#i drew this a week ago why did i take so long to post it...
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hey did i never share this art of my fic? bc here you go :)
#fnaf#fnaf sb#fnaf dca#dca fandom#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#dca who au#doodle dump#i drew this a week ago why did i take so long to post it...#in case anyone was curious what outfits they had on in my head 👍
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this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣
so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.
what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?
your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?
Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.
But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.
This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.
Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.
Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:
-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.
-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?
-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!
-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?
Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.
peace n love
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No Time To Hide
This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics
Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.
Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.
Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.
A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.
The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.
Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.
“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.
When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.
Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.
As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.
Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.
“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”
Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.
“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.
However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.
Witch hunter!
The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.
Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.
She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.
Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.
“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.
After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.
She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.
The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.
The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.
“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.
“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.
It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.
The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.
“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.
Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.
She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.
A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!
But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.
Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.
“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”
More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.
Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.
An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.
The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.
The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!
Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.
She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.
Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.
The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.
“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.
Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.
“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.
Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.
Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.
The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.
“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.
“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.
The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.
“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”
Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!
The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.
Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.
Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.
“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”
She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.
Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.
“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.
Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.
“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.
Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.
“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.
Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.
The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.
Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.
Eva dropped the knife.
Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.
#birth kink#pregnant kink#clothing birth#panty birth#birth denial#public birth#forest birth#giving birth#birth fic#birth fiction#fpreg birth#tw: blood#tw: death#my writing
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Good Terms With The In-Laws
Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.6K
Summary: Y/N and Drew broke up a long time ago, so why does he still go to movie night with her parents every Friday?
A/N: This is inspired by this post.
Masterlist
Y/N and Drew broke up six months ago. It was a mutual decision between the pair; they just felt like it wasn’t working out anymore. He is always away at work and this leaves her at home by herself. After the breakup, she moved in with her parents for moral support and because she couldn’t find anywhere else to live yet. It would be hard for her to go back to living by herself after four years of living with Drew. They had been dating since they both graduated from university, so the breakup was a big change in their lives. Yet one thing doesn’t change in their life and that is Drew’s weekly hang out with her father and mother, which becomes more weekly because of the SAG strike. He’ll bring over dinner and watch a movie with her parents every Friday. When they were dating, she used to join the tradition, but the split has made it awkward. Now, she goes over to a friend’s house until he leaves. This week, she has nowhere to go so she’ll just stay locked up in her room. She is watching TV when she gets a notification on her phone.
Your dad isn’t picking up his phone so let your parents know that I am going to be there in about ten minutes with the wings. She rolls her eyes at his text. We broke up six months ago. Why are you still doing this? When is it going to end? She watches as the three dots get replaced by a text. It’s just a dude having dinner and watching a movie with a married couple. That’s not a crime, Y/N. She leaves him without a response and goes back to her show. Around eight minutes later, the doorbell rings. She waits for her parents to answer it, but swears up a storm when she remembers that they went out to get some drinks for tonight.
She opens the door to find Drew. His gaze is on the empty driveway and he turns toward her. “Your parents aren’t home,” he states, stepping in and going to the living room to set the food on the coffee table. She shrugs, “They’ll be back soon. They went to get drinks.” She is stopped from going back to her room by Drew. “We haven’t seen each other in months and that’s all we are going to say to each other,” he questions. She turns to him with furrowed brows, “We broke up a long time ago, Drew. What do you want me to say? I don’t understand why you are still doing movie night with my parents?”
“Because it’s good to be on good terms with your in-laws.”
“Good terms with your in-laws? Drew, did you hit your head? We broke up.”
“I know, but we both know that that isn’t permanent.”
He closes the distance between them so she feels his breath on her face. Her neck cranes to look up at him, “What are you talking about?” “Let’s be honest. You broke up with me and I went along with it because I could see you needed space. But eventually, I was going to make you realize that although my work takes me all over the world, I’m going to do everything in my power to not make you feel alone,” he tells her, taking her hand in his. “Because my heart was made for you, so only you can have it. You take as much time as you need and when you are ready to get back together, I’ll be here waiting for you.” Her parents come back home at that moment, which means she can make her exit back to her room without Drew’s knowledge. Her heart is pounding like a race track. She can’t believe what he just said, but what if he is right?
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife
#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey fic#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey oneshot#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey x you
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binge reading your works is my best part of the day ><
anyways, I'd like to request kidnapper!könig with an apathetic reader, so tired they decide to stop reacting! (I just need to see könig comfort and cuddle his beloved)
I am so so sorry for not getting to this sooner. As I stated in the last post, I’ve been without a permanent address (but I’m staying with friends) so it’s been hard to find time. I keep hunting for a place to live, but sadly the rental scene is not kind to people on disability. I do not have much money to go anywhere, but I keep trying!
Anyways, I tried to follow the ask, but maybe the ending might be a bit too much? I kept it a bit ambiguous, so you can take it as you will. Either way, it’s a nice fluffy bath scene which should be all fluffy and good for all of us. Lord knows I need to take a shower! I might do that soon actually…
So, you know the drill, story under the cut.
18+ MDNITW: yandere König, suggestive content, kidnapping
Idle
How long had you been here? You’d been staring at these same four walls for days, maybe weeks now. You could see the sun rise in a tiny dingy window up above before setting far far away from where you sat. The moon followed suit like a faithful servant to their glorious master. You only watched with dim eyes.
König came down multiple times every day to speak to you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to him. Instead, you listened to him prattle about his every day. You learned he was ex military, discharged for an ‘accident’ related to his mental health. He didn’t go into detail. You didn’t ask.
Listening to him prattling on about whatever was on his mind that day helped make the days pass by quicker. The dull and insipid meals he presented to you quickly ramped up in quality. His meals became elaborate, and though some were blunders, he was quickly learning and adapting. However, it was all lost on your dull tongue.
