes the words away somewhere they can't be heard, can't be made real.

"It hurt, what you said that morning," he says. "But that doesn't make it okay for me to hurt you back, and I'm so sorry I did."

Tommy nods, squares his shoulders like that's all Buck had to say before letting Tommy go. But it's not, not even close to all the words scrambling to make themselves heard, and Buck catches Tommy's wrist before he can turn away from him again.

"I just — did you really think I could've spent our entire relationship thinking about anybody but you?" The thought has churned through his mind enough times these last few weeks that the anger that comes along with it is less biting — less likely to make him say something he'll regret, hopefully — but it still flickers in his chest. He's been so goddamn gone for Tommy since the moment they met, how the hell could Tommy never see it?

The smile on Tommy's face is so sad, so defeated, that Buck wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him. "I know how this plays out, Evan," he says.

"But you don't!"

He forces himself to stop, let his emotions settle. It's not easy to think clearly around Tommy, never has been, between the lust and affection and hurt and now a healthy measure of bone-chilling terror that Buck might lose him completely, but he owes it to Tommy to try. Maybe he owes it to himself, too.

"When I said I didn't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with, I didn't mean that I don't have feelings for you. I do. Tommy, I feel so much for you I don't know how I haven't burst from it all."

He watches Tommy's face for some sign of him shutting down again, that Buck isn't getting through to him. His jaw is clenched, tension still radiating from him like it's taking everything in him not to give in and run, to fight that wounded animal side to him that Buck was too blind to see before. But his eyes, glittering wet in the dying sunlight, are still fixed on Buck, and he's listening.

Maybe it won't change anything. But at least Tommy will know what he really means to Buck. Will know he's important, and loved, and deserving of so much more than he lets himself have. And that'll be enough.

"What I was trying to say was that I know what I'm doing. I know who I want to be with and who I don't. You know," he says, "everyone else keeps telling me what I want, like I'm too dumb to know it myself."

"That's not what I—"

"Don't," Buck cuts in, before Tommy can say it. He's on a roll now, and he's going to say his piece even if he has to strap himself into the cockpit beside Tommy and fly into God only knows what dangers to do it. "Right now I need you to listen when I tell you what I want."

There's something of surrender in the shrug of Tommy's shoulders, but he's smiling, as if even this version of Buck, frantic and sweat-soaked and angry, is still hopelessly endearing to him. "Okay," he says.

"I want you, Tommy. Only you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want to listen to you talk about basketball even though we both know I only go to your pickup games 'cause you look so hot when you play, and I want to ramble about whatever stupid thing I learned that day that nobody else cares about and see you watching me the way you do, like you really wanna hear what I have to say, and know you're gonna remember months from now when I've forgotten it myself.

"I want you to feel like you can be yourself with me, and let me see that scared, lonely part of you you try so hard to keep hidden, and I want you to believe me when I tell you I'm in love with you, because I am. I love you so much, Tommy."

The tears in Tommy's eyes spill over, and Buck's pretty sure he's crying too at this point but he doesn't stop to scrub his cheeks, doesn't want to stop for all the world. The wind whips around them, sounds of traffic drifting up from the streets so far below, and there's people waiting for them, people who need them, but right now the only thing that matters is Tommy stood in front of him.

"And when you're ready, I want us to build a life together."

Tommy swallows. "I'd like that," he breathes.

The words are cracked and quiet, but he and Buck have gravitated so close towards each other by now they're stood practically chest to chest and the sound tucks itself between their bodies, there for Buck and Buck alone. He nods, and lets out a shaking breath.

"I'm gonna screw up," he says, giving Tommy one last chance to walk away before Buck gets his hopes up, as if it isn't already going to kill him if Tommy takes it. "I'm gonna say the absolute worst thing at the worst time and I'm gonna hurt you without even realising, but I swear to God, I will do everything I can to fix things if you'd just stick around and give me a chance. Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"How about with your heart?"

Tommy leans in, touches his forehead to Buck's. "You already have it," he says. They breathe deep, not kissing, barely even touching — just there, together, reaching for whatever comfort they can find in each other. "It feels like I've been terrified my whole life. I'm not sure I know how not to be. But I want to try, with you."

"I can work with that."

And finally, finally, they're kissing. Not the desperate, all-consuming kisses they'd shared last time, but something tender and honest in a way maybe neither of them have really been with each other before now. They stay close even after their mouths drift apart.

"I love you, too," Tommy says. "And I'm sorry as well. I was an idiot. You know," he adds, in that bone dry tone Buck has spent months thinking he'd never get to hear again, and Buck smiles at the sound of it, "I'm kind of a mess, Evan."

The laugh that bubbles up from Buck's chest feels like a tide washing over him. "I had noticed that, actually."

"Wait, you did?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"Damn."

