#first time doodling with a pen for transformers

[brodudemanbroski]

me and my friend did a drawing “contest” in my science class. they won, I know.

(First image: I’m on the right. Second image: I’m on the left.)

[lorillee]

im really normal about them <- lie

[jittersbitters]

The Long Game pt.1 [Doodles]

{Viktor from Arcane Smut Story}

Warnings: Smut, light dom!vik, Fingering, Exhibitionism, AFAB reader, Doodling kink?, Established acquaintanceship so there is some length to this first part, the words- note, pen, doodle, and others associated come up a lot due to the plot, sorry!

Word cound: ~4.5k (25-40 minute read)

Story plot: A holistic healer from NW Shurima works privately for Councilmen Hoskel as a sort of assistant. Viktor and her meet years before the events of Arcane and have an up-down relationship that takes shape over the course of many years. Starting all the way back in their academy years, first knowing each other as respective transcribers for their council mentor/patrons during meetings. Maybe they should have stayed in that room?

Chapter Summary: You work as an assistant for Hoskel and are attending one of the meetings as his note-taker. However, you have a horrible habit of getting distracted during said meetings and not completing notes, instead doodling. Viktor, a peer you have a growing bond with, only within the council chambers, over the last few months decides to try out positive and negative reinforcement. Perhaps taking it to far this time and taking your playful acquaintanceship to a different level.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | • Viktor Masterlist •

MDNI NSFW below cut (Far below)

Spending all day at a council meeting wasn’t the exact plan I had for my day, but it wasn’t the worst place I could be. I could be stuck outside in the winter storms that started to blow in a couple days ago. Instead, I sat in the warmth of the council chamber with lukewarm tea in a paper cup at my feet and a half-eaten cheese bangle on the bench to my right. The council heater was on above us, keeping the chill at bay as the snow outside transformed the red brick and golden frames into a picturesque white wonderland. I could appreciate it from the window rather than braving the elements to run errands for my patron in town. 

However, as the meeting dragged on, my ears began to feel numb—not from the weather leaking in, but from the endless topics blurting through the air. It was one of those informal meetings that seemed to stretch indefinitely, so much to do as the cold months approached with the dauntingnes of the holidays. Salo always complained about how the undercity's activities affected his business, while Medarada would steer the conversation toward broader trade relations. My pen had begun to wander absent-mindedly over the page, searching for blank spots to occupy. While I had come to enjoy my time in the council chamber, I found little interest in the discussions about transportation, ordinances, or tedious changes to department funding. This time spent here had become enjoyable for an entirely different reason.  

As we neared the two-hour mark, doodles began spilling flagrantly into the margins of my notes, my random scratches hidden amongst the sharp sounds of pages flipping and other assistants transcribing. Starting with simple loops and circles in the corners, they quickly grew into intricate flowers with winding vines and leaves that had crawled up the negative space. By now, I had, obvious to those around me, lost track of the meeting entirely, and my attempts at shading the petals were becoming increasingly elaborate. 

 “Don’t you think you’re playing with fire?” a hushed voice broke through my filibustered concentration, an amused lilt peppering the words. I turned to find Viktor leaning into the edge of my metaphorical bubble, his eyebrow raised as he scrutinized my embellishments. His expression blended playful scrutiny with genuine curiosity, much like a cat trying to determine whether a new toy was worth the effort. The way his brows furrowed slightly as he concentrated only made it harder for me to suppress a smile, especially as his gaze danced from my paper back to my face, a weird mix of anticipation and amusement bubbling within me. 

Having becoming Hoskel’s ward a few months ago, Viktor had made it his mission to sit next to me during these meetings. He seemed invested not only in keeping me engaged but also in observing the increasingly elaborate designs that filled Hoskel’s notes, much to the merchant's dismay whenever I handed them in. I still vividly remember my first day—nervous energy radiating from me as I tapped my foot incessantly while the other academy students settled into their seats across the room. I knew no one besides Hoskel, which made me retreat into my own small world, avoiding eye contact and trying to shrink into my bench as if it might protect me.  

By the time the meeting started, I had chewed my nails down to stubs and added the frantic clicking of my pen to my growing list of anxious habits, blissfully unaware of the glares directed my way. I scanned the room, desperate for something—anything—interesting to focus on, completely lost to the mundane political discussions swirling around me. That’s when our eyes locked. I was momentarily frozen by his intense, assessing gaze. Golden pools looking from my shoes to my hair. It wasn’t until he placed a hand on his chest, took a deep breath, and flashed me a reassuring smile that I realized I had forgotten to breathe.  

By the next meeting, he had claimed the seat beside me, casually convincing the girl on my other side to switch places with him. He became my new distraction, despite his best efforts.  

“Chairman Hoskel doesn’t, uh, exactly seem like a pagonia man,” he remarked, head tilting slightly to the notes I had filled with random foliage. 

 I pursed my lips, forcing back a smile as I lightly bumped my leg against his. “It’s begonia. Like the bergenias I drew last week."  

Viktor clicked his tongue before flipping the page of his own notes. “Your language is most confusing. I don’t understand how you manage all the, eh, nuances and rules.”  

I couldn’t help but watch him—the way his jaw tightened slightly before he licked his fingers to shuffle his papers. My thoughts wandered to less than respectable places while I jotted down something about lifting restrictions for a project somewhere. “My language? I learned it on the boat ride over-” I was interrupted by the curt shushing from those around us. I risked a glance across the benches and noticed several peers watching us. I sheepishly went back to my notes, feeling my cheeks flush. Viktor shook his head as he mirrored me, neatly correcting his misspelled words while returning my knee bump, keeping his leg pressed against mine. 

Since Viktor had settled into his spot next to me, we had developed this little game. Whenever I got distracted, he’d give me a little nudge. It started subtly—just a light bump of with his shoe when I stared into space for too long. Soon after, he began tapping my paper with a finger to bring my attention back; perhaps that's when I develop a bit of a staring problem when it came to his hands. Eventually, there came a day where he took my pen away when my doodling became too extravagant. I remember staring at him wide-eyed in embarrassment, but he simply handed back my pen with a clever grin. I was careful to keep my doodles subtle and less conspicuous until a month or two ago, when he leaned over and whispered that my sketch of his boss resembled an ‘overindulgent gerbil’. His word’s not mine.  

After that, the atmosphere in our meetings shifted significantly. The dean’s assistant, whose name I learned through conversations with Hoskel, became increasingly daring with his ‘tactics’, and as the hours dragged on, we began to seek our own ways to pass the time. Our exchanges grew bolder; Viktor’s playful teasing and my daydreaming became hinderances that were hard for either of us to ignore. Each time I got derailed—or tried to—Viktor would lean in to correct me or chuckle at my notes, seamlessly bringing me back into the moment.  

We both knew, in the back of our heads, there were very few ways this was going to end. 

I tried to refocus, again, on the current discussion about suggesting new tax policies— but with the words "withdrawal" and "ordinances" swirling around the room like a fog it wasn’t long before my pen began dancing across the page once more. I’d rather pay more attention to flowers instead of the dull, useless to me, topics of the day that seemed to never end. I tried to hide it for several minutes, drawing tiny butterflies flitting around, like the ones I saw in the courtyard when I arrived this last spring. 

It was like clockwork. As soon as I started to lose track of the meeting Viktor leeeaned in closer, his foot slowly sliding toward mine before lifting up to step on my toes lightly. “If I remember this was the theme for the last meeting, was it not?” he whispered, smirking as he eyed me trying to turn a butterfly into a weirdly shaped lizard.  

“Perhaps,” I replied, equally quiet, “but it distracts from the gloom, though, don’t you think?” I smiled proudly when he chuckled. His gaze lingered on my page; his own notes momentarily forgotten as he rubbed his chin in thought. It didn't take long for me to notice that he was still staring, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his small lecture table. When I glanced over, I caught Viktor, lips relaxed into a half-smile, his eyes flitting between me and…  

...Was he judging my lizard?  

The bench creaked as he scooted closer, his shoulder pressing against mine. The unexpected scent of caramelized sugar wafted as Viktor’s breath brushed down the side of my neck. He craned in, trying to get a good look of my entire drawing. His face was so close that, even as he mumbled to avoid drawing attention from anyone else, I could hear every drawl. I had to force myself not to shiver as goosebumps erupted along my neck, as if his words were grazing my skin. “Is that a... curved... pastry? Odd thing to be in a garden, wouldn’t you agree?”   

Even though Viktor was mummering, I could still catch that sly tone beneath it... He was judging my lizard.  

I shook his foot off mine, willing the slight chaff in my voice to no take over the volume. “No, it's obviously a lizard. Why would there be a pastry-” 

“Will you two please keep it down,” We turned to see our neighbor to my right on the other side of the pew divider, her irritation palpable even through her whispered shout; her expression sour enough to make me giggle nervously under my breath. The sound seemed to shock her even more, compounding my embarrassment. 

“Sorry...” I shifted in my seat, suddenly acutely aware of how much I had begun to slouch and returned to writing. Insecurity creeping into my shoulders and causing some muscle spasms I tried to shake off. He wasn’t usual so talkative or suggestive in his actions, something was different today. Perhaps there was a point to be made about needing to curb whatever this dynamic was... 

Tick... Tock... Tick.... Tock  

Just as my pen started to wander, Viktor seized the moment to step on my toes again. The ever-increasing pressure was a blatant warning this time, igniting a spark of irritation within me that was dangerous when in a pen drop quiet room. If he was hoping to regain my attention, he was failing spectacularly, a gem I made sure to whispered in his direction just to make sure he got the message. 

“You’re still not taking notes” He chided, making me lift my foot and step on his toes like I was a child, a fact that I tried to look past. “Your patron might start to think you’re a bad girl- hamph~” He tried to mask his obvious laugh at my humiliated retaliation - via backhand to the chest - in an ill-timed cough. The unnatural, suspicious sound only succeeded in silencing the room, the discussion between our superiors halting instantly. 

I hadn’t meant to smack him, especially not in a way that drew everyone's attention, but something about those words wrapped in his Czech accent did all the wrong things. It stirred feelings that absolutely had no place in a council meeting. And, oh, the way Viktor smirked, concealing it with his hand—he knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard. 

Always pushing boundaries, and he called me the unfocused one. 

All eyes from the council shifted towards our row, centering on Viktor and me. My patron’s face twisted into a scowl, far grimmer than the Yordle scientist beside him, who regarded his assistant with a mix of curiosity and concern rather than outright anger. I did my best to avoid his probing gaze, focusing instead on fidgeting with the edge of my papers.  

I had become accustomed to this sort of thing after spending nearly six months with Torman Hoskel. Unlike many of the more complex socialites in Piltover, Hoskel stood out as one of the most one-dimensional people I’d encountered, if not the very most. Stubborn and quick to temper, he occasionally displayed brief flashes of hope, only to have them shattered by his narrow-minded perspective. Hot and cold, blunt to snappy—he was like an emotionally detached father figure. One I couldn’t just run away from. 