At this point, you wondered if there was any difference between spending time in the world outside or being locked away in this basement. The mattress was hard and your back was beginning to hurt. Your arms ached when you lay on your side, but what else was there to do? It didn’t matter that he piled a plethora of hobbies and crafts around your bed in a desperate hope to invigorate you. It was all lost on you.
Heavy bootsteps trod down the creaking wooden stairs like the treading of a great machine. His gears creaked as he ducked under the doorway, and he grunted a cloud of smoke as he approached you. When he neared, he smelled of cigarettes and beer, but there was something else that was hidden deep beneath. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would’ve been intrigued, but instead you simply shallowed your breathing to avoid taking in his pungent odor.
“Pet, why are you so sad?” you felt rough calloused fingers trace along your cheek. It felt nice, but you couldn’t bear to give in to his advances.
“When can I go outside?” you retorted.
König slumped into a crestfallen crouch, “Not for some time. If you are good, then you can go out, ja?”
“Aren’t I good now?” you sighed.
König shook his head.
“Being sad does not mean you are good,” König stroked your matted hair, “I bring you hairbrushes and combs, yet you still don’t take care of yourself. I even got your skincare from your old place. Yet still, you won’t wash your face. When did you last brush your teeth?”
You shrugged, “A while ago.”
König chortled as he walked away, “I can tell. Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe that will make you feel better?”
You didn’t bother reacting. You knew there was no point.
König drew a bath for you in the other room for you. You could smell the sweet scents wafting through the air, and despite yourself, you relaxed. When he unlocked your cuffs and carried you to the washroom, you took in the hot steamy air that had fogged the bathroom mirror. The lights were off, but sweet scented candles had been set out for you. When you were placed down, he’d made sure to set you on a puffy bath mat.
“There, my pet,” König murmured as he brushed your sides down, “now let’s get you undressed. Raise your arms for me.”
You did as he asked. You’d learned that despite his rough and irritable ways, he was a gentle giant around you. He took care to touch you as little as possible as he took off your clothes, tossing them into the laundry for you before helping guide you to sit in the bathroom.
You let out a sigh as he carefully helped you lay back. You hated how perfect everything was. It would’ve been so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so damn loveable. Everyone you knew would have been sickened by how easily you let this man take control of you. You never thought of escaping, but König didn’t know that. He was still so worried that you’d leave. It pained you, in a strange way. How could you care for him so deeply but also hate his entire existence? Was it worth thinking about? It didn’t matter. You were trapped in this basement, and you doubted you would ever feel the sun on your skin again.
“Oh pet, why won’t you smile anymore?” König mourned as he sudsed a washcloth for you.
“Why should I?” you snorted.
“Because I am here for you now,” König reminded you, as though it wasn’t the constant of your every day.
He set the washcloth aside and squirted some of your shampoo on his hands. When he sunk his hands in your greasy hair, you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing and relaxing into his hands.
“There… Isn’t that better?” König murmured into your neck, “if you just let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”
You didn’t reply, instead sinking into his scalp massage. He must have been watching tutorials for this. There was no way he was this naturally skilled. In a way, it touched you that he would go out of his way to learn all these new skills for you, but on the other hand, how did he have so much time? Where did he get all the money? Was it worth asking these questions?
He washed your hair with warm water. You couldn’t help but let go. It was so nice to finally feel clean. You could already feel your hair returning to its normal state. He brushed your hair lightly, wincing whenever you hissed and taking care to be gentle on the worst of the mats. He was so careful for such a hulking goliath of a man. You didn’t think his large hands could be so dexterous, but here you were, relaxing in his hands as he massaged conditioner into your hair. He was careful and methodical as he worked, ensuring you were perfect cared for, free of any pain or stress in the world. You caught yourself nearly smiling a few times. You had a feeling he saw, but chose not to comment. Smart man.
“There,” he took the washcloth again and started rubbing deep circles into your aching back, “I know the bed is no good. You will sleep with me soon, I promise. No more pain.”
You closed your eyes and let him work the knots out of your back.
“I promise it will get better,” König promised, “you will be meine Frau, and then we will be happy.”
You’d long since learned that ‘meine Frau’ meant ‘my wife’. At this point, you didn’t bother correcting him. Sometimes you looked down at your hands and you were surprised that there was no ring on your finger. It bothered you.
“I’m sorry, Frau,” König sighed as he dipped down, “but you need to be clean. I want you healthy and safe.”
You let him clean your lower parts without question. He was thankfully quick and efficient. It was a small comfort that he tried his best to avoid hurting you too much. You figured the reason he hadn’t suggested that you do it yourself was that he knew you wouldn’t so much as lift your hand to take the washcloth from him. Still, it would have been nice for him to offer, or that’s what you kept telling yourself.
“All done,” König’s hand retracted as he rinsed the washcloth, “now just your hair.”
He rinsed your hair with the shower attachment, thankfully gentle with the remaining mats. He muttered something about ‘keeping your beautiful hair’ as he worked diligently. You figured it had probably grown a bit since you’d come here. Maybe you’d need a trim.
The rest of the bath was calm and relaxed. He left and let you soak for a bit on your own before he came back and took a towel from the dryer below the sink and pulled the plug on you. When you got cold, he wrapped you in the plush towel and helped you dry down. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. You’d never get a bathroom without a washer and dryer in it again. It was just far too convenient.
He carried you back to your bed where a new change of clothes had been set out on freshly changed sheets. So that was what he was doing when he left you in the bath. It was a nice gesture, but you knew that wouldn’t make the mattress any softer. At the very least, it would smell nice.
