#experimenting with different art styles so just bare with me

[sunriseindigo]

don’t mess with them……... or else 👿👿

[genderfluid-culture-iss]

for the baby genderfluid tips!!

this could just be me lmao, but DO NOT donate your fem clothes if you feel masc for longer than usual. or vice versa.

keeping a gender journal is something that can be really helpful to actually look back on and see how it changes (and also have proof of fluidity for when you begin to think "hmm actually im just a trans girl. nothing else." no, you probably aren't. you felt completely boy/nonbinary/etc just a month ago, and thats okay.)

basically it can be really hard to embrace that your gender is not static, especially if your gender stays stable for a slightly longer period. it took me so long to stop rotating between "im a girl always" "no, im a boy always" "actually, im nonbinary always" to just admit im genderfluid.

also, make genderfluid content. you don't have to show it to anyone, but sometimes it can really help to make poetry or art or write a story about being fluid and your experience in particular. i have an easy avenue for this since i write fanfiction (haven't published any of it yet lmao) and i just hit my favorite characters with my genderfluid beam and go nuts

follow people who are genderfluid, read genderfluid books, maybe join a genderfluid discord server (there are barely any, so actually maybe make one), try to make genderfluid friends. you are not alone, even though it sometimes feels that way.

if you have plushies or anything similar, make them genderfluid. i have a genderfluid squishmallow who i use she/they pronouns for, and a little husky that switches between he/she. idk it just helps sometimes lol

some of us change gender daily, or multiple times a day. some of us change gender only a couple times a year, or even less. we're all different and that's fine.

tips for presentation:

if you have a day when you can't figure out gender, go neutral clothing-wise

take little things to ease dysphoria if you switch when you're out somewhere (ex. lipgloss, eyeliner, leather bracelet, etc)

if you can, get pronoun pins. seriously, get pronoun pins (or a colored bracelet for subtlety or if you're not out). you can wear multiple at a time, you can switch them whenever you need to. you aren't a burden if your pronouns change. you don't have to stick to they/them to be easy for people.

if you can, get a versatile hairstyle that you can make suit your gender no matter what. if you cant, try to get a hairstyle that makes you the least dysphoric overall.

if you are organized enough, separate your clothes based on gender/what you feel comfy wearing on different days. do not pressure yourself to fit stereotypes. some people can only feel comfortable in skirts when theyre boys, so they only wear skirts on boy days. do what works for you.

it's kinda complicated, but if you can expand your vocal range to sound more fem or masc depending on how you feel, it can help. alternatively, vocal train to make it more androgynous.

keep makeup wipes with you in case you need to take it off part way through being out. basically, make it as easy as possible to be able to change/tweak your presentation if necessary.

this could just be me, but having lots of hoodies in different colors and styles will save your life

sometimes you might have "blender days", which is what i call it when your gender feels like its in a blender in a bad way and you can't tell at all what it is, everything feels wrong, it's changing like every 10 minutes, etc. tbh on these days all i can do is put on sweats and a hoodie and feel dysphoric. listen to music if it helps. do a hobby.

non-clothing items can help a lot. a blue tshirt and jeans can be whatever you want it to be based on what you wear it with. (ex. sneakers/ballet flats, leather bracelet/sparkly necklace, baseball cap/eyeliner)

and lastly: YOU ARE AMAZING. keep being you, keep being incredible, and know that being genderfluid is a gift. be proud to be who you are, have fun, know that you are unique and special and wonderful!! we're ever-changing, and that's awesome. you are precious. i love you.

🩷🤍💜🖤💙

dont wanna link my tumblr, but my name is kiley if you want to attach a name to this!

Okay this is a lot more than I was expecting LMAO /pos

Thank you so much for this Kiley <33 I’ll start working on a masterpost with links to all this.

[cupidsfantasy]

HIII !!I was wondering if you could do headcannons for katsuki ans shinso for an alternative reader if that makes sense like not really any subculture in mind so it can include more people but still u set alternative?😭I hope that made sense anyways thanks!!-anon🕸️

OMG YES OFCCC !!

ALTERNATIVE BEAUTY

aka: katsuki and hitoshi with an alternative reader !

KATSUKI

﹒⪩⪨﹒ he initially scoffs at the aesthetic, claiming it’s just another way for people to seek attention. however, he quickly realizes that your style is a genuine expression of your personality, and he takes whatever he said back real quick.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ despite his tough exterior, he becomes somewhat protective of his your style choices. if anyone mocks or judges you, he would defend you.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ he isn’t the best at verbal compliments, but he often shows his appreciation for your aesthetic through actions. he might buy you a new accessory or piece of clothing that he thinks would suit your style.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ over time, his own wardrobe might start incorporating more alternative clothing. he won’t admit it, but his your influence rubs off on him, and he starts appreciating the aesthetic.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ he enjoys taking you to rock concerts and heavy metal music festivals, appreciating the high energy and rebellious atmosphere. he finds the environment enjoyable and really likes sharing these experiences with you.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ in private, he might show a softer side, helping you with your makeup or dying your hair different colors. it’s a really cute bonding experience, and he secretly loves those moments.

HITOSHI

﹒⪩⪨﹒you and hitoshi instantly connect over your guys shared aesthetic. you guys really appreciate each other's styles and often compliment each other's outfits and looks.

﹒⪩⪨﹒your wardrobes often blend together from having basically the same style. you guys enjoy borrowing each other's clothes and accessories, creating a mix of your styles.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ you and hitoshi love exploring the underground places together. you guys frequently visit indie cafes, vintage shops, underground clubs, and music festivals, always finding new and interesting spots.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ you guys bond over your love for alternative music and art. whether it’s discovering a new band, attending a concert, or visiting an art exhibition, you guys always find joy in these shared interests.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ hitoshi understands the ‘challenges’ of having an alternative style and is always there to support you. you guys often discuss your experiences and how to handle judgment from others, providing each other with comfort and reassurance.

﹒⪩⪨﹒hitoshi loves planning random dates, often involving very unconventional activities, such as exploring abandoned places, attending midnight movie screenings, or visiting eccentric art exhibits. but whatever he plans you’re obsessed with it.

UGHHHHH THIS MIGHT BE BAD SINCE I KNOW LIKR NOTHING ABOUT THE AESTHETIC SO BARE WITH ME 🙏🏽🙏🏽

TY ANON FOR REQUESTING I REALLY APPRECIATE IT

[builtbybrokenbells]

Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You’re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

���What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writer on Writing: Italo Calvino

Italo Calvino:

A fine thing it is to have a distant friend who writes long letters full of drivel and to be able to reply to him with equally lengthy letters full of drivel.

The poet turns in on himself, tries to pin down what he has seen and felt, then pulls it out so that others can understand it. But I can’t understand these things: these discourses about the ego and the non-ego I leave to you. Yes, I understand, there’s the struggle to express the inexpressible, typical of modern art, and these are all fine things, but I …

I’m a regular guy, I like well-defined outlines, I’m old-fashioned, bourgeois. My stories are full of facts, they have a beginning and an end. For that reason they will never be able to find success with the critics, nor occupy a place in contemporary literature. I write poetry when I have a thought that I absolutely have to bring out, I write to give vent to my feelings and I write using rhyme because I like it, tum-tetum tumtetum tum te-tum, because I’ve got no ear, and poetry without rhyme or meter seems like soup without salt, and I write (mock me, you crowds! Make me a figure of public scorn!) I write … sonnets … and writing sonnets is boring, you have to find rhymes, you have to write hendecasyllables so after a while I get bored and my drawer is overflowing with unfinished short poems.

I’m still too ignorant to write articles and as for my output of short stories, a famous summer of overproduction has been followed by years of crisis. … All the ideas currently in my head are subject to a strange phenomenon: while I work on them and perfect them continuously from the philosophical point of view, they stay rudimentary and barely sketched on the dramatic and artistic side. In my creativity thought has the upper hand over imagination.

When you’re working you get buried, drowned under things. You’ve no more friends nor art. Only when you’ve an evening or afternoon free can you roam the streets or court a girl. That’s all. In short, working is pointless. I mean, from the point of view of education. But it’s essential. I cannot — and I don’t want to — live the writer’s life, that is to say write for a living. The novel I was writing, which for months and months had sucked all my blood (because, stubborn as I am, I was determined to finish it even though I no longer felt it was going anywhere), is dead, awful, full of wonderful clever things but desperately bad, forced, it’ll never work and I must not finish it. And I must not write for some time now otherwise I’d make more mistakes. I hope that Einaudi will publish my short stories eventually, they’re the only thing I believe in and which I believe are useful.