“My sincerest apologies, sirs, ma’ams,” Viktor began, clearing his throat as he addressed the council on our behalf. I hadn’t even noticed he had stood up, seemingly unfazed by the hushed murmurings from our peers. “Just had a bit of a cough but we—I will remain perfectly silent,” he added, shooting a playful glance over his shoulder, “for the rest of the meeting.”  

“I trust that's the case,” Heimerdinger’s high-pitched voice echoed through the chamber, cutting off the whispers and signaling that the session would continue. He glanced at me, suspecting something, but let it go in favor of moving to the next topic on the docket.  

Viktor sank back into his seat, a horribly satisfied smile spreading across his face. He took my hand gently as he sat, pulling it away from fidgeting and pinning it between our thighs. His thumb pressed against the back of my wrist, his fingers wrapping around my pulse. As he adjusted the scattered pages on his fold-up table, dissatisfied murmurs floated among the council members, but they soon began to find their footing again. I let their words drift through one ear and out the other, jotting down whatever I could grasp, my handwriting becoming progressively less legible.  

I went to lay my arm on my table, getting comfortable again, but Viktor's grip only tightened around my wrist, pressing it firmly into the wood beneath us. “Don’t even think about starting to draw again,” he chided, sliding his fingers closer to the base of my wrist, feeling my pulse quicken beneath his touch. “Or, maybe, I should worry about potential cardiac arrest?”  

“That is yo—” I cut myself off, noticing the smug expectation in his gaze. I wasn’t ready to unpack the tangled feelings our banter stirred up. “I’m not having a heart attack, now let go.” I attempted to snap at him, keeping my voice steady and hushed.  

“No,” he said, testing the limits of my patience.  

"You’re just trying to distract me, now" I shot back, reaching the end of my rope with his antics today. This side of him was new.  

Viktor shrugged, “You need to learn how to focus. It’s an important skill.” 

 “I can focus,” I bluffed, unwilling to let him point it out. “I just… choose not to.” I felt his gaze linger on the side of my head for a long moment, watching my scribbles. His eyes eventually flitted to the chaotic lines that filled my pages, and I could see the way he tapped his pen against his notebook, his jaw tightening with a definitive look in his eyes. 

I was taken aback when his grip relaxed around my hand; I had anticipated a stronger reaction. But it didn’t take long for him to make his move, his hand gliding up to brush his knuckles lightly against my knee. My gaze shifted to his hand as it deliberately nudged the loose fabric of my long skirt aside, revealing more of my bare leg through the split. 

I tried to shift my thigh away, looking up at him, surprised by his boldness - his hand following after. A flush of warmth settled in my stomach, mixed emotions bubbling up my throat as I struggled to swallow them back down. I could feel the intensity of his gaze as I quickly looked back to my paper.  

Viktor turned his hand over, tapping a gentle rhythm on the top of my thigh like he was playing piano. “If you just needed a little motivation,” he started, leaning close as if studying my notes. His taps slowly moved to drag up and down, callouses start to scrap the goose flesh building up as he made sure to linger along the remaining hem of my skirt's slit. His intentions were unmistakable. “Then all you need to do is pay attention and write your notes.”  

I could only swallow hard, aware of the game we'd been playing over the past few months. The exchanged glances, light touches, the foot games, the playful teasing. It all began the day he took my pen, and since then, the tension had only grown, with neither of us trying to pull back, but rather escalate it.  

He kept tapping my thigh, expectantly waiting for my response or a sign.  

I glanced at Viktor again; his golden eyes sparkled with wanton glee, sending my heart racing as I thought of the possibilities and the ramifications of being caught. We rarely interacted outside this room, so I wondered what the harm could be... right? 

I tightened my grip on my pen, my ears red as I tried to focus on the concluding topics of the meeting. I held it over the page for a brief moment, granting myself a fleeting pause before I began jotting down notes. The letters started off a bit shaky as I wrestled with the distraction of his fingers nonchalantly roaming across the expanse of my exposed thigh. He watched me patiently, allowing me time to get used to the feeling - exactly the length it took me to use the rest of my page before I had to turn to the next. 

Viktor's little finger brushed against the fabric, the others following slowly as they curved around the inside of my thigh. He played delicate patterns into the supple flesh, his touch steadily gliding further and farther up. The anticipation swirled in my stomach, it increasingly difficult to breathe unless I told myself to. He closely watched the slight movement of my brows, jotting down short notes —my reactions holding his full attention. 

He was moving at a painfully slow pace, each moment stretching out longer than the last. His carefulness was more distracting than anything else, and being careful not to attract attention to his hand. The thought of being caught sent a bolt of unexpected heat through me right to my core, causing me to bite my thumbnail with my free hand in a desperate attempt to regain my waning concentration. My cheeks were burning as he halted right before where I expected... wanted. My thighs wanted to twitch, to jerk in response. I had to breath, letting out a long breath, as I gradually shift them further apart without making any sudden moves. He smiled, yet remained utterly still, offering me nothing more than his presence. 

I heard a faint chuckle from above, his eyes fixed on me as I began to squirm in place, waiting impatiently. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped writing until his fingers lifted away, leaving the spot cold and making me whimper without meaning to. I quickly stifled the sound, biting my lip enough to cause a mark as I shot a glare at Viktor from the corner of my eye. 

“Try again,” he whispered, tucking his ‘T’ as his fingers gently tracing the skin just above my knee attempting to encourage me. 

I inhaled through my nose, closing my eyes for a brief moment to regain myself - and stow irritation- before writing again. I anxiously waited for his hand to return, ignoring misspellings in favor of getting out as many words as possible in the hopes that it might hurry him along. Coincidence or cause, I still had to stop myself from rolling my hips into his hand when his fingers finally returned, going farther than before.  

At first, his fingers only gently pressed against my covered cunt, experimenting with small gliding motions before gradually increasing pressure. My eyes fluttering a bit, teeth biting down hard at the dead skin of my lip. The split focus between his hand and the meeting was excruciating already; our cat and mouse games from the past meetings winding me up.  

My thigh spasmed a bit as he pushed my underwear aside. I hiccupped out stagnate breath, sniffling a bit, to keep myself as silent when his rough fingers collected the wetness that had been dampening the cotton. Spread it around as I turned the page, feeling the edge of my thoughts become increasingly hazy — exposed by the ink of my words. 

“You’re doing so well,” Viktor cooed softly, almost mockingly. I caught a sparkle in his eye that made my hips roll forward again, becoming desperate.  

“Please,” I begged near silently into my hand, covering my mouth. Viktor seemed as though he wanted to request more, but ultimately settled for this meager display of mine given the circumstances we found ourselves in.  

Obliging finally, he slowly pushed one of his fingers into me with a second following soon after the first knuckle. The sensation, the sudden bit of stretch, making my hips roll and lift slightly from the bench to meet him. I was warned to sit back down with a foot returning to stepped on my toes. Another silent whimper escaped from my throat as I obeyed, tilting my hips slightly to make up for the pressure I lost. 

My mouth hung open, pen cutting into part of my page, as Viktor started to slowly push in and out. Curling his digits and dragging the pads against somewhere that made the muscles in my legs quiver. My struggling breath was hard to hide as all I wanted to pay attention to was the circles Viktor’s thumb drew around my swelling nub, joining the delibrate and leisurely strokes of his fingers. His motions were so methodical it made me wonder how long he had planning this. 

 The first day? Week later? Last month? I don’t fucking care. 

My heart raced, skipping a few beats, while my eyes threatened to close once more. The tightness in my stomach intensified, and I could feel the warmth pooling and spreading through me. My sight starting to blur as my lids became heavy, feeling the fringe right before the fall. It made my knuckles white around my pen as my other nails dug into the edge of the bench seat. I struggled not to clamp my legs around his hand when curled fingers swiped back and forth.  

I was so close; I only needed a little more. 

“That seems to conclude everything submitted for this meeting,” Professor Heimerdinger cheerfully called out as he closed up his file. Glancing around, he spotted what seemed to be his assistant charming Hoskel's new ward. He raised a fluffy long eyebrow, observing their peculiar interaction as Viktor stood. 

My eyes widened as my head shot forward, my palm pressing against my agape mouth. I let out a pitiable moan that came out more like a strangled cough at the sudden absence of Viktor's fingers. Offering me nothing but that infuriatingly smug smile of his while quickly standing to gather his belongings, leaving me feeling cold and vulnerable. I shot him a pointed glare, crossing my legs tightly as I began to pack up, actions expressing my dissatisfaction. I shuffled my papers into their leather binding and stuffed the remainder of my cheese bagel into my mouth to muffle my verbal lashing. 

“Need a hand?” Viktor extended his offer, his eyebrow arched playfully as I squinted back at him. Hesitating as I picked up my now cold tea and rolled my tongue over the inside of my lip, before I took his hand and stood up with a gentle pull from him. Though I found myself being drawn closer than I anticipated as he held onto my hand. The air between us crackling with tension; he leaned down, observing the blush that crept from my cheeks to my ears and raced down my neck. His thumb brushing over my wrist as he turned it over, sending my pulse racing again as his eyes darted across my face, gauging my reaction. “Sense we skipped proper formalities—” 

 Hoskel’s snap of my name cut Viktor short; his approach forcing me to jerk my hand away from Viktor’s. The atmosphere soured further as Viktor took a step back, his demeanor slightly withdrawn now. With a soft huff, I attempted an awkward smile, clinging to the flutter in my stomach as I turned away. Biting my lip, I trailed after Hoskel, who immediately began reprimanding me for interrupting the meeting. Oddly enough, I found myself too flustered to care. 

 I stole one last look over my shoulder, catching Viktor gathering his things again as he waited for Heimerdinger. Upon noticing me, he waved and, before I could return the gesture, he raised his fingers to his lips with a mischievous wink. My breath caught in my throat again as I watched him glide his fingertips across his lower lip, his tongue peeking out just to taste— “ 

I jolted at the sound of my patron screeching my name again, following him as he hurriedly exited the council building, clearly not a man of academics. 

~~<3~~

Viktor hummed, pleased, to himself as he packed the last of his things up. He hadn’t meant for things to develop today the way they did; he had jumped forward in their little game. Not that either of them minded, but it was going to make the next time they saw each other a little more interesting.  

“Viktor, come here.” The elder’s voice brought him back to the present making he straightened. After grabbing his cane from where it sat, he stepped forward �� struggling to separate his thoughts still tangled in the recent encounter. As he approached the table, Heimerdinger looked up, his wizened eyes observing the slight differences in his assistant's demeanor. He was no fool, he saw the young infatuation between the two young humans. “I wanted to discuss your latest project before the day leaves us. I’ve heard the most promising feedback.”  