You changed into the modest clothing he gave you, all comfortable and soft to make you feel more at ease in this foreign environment. It was a nice change to having to make yourself up in stuffy clothing for your office job at least.
Your kindly captor gave you a tiny hug before he locked you back in your ankle shackle and left you in the basement. The only reminded of his presence was the faint lingering smell of cigarettes, a smell that had become surprisingly comforting since you’d adjusted to staying here.
He kept promising that you could go out, but hope left you as the days crawled by. A part of you hated him, a part of you was grateful he’d spirited you away from your past life. The meals were certainly more substantial, and you’d gotten a little bit more well rounded, but not to the point where you were upset with yourself.
Your life had become perfectly calm. There was no stress of socializing with people who hated you, no worrying about rent or bills, no threat of eviction or skipped meals. It was idyllic, really. So why were you so sad?
Art supplies were littered before you, something you once would have jumped at. He had a space dedicated to working out if you should so please. He even had a state of the art desktop lined up for you, primed with both his and your steam account and a few emulators ready and primed for you. It was all perfect, but you only lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
Life was meaningless, and so you ignored the world. However, as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore how soft König was with you.
You curled into the warm sheets. The ceiling was still there to be stared at. The craft supplies were still there to be ignored. But this time, your toothbrush and your hairbrush seemed more enticing.
Maybe you’ve been here for too long.
#ask#ask me anything#writing#requests#reqs open#request#cod request#fanfiction#codf anfiction#cod x reader#cod fanfiction#call of duty#cod mw2#cod#cod mwii#modern warfare#konig#cod konig#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig x reader#konig x you#konig fluff#konig fanart#fan art#digital art#konig fanfiction#konig headcanons#cod headcanons
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In response to the news of Hazbin Hotel having seasons 3 and 4 confirmed, I'm posting an Alastor & Reader/OC snippet I wrote a while ago and was pretty proud of
Inspiration was taken from parts of these Alastor/Reader posts (with some expanding on their dynamic):
https://www.tumblr.com/okay-babe/742550027409522688/imagine-alastor-thinks-his-wife-is-just-the-most?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/742081257880584192/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-the-radio?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/tojirights/742049545787244544/femreader-with-a-size-kink-and-alastor-just?source=share
https://www.tumblr.com/altruisticalastor/741794623772622848/%CB%8F%CB%8Balastor-x-reader%CB%8A%CB%8E-summary-alastor?source=share
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what drew him to her. Was it her adorable little laugh? Was it her intelligence and ability to impress with book-smarts most others lacked? Or was it the way she seemed to melt into every bit of attention he gave her? Regardless, he knew she had him wrapped around his finger - just as she was wrapped around his.
It didn’t take long for him to start courting her properly. Dates on the town, trips out to his favorite hunting spots, nights spent cooking at her house… They soon fell into a routine, with the days often spent apart - save for the few days he had free - and the nights spent in each other’s company, whether that was at Mimzy’s club or her house. Mimzy tried to play matchmaker, but she didn’t know that they were essentially already “together-together”.
When he realizes he actually cares about her, he tries to put distance between them. She can’t know. She’ll hate him, shun him, rat him out. Any sane person would. So he pulls away, ignoring every mental protest at the thought.
Of course she notices. Of course she probes him for answers - even goes to Mimzy to see if she knows anything. But she doesn’t get the answers she wants.
That is, until she spots someone sneaking into the swamp behind the church. She follows them closely, making sure to not make a single sound, and finds them throwing a limp body into the mud. Their silhouette is familiar, but she can’t pinpoint why. Maybe if she-
Her foot crunches on a convenient branch from one of the many hunched-over oak trees. The person she’d been following whips their head around, searching for her. She raises her hands into the air and slowly approaches. They watch with wary, squinted eyes, pocket knife held artfully in their dominant hand. As they come eye-to-eye, she gasps softly, recognizing the face she’d been wanting to see for weeks now.
A flash of recognition crosses his eyes. Before he can ask her what she’s doing out there or tell her to leave or anything of the sort, she comes to stand beside him, hands propped on her hips.
“What next?”
His eyes are as wide as the moon above them. She looks down at the body and huffs. The man at their feet is one known for harassing women at Mimzy’s club. He’d tried a few lines on her, but she’d brushed him off with a curt, “No thank you” and flipped him off when he pushed for more of a reaction. She was glad to know another scumbag had left this world.
The wind blew by them, and he seemed to collect himself, asking her to keep a watch as he finished up. She did, resting against an oak tree large enough to mask the silhouette of her body and vigilantly watching every corner of the swamp she could.
It wasn’t until they reached his doorstep that he finally stopped to ask the one burning question.
“Why?”
Her only response was an innocent tilt of her head. It sent her hair swaying slightly. Bright eyes stared innocuously into his own.
“Why did you not scream? Call the police? Run?”
She blinked twice, then laughed. Of all the reactions he expected, that was one he hadn’t accounted for.
“Oh, that? I’ve seen a lot worse than a corpse and a man covered in blood.”
It was his turn to blink at her, confusion evident.
“You- You do understand why-”
“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”
Puffing her cheeks out, she pouted like a petulant child at the mere implication that he doubted her intelligence. He couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped him. The sound of footsteps against the pavement made him glance over her shoulder. A couple, ignorant of any wrongdoing that night, made their way down the street hand-in-hand.
She took his hand in one of hers, reaching into his pocket with the other. Pulling out his key, she pushed it into the keyhole and unlocked it, pulling him inside alongside her. Every move she made was calm, as if she was unaware that she was protecting a serial killer.
They made their way to the bathroom, and she helped him clean off any lingering blood from his body.
“You’ll probably need to burn your clothes. Unless you have a way to get bloodstains out of cloth without leaving any behind?”