"I don't mind getting messy," says Buck, serious again. "And, in case you hadn't noticed, there's plenty of issues over here too."

Tommy smiles back at him. "Maybe we can work on them together."

"Deal."

And like a spell's been broken, Tommy's radio crackles to life, thrusting them back into the world, into the uncertainty of what's to come, into the gnawing terror that regardless of how their conversation had gone there's still a chance this is the last time Buck ever sees the man he loves.

"Kinard, what's your status?" comes a voice over the radio.

"Go save the day," Buck says, a gentle nudge to Tommy's chest to get him moving before Buck can give in to the urge to pull him closer and refuse to let go. "Just promise me you'll come back."

"I'll try my damnedest. I've got a hell of a good reason to now." He presses another kiss to Buck's lips, and Buck tries not to think of it as goodbye. "They'll need you on the ground."

"As soon as you're airborne I'm gone."

Tommy nods. "Be safe."

"You too."

One last embrace — no, Buck tells himself, not the last, because there's a future waiting for them and they're both going to fight like hell to get to it — and Tommy's jogging towards the helipad. The sun's dipped beneath the horizon now, the clouds swept away for Tommy to take to the air, giving Buck a clear view to track his progress from the ground.

"Hey," he calls after Tommy. "What are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy turns back to him with a grin. "How about you let me know when I land?"

[pulgarcito-perro]

I have never in my life done this ask thing before but I have to say you are literally my favorite jimcurly artist ever and I get genuinely so hyped up when you post…

Could you do some more tooth rotting fluff of them? Like them watching a movie, laughing together, anything you wanna do :))) I just adore how you draw them

Some domestic bliss for you.

Based on this piece by Ernest Chiriacka:

[anistarrose]

TAZ Balance AU where everything is the same except Kravitz is a normal mortal who happens to be a vaguely noir detective, (attempting and failing to be) very grim and serious as he tracks down missing persons' cases that lead him to three mysterious strangers... and meanwhile, Angus is still a 10 year old, but specifically an immortal 10 year old who also happens to be the Grim Reaper.

[plumadot]

recent things i did in painting class ;v;

[crv1meiko]

[theaprilcot]

The world in your hands

[whovianofmidgard]

Day 5: Curufinwë

for @feanorianweek, also available on Ao3

Carnistir was getting annoyed with Curufinwë's staring. Just because they were the two youngest, it didn't mean he wanted to play with a toddler who was only talking in in monosyllabic words. Carnistir preferred to play alone, and he was busy with his project besides.  

Knit, purl, knit, purl, he counted the row of the scarf he was working on, the child sized knitting needles click-clacking with each new stitch added. Concentrating on the knitting would be even easier if he wasn't under the intense scrutiny of his baby brother.  

At least Curufinwë was being quiet. If Carnistir had to be forced to endure a racket on top of the staring, he would have lost his temper a good while ago.  

"Wrong!"  

Carnistir flinched, instantly losing count as soon as Curufinwë piped up.  

"Wrong? What's wrong?" Carnistir snapped, a little too harshly.  

The toddler simply ignored his tone however and insistently pointed at the unfinished scarf.  

"Wrong," he merely repeated.  

Carnistir's face was beginning to turn a furious red as his annoyance grew.  

"Yes, you already said that! What's wrong?!"  

Perhaps it was a bit unfair of him to speak so stiffly with him, Curufinwë was still a baby after all who hadn't even mastered full sentences yet. But Carnistir was also just a child, and he did not possess the insight to not argue with literal babies.  

Curufinwë's little face scrunched up in a frown, a strange copy of Fëanáro's disapproving look. He kept pointing at the scarf, and after a few false starts, he finally said, "Number! Wrong!"  

Well... That was certainly the longest word he had ever said. And it was almost a sentence too.  

Carnistir looked down at his knitting, carefully counting the rows, and then he found it. Curufinwë was right, there was a mistake indeed. The row he was on had less stitches than there should be.  

"I've dropped a stitch..." Carnistir huffed. Then carefully, giving all his attention to the mistake, he got the loose bit of yarn back on the needle and with intense precision fixed it.  

"Thanks, Curvo," he muttered begrudgingly.  

Curufinwë nodded as his sign of accepting the thanks, then went back to staring at the scarf. Carnistir wandered if staring was the accurate word to use, since it seemed he was keeping perfect count of all the stitches.  

Perhaps his little brother's presence wasn't so annoying.

[kizkizaso]

[eggydraws14]

Here's Ga'eon! He's kind of clueless, been through a lot (read: space facism and brainwashing). He used be very scary wielding two lightsabers; later in his story he avoids combat, but uses an electrostaff and martial arts when he absolutely has to fight (think like D&D monk vibes). He gardens and frolics in sunlit meadows to stay sane.

Have fun!

get this guy a sunlit meadow stat