Viktor’s eyes widened, remember something mentioned this morning before the meeting, “Thank - thank you, Professor.” Viktor hurried toward the round council table, snapping open the buckles of his bag again to retrieve the information for this little presentation. “I’ve been refining the prototypes. I believe if I just upped the electrical imput I could, potentially, maybe—” Before he could continue his unpracticed rambling, Heimerdinger peered closer at him. The Yordl looked at Viktor with narrowed eyes, sensing a depth, something different, in him that hadn’t been there before today. Viktor just saw his boss waddle towards him with a (kind?) stare that could unsettle Noxian soldiers. “Professor?” 

 “You seem... distracted. Is everything alright?” The question hung in the air, the short creature watching the seven stages of grief flicker across Viktors face.  

 Viktor’s mind flickered back to their blush, the rush of their connection. He cleared his throat, shaking himself back to the task at hand. “Yes, quite alright, Professor. Just eager to make progress.” 

 With a nod, Heimerdinger gestured for him to elaborate, but Viktor felt the nerves in his stomach tighten. He needed to focus. Perhaps later, once the day’s work was done, he might see where this new... path took him with the ward. But for now, he pushed aside these unprofessional thoughts, diving into the technical matters at hand, trying to channel these intense feelings into the brilliance of his inventions. 

(idk how much I like the name but were going with it because that's what won the google coin toss! Plus if I can make it to the ending I have planned I got a nice piece of dialogue to go with it. Media literacy and symbolism and all that stuff.

MOSTLY I just wanted to right Vik smut!)

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana Drabbles: Explanation and Masterlist

I'm going to add examples below, but drabbles can range from several sentences to several paragraphs and cover everything from humor to angst to fluff! They're written more like train-of-thought fanfic, instead of the structured bullet points I use in HCs. What really sets them apart though is that drabbles focus on one or two characters at a time and are not limited to the M6!

Drabbles can be as oddly specific as you want, to as randomized as you want. Here's some examples of what you could request, and some links of past drabbles -

"I really like the idea of a cozy night in with Portia where she takes care of my hair, could you write a drabble for that?"

"Can I have drabbles of Selasi being just The Best to MC?"

"I have this really specific bittersweet moment in my head - [insert description here] - could you do a drabble of that with whichever M6 parent you think fits it best?"

"How about a drabble for [specific character]? Whatever you want to write about them!"

Julian and quill pens

Portia's hair

Asra and Muriel and campfire teamaking

Nadia and Favorite Foods

Scout's self care

Lucio's hair

Inanna and Muriel

Mercedes and Melchior and Lucio

Chandra missing Nadia

Malak and Julian

Pepi being a Cat

Faust and Asra and Faust's knife

Cuddling Birblian

MC transforms into a "monster"

Vesuvia Weekly: Baby Fever (M6 oneshot)

M6 building IKEA furniture

Lucio realizing the dogs are his familiars

Family-burdened MC and nothing-is-taboo Lucio

Asra's sweet tooth

Julian and his waterproof plague clothes

Nadia's poorly-worn clothes pet peeve

Portia's garden

Muriel's favorite colors

Vesuvia Weekly: Don't Wake MC!

Vesuvia Weekly: "Why are we hiding?"

Modern AU Pre-Prologue Setup

Work Lunches with Asra

Julian's Pirate Adventures

Prince!Lucio and Bodyguard!MC

Prince!Lucio and Bodyguard!MC, pt 2

M6 vs Mechanical Bull (oneshot)

Comforting Julian during a storm

Bodyguard!Muriel and Royalty!MC

Julian when MC gets tendonitis

Vesuvia Weekly: Learning (love) Languages

Vesuvia Weekly: Guilty Pleasures (poorly doodled)

Inanna protecting MC's stuffed animal

Malak upstaging Julian (on purpose)

Faust and Asra trying to learn MC's secrets

Chandra trying to share her puzzles with MC

Pepi sharing her secrets with MC

Mercedes and Melchior "helping" Lucio be a good boy

(Art prompt) Muriel's prosthetic proposal

Youngest Child Nadia

Honorary Grandma Portia

Big Brother Julian

Ageing Lucio angst

Resilient Asra angst

Asra's inherited fashion sense

Nadia the Countess Engineer

Julian as a castmate

Lucio's dental habits

Portia's domestic feminine rage

Muriel's bad posture

Julian and the canals

Asra and weekly dusting

Nadia and the South End Theatre

Muriel's pockets

Portia's to-do list

Lucio's bathtime

Post-upright route evening with Nadia, Asra, and Julian

Julian & Portia talk to Malak & Pepi

Knight!Muriel and Royalty!MC, pt 2

M6 all cook in one place

Asking Muriel to crush a watermelon between his thighs

Prince!Julian and bodyguard!MC

MC and Julian get arrested while Portia bails them out

When Muriel's kid is a walking heart attack

Mercedes and Melchior accidentally halfway merge

Julian getting used to normalcy

Asra sharing a bed with you

Nadia sharing her room for the first time

Muriel sharing his thoughts with you

Portia getting used to your attention

Lucio not understanding your love

Julian when you're stressed and quietly waiting

Asra when you've been wronged by someone

Nadia's fluctuating code of ethics

Muriel's scathing letter talents

Portia on AITA

Lucio realizing he can weaponizing his capacity to annoy

Vesuvia Weekly: A Date With Disaster

Vesuvia Weekly: To be loved is to be ...

Motorcycle Mishap

Julian with an MC who smells their hair to think

Vesuvia Weekly: MC is M6's embodied impulse control

Vesuvia Weekly: Sleepover Horrors

Vesuvia Weekly: One More Dance Before Bed (Julian)

Vesuvia Weekly: Moments of Reprieve

Trick or Treat: Khamgalai's coping mechanisms

Trick or Treat: Aisha and Salim's water lanterns

Trick or Treat: Palace Passageways

Trick or Treat: Bribing Mazelinka

Trick or Treat: Vesuvian Canal Culture

Trick or Treat: Selasi's Friendship

Trick or Treat: Courtier Meetups

Trick or Treat: Young Nadia's Pranks

Trick or Treat: Muriel's Splinters

[valentine-cafe]

Can I have a mango pudding with an artist reader who does (mostly digital) illustrations/paintings based of Talisen's poetry (and of him as well ofc) perhaps even affectionately calling him their muse

(Masc or gn reader if it comes up?)

. ˚◞♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ꒰ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ 781 talisen / gn reader ꒱ two artists in love <3 

𖹭. content warnings◞  none! . 0.3k

𖹭. receipts◞  gid this was SOOO cute to write!

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ꒱ m.list . guidelines . characters . lorebook ⊹ ۪ ࣪ 

𖹭. your creative flow is so amped up when the both of you are together. he absolutely adores whenever you transform his poetry into art. he cannot help but stare and mention every little detail, even bringing up some aspects that even you did not notice. he showers you with all sorts of praises.

𖹭. talisen is more versed in traditional art rather than digital - so he is always so amazed by the and curious about the pieces that you string together. at times he’ll sit you down in his lap and idly watch as you draw on your tablet. chin nestled on your shoulder as he mutters soft praises when little features catch his eye.

𖹭. the first time that you drew him; you will never get over the way that his eyes lit up. the smile that stretched over his soft lips. how he’d stared with such awe if only to safely discard the tablet, cup your face and kiss you breathless.

𖹭. sometimes the both of you will have little ‘hot potato’ sessions. in which you start off the drawing and he continues after a set time. talisen always loves the result that your combined hands create. it’s one of his favourite pass-times with you.

𖹭. quiet sessions with you leaning back into him. doodling away on your tablet with the comforting sound of his inked pen gliding across the paper. he always leans over and presses a kiss to the back of your head or gives your waist a little squeeze.

𖹭. when you call him your muse, talisen’s eyes go big. they become so puppy-like. the small pout on his lips and the way he immediately crumbles and nestles his head on your lap. looking up at you with those precious eyes. . . oh you cannot help but cup his face and press kisses all over it. he feels his heart stutter every time that name leaves your lips.

𖹭. in turn he might sometimes call you ‘my song’ or ‘my solace’ - anything that can even come close to the earnestness of what you call him.

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[aalissy]

Soulmate Markers

Just a short fluffy lil soulmate AU for today's chapter :). I hope you like it! I love writing my fluffy Adrienette hehe. Plus, I always loveee writing soulmate AU's. Lemme know what you think <3

AO3

Adrien lay flat on his stomach in bed, a smile slowly stretching across his lips as he watched Marinette’s doodles come to life on his own arm. He delicately traced over the little flowers and stars that she had drawn, breathing out in awe. 

Every day he was grateful that he had found her. That very first day when he crashed into her and found that the little sketches she doodled on her arm matched the ones his soulmate had drawn on his own arm was everything.  

After finding each other, the two could barely stop writing little notes and messages to each other. Most of the time it was Adrien teasing Marinette that she was late. Again.

He shot a longing glance over at Plagg, wishing he could transform and head over to see her. But, alas, his kwami was passed out on the pillow next to him, snoring as dreams of cheese were surely filling his head.

Not wanting to disturb Plagg, Adrien quickly grabbed for a pen, scribbling on his unmarked arm.

You seem to be doodling instead of working on our physics homework there, Mari.

He bit his lip to stifle the large smile as the doodles suddenly ceased. There was a slight pause before his arm began to tingle as Marinette began to write back.

How do you know I haven’t already finished it yet and am taking a much-needed break?

Adrien snorted at the idea of Marinette having already finished all of her homework. Usually, she waited until the last minute for the classes she disliked the most.

Do you mean besides the fact that I also haven’t finished the whole assignment yet? 

He took a short pause, letting Marinette read the words that he had scrawled across the inside of his wrist before he struck an even bigger point.

Or, how about the fact that you haven’t stopped doodling since we left school? Did you have time to even start the physics homework yet?

Shush you! I’ve only just gotten home! I don’t need to worry about the homework yet.

Marinette's protestations were met with a playful chuckle from Adrien. He knew her procrastination tactics well. There was a brief enough break from her scribblings that Adrien felt a twinge of sadness in his chest. It hadn’t even been five minutes yet and already he missed talking to her. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like if they didn’t have this constant method of communication.

Soon, though, the tingle on his forearm appeared again and Adrien eagerly stared down at the words that were slowly appearing.

Have you gotten the answer to number 3 yet?

Hold on!

Springing up out of bed, he raced over to his desk. Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the piece of scratch paper that he was using to solve the equations. 

Together, they began working on the problems, their minds synchronizing as they tackled the physics problems. Adrien marveled at Marinette's ability to grasp concepts quickly, her work clear and concise even as they used their arms to describe the answers they were getting. Quickly, with both of them working together, the two finished their homework.

Great work, Mari! 

Can I go back to doodling now, teacher?

Only if you keep doodling on your arm so that I can see.

Adrien could only imagine the light pink tinge that would light up her cheeks and for about the millionth time he wished he was with her so he could see it. This time, no reply of words came from Marinette. Instead, just as he requested, a trail of doodles began to replace over the words that they had previously written to each other.

He sighed happily, rubbing his thumb over the tiny images that were blooming along his arm. His father was certainly going to yell at him about his soulmate's pictures again. Something about how it tainted his perfect skin, but Adrien didn’t care. Not with the way Marinette was currently sketching a tiny heart with the letters A + M scratched into it.