His outfit from that night went up in flames, but that night ignited his interest in her ten-fold. Why had she been so nonchalant? Was she just as corrupt as he was? Was she somehow targeting him like he did with his victims?
She gave her answer the very next night.
After killing another person at Mimzy’s request - this time a loan shark that kept harassing her for sexual favors if she wasn’t going to pay him back - he found her sitting on his front porch. Her eyes were softly shut, and slow, steady breaths escaped her lips as she dozed, knees pulled flush to her chest. A fond chuckle slipped out of him as he tapped her shoulder.
They walked inside and stood in his kitchen, silently staring at one another until someone chose to speak up.
Tonight, it was her.
“I know what you do.”
He felt the urge to tense but shoved it down. Would she still run? Report him to the police? Kill him herself?
“And I don’t care.”
“What?”
That was meant to be an internal question, but the pure shock he felt at her answer made his brain short-circuit for a second.
“People have done way worse and with a lot less blood involved. I’m not bothered. And I know that your victims aren’t good people. At least, the one I saw wasn’t a good person. So you’re doing this world a favor, I think. If you need, I’m even willing to help out. Not that I doubt your ability to kill and keep quiet.”
One question kept beating around his skull at every word she said.
“Why?”
“Like I said, I’ve seen some things and met some people. What you’re doing is tame in comparison, I promise.”
Then she explained, seeing that he would keep asking until she gave specifics. From her upbringing - or lack thereof - to her childhood and latter adolescent years, he could see that she had been fully disillusioned. A truly logical mind, one that knew more than she let on and understood so much with nothing more than a glance. The world is cruel. It breaks those who learn about the thorns beneath the petals. She walked straight through the bush to reach the lake so she didn’t die of thirst. Pain, lack of guidance, and pure determination to live despite everything had carried her through life and into adulthood.
He rounded the island in his kitchen and pulled her close. She immediately relaxed into his hold, draping her arms over his shoulders as if she’d fall if she didn’t. Their lips met in a feverish, animalistic kiss. He had meant to start slow, honest, but having her pliant in his arms, soft sounds echoing from her throat to his at the sweetest of gestures, unlocked something primal within him.
She had to be his. No matter how, he had to have her. Not a single person could take her from him anymore.
From her shows of submission, he could tell. She sought his affection, his approval, his guidance. Nobody before him had given her what she needed. He felt it was high time that changed.
After that night, they were inseparable. She moved in with him the next day, bringing what few belongings she had, and joined him on a shopping trip for anything she wanted or needed. He would provide for her like so many others had failed to. He would ensure she was tended to in every way she needed. Anything for his little dove.
Pure despite the atrocities she’d witnessed. Pure despite how dirty her hands were. Pure despite choosing to stay by his side.
Marriage came soon after. It was a logical progression, in his eyes. Now they would have no reason to be apart. Their years together were spent in each other’s arms, moments together shared under the guise of darkness. Some nights were spent kneeling in the mud, hiding the remains of his latest victim, while others were spent under a shared blanket by the fireplace. No matter the scene, they were happy.
“My dove, what will you do if I am ever caught?”
“Why do you think I keep a pistol in my bedside drawer?”
But their bliss was short-lived. After no more than a decade together, the news came.
He was dead.
Mauled by dogs after being shot square in the forehead.
The burning anger and suffocating grief overwhelmed her for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until that night, when she finally calmed down enough to speak, that she followed through on her promise.
“I’ll find you. Wait for me.”
Morning followed screams and cries from neighbors and the squeal of police sirens.
~
Hell was so… red. It almost hurt her eyes, but she soon adjusted. A storefront’s glass gave her the means to see her new form.
Just like the others around her, she had been transformed into an animal-like form. Cute brown tufts adorned her head, twitching every time a new sound echoed in the distance. Freckles littered her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and she had no doubt that they spread further down her body. Patches of fur could be felt beneath her clothes, and her feet felt more solid, as if they were more like hooves than human feet. A tail wagged idly at her backside, lightly jostling the fabric surrounding it.
A dead demon laid a short distance away from her. Their body was contorted, as if they’d died in a struggle, but their jet-black coat was unblemished save for the few specks of dirt from the ground. She wrestled it from their corpse and donned it for herself, gauging the look in the storefront’s glass again. It was a bit too long for her tastes, but it would have to do for now.
Looking down at her left hand, she was relieved to feel the familiar fit of her wedding band on her ring finger.
“Here I come, Alastor. Wait for me.”
~
It took quite some time for the couple to reunite. Between the work he put into rising the ranks and her own efforts to do the same, they were too busy to actively search for each other.
Rumors spread like wildfire about the two newly-fallen deer demons that were taking Hell by storm. One was killing well-known and established Overlords, while the other was using charisma to wrap useful figures around her finger. With her newfound demon powers and everything she knew when alive, it was child’s play to have everyone she wanted kneeling at her feet.
They were both soon given the title of Overlord. Then came the time for the next Overlord meeting.
Both attended. Everything went as it normally did, though with introductions to get everyone familiar with any new faces.
He introduced her to a friend of his - Rosie - while she roped a few of her new compatriots into beneficial alliances. She and Rosie hit it off right away, and the three of them fell into an easy rhythm. When it came time for Rosie to return to Cannibal Town, they were left alone.
For the first time since their indirect reunion, they looked each other in the eyes. No surprise was felt. Rather, a warm comfort in the fact they wouldn’t be apart in their afterlife. Finally, it all clicked in their minds.
“I was caught.”
“I kept the pistol.”
All at once, joy overtook them. He pulled her close, closer than he ever had when they were alive, and she melted into his hold as she always had. Nothing had truly changed between them.
“My dove…” She pulled back a touch to look up at him, grinning as she dragged a single finger down his right ear tuft.