For seven or eight months now I’ve been mucking about with a novel that I began in a moment of weakness and it’s turning out to be very bad, causing me to waste lots of my time. But at least it’ll get rid of my desire to write novels for four or five years, which is what I dream of doing, and will allow me to study kind of seriously and learn to write decently.

To write well about the elegant world you have to know it and experience it to the depths of your being just as Proust, Radiguet and Fitzgerald did: what matters is not whether you love it or hate it, but only to be quite clear about your position regarding it.

My problem today is how to escape from the limits of these books, from this definition of me as a writer of adventures, fairy-tales, and fun, in which I can’t express myself or realize myself to the full.

The fact is that I already feel I am a prisoner of a kind of style and it is essential that I escape from it at all costs: I’m now trying to write a totally different book, but it’s damned difficult; I’m trying to break up the rhythms, the echoes which I feel the sentences I write eventually slide into, as into pre-existing molds, I try to see facts and things and people in the round instead of being drawn in colors that have no shading. For that reason the book I’m going to write interests me infinitely more than the other one.

One should never have taboos about the tools we use, that as long as the thought or images or style one wants to put forward do not become deformed by the medium, one must on the contrary try to make use of the most powerful and most efficient of those tools.

You can imagine how slowly my fictional output has been going this summer, you who know how much labor, dissatisfaction, irritability, uncertainty this work costs … However — and this is the point — it is worth it. Or rather: one does not ask if it’s worth it.

We are people, there is no doubt, who exist solely insofar as we write, otherwise we don’t exist at all. Even if we did not have a single reader any more, we would have to write; and this not because ours can be a solitary job, on the contrary it is a dialog we take part in when we write, a common discourse, but this dialog can still always be supposed to be taking place with authors of the past, with authors we love and whose discourse we are forcing ourselves to develop, or else with those still to come, those we want through our writing to configure in one particular way rather than another. I am exaggerating: heaven help those who write without being read; for that reason there are too many people writing today and one cannot ask for indulgence for someone who has little to say, and one cannot allow trade-union or corporate sympathies.

Even more annoying are those who theorize that the novel has to be like this or like that, that one must write the novel, etc. Let them go to hell! How much energy is wasted in Italy in trying to write the novel that obeys all the rules. The energy might have been useful to provide us with more modest, more genuine things, that had less pretensions: short stories, memoirs, notes, testimonials, or at any rate books that are open, without a preconceived plan.

Personally, I believe in fiction because the stories I like are those with a beginning and an end. I try to write them as they best come to me, depending on what I have to say. We are in a period when in literature and especially in fiction one can do anything, absolutely anything, and all styles and methods coexist. What the public (and also the critics) require are books (“open” novels) that are rich in substance, density, tension.

As a young man my aspiration was to become a “minor writer.” (Because it was always those that are called “minor” that I liked most and to whom I felt closest.) But this was already a flawed criterion because it presupposes that “major” writers exist. Basically, I am convinced that not only are there no “major” or “minor” writers, but writers themselves do not exist — or at least they do not count for much.

I found this letter that I had started to write yesterday evening and I reread it with interest. Dammit, what a lot of drivel I managed to write! In the end it’s impossible to understand anything in it. But better that way: the less one understands the more posterity will appreciate my profundity of thought. In fact, let me say: POSTERITY IS STUPID Think how annoyed they’ll be when they read that!

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

The differences in cultures and behaviors between different fandoms is so fascinating to me, I love just musing on the various differences

Back in my Warrior Cats phase on scratch there was barely an single fanart of canon characters, everything was original characters and original clans.

During my time in the Genshin Impact fandom people would play with the various canon character elements to make new characters but there wasn't quite the level of wholly divorced from canon stories there.

There was shipping tho! An absolutely unhinged amount of shipping. Every single character who wasn't a literal child had at least one, maybe two default/mainstream ship partners that most people shipped them with, then a handful of rarer ships as well

Then I moved to Dream SMP 'cus I heard that it had a lot of platonic relationships that were so popular that they made it into the top 100 ao3 ships multiple years in a row, and I was getting pretty romanced out by Genshin at that point so it seemed like a perfect choice.

And it was! Dream SMP had the best platonic relationship representation of any fandom I've been in before or since. But it has the dark flipside to it, where the reason was partially because the fans were freaking off the rails toxic and hostile to the mere suggestion that any character might ever be attracted to another

The Hermitcraft and Life Series are better with platonic relationships than Genshin Impact, but nowhere near as good as DSMP, with the return of a handful of mainstream ships, but not the pressure to have a ship for every single character

Then there's the fascinating ways MCYT fandoms had every characters' designs and even species up in the air and it's common place to just make any random guy part any random animal, which is incredible fun

But then OCs in the MCYT fandom are a whole other thing, as they tend to come most in the Warriors style where they come out of fanmade servers and tend to be fairly divorced from canon most of the time, only generally inspired by the setting

And now in the Magnus Archives fandom we've got the canon ships, with one specific one vastly dominating the whole fandom to even more extremes than any singular Genshin ship ever reached, which I've gathered is a pretty common experience in other fandoms but this has been my first time actually experiencing it first hand

And TMA has a similar thing with Warrior Cats where it works really well as a set of world building that can be shoved upon other fictional characters for some fun AUs, which was never really a thing with MCYT (though I think it kinda was with Genshin Impact, to a degree, where people would draw other characters in Genshin splash art style and assign them Visions and all that.)

Warriors is by far the most extreme of these, up with My Little Pony in terms of how you're almost guaranteed to see at least one fanart of the characters in any fandom drawn as warrior cats/ponies

And then there's the popular AU types! Genshin Impact was chock full of highschool AUs. Dream SMP had Foster Family AUs and Superhero AUs galore (especially with SBI), but it also had a smaller Humans Are Space Orcs / Alien AUs phenomen that I've not been able to find again in my other fandoms since. I never read enough Life Series and Hermitcraft fanfic to get a good grasp on their popular AUs, but various flavour of Modern AU with the characters assigned random jobs seemed common, and they had a lot of Superhero AUs spawned by HoTGuY. TMA is mostly everyone is happy AUs, like No Paranormal Nonsense AUs and Happily Ever After Post Canon AUs, but also a whole heckin' lot of Time Travel (usually fix-it fic) AUs, which is something I never really saw in the other fandoms

I don't have a good ending to this post as there's no real point to it, it's just me babbling about fandoms

[bonnieisaway]

BIG BOY spoilers for season 5 but I really wanna talk about how brilliant episode 1 is (I just woke up and I'm not in the fuzzy headspace I was yesterday)

Off the bat also I do wanna mention the art style is changing again a little! It's a bit different from season four so far. I really like the way it's looking though. Seven looks fucking GOOD in so many of these scenes

Anyways it took me an EMBARASSING four fucking minutes to realize that 1) this was not really happening irl and 2) that the dome was supposed to represent Seven's headspace

anyways The place they're standing in at the start is really interesting to me. They're on Chicken Island obviously but it's Chicken Island in Seven's head. And the way it is in his head is it's foggy, cloudy, and absolutely deserted. I mean there's already not many people on Chicken Island, but it's like dead empty. Much like this scene from the s3 outro:

(didn't know this ED had twenty fucking variations of this scene now jesus christ)

It also feels like it's littered with a lot of references from past episodes. The ducky floatie feels like a reference to the episode where we met DaChun in season 1, the coconut Hua's messing with feels like a reference to that as well, this all feels very reminiscent of invading Captain Jack's ship, the episode even starts with the "First mission" title card, which the show doesn't really use anymore. There's a lot of like, old references in here that all seem kind of tainted and dulled by this grayed out, melancholic perception of Chicken Island.

The second I saw this I instantly thought of the scene from season 3:

I just I dunno I really really like this. I like how they chose to represent his mindscape and the references to the past experiences he can remember.

And I also really like how the different levels represented the different poisons in his body. The first being a puzzle about Manjusaka, the second about the Dark Frost blade

(which also: there are random figures hidden in the ice in this scene that made me tweak out.

is that fucking blackbird? who the fuck are you)

I love how the wolf is drawn and reflects the exact effects of the blade. The animalistic, heightened senses, the fact it's not inherently an evil entity, it's capable of being nice, it's just got heightened aggression it can barely control. Anyway and then the fucking final layer.

Literally the exact spot he once stood in.

And the fucking. The thing that fights him. That tries so hard to stop him from opening the door. It's not just himself, it's a fucking amalgamation of every reason why he shouldn't, why he originally did this to himself: the Shadow killers, faces we don't even recognize, the girl in white, faces we'll probably never see again but that will haunt some deep corner of him, and it's himself. and it's not the thousand demon daggers that kills it, it's just the girl in white's blade. Her dinky little run of the mill sword.