Adrien beamed before he gave a series of happy cackles. Every day he sincerely wondered how he had gotten so lucky. His soulmate was the best one of them all and no one could ever... would ever get in the way of that.

[fumblefeatures]

Sharing some of the artwork I have made for my fanfic...

My first cover and the one I use for both Ao3 and FF.net, however this is the original without filters.

It was made using photo mode on Spider-Man 2 (PS5), where I got the shot of Spidey, I then found a photo of a building ledge at night and (using paint because I don't have photoshop) I combined the two.

I then added another layer and made the background from a shot of Gotham City in Arkham Knight. Finally, I found a version of the Batsignal light that I could place over the city

I wanted to make it almost look live action, which I think the wall achieves, and I like the shot of Peter alone on the roof while he looks at the Batsignal... Really encapsulates the title of the fic (Spider Lost).

This is the original hand drawn cover I made, I'm not an artist, but my housemate and I were bored once and decided to waste a day doodling on canvas, and I used felt pens to make it. I liked the concept, and I'm overall proud of it...

The MS Paint version of the picture before. Slight tweaks made as I copied it over from a scan... Check ALT text for details if you want... I'm proud of this one too, but unfortunately, it's a bad size for use on any site as I either have to crop a lot of it or the quality drops severely or both.

Have taken loads of pics on PS5 when playing Spider-Man 2 and Remastered and keep wanting to turn them into moments from the story, but its very time-consuming.

And finally, a link to my story on Ao3 (Also on FanFiction.net) for anyone interested. Please check it out if you'd like, and feedback/reviews are always welcome :)

[going-getting-got-ghost]

@invisobang art for @camels-pen super special awesome fic “That damn ghost boy again, of all places”.

It was an awesome read and extremely fun to draw for.

Check out my art partner @charming-doodles for more awesome fic art

[hannahhook7744]

couple hc for Tiger Lily x Lampwick please !!

Tigerwick;

Requested by @casinotrio1965 .

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Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa?;

Lampwick.

Definitely Lampwick.

He never pays attention to the door he heads for lol.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them?;

Both of them and they both tried to hide it.

Lol.

Who starts the tickle fights?;

Usually Lampwick.

But Tiger Lily would on occasion.

Who starts the pillow fights?;

Both, depending on little factors like who needs cheering up/who the kids asked first.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?;

Lampwick falls asleep last and Tiger Lily wakes up first.

They both do the small affectionate smile thing (but at different times).

Who mistakes salt for sugar?;

Depends on the why?

Who mistakes salt for sugar because they just can't tell the difference: Lampwick.

Who mistakes salt for sugar because they're exhausted: Tiger Lily.

Lampwick's eye sight might not be the best after his transformation and Tiger Lily is always exhausted because she's usually juggling learning all her future chief duties, keeping track of/taking care of the kids with Lampwick, coaching tourney/ probably other sports, and being the headmistress of Neverland Academy.

Both of them will pretend like they meant to do so or that it's sugar because they're both stubborn.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning?;

Tiger Lily, because again, she's usually too tired to give a frick. Also because she's used to being up at that time from back before kids were able to age on Neverland (not all kids, just some).

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?;

Lampwick.

Tiger Lily's pick up lines are somehow never cheesy.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order?;

Lampwick: Alexander instilled the habit in him.

Tiger Lily would but he usually beats her to it (even at school, crazily enough).

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?;

Used to be them alternating but now one of the kids usually beats them to it.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion?;

Both.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen?;

Usually Tiger Lily because she's the better artist.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation?;

Tiger Lily.

She thinks their neat and love how it shows their travels.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines?;

Lampwick.

Whether they're a big spoon or little spoon?;

Alternates.

Who would bring a random animal home and make the other have it as a pet?;

Tiger Lily.

I mean, Lampwick definitely didn't decide to have three pet donkeys on his own.

He might be fine with the wolf and the dog, but them having three donkeys in your au makes me think it's either Tiger Lily or the kids.

Who is more accident prone?;

Lampwick.

Tiger Lily is more graceful.

Who is sickly and who never gets sick?;

Funnily enough, NIETHER of them are sickly.

Their kids, on the other hands....

[sundaysplayzone]

Commonly Asked Questions.

I get asked the same 3-5 questions all the time, so I thought I might make this new lil pinned post to help everyone out! But first, I want to thank you all for visiting my blog!

Do you take requests?

No, I do not.

Are your commission open?

Yes currently! Honestly now a days they’re almost always open. You can check them out on my website HERE!

Are you okay with gift art?

Of course! I would be flattered! If you’d like, you can find most of my characters here on toyhouse (I promise to update it soon!)!

How do you get the retro/vhs effects on your art?

I actually made a tutorial on that here! But honestly at the end of the day it’s a lot of “I plug this picture into several different apps and video editing software.” I wish I could give you a simple answer, but there is no easy way to do it that’s the same every time. I rarely if ever do it the same way back to back. Some colors look better when edited in Photoshop, some in Photomosh Pro. I pay almost $100 a month to have access to all of the software I use to make these effects because it’s part of my job. But luckily you can find so many free tutorials and apps out there, you just need to be curious and try new things!

What do you use to draw?

Another vague answer whoo! Sorry, but I use so many things to draw! But usually it’s sketch/ink/color/shade in Paint Tool Sai, and then move it to Photoshop to add the background, effects and details. I also use Procreate and Clip Studio from time to time. When it comes to traditional, it’s usually standard cardstock or a mixed media sketchbook. Then I draw and color with microns, copic pens, jelly rollers/gel pens, prisma colored markers and copic markers. 

Did you draw the backgrounds in your art? And if you use screenshots, where do you get them?

In the majority of my pictures, I use screenshots from old cartoons. I get these screenshots from the shows themselves. My friend is kind enough to set up a program that takes snapshots hundreds of times during the show. Then when the episode is over, they send them to me. I then spend HOURS, going through thousands of images and delete all but the good pieces. A majority of the time they take a lot of editing to be usable. I have to clean them up, remove character and scale the images.

This isn’t always the case however! I do often draw my own backgrounds! If you ever want to know, feel free to ask!

As for the more aesthetic/abstract backgrounds, I make those myself! I spent far too much money buying licenses and rights to use tons of different patterns and vectors. With those, I love recreating authentic backgrounds in the style of those seen in the 80s and 90s!

I see you draw a lot of Transformation/Chubby/(insert common movie trope here). Are you a fetish artist?

No, I am not a fetish artist. Do I draw art that might be someone’s fetish? Do I take commissions from people with a fetish for this subject matter? Yes, of course. But people need to realize, furry characters alone are a kink to some people. For me the difference is in how it’s drawn. And I personally do not draw my art in a way that sexualizes the piece.

I love drawing transformation scenes, people being swallowed by a monster, extra big tummies, but not because it’s something that I find hot. I just like drawing fun scenes. I get bored of just drawing a character standing in place all the time. I like drawing wacky scenes! 

A lot of my love for these come from cartoons. Edmund getting turned into a cat in Rock a Doodle. Hercules getting swallowed by the hydra. Kaa hypnotizing... everyone xD It’s just a story telling tool and sometimes it’s fun to draw! I’m not into hypno but I do like drawing big, colorful eyes. I’m just whatever about tf but I love drawing the swirling magic effects and the character changing from human to animal. It’s just cool to me!

In short, when I draw these things, it’s like I get to draw scenes from cartoons and movies in my style. It’s so wonderful to attempt to emulate some of the effects and details they used in movies from my childhood. It’s not about the hand changing into a paw for me, it’s the magical sparkles and how it’s so bright and vibrant compared to everything else. Where you see it go from hand to paw, that’s what I love drawing about tf art! Or being able to exaggerate the body and make a character look weighty by making them really round. Getting to draw a comically big mouth, giving a fun and interesting perspective shot. I think that stuff is so neat! Because it’s art!

I don’t care if it is someone’s fetish. I’m not drawing it in a way that’s sexual. Heck, it even says I wont in my TOS! Everything is G-PG here in Sunday’s Playzone! I’m not here to make that kind of content. It’s okay if adults have fetishes, and so long as you and others aren’t sexualizing my art, all is well!

[lingulaca]

fountain pens that my favs from house of the dragon would use

rhaenyra targaryen

ok so since rhae is a writer she wants a pen with a large ink capacity, a flex nib for line variation (hc: she was taught calligraphy at a young age and it's as easy as walking to her now), that also functions as a demonstrator for when aegon III and viserys II get curious and want to try writing with it as well, and one that isn't too flashy so she can use it every day. for those reasons i'm giving her the Noodler's ahab flex — Clear 🥳

this pen can also be transformed into an eyedropper by removing the piston fill system and putting bottled ink in the barrel !! something she enjoys because she wants to be able to write for a long time with her most treasured inks and not have to think about refills. speaking of ink, she is very fond of all the Robert Oster shimmer inks, but by far her favorite is Heart of Gold

daemon targaryen

daemon's preferences for fountain pens differ a bit from rhaenyra's. he associates pens with work, therefore outside of working hours he'd rather not think or look at pens at all. he likes something reliable, so with a sturdy nib that's able to write for a while without lifting. he'd want one that's easy to use that can also handle the elements so the S.T. Dupont Défi Millennium — Navy Blue

he's the same with ink, he wants something in a cartridge for easy refills that also dries fast. he uses Kaweco Pearl Black Ink which rhaenyra so badly wants to switch for Noodler's Roses in the Louvre without him knowing

aemma arryn

something about her just gives me the vibe that she's a reallll big fan of Sailor. specifically their Compass 1911 — Transparent Blue (hc: blue is her favorite color) she doesn't mind using convertors, in fact her most unpopular opinion is that convertors are better than eyedroppers because yeah, sure, an average eyedropper can hold 2-3 ml but for aemma, changing out inks and switching between different ones every few weeks is part of the fun !! she also doesn't write long essays/letters often, saving her pens for little doodles here and there, postcards, notes, etc.

because she switches them so often, she doesn't have any holy grail inks. she knows what she wants out of any ink — wetness and a certain level of vibrancy. when she fills her pen using a convertor, she dips it in one ink bottle and fills the pen halfway then uses a color that goes with the first to fill it the rest of the way. the two she does this with the most are the Herbin inks, specifically this one and this one

i wanna do a part 2 since i reached the picture limit on this one lol

[mrfancyfoot]

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

Fic Rating: E/Varied | Chapter 1: AO3 + Tumblr | Master List

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Chapter 13: Excel-exual "Raphael takes a peek into Evie’s precious journal."