“My handsome buck…”
Those words struck a chord with him. Bringing her chest-to-chest with him, he used his shadows to move to the living space he’d made for himself. Their night was spent catching up and returning to their blissful time of marriage that had been so cruelly cut short.
He’d doted on her in life, but in Hell, where he had managed to establish himself as one of the most infamous figures of any other sinner, he outright spoiled her. Despite not being with her as often due to his more frequent hunts and broadcasts, he spent every moment he had free with her at his side. Cooking as they always did, going out on the town to shop or just to chat and sight-see, visiting Rosie in Cannibal Town, and anything else they felt compelled to do.
Another relief was finding that she hadn’t changed a lick despite her time in Hell. Sweet, intelligent, witty, and pure. Just like when she’d first revealed why she was so willing to accept his status as a serial killer in life, he saw that she’d forged herself into a strong individual through her trials and tribulations in Hell. And again, despite any pain she may have faced, she remained his soft, adoring wife.
Despite his confidence that she could take care of any sinner that posed any modicum of a threat to her, he was still protective of her. He’d been possessive in life, always holding her closer when another so much as tried to steal a glance at her, but it was to an even greater extent now that the people around them had no shame in their sinful actions.
When someone tried to get her while she was alone, he only had time to shadow-transport to her side before they were dead at her feet. The knife in her hand was soaked in blood, but she looked completely calm. Not cold, but relaxed, as if the action had been as natural as breathing. The sight of her in another’s blood, knowing she was unharmed but had inflicted irreparable damage to such a creep, brought forth feelings he hadn’t even felt when he was alive. She had assisted him in covering his tracks at times, but he never wanted to risk her getting caught, so he never allowed her to join him to help with an actual kill. Seeing her coated in blood made him regret making such a decision, though only because of hindsight.
Touch had always been a strange thing for him. Ever since his mother passed, he hadn’t let anyone else close to him. Not even Mimzy, both in life and death. She was the first, and she would likely be the last. Every touch he shared with her was electric and left him burning for more. Nobody else had sparked such a desire in him.
As if she knew before he said anything, she would always either wait for him to initiate or gesture in an obvious way before moving in for a hug or anything like that. It was a gesture that never failed to endear her to him.
He also noticed that, just like in life, she was so eager for his touch. Any time his hands made contact with her, even if it was something as simple as him tapping her shoulder to get her attention, she would relax and turn her full attention to him. It was as if she could never get enough of him and thrived on the next taste of affection or touch. Every caress was met with a sigh, a visible relaxing of the shoulders, and a sated, dreamy stare in his direction.
His touch was her aphrodisiac, her remedy for any ailment. But she also knew his stance on any sexual contact. If any form of arousal arose within her - including her newly-discovered period of “heat” due to her deer traits - she handled it on her own. And she knew he had to be going through similar periods of arousal since he was the same as her, but she never pressured him to talk about it. Knowing him, she guessed the topic would either leave them in an uncomfortable silence or be cut off before it could go anywhere. So she kept it to herself and didn’t bother him with it. But she did notice he became more clingy and openly possessive and affectionate when his rut began.
The first time her heat and his rut lined up was an extremely awkward time. It was the first instance of genuine loss of words for both of them. When one would open their mouth to speak to address the “elephant” in the room, the other would be closing their mouth after trying the same thing. Eventually, she carefully reached for him, chastely stroking his upper arm.
“Tell me how to help you.”
“I… I don’t know how you can.”
“Then, can I try something?”
For a first sexual encounter, it went about as smoothly as two teenagers fooling around. But they used the “trial and error” method and made things work, bringing pleasure to each other in a way they never had before.
When they were alive, sex had essentially been off the table. He never felt the desire, even though he was attracted to her, and she was fine with that. She didn’t need sex to love him; she just needed him and whatever came with that.
But the floodgates were opened after that first rut-heat period. He started initiating more intimate moments between them, and she responded enthusiastically. As she had in life, she accepted whatever he wanted to give her - but not without taking a few small things of her own. Kisses here and there, daring touches to tease, and whispered words of heat meant only for their ears.
Any intimate moment they shared had her grow pliant, willing, desperate under his touch. He could be as gentle or cruel as he wanted, and she would eagerly take it all. Not just because she accepted whatever he gave, but because she wanted to be good for him, to show she was deserving of his version of love and affection both within and outside of the bedroom. Of course, he would never deny her, as he was just as eager to prove he could care for her as she deserved, though he couldn’t deny how much he loved her nigh-instant submission under his ministrations.
Though not present to witness everything unfold directly, she was privy to the truth of what happened in the seven years he was gone. He trusted her and her alone to keep his secret - not even Rosie was allowed to know. And she never once let slip what happened.
Soon, the Hazbin Hotel was in his sights. She joined him in his pursuit of entertainment. Husker, who she was friendly enough with, was dragged into it, as was Niffty, who was more than happy to be given a chance to do what she did best. The Princess of Hell was as charming as she was naive, but she made for a great conversation partner. The Princess’s partner, on the other hand, would always pin them both with a distrusting glare that was brushed off by both. He couldn’t care less about the fallen angel’s opinion of him, and she had no reason to do anything that would anger the patrons or impede the Princess’ plans for redeeming sinners.
When it came time to defend the hotel against the Exorcist’s attack, despite her fervent protests, he had her sit out, insisting she stay where they used to live until the fighting died down. She waited until the news started covering the aftermath of the battle to book it to the hotel. Her confidence in her husband had never wavered, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried. What if he had been wounded? Or worse, killed? It had happened before, no matter how much she wanted to forget what she’d felt after hearing the news of his death.