I think it's really, really important that the "past him" asks: If you could've done this too, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you have run away? You would've wanted a new life too. Don't do this again. Don't do this to me.

I started this season worried we were gonna hard pivot at "oh, Seven and the past Seven are two different people" but they're not and this, to me, clearly illustrates that they're not. He wanted this. He wanted this life to end. He wanted to run away, he didn't want this life, exactly like I've been saying since fucking season 3. He wasn't a ruthless, cold hearted killer, at his core he was a child who did what he needed to. He only fought on missions, he was told directly to kill Stanians on sight, but he wanted to be empathetic, he wanted to care so badly, and he wanted to protect somebody. The FIRST fucking time he EVER gets to directly, blatantly, and loudly protect somebody he even MILDLY cares about, it's enough to convince him to never want to do this again. And now with the added context that the Thousand Demon Daggers was slowly killing him - he didn't just fight some demon and won but he signed his fucking life over and was bound to this sword that was ripping him apart, he wanted to leave so badly, and the only way he did was in a way that almost killed him anyways. Episode 2 made me afraid too, because of the way the flashback controlled him, but ultimately, he's already had these flashbacks THE ENTIRE SHOW. These have happened to him before, but now they're so much louder, they're overwhelming and powerful, he's conscious but he's not, he doesn't know how to stop, sometimes he doesn't even actually know where he is. He's not being 'possessed' by somebody else or something, he is somebody riddled with PTSD taken over by those memories.

I also really wanna know what it is 'Seven' is saying here. His mouth is obviously moving like he's speaking but there's no audio or captions to it, (Netflix if you love me you'll give me something good god,) but it looks like Seven doesn't know what he's saying here either. and I just really really really wanna know. This is going to become my new "what was in the letter."

Anyways feel free to pile on more thoughts cus thats all I have right now. I ran into this season (foolishly) (once again) praying I'd get end game Seven x Thirteen but it seems I will spend the duration of season 5 in the trenches, fighting for my life, kicking and screaming, shitting my pants and sniffling, begging, "NOOOOO HE'S THE SAME PERSON HE WAS BEFORE!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!! THEY'RE NOT TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Thirteen save me, save me Thirteen, Thirteen, Thirteen save me.

[smilesrobotlover]

*crawling into your inbox* Smiles do you have any drawing tips? Everything I’ve drawn recently I’ve just not liked at all and I’m strugglin ;-;

-Sky Floor

Yes! I can try to help!

First things first, there’s a YouTuber named Excaliblader who gives AMAZING art tips. He focuses a lot on anatomy but he also talks about sketches, art motivation, and art styles. His tips are super simple and so easy to understand but also incredibly helpful. He’s an nsfw artist so the examples he uses are a little suggestive but they’re not explicit, but he knows what he’s doing and he’s helped me a lot with anatomy.

As for tips from me, experiment! And when I say experiment I mean push yourself to the edge. Draw things you KNOW will suck. Draw with your left hand, play with different face shapes, experiment with crayons, anything to try something new that you can expect to look bad, if that makes sense. The reason why a lot of my art has different brushes and things is because if I do the same thing over and over again I start to hate it. I need something new to do with drawings. And when you find something that you ENJOY doing (like a certain style, a new brush, etc.) you’ll get so motivated to do stuff with it! This may also help you unlock new skills with art because you’re pushing yourself outside your usual domain and discovering new things. Let’s say your characters have the same face, so you decide to experiment with different facial features. You can start small with downward turned eyes, round eyes, or triangle shaped eyes, just anything to make the eyes distinct. Or you can start with noses. Small button noses, long straight noses, bumpy noses, wide noses, all of that. Soon you’ll be able to draw all kinds of features confidently if you keep at it. But that’s just an example. Also drawing old people, people with extreme features, or just copying an art style can help. You’ll never improve if you do the same thing over and over again. You’ll be good at that one thing! And you may improve with some things in there, but if you want to do more, you’ll just have to do it.

Something I always say is to look at all kinds of tutorials on how people draw and experiment with those. Some draw their faces with a T shape, others add a lot of guidelines. See which one works for you. There’s no right way to draw; if it’s quick and efficient for YOU then it works!

And another thing, art isn’t easy. When you’re drawing, it’s hard to tell how much progress you’re making because from your perspective, you can’t see the road you travel on. If you’re feeling unmotivated and feeling bad about your art, turn around and look at the progress you made. Redraw old art and see how much you improved. Comparison is the thief of joy if you compare yourself to others, but if you compare yourself to your past self, it’ll make a world of difference. You’ll be able to see how far you’ve come. You’ll be able to see the things you were able to achieve and improve upon by actively redrawing something old and comparing it. That’s something that helps me a LOT when I’m feeling bad about my art. I cant tell you how motivating it is!

One more thing that really helps is tracing! Now, tracing someone’s art work and then posting it and claiming it as your own is bad. Obviously. But tracing actually helps your brain know WHERE things are supposed to go. Your hand is able to figure it out as you do it! Tracing real life photos help a LOT with anatomy, and if the artists allows it, tracing good art to help you learn is good! Again, don’t post it as your own. But it’s a great way to learn! It’s best if you trace a photo, and then use that trace as a reference photo, cuz you’re learning how to use a reference in two different ways!

Idk how to help with your issue specifically (I’m at work so I can’t sit down and draw something alas) but these things help me when I’m struggling! And even then I barely know what I’m doing XD

[meanbossart]

Asks about VaM, art advice, and miscellaneous stuffs

HI! Real quick please refrain from referring to Sad Sack as S/S for the uh... Obviously reasons LOL We call it "sads" for short!

If what you're asking for are recommendations for a website to host that kind of thing, Neocities, Twitter, Itchio and as you mentioned AO3 are all perfectly good options! Patreon too (depending on how gnarly you're planning on getting) but I'd suggest keeping that as a secondary host option because I don't think it lends itself super well for getting your work circulating. I believe Bluesky allows that kind of thing too, but I'm not too sure since I don't use it.

Now, If you're asking about public reaction rather than guidelines, anywhere you go you might find people that don't jive with the work you do 🤷 just be upfront about the type of content you're making right off the bat to avoid having anyone stumble upon it by accident to the best of your abilities, otherwise, I wouldn't worry too much. I know we're constantly exposed to examples of overwhelming harassment and "dogpilling" happening to others but... Truth be told, most of us won't ever get to the size/internet level of fame where we experience that. I think the threat is a little bit... Overstated, nowadays. Not to mention that most of the time people are getting harassment for things that have nothing to do with their work, and rather relating to their behavior and attitudes. Play smart, be responsible, and be honest! Whatever comes next is in god's hands LOL

Thank you for the ask! Not sure I was of much help 😅 but frankly when you're just starting out it's best to focus on getting the work done first and just throwing it out there, wherever it may be. You can worry about technicalities like that later!

I GOT YOU MAN the full sketch is now up on my patreon!

YES AND YES WHETHER IT BE STORIES OR ART OF DU DROW AND YOUR CHARACTERS SLAMMING PINTS TOGETHER BE MY GUEST PLEASE

I love seeing everyone's take on my weirdo so much, anything is honestly welcomed!

AW DUDE thank you so much! Especially for suffering through the mammoth of a story that ANE turned into - writing has never been my strongest point so I'm always shocked to hear from people that enjoy it 🥲

About the booze question, honestly I'm not picky at all, I usually go by price and by that I mean whatever is cheapest LOL but I prefer a dry white as far as types go.

You only have to pay for it once! You get a code that unlocks the software and all of it's features and you're free to cancel your subscription after that. At some point the code might change or there might be an update that requires subscribing again - but that seems like a very rare occurrence so I wouldn't worry about it.

OH NO I HAVE DEFINITELY TRACED MY OWN REFERENCE BEFORE, but not entire poses! When something is challenging I'll make a point of drawing it out the usual way.

I can remember a couple of instances from Nick and mine's comic where I traced pictures I took of myself, just as a time saving measure. Again like I said in the post, there are several ways to employ tracing your own material that is perfectly acceptable. I have also traced bare-bones 3D backgrounds that I made for the same reasons.

I know you specifically asked about tracing when something's complicated, but I still wanted to be upfront to demystify the practice under different circumstances. The rule of thumb is to never use it when you know it would be inhibiting your skill development!

Happy to hear you wanted to pick up the skill! I definitely understand the urge too LOL since playing BG3 and becoming so invested in the stories and characters my art has improved a ton, simply from forcing me out of my usual style and making me want to capture different moods and scenarios - finding something you're passionate to draw is, frankly a great damn start.