< Previous Chapter: Ch. 12 Friendfiction | Next Chapter: Ch. 14 Scarlet >

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❤️ Thank-you for reading!! I adore all of you :3 ❤️

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Ch. Rating: M-ish / NSFW-ish Ch. Word Count: 4.5k Ch. Tags: POV Raphael; Haarlep; Character Analysis; Schemes; Unreliable Narrator; Raphael Approves

Ch. Warnings: Sexy, sexy spreadsheets; Mentions of Drug Use (medicinal, experimental [Do not try at home, never eat unknown mushrooms!]); Mentions of Alcohol and Dub-Con; Raphael’s Obsessed; Mental Health (Stress, Anxiety, ADHD Allusions, Fixations); Questionable Poetry

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Read under the cut or on AO3-

Loose pages threatened to flutter to the floor as Raphael carefully scanned the open spread of the fox’s journal with a burning curiosity.

It was brimming with notes, drawn maps, charts, musings, strategies, doodles…  Stuffed with found letters and scribbles from her travels.  Torn excerpts from books.  A deep look into the mind of the little fox sleeping away.

Her quill had been dropped between two pages, marking a thought interrupted when she had been summoned.  The Moonrise Towers.  A collection of found information and intelligence.  Their current strategy and goals for what they believed was upcoming.

He flipped to the beginning.

Entries began as daily reports and morphed into pages tracking various quests and wants and goals with reports moved to a set of pages carefully ruled into weekly sections.  Each page diligently numbered.

A pair of hand ruled calendars ticked off the days and tracked events.  Translations of dates, measurements, et cetera, between the Faerûn standard and her own.

She had a small, careful hand hidden by her admitted inexperience with a quill - it shed the shaky, uneven lines, blots, and strikes through the dated entries, gaining a smoothness with the repeated practice.  There was little flourish behind her pen, the writing appearing crisp and utilitarian in later areas.  Impeccable spelling and grammar, an advanced vocabulary - proof of the higher education he suspected despite her casual manner of speech.

The journal had seen better days and ink, dirt, and other unknown substances were smeared and spattered across nearly every page…  Some required peeling apart.  It smelled vaguely of Evie though mostly of a roil of scents from her travels.

A section was dedicated to inventory - the pages divided up into neat columns and rows with name and count meticulously tracked.  Items sorted by type with a wealth of other information noted.  When space ran out, new pages had been glued, bound, and folded onto the end.  Subsequent iterations showed changes over time, indicating what had been deemed important to her to track.  Food stores had their own section similarly formatted.  He recalled that Korrilla had made note in a report that Evie could be frequently seen taking stock of inventory.  Had she performed similar work in her past life?  This level of organisation spoke to experience he had not gathered from conversing with her…

According to her inventory, they held a few rare items of interest.  Perhaps she would be amenable to parting with them following the conclusion of this saga?

Pages here and there torn out.

Pages of recipe and document titles with-

Well, be still his infernal, bloody heart…she used reference and change codes.  From the number of them, she kept many separate, feasibly in some other journal or collection.  Noted page numbers called back to relevant inventories, reports, musings…and information she had compiled about various individuals.  What a trove!

Leading a claw down the document list, his eyes fell on one of interest: the copy of the first Soul-Sworn contract he had offered.  It was found folded at the back of the journal, as indicated, along with a few other documents that he set aside.

He knew she had made changes prior to stating her rejection but had never seen them.  A blue ink was stark against the black used for the copy.  The top right was dated and twice coded for the corresponding document number and change number.  She had struck through the signature lines at the bottom and written ‘REJECTED’ atop them.  Each strike, note, and change was initialed - EV.

He passingly pondered what the ‘V’ represented.  That could not be how she actually spelled her name…could it?  While he doubted, it was not a quirk he could put past the fox.  It was also possible that she lived by her initials.  They had gleaned no information on possible family ties through their efforts to verify her identity.

Thoughts were able to be plucked from all save the little fox.  Music.  All he and his warlock could ever hear was strange music that they had been unable to pierce through.  Some individuals were expected to have mental fortifications to protect against such intrusions, however, there was no reason to believe that Evie, who hailed from a plane where magic is foreign, would have had any such learned protections of that caliber.  An early annoyance he had to work around.  Was it a product of her tadpole?  He knew hers projected that music of her mind to those also infected - a frequent complaint within the group.  Was it attempting to transmit something else?

The more revealed of her, the more evident it became that she was abnormal in more ways than one.  An ever growing, ever morphing puzzle.

It was difficult to believe that this was the same fox who would routinely need to be reminded of the topic of discussion while they spoke if, by the Hells, anything happened to distract her.

Without her presence to distract and cloud his mind, his thoughts revisited her use.  Caging her away, while tempting, would be a waste of her skills.  It would serve well in both the Gate and his court once his takeover of the Hells was put into motion.  True talent that shared his love for order was so difficult to find!

Although…there was little need for one to leave the House for most administrative tasks, and for the ones that necessitated doing so…well, that was the job of a courier.

From this, he had to ask himself how much of the chaos surrounding the fox was of her own doing?  She had eccentricities aplenty, yet how would her group of blighted companions have fared without her reining them in and tracking all of this information?  Would they have lost their way or separated to the winds?  Would another have stepped up?  Perhaps this degree of detail was gratuitous relative to what was needed at the minimum, but she was flourishing in her role as their leader despite her flaws, as he knew she would.  Much was shouldered on this little fox.

He took up his own quill once more to add to the night’s notes, starting with her numerous contract complaints.

Finding the dossiers she kept on individuals, he scanned through them.  Much she had written was already known to him and she kept personal thoughts here to a minimum.  More reference numbers dotted the pages.  Karlach’s had notes about the infernal engine within her.  The Archdruid…the wizard…Lae’zel…Wyll…  To be expected, Astarion’s was more detailed than most.

‘Scars - written in Infernal per A.  Ask R?’

He grinned.  This gave him an edge.  They intended to ask him - for who else could she mean? - about Astarion’s scars.

His satisfaction then turned sour with disappointment and confusion.  The page reserved for himself was entirely blank.

He had almost flipped past it as the page was entitled with a sole ‘R,’ to which she had amusingly added horns.

Unlike others that she saw as outsiders and enemies to her group, there was no physical description.  Nothing to identify him explicitly as a devil.

Korrilla had more written about her.  He suspected the fox had known of his warlock’s presence well before official introductions and learning that she worked for him.  The very few references to him were marked with a simple ‘R’ and kept brief.

She referred to his House of Hope as simply ‘the House.’

Was she withholding writing down information about him?  An interesting notion.

Referring to him not even by full name anywhere - the only such individual treated so vaguely - led him to believe there was a purpose.

Haarlep, however - or ‘Harlep’ as she had spelled it - had been written about at length.  He felt a twinge of bitterness that he was able to read her thoughts on his incubus but not himself.  Her dislike of them was palpable even in ink, breaking the rule of other dossiers that were free of such biases.  Since their first tumultuous encounter, she had not cared to see the fiend again - which Haarlep had taken to moaning about around their attempts to steal glimpses and engage her in salacious conversation.

‘Won’t fucking take no for an answer.’

‘Charm effect with gaze?  Don’t think that affects me?  They’ve implied they have other means of control/coercion, though - avoid being near.  -Not touch -Effect or spell from kiss? (ew)  Maybe venom?’

‘Incubi feed off of sexual energy and probably souls.  Not keen on finding out what would happen if they got their way.  This one has some degree of transformative ability (R) - idk if all do.  They’re sparkly, so glamour?  When they have a form, that person can feel what they do (???).  How do they get the form?’

Spatters of ink dotted the page in what appeared to be areas where she had stabbed at the paper with her quill.  Her feelings towards the incubus stood out to him.  Her frustration was palpable and no other he found had earned animosity.

‘Mfker’s relentless.  Now being gross from the pool/boudoir.  Idk how they found out abt hearing.  [forceful scribbles]  Lucky guess?  R told them?  Something I did?  Refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.  No reason to trust anything they say.  Hoping they just get bored and fuck off.  Or drop dead.’

‘Bastard’s lucky they get hot water ._. ’

‘What’s their purpose @ the House?  Not treated or behave like one of the servants & seem to get far more leeway.  Not like K, either?  Def some degree of antagony b/w Hr and R, though.  Contract terms?  Just a really annoying guard?’

Ah…Haarlep had discovered her heightened hearing, taking advantage of it by teasing her from afar with, no doubt, ‘inappropriate comments.’  How naughty.  The fox, however, made no mention of this behavior to him nor had he witnessed any indications of such distractions - yet it bothered her enough to write down. She was prone to distraction, however, so would he have been able to distinguish?  How would she look with lust and obscenities whispered in her ear?

Why not tattle on the incubus and tell him of her discomfort?  She had hesitated earlier in saying that her visits were relaxing - was this why?  Certain precautions had been taken due to that hearing of hers, but it was clear now that he had not gone far enough.  It appeared Haarlep had revealed part of their arrangement.  Perhaps she was simply too embarrassed to risk revealing what she had learned?

Though…there was a thread of envy here that he was sensing.  Was the little fox covetous of what she saw as special treatment afforded to the fiend?  A new light was cast on her resentment of them.  Perhaps in denial over her desires?  Was claiming his chair due rather to feeling…territorial?

Despite her earlier words, she may be more open to his newer thoughts on an arrangement than he was led to believe.

It would seem Haarlep had a use here, after all.

On a whim of inquisitiveness, Raphael flipped back to the page about Astarion.  Nowhere was it mentioned that he was a vampire spawn.  She had not physically described any of her companions.  And now that he was deliberately seeking, he noticed there was obvious information missing throughout many of her entries.  Even Astarion’s links to Cazador, and vice versa, had been muddied through a use of misleading references.  Cunning, little fox.

The journal was a wealth of information, but she had taken care not to reveal certain identities and information.  Feasibly in the event that it fell into another’s hands - such as now.  He understood Astarion, but to include him in such care meant a greater degree of sympathy than he had expected at this juncture.  Or perhaps she did not wish for another to know a devil reserved her time?

The last section of her journal was dedicated to her personal entries.  

Pages filled with doodles and affirmations.  Lines of poetry and song.  Scores of melodies.  Her thoughts and reminders on this and that.  Her voice was more casual here than in the rest of the journal.

.

‘I am Evie.

I am the beat of the butterfree’s wings.

I am the dandelion on the wind.

I am the howl of the storm.

I am the erosion of rain.

I am the flower blooming in concrete.

And I am magnificent.’

.

As quaint as she.  ‘Magnificent’...a lofty word.  One that spoke of a dazzling pride, unrelenting ambitions, feats of splendor, and realised dreams.  A word that played prettily on his tongue.

The magnificent little fox.

Were you truly, little fox?

He would look forward to her magnificence.

He took notice of her name written here - so the V was a separate initial…

‘Plan A: Yank It Out’

A diagram of an eye, where she believed the tadpole was, and the various detailed steps she would take to remove it.  Her thoughts on this sprawled across a full spread of pages.

‘I think DV is connected more to the slug than they have shared.  I don’t like that they are encouraging its use.  Why?  Protecting me/us from its influence - how?  Something is off about them but I can’t put my finger on what.  An uncanniness.'

An arrow was drawn from the word ‘uncanniness’ to where she had written:  ‘Like the incubus!  Glamour/fake projection?  No sparkle bc dream?  But why?’