The hotel’s patrons were tending to each other’s wounds and those of their cannibal allies. Despite the gaudy amount of red that bathed their realm, his signature red shape was nowhere to be seen. But she knew where he’d be.
She carefully navigated the wreckage of his radio tower and found him slouched against his broadcast equipment, cradling his chest as it bled.
“What next?”
He looked up at her, eyes scrunched from the pain and smile straining across his face. Just like that first night, when she found him burying that body in the swamp behind the church, he was not expecting to see her. But that shock soon faded into relief.
“Stitch this up, then make our dramatic reappearance.”
She chuckled at his attempted theatrics. Sifting through the rubble, she found the first aid kit she’d forced him to keep and set to work stitching the wound as best she could. Then, when she was sure her handiwork was good enough, she finished her stitching and helped him to his feet.
Hand in hand, they returned to the others. Everyone welcomed them with varying levels of elation - Lucifer and Husker less than keen to have him back. She helped where she could in the rebuilding effort while he started putting in work to rebuild his infamous reputation after the Vees broadcasted his defeat at Adam’s hand.
With the hotel rebuilt and even bigger and better than before, it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their routines. A few extra events happened within the usual flow, but nothing that caused a major disturbance. Boisterous laughter and chatter from Angel and Husker on later nights, group lunches and dinners, the occasional sinner genuinely seeking redemption, but the most notable was his choice to play the new grand piano after dinner every night.
Still well-versed in the skill, he effortlessly played familiar tunes as the others mingled on the main floor. She sometimes sang with him, but often she could be found sitting on a stool beside his bench, idly swaying her head side-to-side with eyes closed while her legs kicked beneath her. He would, at times, have her join him on his bench, choosing a simpler song to play when she eventually fell asleep on his shoulder. On nights like those, he would wrap up his playing early and carry her to bed, idly dragging his claws across her arm and thigh as he carried her bridal-style to their shared room. With a kiss to her forehead, he would leave her to rest while he worked on finalizing parts for his next broadcast before joining her in slumber.
#Alastor/Reader#Alastor x Reader#Alastor/OC#Alastor x OC#x reader#alastor x reader#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x oc
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AHHH CONGRATS ON 5K YOU DESERVE IT 💙🎉
angel eyes - send me a sfw request!
I think I saw you post you made a cake a couple days ago, or it was a reblog, either way! It looked delicious and made me think of a neighbor or someone making Peter Parker a birthday cake after No Way Home. Cause the thought of him being alone on his birthday makes me wanna sob 🥹😭
a/n: yes!! I did bake a cake the other day! it was delicious
word count: 710
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | join my 5k celebration!
Head tilted to the side, resting against the banister, you finally perked up when the figure you had been waiting for finally appeared, “Peter!” you shot up from your spot at the top of the stairwell, “hi!”
Faintly startled by your unexpected presence, he quickly plucked out the ear pods and sputtered, “oh, hey, Y/n,” slowly climbing the remainder of the steps as he carefully found your eye, “what’s, um-, what’s up? Why are you sitting out here?”
Sucking in a deep breath, you asked him straight out, “are you busy right now?”
“No,” he drew out in a curious tone.
“Really?” your smile grew, “okay, well, I kinda have something I wanna show you.”
“Me? You-, you wanna show me?” his eyebrows shot up as he gesticulated towards himself, “uh, alright.”
Ushering him with you, it didn’t take long before you were both stepping over the threshold into your apartment, your legs instantly carrying you towards the fridge.
Ripping it open, you grabbed the tall treat dominating the entire middle shelf and gingerly turned to present it to your neighbour, “tada!”
“Wow, that’s-,” taking in the airy cream and fresh berries adorning the top, he blurted, “you baked a cake!” though still with an air of confusion as to why you wanted him to witness it.
“I baked you a cake,” you clarified.
Mouth falling open, he uttered, “you what?”
“Happy birthday,” you said giddily, though your grin swiftly melted as he just continued to stand there completely and utterly stunned, “oh, wait, is it not your birthday?” you checked nervously, “I just remember that you told me you’re a leo,” you rambled, thinking back to the day that he moved in and the random things your scattered brain thought was crucial to ask him, for some reason questions about his astrological chart and his favourite movie as a child happened to be the kind of queries you bombarded your new neighbour with as soon as you first met him, “and then a few weeks ago I just couldn’t stop thinking about it and so I asked our landlord, and he said the 10th of August, but maybe he was wrong…”
As if finally coming back to life, Peter breathed, “you baked me a cake?”
“Yeah…” embarrassment bubbling within your belly, you sat the heavy platter down on the counter, “so when is it really your birthday? I can bake you another one then if you want, unless you don’t like cake in which I can whip up something else, anything you’d-,”
“No, it is my birthday today,” he informed you, interrupting your babbling offer.
“It is?” you felt the nauseating butterflies begin to settle within your stomach.
“It is,” he finally returned your smile, “and I do like cake by the way.”
“Oh well, happy birthday then!” you pushed the cake towards him, “do you have any fun plans?”
“No,” he glanced down at the baked good and thought out loud, “I honestly haven’t really been looking at what date it is lately, I mean, I knew it would happen sometime around this week, but I didn’t know it was today…”
“Oh…” you then awkwardly found yourself offering, “well, I can be your personal calendar any time, if you’re interested,” instantly wincing at yourself, your cheeks heating up at how awkwardly swoon-worthy your spurted words had sounded, “anyways, this is yours,” you gestured to the cake, hoping to draw attention away from your flush, “take it and go enjoy your birthday, and I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”
Cake in hand, Peter stopped again before he could reach the exit, “hey Y/n?”
“Hm?” you glanced up, hoping that the blush had faded by now.