I replied to a bunch of asks asking for pointers and advice a while back, one of the questions was very similar to yours and I still stand behind the advice I gave then. Hopefully you can find something helpful here! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/740543514692173824/some-art-advice-asks-ive-been-meaning-to-reply

HMMM I don't usually think of myself as the best teacher/tutorial guy, but funnily enough I can think of a few things about this topic that I could elaborate on lol. If I do that in the near future, I'll put it up on my patreon (for free as with everything else.)

If there are any specific things about it that you (and anyone else who would be interested in it, for that matter) find challenging and would like for me to focus on, let me know!

---

That's all for now folks, and as usual thank you so much to everyone who's left a nice compliment, word of encouragement or funny tidbit in my inbox as well! I can't reply to you all individually, but I see and read all the messages I get c:

HAVE A LOVELY REST OF YOUR WEEK

[taybay14]

Piece by Piece

This is an entirely self-indulgent Bucky-recovery fic that follows Bucky from his time as the Asset in CA:WS (mostly canon compliant until very end) to him recovering himself while in the Tower with lots of Avengers support/love. Chapter 1 is all CA:WS from Bucky’s POV - it’s written in a slightly different style than the rest of the fic to showcase Bucky’s mindset, just as a heads up. Chapter 2 is when the divergence happens.

This is inspired by the delightful artwork by @skullfragments (see chapter 9) - I immediately loved the art piece and knew I wanted to write what was clearly a fun/happy moment between Steve/Bucky (with Alpine in the background, thinking these humans are idiots). I’m apparently a sadist though because I decided to make them earn their happiness first. Angst with a happy ending - my specialty. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it <3 And thank you again to skullfragments, not just for the great art but for reading along the way and letting me bounce ideas off of you! It was such a fun/collaborative experience working with you!

Summary below:

Steve and Bucky are discovered on the bank of the Potomac & brought to Stark Tower. From the beginning, everyone has one thing on their mind: Help Bucky. It’s going to be hard, but they're ready to give it everything they’ve got - and they’re the Avengers, so they’ve got quite a lot.

***

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, his voice soft. Bucky lays on his side, pressing a cheek to the soft carpeting, wishing he hadn’t ruined all his blankets. He hates feeling cold and it’s a little cold in his room. “You don’t have to talk or come out or anything, but… I’m going to lay here, okay? All night. I’m going to stay right here so you don’t forget that it’s different now. So you don't forget that you’re safe. You’re not alone.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that. Even if he did know, his tongue is doing that heavy-sticky thing again. Instead, he slides his flesh fingers under the crack in the door, barely able to fit the tips, and waits. A moment passes. Then Steve’s fingers are pressing right back.

And maybe Steve is right. Maybe things are different, maybe he is safe, maybe he’s not alone.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll be able to get himself back after all, piece by piece.

[megalo224]

How would you suggest to learn art? I currently am only able to draw heads not very well but I try and I'm very inspired by your art, do you have any suggestions or tips?

look at ur favs and try to draw like them! when i wanted to start taking art more seriously i was copying frames off cuphead and the sonic mania intro by eye and eventually i made some art friends who i wanted to draw JUST like. and i basically tried to adopt the artstyles that inspired me during whatever era of my life at the time but naturally my own swag shined through and after many years and inspo from so many different things, i draw the way i do now, and am still striving to get better! so what im saying is legit to just look at ur favorite artists and try to do what theyre doing, study ppls styles copy art by eye for practice, try to push yourself to try new stuff. pushing yourself sucks a lot because it can be quite a demotivator when you try to do something cool but you dont see what you quite hoped but thats experience!

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wear ur inspirations on ur sleeve! some of my fav artists that have inspired me a lot in the past 2 years are bobobazarra, marcoggers on twitter, vintdoo, dakidavekat, evilsk8r, deppa, mettaflix. and those are only just a few! i could literally go on naming people for hours. dont be afraid to proudly shout abt what or who who inspires ur stuff!

when it comes to hard practice and studies, if youre willing to get into certain techniques u can try looking into ways to break down the body, like boxing out stuff like the torso and pelvis and stuff like that to use as construction. to me when the mood would strike me when i was starting out, doing figure studies and copying poses i found on google was smth id do for like 30 mins to an hour, even if they were terrible it was just fun to draw them and move on to the next. and it was experience! even if it didnt feel like it at the time. like, doing something like copying a buncha hands for fun creates a mental library for ur brain to pick from to help make whatever unique hand youre trying to make for your art. its all experience! so do it when you feel up to it!

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and overall just try to have fun, if you find yourself frustrated enough to feel hopeless about art then just try to take a step back and come back later or draw whatever makes you happy. but when youre able to take on challenge and pushing yourself always try to, and try to have fun and keep in mind that what youre doing is gonna shoot your stuff to the stars and that u just gotta keep going. and get pinterest! that shit helps out a fuckton both with creative inspiration and art studies and practicing and tips.

------------------------------------------ also keep in mind everything ive said here is just my personal experience and whats worked for me. everybody works differently with art. something that changed my perspective a lot was meeting one of my favorite artists last year, and asking for advice because i was going through horrible art block and self worth issues. i was going crazy copying peoples art in my sketchbooks trying to figure out what others understood that it felt i couldnt, trying to figure out what was missing. i was super desperate for improvement and it felt like i was improving so slowly compared to others with the same amount of years spent drawing as

i. so when i asked this artist what they did to study stuff, they told me they barely even did studies on anatomy and whatever. which was crazy to me because it felt like they had such a grasp on that kinda thing and stylized it so well. that didnt make me stop studying though but it made me worry about everything way less, because it made me realize you just gotta do what you feel is right and what you feel is truly pushing you, but most importantly have fun doing it. it made me realize art wasnt this rigid ass process where i was breaking rules or not eating enough art veggies. so with that, i accepted myself and i moved forward continuing to push myself but not worrying as much about improvement right away, just have fun and do studies and shit as i went when i wanted to, and give myself a little push to strive for stuff just a bit crazier than what i felt i was capable of.

everyone is different, theres some artists that start from the feet up or start drawing a body from the shoulder its crazy. but its not because its objectively better to do that, its just how they draw. some artists do full sketch constructions for bodies, some artists do everything from eye. im sure theres some that switched from doing everything from eye to wanting to do construction for bodies and stuff, and vice versa. they did what worked for them, but what makes ppl rly improve is simply that they have fun in the process and strive to push themselves, thats the most important thing, or at least thats my perspective on it at this current point in my life.

so do what you feel is right, have fun, try different techniques out, try different stuff that you feel will help you, keep being inspired.

-------------------------------

best of luck to u, sorry for yapping kinda a lot and thank u a ton for the kind words!

[annawayne]

Regarding your last anon ask about your career, what job would you like to do if you were able to enter the art industry?

Hello, Meli, and, oh! Thank you a lot for asking! 🖤

For a long time, I wanted to have a career of an artist & writer, as in creating various conceptual arts, design, and as for writing - publishing book. I had some experience working as a graphic designer, and it wasn't that bad - yes, also quite far away from my artistic taste, but it was at least something close to what I admire.

However, as time goes, I understand that "simply" creating is not enough for me. The "scientific", "researcher" and "conceptual" layer of art is something that lives deeply in me. I understand that working as graphic designer or working on conceptiual arts is not enough for me, but what is so appealing to me is creating complex projects, from A to Z, both drawing, writing, and then, exploring the particular topics with reference to all knowledge I have. This is it.

By complex projects I mean something like making the excessive research on particular topic, and then, present it in a form of the written book with illustrations. Basically, this is who I am, to be honest - "scientific"/researcher approach + creativity (work with visual concept and text).

I already have various ideas of something like this - for example, make a huge expedition over Ukraine, my country, and save all the folklore songs and embroidery which is left, and then, creating the huge book with illustrations, text, explaining and presenting the different aspects of particular regions through the urbanistic & cultural & folklore aspects of each region with historical canvas - nothing goes unnoticed, and the history and culture always develop with people and events around them. To make it more engaging - illustration; more spectacular and not boring - writing a story about it, that would lead through centuries and the country. Make it vivid, breathing, alive and modern.

This is, you know, like an example of what I mean by "conceptual project", where the research, my knowledge about art, history, folklore, linguistics and anthropology blend with my creative side in illustrations and literature.

For me, saving, developing and promoting the culture and art, is my passion.