‘Why does mine project?  If not for the mash of music, would it be my thoughts?  Still does that force connection thing to other slugs sometimes - thoughts/memories/feelings - though the others have said mine are hazy (?).  Doesn’t seem to do anything else (for the others given powers, I can see why its use is tempting).  O said mine seems weaker than others, though.  Maybe not meant to be constantly broadcasting?  Has it weakened?  Or it came damaged?  Or it just isn’t compatible with my weird brain? lol’

‘DV visiting more often.  They said my slug is weak bc I don’t use it and removing it would kill me (X to doubt).  They don't like that I'm trying to get rid of it.  They don’t like my meetings with R.  They are def reading my thoughts.  G & R couldn’t manage that.  Via slug?  Doesn’t seem to be all the time.  Can’t trust something reading my thoughts.’

.

‘I don’t like things in my head,

I said.

I don’t like them red, white, purple, green.

I don’t like them when they come by dream.

I have my music, my radios of thought.

I have a crowd thinking I can be bought.

Power, protection, glory.

Trust me!

‘I can remove it!*’

Trust me.

Trust me.

I miss the quiet,

The safety of my maze.

Instead I’ve a riot,

And can’t focus for days.

It’s enough to scream,

‘Save me, o’ dextroamp-amphetamine!’

*For a fee.’

.

How insightful!  Her worries, her fears, and the meandering paths winding towards the truth.  He was quite satisfied to read of her distrust in their dream visitor.  His was the only voice she should be heeding.

She ‘missed the quiet’?  Was this in reference to her music or to another force invading her mind?  Or perhaps merely to a ‘riotous crowd’ of companions demanding so much of her attention that she had none left to focus on anything else?

The last line referred to what read as a chemical compound - an amphetamine stimulant of sorts.  No addictions and perhaps not illicit where she was from - by her words - but what of medicinal use?  Korrilla had reported that the fox drank an ‘alarming’ amount of kaeth, especially for someone who outwardly despised the taste.  Perhaps caffeine was a circumstantial substitution?  Another note to research…

‘Plan B: Wait ‘n See

Why be hasty?  It’s different and there for a reason.  I don’t think ceremorphosis is it.  Or why mutate/modify it?  Unless…Super Illithids!  Not the hero origin story I wanted…  XP’

‘Plan C: Dumb Luck

Maybe it’ll just…resolve on its own.’

Raphael scoffed.  ‘Plan: Accept the Devil’s Bargain’ was nowhere written - except coded within poetry.

What hubris.

Pages of thoughts and diagrams for inventions and innovations.  A list of ‘modern’ amenities she missed so much she would find them or a way to recreate them here.

‘Self-inking pens

Stretchy hair ties

Deodorant

Bug Repellant

Hoodies

~The Internet~

Computer

Digital Archive

Phones

Vibrator

Pizza

Pasta

Ramen

Vanilla Coke

Chocolate

My teeeeeea

Penicillin

Blood Bank

A gun’

She had spoken of her plans for the pen, and it seemed she was already crafting and testing parts.  A ‘communications and archival device’ commanded the most pages.  An advanced technology for which he could see numerous benefits…should she be successful.  She frequently alluded to a device in their talks that he presumed was much like this one.

Ideas for an energy source to power the device.  A battery created from crystals that could be recharged by the user’s energy.  

‘Sounds safer than me trying to 1. find, 2. fuck around w/ nickel, lithium, etc…’

Ideas for computational coding models.

‘Hybridized model - replace mag components where possible’

‘Build in encryption.  Per G, magic comms. signals can be intercepted easily. idk if that applies to radio freqs tho? - test’

She had more than simple passing knowledge of all these components - this was an ability to replicate and create.  An ability, if proven, significantly increased her value.  It did appear that she had an aversion to magic-based components, though no notes provided explanation as to why, and she was, at the very least, consulting the wizard…  Perhaps a simple preference for that which she was most comfortable?  A device for communications that could not be intercepted by magic would be highly sought after.

Her silly idea to go the path of manufacturing goods may deserve more consideration than he had initially allotted…

Innovation created technology, advanced efficiency and order.  In the right hands, technology was power.

His confidence grew, feeling increasingly vindicated in his choice to focus his efforts on her.

The final set of entries continued in a similar vein of oddity - not surprising in the least at this juncture.  An ongoing experiment.

‘Got hit by spores from weird blue mushroom in Underdark.  Made others act odd - energetic, snappy, restless.  Made me sleepy.’

‘Collected several specimen - took precautions.  Likes to grow along the river bank and damp areas.  Seems to stay small and low-growing.  Ventral side has dark violet gills - same color splotches appear on cap after harvested when it loses glow.  H not familiar.  See if O knows more?’

‘O said no known use yet and toxic (but not deadly to their knowledge) for many to eat - stomach issues, headaches, increased aggression, blurred vision, jitters, muscle cramps.  Would that occur with microdosing?  The others did complain of aches and upset for a bit after it wore off before but they were hit by more than I was.  Use for spores vs meat?  Fresh vs dried?  Maybe G will help me test :3’

Detailed pictures of this mushroom and a small map of where she had found them.  A grid where she had begun tracking exposure, amounts taken, side effects, dates...  

A list of observed growth conditions.

So keenly interested in this mushroom - for what cause?  He considered the side effects she observed in herself thus far - drowsy, calm, headache, alert, moody…  What was it that she sought?  There were many notes but no goal stated.

A sleep aid, perhaps?  Did the little fox have trouble sleeping?

Her words before of ‘missing the quiet’ came back to mind.  She did fall deeply asleep here while left alone.  He knew her camp to be rather undisciplined.  Was she unable to block out excessive noise with that hearing of hers?  He recalled in another report that the fox had started constructing her tent further from the others…

The rest of the pages were blank but as he paged back through the journal, a note scrawled on the inside of the cover caught his eye:

‘If you are reading this, you’ve found Evie’s journal.  She acknowledges that she left it somewhere stupid, again.  Please return it.’

A laugh seized him.

A common occurrence, dear fox?

.

.

Raphael didn’t look up as the incubus sauntered in, their nose in the air.  “Your office is beginning to smell of the fox.”  They draped themself over the back of his chair, running a claw down the ornate wood as they eyed his work from over his shoulder.  “Did she visit?  Is that what has you so worked up?  What did she do?  You have not even come to bed!”

He continued to ignore them.

“Ahh~”  Haarlep held up their fingers, pinching several strands of red fur with a grin.  “What evidence!  Now, I truly must know!  Perhaps you had her strip and touch herself here, hm?”  They loudly sniffed at the chair.  “Yet I smell nothing of her arousal,” they added with exaggerated disappointment.

Sliding a finger down his arm, they leaned closer to his ear.  “Or are you to tell me that the little vixen got a free pass to seat herself upon your chair?  She certainly made herself at home with all this fur left behind.  Or perhaps you disciplined her?  Laid her over your knee and-”

“Must you disturb me?” Raphael sneered, in no mood for their antics.  Exhaustion was closing in on him and yet he had work to complete before succumbing to its call.

They flicked away the fur and began unbuttoning his doublet.  “Must you torture me so by getting all hot and bothered and doing nothing about it?  From what I felt, she must have practically pranced around you naked!”  He shook off their wandering hands.  They gasped, “Was she naked when you summoned her?  Caught at an inopportune time?  Or may it have been…with purpose?  Is she a little seductress, after all?  Simply begging for you to take her!”

He knew it would be worse to admit that the fox had truly done nothing save place her trust in him with her vulnerability.  And he was not about to tell the incubus that she was tucked away in the House asleep.

“Just a few minutes with me and I’ll have her mewling like a kitten.  You desire her, don’t you?”  Not giving them the response they wanted, they unlatched themself from the back of his chair and rounded the desk to throw themself into the chair opposite.  “I do not understand this game you insist on playing with this one,” they whined.  “Why not just take her?  She has listened to an absurd amount of your prattling on about the history of Cormyr and Calimshan without falling asleep or begging you to stop to find it disagreeable.  I’ve seen that fluffy tail wag quite often - that means she is happy in your presence!  Flirty, even!” they pointed out as though he was unaware.

“The game is patience, Haarlep!  She is on a path towards completing the goals ahead of her.  That is the priority.  Should the opportunity for a contract present itself once more, I shall most eagerly take advantage,” he emphasized, pausing in the middle of his writing.  “Barring that, before the dust has settled after this saga, the curtain shall rise for the next.  Rest assured, the fox will be mine.”

They hopped to their feet and flung themself forward to rest their head on their elbows atop his desk, grinning ear to ear.  “Does this mean you are getting me a playmate?  You wouldn’t be going through all this effort if you intended her as just any silly little toy to break in and toss aside once you are satisfied with their image alone.”

Haarlep needn’t know that he had no intention of allowing them to have her in the way they most wanted.  “Toys have significantly less use once broken.  With the proper care taken, the fox will be tamed and under my control.  She would make a far less entertaining pet without that tongue and brain of hers.”  

“Mm…  She said she liked your poetry, did she?” Haarlep teased.  “So disrespectful, though…  But I can help tame her!  How about starting with how one must always respectfully greet their betters?  And no pets on the furniture unless commanded?  Though she can sleep with me, of course, and I can ensure that she is always-”

“Cease your attempts to interfere.  Or has Mephistopheles instructed you to sabotage this, as well?” Raphael hissed in accusation, cutting off their spiral into fantasy.  He would not put it past his father to order his spy to get in the way of something else he desired.  

With a smirk, they gave a half-hearted shrug as they flicked away dirt from under their claws.  “It's not like he would care.  After all, what's more distracting than a brand new pet to break in?”  They fell against the desk dramatically as they continued whining, “I just want to play~  Such a stubborn little foxy.  She does remind me of-”

“Hold your tongue,” he demanded.

They chuckled and looked up at him.  “Oh, Master, it has been weeks since you’ve so much as mentioned the birdie in the dungeons.  All I hear now is how the fox has done this and done that and said~  Are you so afraid that she, too, may reje-”

“Should the stubborn little fox inform me that you continue to be a nuisance, I shall honor any desire of hers to have nothing to do with you,” he threatened.  He may be unable to do away with the incubus at present, but he could certainly withhold something they saw as desirable.  And the protection from or threat of Haarlep would be quite the carrot and stick for the fox should any behavioral adjustments be needed.

They jerked up with a pout.  “Then she would hardly be a playmate!”

“Then I suggest, Haarlep, that you be on your best behavior.”

“Properly seduce her and she’ll sign anything - they always do!” they attempted to argue.  Haarlep lacked the nuance and patience for long term plans, preferring to opt for whatever was most convenient to them regardless of the end result being less than optimal as long as it was good enough.  But he strove for nothing short of perfection!  “She strikes me as a ‘cutesy romantic dinner’ kind of woman.  Go take her to one of those plays first and then a walk beneath the stars!  Sit close and whisper sweet nothings as you feed her delicacies.  Ply her with a bit of wine and she’ll be all blushy and giggly when you whisk her away to our bed!”