“Are you busy right now?” he softly echoed your question from before out in the hallway, “because, I mean, this is a lot of cake, and it would look pretty sad if I just sat and ate it all by myself.”
“Really?” you sucked in an excited breath, immediately grinning from ear to ear, “yeah! Yes! Of course-, I mean,” you finally noticed your blatant eagerness and attempted to recover with a graceless, “uh, sure, that sounds lovely, of course I’ll hang out with you on your day of birth…”
© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble
#5k celebration#lea’s writing#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker imagine#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker request#peter parker blurb#peter parker fluff#peter parker drabble#spiderman x reader#mcu!peter x reader#mcu!peter parker#mcu!peter parker x reader#mcu!peter parker x you
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art tag
love a good art tag so thank you @doshiart for thinking of me <3
How did you start drawing? What year was it that you become more seriously and consciously interested in it?
uh ive been drawing all my life, i wanted to be an 'artist' when i was 6 and then it kinda went into different ideas surrounding art - tattoo artist, graphic designer, illustrator, etc etc and then i decided to pursue graphic design afer high schoo about 8 years ago? and have a degree in that now
When you felt the urge to share your art with other people? When did you start posting your drawings on social media?
i was always drawing for other people and then i started posting my fanart when i got twitter and tumblr in 2010, so it's still floating around on here
Your first/earliest drawing. What were your impressions of it back then and what are your feelings now?
i was probably really proud of it and had probably never seen a giraffe at all, i was 5. there's earlier ones out there of course but this is the earliest i could find around me
Your first fanart ever
i cant find my fanart of my little pony from 2004, or my fall out boy, panic at the disco and my chemical romance stuff from 2008. i drew this of ian in 2011 though.
Your first gallavich fanart
see above
When you had bad days and things didn't work out, what inspired you to keep trying?
what else was i gonna do with my life lol, im not good at maths, im not good at english, im not good at science so this was the only thing left. i dont share what i draw most of the time, no one needs to see it, so i just sketch whats around me, i scribble just to get the anxiety out. and then i come back sometimes weeks later like it never happened.
Show your old piece that you strongly dislike and tell why.
i was just getting back into the shameless fandom after being in and out since 2011 and i hadnt actually drawn them for a long time so i hate this one with a burning passion.
Show your old piece that you very like and tell why. What's the difference with the previous?
this is a scanned version, it's done entirely in sharpie. i like how simple it is, just one medium, stark contrast, and yeah. difference between them is that one is digital and one is traditional, one was done after drawing them for years and the other was done after taking a break to draw for other fandoms.
Show your old piece that you were very proud of back then.
maybe this one from university? i made a guidebook of architecture of melbourne and i drew every building by hand, i did this maybe 4 years ago?
Do you do any practice sketches or warm-ups before you draw something big?
oh yeah - mind maps, thumbnails, hand drawn text exploration, figure sketches, writing down different values. every single one of my drawings that get posted start like this
Sketch vs Final. Show your process.
i had to redesign the blair witch movie poster
Your most recent drawing.
logo ive been working on for a client - not bound by contract so i can share it with you because i dont want to share my secret santa thing lol
Give yourself some praise! Look at what improved in your art!
im glad you kept going. through all the death threats, through people selling your stuff without you knowing, through the depression. who knew you'd still be drawing for the same fandoms decades later?
Any advice you'd give to your earlier self?
stop giving a SHIT about everyone else. draw for yourself and no one else.
Set a goal for yourself for the coming year.
stop getting taken advantage of <3
im tagging @spookygingerr @ghoulish-art-tendencies
@vintagelacerosette @suzy-queued @cal-tastrophe @iansw0rld @heymrspatel @grumble-fish
#im really sorry if you dont want to be tagged#just let me know and ill untag you#tagged#tag game#m does art#my art
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Donald Duck and his family mourn the dead in memory of the victims of the terrorist attack and bombing - Donald Duck and his family in Moscow (Russia) and Belgrade (Serbia) - Duck comics - Duckverse
Unfortunately, sorry for the long wait, because I was sick for a few weeks, and I'm recovering a bit now, so I haven't had a chance to draw and post new drawings. Yes, I'm back and will post follow-up drawings related to the previous holidays that were marked as well as the following holidays in the coming period.
Unfortunately, due to the recent events, I am publishing my sad drawings where Donald Duck and his family mourn the deceased. The first drawing shows Donald Duck with Daisy Duck, along with his nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck who went to Moscow (the capital of Russia) and where they are mourning the dead and honoring the departed since a week ago (22.3. 2024) a terrorist attack took place in Moscow, in the Crocus City Hall, where over 140 people were killed and over 360 wounded. More could have been killed, if not for a few young men (Muslims and Russians) who saved the other people and took them out of the concert hall, because a concert by a Russian music group was about to take place. Among the dead were not only Russians, but also members of other nationalities who wanted to see that concert. The perpetrators are alleged Muslim terrorists from the Islamic State, and all of them were later caught. I don't want to go further into the discussion about the main principal who financed these terrorists, nor do I want to go into the discussion about the current war in Ukraine, because my blog is not about politics and please don't ask me those questions. This just shows my respect for the deceased not only the victims of that terrorist attack but also all the victims who died in terrorist attacks in the last more than 24 years. It is certainly a terrible event, which is why two days of mourning were declared after that, and I drew the Russian flag at half-mast, because on the day of mourning, the flag is only flown at half-mast, and Daisy in that drawing is wearing a coat and a black bow as a sign of mourning and black clothes are usually worn at funerals. Behind them, you can see the Basilica of St. Basil as well as the Spasskaya Tower, which is located within the Kremlin. Rest in peace to those victims.
Покойтесь с миром жертвы теракта! Слава им! Аминь.