As for Ukraine, it's an essential need to save our culture which is destroyed every day. Some of the things we already lost forever - and that's why it's so important for me to save it. We already lost so much, something and someone. My hometown is occupied for 10 years now, and it's almost nothing left of its history. Even if you Google it, you won't find the photos before 2014. You won't be able to find almost anything about the Ukrainian roots and rich history of this incredible region. And saving all the remnants, it's not only important to me, it's important to declare to the whole world - we existed, exist and will exist, no matter what.

(but of course, I would love to make it not only about Ukraine, it's just great example on explaining why it's important to me)

I still remember how people saved from the fire during the full-scaled invasion of Ukraine the paintings of Maria Prymachenko - one of the most known and vivid folk artists who worked in naïve art style, one of the best in this field, artist, whose works were noticed by Picasso who said, after visiting a Prymachenko exhibition in Paris in 1937, "I bow down before the artistic miracle of this brilliant Ukrainian". The museum after constant attacks was on fire, 25 paintings were lost, but local people just went into the fire and saved what was left with their bare hands under constant attacks - 10 paintings.

Maybe, I'm the same like these people - would enter the fire if it means to save art, and then, showing it to the world.

So... Yeah, this is it!

Thank you a lot for asking, and I apologise for the long-read... I hope I didn't bore you...

Thank you a lot, and wish you all the best🫂

[xpiester333x]

Here's my review on Metaphor: Refantazio after being 5h in and not quite done with the demo:

First let me say if you're on the fence about getting this game or not, try the demo. It's available on Steam, PS, and Xbox. It's free. It's ~5h, more or less depending on how much you want to play around with it. The save data can carry over if you decide to buy the game. See if it's fun for you. I talk about performance and graphics on my PC, but see how it works on your system too.

And with that, on to my review.

Graphics & Performance:

I saw a lot of Steam reviews saying they were having a lot of performance issues with the game, even on high-end computers. I didn't really experience anything like that. There was one scene really early in the demo, like an intro narrator bit where it was panning over a map and for some reason that did have some dropped frames and stuttering, but it was only for those 5 seconds and I haven't had a repeat since. I did max the graphics settings and uncap the frames and still had no issues.

I should also say, I don't have a super high-end computer. However, my computer is still pretty nice so maybe on much lower end PCs there would be some issues. I tried min settings as well and honestly didn't see too much of a difference in quality. If you did need to run it in lower graphics, it would still look fantastic.

And it DOES look fantastic. I've noticed there is a lot of different art styles going on. There are animated cutscenes just like in persona where you kind of just watch an anime. There are gameplay cutscenes, where you are watching the 3D characters models in their scene. I noticed the surroundings take on the same level and detail as the characters in these scenes. Then you have the gameplay graphics, which have an almost stylized sort of living painting feel to them.

You'd think having that many styles going on would be chaotic and immersion ruining but honestly it's kind of seamless.

Gameplay:

As is typical of an Atlus game, I'm only just barely getting out of the tutorial, even being 5 hours in. Now that I'm kind of getting into the flow of combat, I genuinely really like it. I wasn't sure how I was going to like a combat system so different from their current IPs (what do you mean there is no demons??) But overall I think they've managed to keep the spirit of their games alive and well while still trying something new for them. I also love that they stuck with the P5R system of being able to kill enemies lower than you without having to go through the whole turn based process, but also made it slightly more involved. They're really leaned into the hybrid action/turn-based gameplay and it's very satisfying.

Archetypes hold the spirit of personas or demons in that you can level them up and build them to suit your characters, but they come with the advantage of your entire party getting to mix and match. Also like personas, you strengthen and enhance them more through social bonds. Thus far in the demo I've gotten as far as unlocking them so I'm not really sure how ranking them plays out quite yet.

By far my favorite part of the game play right now is that if your protagonist dies, it's NOT game over. In fact as long as you have 1 party member standing, the show will go on. Also at the end of the fight your dead characters will revive (with 1hp) and still gain all the xp from the fight.

Some really cool bits that I personally think make the game more fun and challenging: there are many different status effects, but they are divided into 2 categories, physical and mental. Mental status effects expire after the battle, but physical status effects persist. It's a cool little blend of old JRPG punishment with new age JRPG simplicity. (Ask me how I feel about it later when I'm suffering.) Also turn icons, like in SMT, are back. They work relatively the same, which I've always found to be fun, but does make the game a little more challenging. And finally, there is auto-battling if you want to engage it. It will repeat the actions you used prior to engaging it, so if you have a flow going, it does make that kind if easier.

My complaints so far are: for the first few battle areas, your party members are on auto. It's not really fun, and frankly their AI is bad. It's not a long time, but it's more than I liked to see. Also enemies can spawn in right in front of, next to, or behind you where they were not before. This makes it harder (impossible if youre me) to avoid getting ambushed, and honestly feels counterintuitive for a game that's primary gameplay design is strategicly deciding when to attack and when to engage in turn-based combat.

Story:

I am 5 hours in, which in the terms of Atlus games is like, .5%. So I can't really tell you a ton about the story yet. I can say it's interesting. The whole concept is something so fresh for Atlus, and I am eager to know more about the story, the world, the different races, the humans, everything. They have built a solid foundation I absolutely want to see the completion of.

And the characters? I would die for them. Atlus has proven they can write characters with strong bonds and beautiful friendships that will make me go absolutely feral and I can already tell this is where these characters are going as well. I cannot wait. Plus the character designing in this game is above and beyond.

In conclusion, this game has so much potential and promise. I can already tell it's going to be an experience to play though (in a positive way). It's doing a lot that feels very new for Atlus, while remaining true to their current franchises and what makes them so good. I had my doubts about their releasing a brand new IP for their 35th anniversary, but honestly this is perfect. This game pays homage to what already makes their games so good while also showcasing a broad future.

Oh and the soundtrack is absolutely insane. It's Shoji Meguro so of course it's great but I'd be remiss not to mention it anyway.

[stellafeline]

Strain

(gif not mine)

Adult!Neteyam Sully x Omaticaya!Reader

content: established relationship, poor communication skills, fluff, kiss and make up, bad writing, characters aged up

warnings: slight angst, insinuation of smut- but no smut, otherwise nothing i think

word count: 4k

proofread, but barely proofread so sorry for any typos there may be.

a/n: this is my first ever fic posting on this blog. anything that i may write in the future won’t be based off of the canon story, just because my bby boy deserved to live. if it does have details from the comics/movies- it will be loosely based. James Cameron you will pay.

i haven’t written fanfiction since i was fourteen so i’m sorry if it’s shit. be gentle with me. feedback is oh so appreciated. love you❤️

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He kept his head and eyes low, unable to meet your gaze.

His head swirling with uncertainties, shame, and of course- anger with himself. This afternoons interaction with you still in the forefront on his mind, haunting him while he tried to go about his duties with helping the trainees.

He couldn’t get the look on your face out of his mind-

Your big honey colored eyes, wide and hurt looked at him while you twiddled your fingers.

A habit that he picked up on when you were upset or uncomfortable.

You couldn’t believe him. You had finally built up the courage to ask him if he could finally take a night to spend time with you. You wanted to show him a little spot you had found while gathering herbs for Mo’at.

It was perfect, located near where the original home tree used to be rooted.

A small pond with an island of grass near the middle, seemingly perfect rocks set up where you had already imagined him lounging on relaxing, while you finally got to pull out the handmade paints that Tuk had made you.

A couple weeks ago, she had noticed your peaked interest when Norm had brought you to the lab to show you how the new alarm system was set up.

You both frequented the lab together, bothering the scientists for books from earth. Tuk didn’t have much interest, but she was attached to your hip.

So alas, when you went to the lab- so did she.

While Tuk had him distracted- asking him what all the different buttons on the panel on the wall did, you took the chance to wander a couple feet away. You had noticed one of the scientists had left out some strange looking brushes, paper, a tray of multiple colors tabs, glass of water.

You walked over to the table, cautious fingers grazing the paper. You took note of the already painted image on the paper. It looked like a flower of some-sort, you assumed it was one that grew on earth.

You had been mesmerized by the simple painting, and ever since then- you’d been bugging Norm for information regarding different painting styles and art forms.

You had even convinced him to show you a strange moving picture on a tablet that gave you insight on how to wield the brush, flow with the paper, and to trust the process

Norm called it a “how to” video. How strange.

While you were a healer in the clan- your hobbies include making instruments, jewelry, and clothes for the people.

You had thought you could take up the human past time of putting the wet pigment on a piece of paper, creating art that could be passed down. Or even to just make something that was absolutely beautiful.

It had seemed easy enough.

The na’vis traditional way of story telling was through word of mouth and music. Your eyes had sparkled at the thought of sharing past experiences through this form, something different.