“Yes, a fine date…,” he drawled, “for after her current work is complete.”

“But that’s taking so looong!”  He smacked away their claw shredding the corner of his paperwork.  “Tell her to hurry up!  I think we would both much rather a cute, little, fluffy foxy than a slimy squid.  Although…I have never been with that tentacled sort…”

The very notion filled him with disgust.  He was not about to arm Haarlep with such a body in their repertoire.  “Of that, we are in agreement.  Now, away with you!  I have work to complete.”

“Mm, what tedium.  There is forever work to complete,” they sighed as they turned and slipped from the room.

❤️ Thank-you for reading!! Please consider liking & reblogging.❤️

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Coming up next: Evie has an interesting dream

[monroeknoxwrites]

i have a prompt for you (or a few lol, but this is the first): wiv and doodles!

The mess hall was much smaller than what Wiv expected. Looking at the size of the space when they boarded, he pictured huge rooms designed for hundreds of Coalition soldiers.

This place, it was closer to a cafe. The tables were sized to match, not the long cafeteria style tables meant to maximize space but individuals ones with three to four seats bolted to the floor. They were spaced enough for the semblance of privacy while anyone talking loud enough could be heard throughout the room.

It worked perfectly to his needs. He was slouched into a chair, legs up, face buried in his sketchbook. He stole furtive glances over it then his pen set to work sketch in board, round strokes, white ink on thick dark paper.

The subject of his undivided attention was Thelnym, eating slices of vegetables one at a time.

They had existed as larger than life in Wiv's imagination since he was a kid – a hero, an idol, the chosen of the progenitors. The real thing did not disappoint.

His style was usually very loose and based on the emotions people invoked in him, capturing their essence in a mess of lines. Thelnym's lines were hard to contain, to define. Wiv sketched to the very edge of pages and beyond. White ink covered the side of his hand. He liked the smudges it caused, the unpredictable nature of it, additions outside his control.

In quick succession he filled five pages. He had to memorize every detail, every feeling, immortalize it.

Their scales became spirals that wandered across rolling, overlapping hills of a body, their hair tangled vines transforming into a sky overhead. And always they were orbited by the vague shape of the woman they dwarfed as a planet does its moon. The woman sending disapproving stares his way. Thelnym didn't look at him once.

Wiv would pay more attention to the woman named Özgür later. He had sketchbooks designated for them all. The Coalition's first paycheck was put to good use stocking up on them before they left.

He didn't really have that much clothes anyway.

[mousart]

I have a problem with perfection and permanence. So when I told my shrink about how I do sketches v how my sister does sketches, she said I should experiment with using pen and being okay with not taking things back.

I haven’t used pen to draw (outside of margin doodles) since I first started learning to draw as, like, an 8 year old.

So here’s a few things I did where I sat and just moved the one around in whatever movements if shapes I felt like.

Then when I saw something in the noise I tried to refine it into something.

Additive art is very uh… difficult. This is one of the reasons why I struggled with painting. When you have something in mind and you make a mistake, you can try to alter it, replace it, or start over. Every art instructor, amateur or pro, will talk about making your mistakes work for you by using it or transforming it.

But if you make mistakes with your alterations or replacements then it just cascades and what do you have left? Garbage. It’s garbage. It’s wasted time and wasted resources.

And you made nothing.

You have to start from the beginning because you made nothing.

But I’m supposed to learn to be more okay with that, not just in art but with everything else.

[neko-naruto]

Contractually Obligated

Summary: Two dumbasses at age thirteen write a contract, they'll go on a date if they're both single at age twenty two. Nine years later and both of said dumbasses are single and have been waiting patiently for the day they go on a date, as bros of course, for shits 'n giggles, that's all it is

Warnings: Swearing, minor blood, implied sexual content, heavily suggestive themes, gratuitous use of the word faggot, check ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: *climbs into the kenman enjoyer treehouse* so yeah, I wrote a fic and thought ya'll might enjoy cause we're starving out here. I main K2, but kenman holds a specific place in my heart alongside it, so yeah, have some kenman. hope ya'll like it and if you do consider dropping a like or reblog

"If you don't have a girlfriend by the time we're," Kenny pauses, thinking over his words carefully. If he chooses a timeframe too small he knows Cartman will buy someone, if he chooses one too large, Cartman might actually get a date. He laughs internally at the idea, "Twenty, yeah, twenty two, then we should go on a date."

Cartman gives a snort of laughter, "That's nine years Kenny, I have plenty of time," But, even as he says it, Kenny's words have planted an anxiousness in him. What if he doesn't have a girlfriend? He'll have to go on a date with Kenny, that would be... Not bad, but not good either. He rifles through his pockets, "Let's make it a deal."

"A contract?" Kenny asked as Cartman spread a piece of paper on the floor.

"Yeah, unless you're pussy," Cartman said rather boldly.

"Then let's make it blood," Kenny countered with as he reached blindly for a pen he knew rested on Cartman's desk. He pulled down a blue one and handed it to Cartman with a small toss, "Go on, write the terms."

Cartman fidgets with the pen for a moment, "And you wanna make it blood?"

Kenny nodded, "Yeah, unless you're pussy."

And Cartman instantly leaves the room, wordlessly, which is a worry for Kenny. He usually goes with a huff or an exclamation of some sort, but silence? Never, that is not Cartman.

Of course, before Kenny can act on his worry Cartman is standing in the doorway with a knife, the butchers cleaver. He drops back down on the ground, "How much of a blood contract are we thinking, Kenneth?"

"The average," Kenny said as he grabbed the knife by the blade, "Write the terms first bro."

Cartman rolls his eyes before popping the cap off of the pen and placing it down on the paper. He scrawls out some words, "If we aren't in stable relationships by the time we're twenty, then we'll go on a date," He reaches for the knife and Kenny yanks it away.

"Where on a date?" Kenny asked.

"I don't fucking know! But this is fine," Cartman stated boldly, "It's not like it'll matter when we're in our twenties, I'll be out of town and so will you, we might not even be in touch."

"We will," Kenny said. He held out a hand, pinkie extended, "I promise."

Cartman bats away Kenny's hand and the blonde feigns hurt, "I'll write it down," He quickly tacked on 'and if we fail to fulfill this because we lose contact its Kennys fault' before reaching for the blade.

Kenny grabs Cartmans hand.

"Faggot,"

Kenny ignores Cartman, he just presses the blade gently to the pad of Cartman's pointer finger. He presses his thumb to the center of Cartman's hand to keep the fingers tensed. He slices, clean through the skin and Cartman hisses as crimson bubbles up and drips down onto the paper.

He does the same to his own finger and lets a drop of his blood splash right next to Cartman's. Red bleeds into each other through the paper and Kenny grabs a red pen, he draws a heart around the splotches and Cartman cringes. Kenny just scribbles a little shitty doodle of them holding hands to get under the brunettes skin even more.

"I'm gonna have a partner when we're twenty two," Cartman spat under his breath.

Kenny lifted his gaze, "Sure you will."

"What about you? What if you have a partner?" Cartman quickly countered with as he watched the blood dry. He fucked up. He's fucked. He's gonna have to go on a date with Kenny when they're twenty two.

"I'll let 'em know in advance," Kenny said with a nonchalant shrug, "I will go out with you though, it's gonna happen."

"You absolute faggot," Cartman uttered incredulously as he stared at the blonde.

"I know, I don't care," Kenny hummed, "Make sure you get lots of practice when it comes to kissing before we go out, I expect you have some experience."

"You're so sure of yourself, Kenny," The brunette picked up the paper and folded it, "Who's holding onto it?"

"I will," Kenny said as he snatched up the contract, "You'll burn it."

Cartman gives an amused hum, "Caught me red-handed."

-/-/-/-

He had nine whole years to get his shit together, and if not that, then he had nine years to figure out how to fully cut Kenny out of his life so he'd never have to face the terms and conditions of the paper that haunted him in his nightmares until he was nineteen. After that he sort of, forgot about the paper. He had a small, impossibly short-lived fling with some chick and the contract was out of his head entirely.

Still, despite moving as far away from South Park as he possibly could, he still finds himself drawn back to the shit hole. A type of pull he can't deny, and it gets stronger every single time he hears Kenny's voice over a call. He doesn't notice it until he's on the border of South Park, standing beside the sign with his car parked on the grass. His last chance to run away, but he doesn't take it, he has unfinished business whether he likes it or not.

Despite not wanting to go through with it, he knows deep in his gut that he needs to do it. He needs to spend a night with Kenny on the town even though there's almost nothing to do. He's forgotten about the paper. He's lying. He's been waiting for this the same way Kenny used to wait for the hour he died. It's kept him up at night, thinking about how long it's been since he last touched Kenny, last saw his face, will they even recognize each other now? It's not like Cartman's changed much, but what about Kenny? Will Cartman still be able to tell it's Kenny just by the timbre of his voice and the way he walks?

Still, Eric Cartman, age twenty two, single, drives into South Park with a defiant determination to get this shit over with.

-/-/-/-

Kyle is taller than him now. That doesn't stop him from pinning the ginger to the wall, hoisting him up by the collar of his shirt just a bit. Kyle just glares down at him.

"I was beginning to think you'd died, thanks for never fucking calling fatass," Kyle snapped at Cartman.

Cartman just smirked and tightened the grip, "Yeah well, I don't exactly like you."

"Grow up," Kyle snapped and Cartman dropped him.

"Where's Kenny?" Cartman questioned as he rubbed off his hands on his pants.

Kyle shrugged, "I haven't seen him in days, last I heard from him he was worried he didn't have enough money. He never does, so I don't know why he'd be worried about it."

"Thanks Jew," Cartman said as he turned to leave, "Tell your shitty boyfriend I say hi."

And instead of being smug and saying 'you're going to see Stan anyways' Kyle just nods and says, "I'll let him know you say hi."

-/-/-/-

There's this muffled 'come in!' from Kenny when Cartman knocks on the front door of the auto-shop. When the door swings open a bell jingles and Kenny is sitting at the desk with his feet kicked up, he drops his magazine and his eyes widen as he stares at Cartman. The brunette takes a couple steps in further as he watches Kenny slowly get up from his desk, like he was afraid Cartman would run if he moved too fast.

"Hi, Kenny," Even though Cartman beat up his odd way of saying Kenny's name years ago, he lets it seep through for a moment.

"Are you real?" Kenny asked before he could stop himself.

Cartman can't help but grin, "Are you high? Cause if not then I'd say I am real."

For once in his life Cartman is glad he decided to hit the weights for a bit even though it didn't make him any slimmer. Instead it gave him enough wherewithal to handle being tackled into a hug by the ratty blonde. He can feel Kenny's grin against his neck with face mashed into his shoulder and arms squeezing so tight he can feel his breath shorten a little bit. He hugs back and lifts Kenny up, an easy couple inches off the ground, squeezing until he hears something pop.

"That felt nice, do it again," Kenny said before Cartman could even begin to worry.