And Tuk saw everything. Her being the sweetheart she is, had taken the time (much to Norms displeasure since he was the one to help) and created a couple different paints to gift to you.

When she gave them to you this morning, you had cried like a baby. The gifted paint set wrapped in the cutest way with paper and brushes rolled into a bow of twine.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to show Neteyam yet since he didn’t seem to make it home for lunch in your shared hut, so that lead you to quickly scurry through the trees in search of him during training hours.

While walking to the training field, you let the sun embrace your face while you smiled to yourself. You felt so warm all over, enjoying the very air the great mother had blessed you with.

Neteyam seemed to have to spend more time with his father training lately. You only truly got to see him during the night, but the poor man was always so exhausted when he returned, quickly stuffing his mouth with food that you had prepared so that he would come home to a warm meal, and then promptly laying down to sleep, mentally preparing for the next day.

You always had understood, even when you felt love deprived. You understood why he had to do this and didn’t want to burden him more.

That obviously didn’t mean you didn’t steal him away for the day when he did have a free day. You definitely would and would take him deep into the forest to simply get a moment of peace with him.

Everything seemed to be going so well lately other than that slight detail.

While skipping over streams and following frequently taken trails, your mind drifted to thoughts of his laugh, the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled, how strong his hands were.

It was probably pathetic just how much you thought of your mate, but that didn’t matter as you currently felt a smile splitting your face once his broad back and long braids came into view.

You let out a cute war cry to make your presence known. You thought it would have made made him crack a smile at your more than normal antics.

He was speaking with a fellow warrior, ears perking up when he heard your call.

You didn’t mind intruding, you had done it before and your yawne had always seemed so happy to see you.

Which led you to confusion seeing the grimace on your mates face as he watched you walk up to him.

“Ma ‘Teyam” you purred, reaching out to graze his face. Brows pinching when he moved his head back to avoid your touch. “Why such the long face?”

Your face screwed up even more when he replied. Taking note that the other navi that he had been speaking to quickly walked away.

“What is it that you need right now?” his eyes snapped to the side, not bothering to look your way again.

The curt reply surprised you, never in the many moons you’ve know him and have been mated to him- has he ever been this cold with you, which lead to a pregnant pause before you could spit out a response to him.

“Hmm?” he tried again. His patience obviously already thin.

You felt your hands clasp together, trying to stand up straighter.

Being completely thrown off balance and usual confidence completely squished by your mates sudden coldness, you managed to squeak out an answer.

“O-oh I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me to a new spot I found that I think you’d find very relaxing after eclipse. We could bring a basket with some fruit and a lantern. I was thinking a date night? and Tuk made me some paints that I’d really like to sh-“

“I can’t, sorry narlor”, he cut you off, holding his hand up to signal that he wasn’t finished speaking. “I don’t have time for childish activities now or then. I must go to the meeting grounds tonight to speak with my father for the next raid. In fact you should be with grandmother right now for your own duties, not here.”

Your ears immediately pressed back towards your skull at hearing his tone, hurt filling your body. Tail going still.

It had taken a moment to fully process his words, but by the time you did, he had already pressed a chaste kiss to your head and walked away.

You stood there for a couple more moments, watching his large frame become smaller with distance.

You hadn’t realized that Neteyam had watched your face completely morph from giddy and happy, to like someone had spit in your face. He had to walk away before he changed his mind on the answer he had given you.

He wasn’t happy with how he responded to your question. He wanted nothing more than to take you up on the offer. He felt horrible with how short he was. You were his sunshine.

But he had duties to attend to, and you needed to understand that. Sometimes he couldn’t always the ‘Teyam you’re used to.

He was going to be the leader of the clan soon. The weight of all the responsibility was crashing down on his shoulders. It didn’t help that he had just gotten a heavy scolding from father for letting you distract him lately this morning, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth.

Jake has been having him out on the field, in meetings, and leading hunts religiously. Taking any spare moment away from Neteyam. He was beyond exhausted and fed up.

Tears gathered in your eyes while you walked home, willing yourself to get it together since you still had duties to finish when you returned.

Just like Neteyam said, you bitterly thought.

The sick and injured were well, still sick and injured. It didn’t stop for your trampled on heart.

So moral of the stories?

All you wanted to do was simply lay with him while you finally got to play with your new paints while he got to wind down after putting in long hours of ensuring that the clan had capable warriors and hunters.

But here you are now, tending to his wounds silently cursing yourself for having shaky hands.

You hated how you currently felt. You felt like you potentially blew earlier infraction out of proportion. Feeling stupid at being so upset at Neteyam for being simply busy.

On the other hand, you wish you would’ve bitten his head off in-front of the trainees.

That would have served him right for giving you the cold shoulder, something he’s never done in the entirety of your union.

Since you had returned home from the training field, the short tempered tone and annoyed face of your dear beloved haunted your mind.

Had you truly caught him at a bad moment or was there something else?

Did he actually find spending time with you childish?

The longer you thought about it, the angrier you became.

How dare he? How dare he just brush you off like that? What could you have done for him to suddenly look at you like another chore?

You had been preparing fresh bowls of water for new rags to go in, loudly sighing every couple minutes while deep in thought.

You hadn’t even hear the familiar footsteps wander their way into the tent.

Neteyam hasn’t been able to look you in your eyes since he stepped into the tsahik’s tent, needing to tend to the large gash on the side of his arm. He had gotten it after flying too close to the cliffs near high camp in the hallelujah mountains.

He had needed to clear his head, or at least that’s what his father barked at him when he kept losing his sparring matches with fellow warriors during their training session this evening.

He was distracted, thinking about you of course.

Distracted when he was training and distracted when he was flying.

He couldn’t get the look you had out of his head. Your trembling lips, the way you shrunk into yourself, and worst of all- the hurt that flashed through your eyes. He hated it. He hated himself in that moment. He hated speaking to you like that. He knows he should clue you in to what all he’s had on his plate lately, but he’s never wanted to put his stress onto your own shoulders. But he had done something worse.

He has dimmed the shine of his sun with his foolish choice of words.

When he had gained control over his ikran and landed, the animal was already prepared to fly off as soon as it felt his body weight jump off the beast. Leaving him to walk the rest of the way home with a bloody arm.

While he walked back to base, the young worrier could not help but to sigh of himself.

Even the banshee was angry with him.

So here he is now, trying not to look at you while you caress his body gently, circling around him. Looking for any other scraps and cuts he could possibly have gotten.

Gentle fingertips running across his skin, leaving trails of sparks.

While you worked on his wounds, you couldn’t help but notice him lean into your touch. Testing the waters and seeking comfort. You allowed the small action, for now anyways.

While you couldn’t help but to heal him with loving touches, you’re still wary of being around him currently.

The pit in your stomach would not go away. No matter how much you tried squashing it down. You could not get his words out of your head.

He knew you were upset with him. Eywa knows you were probably even angrier with him after seeing him walk into the healing tent with a grimace on his face and blood running down his arm. Your face morphed from shock, worry, to irritation as you guided your mate to a table with healing supplies that you had been organizing moments prior to his arrival.

He took the chance to steal a quick glance, peaking up to look at your face.

Big mistake.

The look on your face only made the young warrior feel worse.

Your lips set in straight line, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and tail whipping while you worked. Your eyes slightly swollen, it looked like you had been crying.

Had you been crying throughout the day? He had seen you last hours ago.

His stomach twisted at the thought.

Quickly diverting his eyes, focusing his attention to the dirt on your feet.

Your ears twitched downward every time you found a little scrape or knick around his shoulders. You grabbed the healing salve- wiping it along his shoulders and arms, causing him to hiss in pain with every wipe of thick ointment onto his skin.

You took a look at the cut along his arm that ran from the top of his shoulder to the end of his elbow. It wouldn’t need stitches, but would be annoying to keep clean and to heal properly.

After cleaning the wound and wrapping it with long leaves to ensure that no dirt or unneeded moisture could interfere with the healing process.

Running your fingertips over the choker that adorned his neck, taking notes of the frayed pieces on the front and where it was tied together. Taking a mental note to take off the necklace when he fell asleep to repair it. You wouldn’t want him to lose the dear piece of jewelry during battle, training, or whatever misfortunate adventure Lo’ak drug him into that he would have to fix before their parents found out.

You knew how important the necklace was to Neteyam. It had been the first piece of jewelry that you had gifted him during the period that he courted you.

The craftsmen ship was subpar, you had been only a girl when you made him it. He never let you recreate it for him, saying the original meaning was too dear to him to have a remake.

A gruff clear of his throat dragged you out of your daze and you caught yourself still staring at him. You had been lost in thought.

Why were you even worried about the necklace right now? He’d probably find that childish as well.

Seeing his puppy dog demeanor, caused you to soften your gaze and relax your shoulders. You could tell he was chastising himself for being so careless with not only himself, but also the well-being of his ikran.

But still, you were pissed.

Eywa you were so mad at him.

But regardless, you decided that you would talk later about your earlier conversation. You knew it probably wasn’t the time to bring it up. You had to put your feelings to the side to deal with what was in-front of you.

“____”, he whispered, reaching how to grab your arm. Only missing it by a hair as you walked away from him.

“hmm?” you questioned, rinsing the bloody rag you had used to clean his wounds. You made a mental note to grab more salve and leaves to bring home, so that you could easily change the wrapping at home.

“Can you show me that spot you had spoken about when we’re finished?” he started, planning to make amends and to spoil you with affection to make up for his earlier foolishness. “I’d like to see it and see the paints Tuk had ma-“

“No” you cut him off. Feeling slightly bad that you had cut him off mid word like he had done to earlier that day.

“No?” his eyes widening, not used to you saying no to him.

“Precisely, no. I do not have time for childish activities. Neither do you, or so you said. You have to meet with your father tonight anyways, do you not?” You spat, letting your anger get the best of you. Your plan to not bring it up leaving you the second he asked.

His heart sank to his stomach. He hadn’t meant for you to take his words to heart.

You didn’t let him get another word in.

“I will see you at home.” Your eyes refusing to meet his, you didn’t want to give in on this. You knew if you looked into his eyes, you would grab his hand and lead the way.

Your feelings had been so hurt. Intentional or not.

Suddenly you felt a strong grip on your tail, pulling you into his firm chest. Large arms wrapping around your frame, caging you in.

You immediately started squirming in his hold, trying to get his arms to loosen up on their grip.

Sometimes your really hated how much larger he was than you.

The hold on you only tightened, his lips peppering kisses on your shoulder. His head nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Sevin, please.” he urged, hands wildly rubbing your body trying to get to melt into him.

Turning in his hold so that you would be facing him, his hands landing on the small of your back, pressing further into him.

With your ears pinned and eyes wide, you looked up at him. Waiting for him to speak further. Demanding your expression to remain firm, slightly failing when your lip quivered.

He didn’t, suddenly he was lost for words.

You waited and waited for him to say something. When nothing came, you took your exit. You let out a loud huff and broke away from his hold.

Gathering your satchel of personal belonging that you brought with you to the healing tent daily, picking up your shawl and wrapping it around your shoulders. He was your last patient of the day, you were set to go home now.

You left him in the tent without another glance, walking back to your shared tent. As soon as you stepped in, you let out a large sigh. If Neteyam did go with his father tonight, you most likely had a couple hours to reign yourself back in.

Deep down you knew that your mate didn’t need your attitude, you knew he had so much on his plate. He thought that he had been doing a good job keeping work and home separate, trying not to clue you in with how stressed he’s been.

But you knew him. He was your yawne. You had loved him since before you had even knew what love truly was.

You could tell everything was taking a toll on him. You thought about how his demeanor has changed while you took your braids out, they were in serious need to be redone.

Neteyam usually was the one to help you with your hair, but you had not bothered to ask him since that was the last thing he needed to worry about. So you’ll just wash your hair in the morning and leave it loose for the time being, it was your favorite way to wear your hair anyways.

Your poor baby. You were no longer mad, only feeling bad for snapping at him in the healing tent.

You thought about how the way his shoulders hunched, to the sore muscles that you spent hours rolling out, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes lately.

You hadn’t seen him laugh in weeks. You missed it.

While deep in thought, you prepared a quick meal for him to have when he returned. Your stomach has been sour all day, so you decided that you’d just go to bed once the food had finished cooking.

You set out the meal on the table Neteyam had carved last spring, and walked to your shared mat. Bringing the blanket over your head, you allowed to let your bottled up emotions to spill over.

Curling your body up into a fetal position, wrapping your arms around your torso in a make shift self hug- you gently cried, willing yourself to sleep.

-

Neteyam padded into the hut, the meeting with his father went terribly. He didn’t listen to a word his father said. He was wracked with guilt, knowing your earlier tone was much deserved.

That of course led to Jake roaring at Neteyam, smacking the side of his head in attempts to get his attention. Jake realized quickly that it was a lost cause, his son too deep in thought to even begin to try to pry him out of his mind.

Jake knew he’d been running Neteyam hard, but he needed to be ready for when he was the olo’eyktan. He then decided that he would give his son a week of rest after this next raid was completed. Only needing to report for morning rounds.

After being dismissed, Neteyam headed straight to you.

He saw that the fire was dying and bowl of his favorite stew sat on the table. He didn’t initially see you, but after close inspection he spotted your small form curled up under the blanket sleeping, your hair poking out from the blanket.

His heart clenched at the sight, you usually always stayed awake and waiting for him to return.

He walked over to you and crouched down next to you, peeling the blanket away from your face. He took in your appearance.

Your hair was free from their braids, long raven strands flowing across the pillow. Your sweet face was tear stained and puffy, cheeks stained plum. Your pouty lips swollen from crying.

He mentally kicked himself, you had cried so much today. He wanted to wake you to fix everything.

Deciding against waking you due to you needing rest, he stood to his full height. Walking over to the table, he quickly ate his meal. Taking in his surroundings, he saw the paint set you had been talking about on the floor next to your satchel.

His heart clenched for the millionth time that day at the site. All you had wanted to do was show him your gift.

He vowed then that he would make things right in the morning.

Getting into bed, he tried to get comfortable but he couldn’t unless you were curled up into his body. Turning over to face you, his hand gently gripped your waist, pulling you to him.

He cursed himself and held his breath when you roused from your sleep. Big tired eyes slowly opening, blinking the sleep away as you took him in. You shyly smiled while snuggling in closer, nuzzling your cheek on his chest, placing a light kiss on his pectoral- quickly falling back to sleep.

He smiled at your cuteness, unsure if you were too sleepy to continue being mad. He chose to take this sign of good luck to give you a squeeze, somehow pulling you even closer. Signing to himself, falling into a deep sleep.

-

You slowly woke out of your sleep to the noises of the busy village and the snoring of your mate. Eyes blinking open, you turned your head to look at Neteyam.

He was sleeping so peacefully. One arm thrown over his face to block out the sun peeking through the tent flap the other firmly placed on your thigh- holding you in place. His chest rising and falling at a tranquil pace. The leaves wrapped around his arm needing a fresh set.

You scrunched your nose at his sleeping form, yesterdays concerns coming back to the forefront of your mind. You didn’t even hear him get home last night.

Tracing the freckles along his arm, battling with yourself whether or not you wants to stay in bed, basking in the warmth of the large man next to you or start to get ready for the day.

Deciding that you should probably get ready, you started to stretch. Raising your arms above your head, stomach hollowing as your back arched off the mat- legs trembling as you held your stretch out, letting out a loud yawn.

Sitting up from your laying position, you looked around your place. Neteyam must have gotten home much later than you anticipated, seeing as all of his ruck was hazardously thrown by the door. His bow and knife resting on the table.

You started to shift, preparing to stand up.

Suddenly you were yanked back down into a hard chest, barely able to breathe due to the hold he had on you. His tail wrapping around your thigh.

“Mhmm, where do you think your going, yawntu?” he purred into your neck, lips ghosting over the skin behind your ear.

“Good morning, ‘Teyam” you replied, trying to pry his hands off of your waist. You were determined to get ready and try out your paints.

Groaning at your squirminess, he flipped you so that your were face to face with him. Nose and lips centimeters away from touching. “We need to talk.” he grumbled, kissing the tip of your nose.

Your heart fluttered at the action, cheeks slowly growing a rosy color. You couldn’t help but to nuzzle your nose against his.

“About?” you questioned, deciding to play dumb. You wanted to see what his response would be.

“About how I spoke to you yesterday. I am so sorry yawne. I..” trying to get his thoughts together, “I should’ve never taken that tone with you and nothing you do is ever childish. I’ve just been so overwhelmed with training that I let it bubble over and took it out on you. Which is no excuse by the wa-“

You cut him off with a kiss, he was starting to ramble anyway.

Your lips danced with each other, lips lazily slotted together in morning bliss, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. Only pulling away when your lungs screamed for air, his lips chasing yours for more. Settling for soft pecks against your lips, he sighed.

“You know I was trying to tell you something important” He quirked an eyebrow. You only giggled, pushing your head in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent in large huffs.