He squeezed once again, another pop sounding off and the blonde relaxed against him, "Dude you are so fucking weird, you don't even say hi and you're asking me to crack your back."

"Massage therapists and chiropractors cost money," Kenny answered with as Cartman let him down, he didn't let go of the brunette. He basked in the warmth that Cartman gave off, it was like he was an electric blanket.

Cartman shrugged off Kenny who was still wearing this dumb gap tooth smile that he's been sporting since he was a little kid. And Cartman takes a brief moment to look at him closer, he's still Kenny, through and through, he just has more scars on his face.

"So," Kenny began, "What brings you back to South Park? You didn't come here last year for your birthday."

Cartman takes a small steadying breath, "I'm still single."

It takes a moment for the words to settle in Kenny's mind, "Dude, I'm-"

"Straight?" Cartman finishes, "Yeah, I thought so."

"No, god no," Kenny said, and he laughs a bit as he speaks, "I have work tonight."

"You didn't even book off time for our date? Some suitor you are," Cartman scoffed.

"Like, I am going to skip," Kenny said, "I own the fucking place."

"You own an auto-shop and you didn't tell me?" Cartman questioned, and he sounded hurt.

Kenny pauses, "Oops, but likewise! Where is it you wanna go on our date?"

"I don't fucking know, let's get some pasta," Cartman said before grabbing hold of Kenny's hand and leading him out of the building.

"Ah yes, a classic for romantic dates," Kenny said dramatically as he clung to Cartman's side, "If we don't do the thing I'm gonna fucking lose it."

-/-/-/-

They didn't do the thing, and as promised kenny did indeed fucking lose it. And at that, Cartman didn't share a single strand of spaghetti, in the same breath Kenny didn't offer any of his grilled cheese either. He knows exactly why he's pissy about Cartman not doing the thing, this was gonna be some jokey cliche date for shits 'n giggles. He doesn't know why he reached over the table, hands fisting into the collar of Cartman's shirt and tugging him across the table.

His heart slams in his chest, adrenaline, do or die, he can feel himself shake with hesitance and confusion. Why is he doing this? He doesn't know, all that he knows is that people are staring and there's a splotch of pasta sauce at the corner of Cartman's lips. The hue matches the one blossoming onto the rest of the brunettes face and normally this is where they would back away. But maybe the need to finish what he started is amplified by the fact Cartman doesn't resist when Kenny presses forward.

His lips are cracked, and the contrast is chilling. He slowly let's go of Cartman's shirt and for a brief second he pulls back just enough to swipe the smudge of sauce up with his tongue and it does things to Cartman. He didn't know that those things could be spurred on by Kenny of all people, his best friend since day one.

When Kenny actually rears back and sits down in his chair he wears a blank expression, a defensive mask he puts on because he stopped wearing the hood up years ago. He just grabs the second half of his sandwich and takes tentative bites as he watches Cartman whose still frozen, slowly sitting back and staring at Kenny. He reaches for his glass of wine, he did not have enough of it inside of him before that whole thing happened.

He takes a long sip before holding it out for a cheers, "Too friendship?" He makes sure the people who are still staring can hear him.

Kenny grabs his own glad of wine, "Yeah man," He clinks the glass, "Too friendship."

They swear they hear forks drop on plates at the toast.

-/-/-/-

"The restaurant," Cartman begins with, eyes trapped on the sky above them and heat of the engine still warming the hood.

"Yeah, the restaurant," Kenny responded with, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Cartman said, "Would you call me a faggot if I said I liked it?"

Kenny shook his head, "Naw man, would you call me a faggot if I said that I liked it?"

"If we both liked it then we would both be faggots," Cartman said, reaching blindly for the can of beer he knew rested on the hood.

"I liked it," Kenny said.

"Me too," Cartman said, his hand rested on top of Kenny's, he could feel the fizz of the beer through the can. The aluminum was so cold it made Kenny's hand feel warm.

"Guess we're gay then," Kenny said blankly, letting go of the can and watching as Cartman propped himself onto his elbows.

"We're both adults now," Cartman said as he took a sip of the beer, "We can be mature."

"Can we?" Kenny asked and the question gave Cartman pause.

"Yeah, probably," Cartman said, "What if I told you I've been waiting for this?"

"To have a Waynes World moment?" Kenny asked dumbly.

"No, dumbass," Cartman spat, but the vitriolic edge he once held is softened entirely. He can't muster it despite everything, no matter how much he wants too, "This, coming back to South Park and going on a date with you? What then?"

Kenny shrugged, "We could have sex."

"That's not gonna fix anything," Cartman said plainly.

"I know that," Kenny answered with as he sat up, "But it might be a nice change of tune."

"I'm not fucking you Kenny," Cartman said as he laid back down against the hood, "Not in public at least."

Kenny gives a hum, "I don't think I got a single date in my entire time of living after middle school."

Cartman laughs, "Neither did I."

"I think it's because I wanted this too," Kenny said, a little bit quieter than before, "It's stupid though, you're gonna be gone before the weekend is up."

"I don't have to be gone before the weekend is up," Cartman offered, "I mean, ignoring the fact I don't have a house."

"You could live with me," Kenny said, and maybe there was desperation on his voice.

"I'll consider it," Cartman lied, of course he's moving in with Kenny.

Kenny rolls over until he's right next to Cartman, "This is nice."

"Sitting on the hood of a car?" Cartman asked dumbly as he took a sip of beer.

"Closure is nice," Kenny answered with as he sat up. He propped himself on his knees and a hand came to Cartman's shoulder, "Again?"

"Again," Cartman echoes back because one word is more than enough for them to know what the other means.

And maybe Cartman feels a little bit stupid for not realizing it sooner, not realizing it until he's caught in gridlock with Kenny. It's so simple, and yet it took the both of them this long to figure it out even with all of their friends coupling off, they stayed single. They shouldn't've though. They should've realized this was it long before Kenny is straddling Cartman on the hood of a car, kissing him into submission.

Fingers interlace to press down until Cartman is against the windshield, he raises his knees to push Kenny closer, close him in. He's needed this for so long but he's pushed away from it for even longer. He would trail his hands up Kenny's sides, examine every expanse of skin he hasn't seen since they were young. He wonders what new scars exist, he wonders if some have faded entirely over time. Kenny let him take pictures of them, let himself be used for photographic experimentation when no one else would be willing to take off their shirt in front of Cartman.

Kenny pulls back and lifts his hands, resting a bit on Cartman's hitched legs, "How come we didn't make out sooner?"

Cartman shrugged, "Whenever you offered I was taking nude photographs of you, it was a bit too faggy at the time."

"A bit too faggy, Eric," The brunette shudders at the way his given name slides past kenny's lips, "We're making out on a car."

"We were nineteen," Cartman spat back, "I was-"

"Blind? In one eye only," Kenny answered with before Cartman could finish his sentence. Red flared on the brunette's face.

"God, you know me too well," The words are quiet and then he's on Kenny all over again, but only for a brief moment, "I learned some new photography stuff."

"Oh yeah? Still using film?" Kenny asked, bringing a hand to trace across Cartman's throat, and his jaw, and his lips, he nipped at the tip of the finger placed on them.

"I went digital, it's where the money is even though film is better," Cartman scoffed.

"Do you still have film?" Kenny asked, pressing a brief batch of chaste kisses to Cartman's throat. It drew a small whimper.

"Obviously," His answer comes out with bite to it.

Kenny gives a hum, "We should do a photoshoot when we get home."

"After sex," Cartman quickly butted in with.

"Obviously," Kenny said with a nod.

-/-/-/-

"Well that was," Cartman began blankly, his chest was still heaving.

"Intense?" Kenny asked as he reached for a cigarette.

Cartman nodded, "Still up for that photoshoot?"

Kenny shrugged, spewing a haze of smoke into the still air, the scent muddled with that of sex easily, "Maybe in the morning, I got the day off."

"Hows the creek doing?" Cartman asked.

There's a brief pause.

"Happily married," Kenny answered said.

"That could be us," Cartman mused and the blonde laughed.

"You really think you could handle marrying me?" Kenny asked, giving Cartman an incredulous grin.

The brunette shrugged, "I don't fucking know man, but out of all the guys, yeah, probably. Definitely not any time soon, having gay sex and going on dates is more than enough for me."

Kenny offered the smoke to Cartman who took it despite his better judgement, "I think that's called 'dating' Cartman."

"Then we're dating," Cartman said, "You're my hot mechanic partner and I'm your asshole photographer boyfriend."

Kenny laughs at the titles, "Man, we should've done this ever ago, been boyfriends."

"It would've made sense to just hook up when Stan and Kyle got together," Cartman said, tapping away the ash over the edge of the bed. Safety hazards be damned, "You even tried to convince me, fucking hell, it would've been so much easier."

"So much easier," Kenny echoed back as Cartman handed him the smoke, "Still, we're here now, we can finally double date Stan and Kyle."

"We should both front as having a girlfriend, right? And then when we convince them to go on a double date with us, then they realize," Cartman schemed, a lot less diabolical than he used to be, but there were consequences now.

"Wicked," Was all Kenny said, putting out the smoke and curling up next to Cartman.

"Sleep?" Cartman asked.

Kenny nodded, "Sleep."

[rodolfoparras]

!! I do use ibis paint !! I love it it's very easy to use :3 I can draw with my finger but I prefer the pen so aside silly doodles, I'm waiting til my delivery with my new pen comes in :3

When I finish art of him I'll share it with you if you want !! Can't say when It'll be because my package hasn't even shipped yet😖

I'm working on LOTR ocs now, they're all pretty old and in need of updates since I've changed so much since I created them !!

The one I'm updating rn is my very first LOTR oc !! Originally they were a fem elf , in love with Legolas... Tbh a very basic oc for LOTR I made when I was like 13

But !!! I'm making him ftm and instead of Legolas, they eventually date Haldir :3

He was an elvish archer alongside Haldir but one time on patrol he ends up encountering something strange and gets possessed😧 he didn't wanna go back in fear of Haldir finding him disgusting or assuming he's a monster and trying to kill him, so he lingers in the forest, close enough to still keep an eye on the people of Lothlorien (and his beloved Haldir)

I don't have much more worked out but I did make him in a picrew

https://cdn.picrew.me/shareImg/org/202401/1885456_g2CjIgXO.png

also most old people are very rude, I think they have the "respect your elders" mindset that they think they an be assholes to everyone younger than them and we just gotta respect them??? Like shouldn't you be in a grave by now why are you still being hateful??

-🌱

My goodness I sent a whole reply and then the app crashed 😭 but if you feel comfortable please share if you want to and when you can I’d love to see it!

Y’all have such creative backstories to all these ocs I know a lot of them are inspired by the specific show or video game they exist in but I’m still so very impressed with how y’all take an existing idea and transform it into something better!

Also his background story sounds so sad but so lovely! Imagine having a whole future planned with the one you loved now you’re only allowed to watch them live that life without you😭

Also you’d think spending sm time on earth would make you a more understanding individual but every old person just turns bitter and cruel