“I know, but I had already forgiven you before you even got home last night. Neteyam, baby, when things are getting to the point of you almost exploding- please talk to me about it. I can’t take the cold shoulder, especially when I don’t know why i’m receiving it. I understand so much more than you know, I don’t want us to spend another day like yesterday again.” You whispered against his neck.

“I will, my sunshine, I will.” He promised, his hand tickling the base of your tail. “Now, I was not a man yesterday, but let me make it up to you and show you how much of a man I can be.” He gave you a coy smile, already starting to flip you so that you’d be straddling him.

“Don’t you have to meet with your father for training?” you questioned, hissing inwardly at yourself for even bring that up. You didn’t want to let him go, you wanted to be selfish.

“I, my sweet one, am a free man for exactly one week. Only exception is to meet for morning rounds, but i think my father will get over it for just one day” he grinned, fingers pressing into your hips.

You couldn’t help but laugh and smile down at him while nodding, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, eyes practically sparkling. You leaned down to connect your lips, leading to a heated kiss.

Muttering I love you’s as hands explored lower regions- hearts pounding with love and desire, grinning into each others mouths.

Maybe you would show him that spot later today.

-

Laying on your stomach, basking in the sunlight- you were happily painting something the humans called a fairy. You let the paint flow as you created a human like woman with ikran wings.

Neteyam sat on the rocks, lounging with his arms behind his head- eyes closed while your tail is wrapped around his ankle. His skin still wet from the swim in the pond he took earlier with you.

Humming to yourself as you colored in her wings, absolutely content with your life with your mate.

Everything felt like sunshine.

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please let me know what you think!

stellafeline<3

[immoralimmortals]

weeeeeeee caught back up and how delightful you maintain!!! the winds are a-whirling the water's sweet as siren's milk the storm is coming bright and thunderous, the hidan/takara/kakuzu is a treat and so is takara/kisame!!! truly they're having fun :)))

we had a thought, of what if takara was artist instead of songstress? if she sketched instead of sung? what changes, if anything at all??

what kinds of fabrics do these fine fair folk favour we ask? who takes the heaviers, who the finers? velvet, wool, or silk? do they like patterns? subtle or bold? "what do you wear this season?" how do the artists like their fashion :333? what does kakuzu wear in his cuts as someone from an age past?

a song: i love you like an alcoholic

Well, Takara drawing would certainly change the format of my fic! Maybe it'd be centered around recreating art pieces? Anyhow, I think that would change the way the fic starts, as she'd have to find a way to work that involves visual art instead of singing. Maybe instead of settling down in one place, she'd travel and draw what Hidan and Kakuzu were around? She would also use visual art instead to communicate her experiences and struggles. Remember when she was given a sketch pad and she started to draw the ocean? That sort of thing.

I don't really know too much about fabrics in particular, so let's discuss fashion and clothes:

All Akatsuki members to some degree require clothing, no matter the occasion, that would require ease of movement if need be. However, I think the reasons would differ:

Easy transition to emergency fighting: Kakuzu, Pain, Itachi, Kisame, Obito, Zetsu (BARELY counts, those clothes are so inconvenient)

It comfy...: Hidan

Walk walk fashion baby, looser clothes are so ca-razy: Deidara, Sasori, Konan

I have some sincere thoughts about how Hidan dresses. Open shirt, even before Akatsuki. What's up with that! I think the easy answer is so he has a nice, gaping stabby hole for ritual purposes, but an additional headcanon is maybe back home he was used to steam and needs to air out more. But then he wore that giant furry jacket. Is it so that he can close it up if he gets cold? Does he purposefully select fashion and style over ease of use? Has anyone attempted to hold him by the hood before? I'm obsessed with this man.

Kakuzu had a really fascinating transition of clothing, having worn his hair out and had a really roughed up looking mask that went down his mask. It's a big difference to his Akatsuki look, even when he takes the cloak off. It's like he cleaned himself up. Did he want to look like someone to be taken seriously, now being a treasurer and requiring trust and authority? Did the story writers just want him to look younger in flashbacks to his recruitment? Is only one guy at once in a partnership allowed to not wear a shirt? "God dammit SOMEONE has to look like an actual presentable human being and it's going to be me."

Konan is in heels. Why is she in heels! I am opting to ignore the obvious answer about character design and choose to believe that like Sasori and Deidara, she has an artistic side, and therefore-- a stylish one. It would also explain the origami rose in her bun and her eye makeup.

Random attributes to give Akatsuki members!

Texture sensitive: Deidara, Sasori (when "human"), Itachi (very accustomed to the clothes his clan made and therefore has sensitivity to clothes since leaving Konoha)

Fashion over function: Konan (I'm sorry. I love you), Hidan (hoodie! version)

Function over fashion: Kakuzu, Kisame

Dress up for special occasions, no prompting needed: Deidara, Itachi, Konan, Obito

Will dress up if prompted: Kisame, Kakuzu, Sasori (but he's a bitch about it), Zetsu (very confused but does not care), Pain

Will not dress up no matter what you do or say: Hidan

Vibrant colors and stark shades: Deidara, Hidan, Obito, Pain, Zetsu

Earthy colors and dull shades: Kakuzu, Sasori,

Sliding scale of texture preference from rough to soft: Kakuzu, Pain, Kisame, Konan, Obito, Hidan, Deidara, Itachi

Sliding scale of visual texture preference, matte to silky/glossy: Kakuzu, Sasori, Obito, Pain, Hidan, Deidara, Kisame, Konan, Itachi

Cool tones: Kisame, Konan, Zetsu, Deidara

Warm tones: Hidan, Pain, Sasori

Sliding scale of solids versus patterns/images: Kakuzu, Hidan, Sasori, Pain, Konan, Deidara, Kisame, Itachi, Obito

Would consider you dressing them up as flattering: Deidara, Kisame, Itachi, Obito, Konan, Pain, Zetsu

Would consider you dressing them up as an insult: Kakuzu, Hidan, Sasori

Absolutely would think these lists are a waste of time: Kakuzu, Zetsu, Hidan

[also-fours]

the hi-fi rush situation really bums me out.

we had this game that looked super unique, everybody loved it, it won tons of awards

and then it barely got any marketing, feels like it only got as popular as it did thanks to word of mouth and the initial shadow drop, was deemed a "failure" despite selling what many companies would consider a success back in the day, (because it didnt sell call of duty numbers, probably.) and then its studio got shut down

the studio was just starting to spread its wings, start making shit that could inspire their peers, other devs, to start making different things and experiment

and they fucking killed them

it's gone

i mean, maybe they'll make their own studio, i've heard something like that's happened a couple times with the yooka-laylee devs and sonic mania's dev team

but i dunno

as much as i love games like spider-man and god of war (and i mean literally just those two, like, anything else sony does aside from ratchet and clank im not into) i wish they didnt worry so much about modelling photorealism

the obsession with stuff like that is what's made game development so expensive and unsustainable at this rate

i know this is tumblr so the first reaction im gonna get to saying something like "i like spider-man and god of war" at least in my circle is "GOOD GLAD THAT IT'S BECOMING UNSUSTAINABLE FUCK THEM" but like. i actually like what these games had to say and what they brought to the table.

"spider-man had nothing to say it's just a stupid marvel game cash grab and god of war is a generic over the shoulder game"

if you're going to tell me something like that, kindly, please don't interact with this post

like, please?

thank you

anyway, i want games like that that...don't have to upgrade their graphics every time and. waste everyone's time.

genuinely with how they both looked in 2018 i'd be happy with them just. not changing the graphics at all

but uh. sadly sony knows their audience, haha

there'd be hell to pay if they did that

(i hate mainstream gamers)

and as for everything else that xbox and playstation are doing right now, i still want them to do something different

and microsoft killed off the developer that could've inspired others to do that

soooooooo fuck. what now. are we just gonna be stuck in this position forever.

probably not, i mean, again, with how expensive games like spider-man 2 have gotten to produce and the amount of people in and out of the industry screaming that you gotta CHILL THE FUCK OUT, we won't stay like this forever

it might get better

maybe when we get a new series of spider-man games they can have a visual style similar to spider-verse, wouldn't that be rad?

...i mean. judging by the leaks, they might already be experimenting with that...

or something like shattered dimensions have y'all seen that game? looks fantastic, go look it up, they made four different dimensions of spidey and all of 'em have their own unique visual style inspired by their books

sorry im getting off topic

im juat rambling at this point

i just hope people learn the right lessons from hi-fi rush.

and that the people who made it find a way through and can still make great things

thats what i hope for at least

...anyway at least we still have fortnite and its really fun art style--