The second drawing shows Donald with his family who are in Belgrade (the capital of Serbia) where they are mourning those who died and died during the bombing by NATO in 1999, as well as the victims in Kosovo and Metohija in 2004. I said that I come from Serbia and what happened 25 years ago was something that many residents of my country cannot forget. I was two years old when it started, so I don't remember it, except from the story of my parents. I don't want to go further into the discussion about the beginning of the war because the topic is too painful, and I doubt that many would understand what I would say. All in all, civilians did not deserve such a thing and it is very difficult to get over such wounds. Because among the dead there were also children who suffered from NATO bombing. There was also the courage of the soldiers who defended the country from the attackers and died bravely defending their country, so they are also honored. In addition to Donald, there are also Daisy Duck, Grandma Duck (Elvira Coot), Scrooge McDuck, Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck (Donald's nephews), April, May and June Duck (Daisy's nieces) where they pay tribute to those who died in that war as well as in the violence in Kosovo and Metohija that occurred in 2004, when there was also a mass exodus of Serbs, Roma, Bosniaks and other non-Albanian people from Kosovo and Metohija and the demolition of numerous Orthodox monasteries and churches by Albanian fanatics. Behind them is the Church of St. Sava, one of the largest Orthodox churches in the world, as well as the Beogradanka building, where one of Belgrade's television stations is located. On that grave is written the dedication to those victims as well as the flowers brought to that grave.
Rest in peace to those victims! Amen.
Вечна слава настрадалима и нека почивају у миру! Амин.
Also, since tomorrow is Good Friday, the day of the martyrdom of Jesus Christ, which is a sad day for Christians.
These are my tribute to those victims as well as those who suffered, and that the victims should not be forgotten and history should not be forgotten, because if it is forgotten, it will repeat itself again. Feel free to share this, but please do not use this for other people's purposes and please do not complicate it with political issues, because this blog is not dedicated to that. May God welcome the victims into the Kingdom of God and may they receive eternal glory! Rest in peace! Amen.
#my fanarts#tribute to victims#donald duck#duckverse#ducktales#russia#serbia#moscow#belgrade#yugoslavia#yugoslavia wars#Crocus City Hall attack#daisy duck#scrooge mcduck#grandma duck#elvira coot#huey dewey and louie#april may and june#artists on tumblr#huey dewey and louie duck#april may and june duck#disney ducks#disney duckverse#duck family#fanarts#rest in peace#amen#disney duck comics#duck comics#disney comics
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“Kissing” Luffy Under the Mistletoe (NSFW)
Merry Christmas! Sorry I didn’t post this sooner :/
This Fic also references this one on teaching him how to kiss
Black Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Luffy being OOC and very direct, Kissing, Fluff, but turns to Smut, Basically PWP, Oral sex, Pussy Drunk Luffy. Implied Virgin Luffy
“Y/N.”
You turn your attention to his curious voice looking away from the tangled lights you and your Captian was trynna fix in the middle of the Library floor , but stop in your tracks seeing the small green decoration held by his fingers.
“Whats this? Is it a plant? What’s the red things on it?”
“Oh!” You crawl over to him to reach out and take it from his hands, “It’s just a mistletoe. I need to hang that up somewhere.”
“What is that?”
“It’s just a little deco that you hang on like a door or something and when two people stand under it you have to kiss that person. It’s a funny little tradition.”
Luffy cocks his head to the side, kiss? Really?
“Like that thing we did a few weeks ago? In the aquarium?”
You momentarily flashback to that moment and feel your face get warm, you didn’t necessarily want him to bring that situation up again considering how far you both have gotten after “just kissing”.
“Y-yes Luffy that thing we did.”
“Oh!” He chuckles remembering how good it felt to suck lick and taste your lips, you were really a great kisser in Luffy’s mind. He felt kind of sheepish to not have another moment like that with you considering you both were just getting to the good part. Not another kiss or any other physical touch similar to it have been exchanged since, but now that he has been reminded. Why not push a little further and pick up where you both left off. “So as long as that mistletoe is between us we can kiss right?”
“Well…i mean yeah, but—hey!” Luffy being Luffy snatched it back and headed out the door with it waving off. Your face stiffened, wondering what dreadful idea your captain has up his sleeve, but you were too lazy to get up and chase him. Oh well.
He couldn’t be doing nothing too bad with the mistletoe.
“Y/N!” Your name rung throughout the Sunny about 10 minutes later by that name familiar voice,
“Y/N!
Y/N!
Y/N! COME HERE!”
Slightly mentally exhausted from putting up the Christmas lights, you sigh, get up, and smooth your dress down to follow the rasp voice down to his room.
You see Luffy from a distance still calling your name when you manage to pick up your pace to him so nobody else can turn the corner to wonder what the hell is going on, he smiles at you brightly seeing you approach,
“Hey—“
“Lookit!”
You look up to see the mistletoe, poorly hanging on the door frame with some tape, it nearly falls on your face until Luffy speedily snatches it, “Lu—MMMPH!”
Being the straight forward man he was he wasted no more time repeating history to clash his lips with yours.
Except.
This time was different.
This kiss was different.
Your body in distinctively drew closer to his, your hands rested on the tough skin of his scar, thumbs caressing him, was it because of the cold draft from outside or because the way Luffy’s body always had the affect on your to get closer? Your nose inhaled his musky scent of the sea, his hands shy above your waist, slowly slithering to wrap around you 2 times, his head swished around, man he missed your lips. Soft soft, sweet like the cookies you both shared, the kiss must have gotten to him because his breathing have increased harsher through his nose hitting your warm cheek. This was much improvement from the first time, it was soft, slow, breath taking even. The kiss felt so long, you just barely able to pull away from his now gloss stained lips, he licked them, breaking the small spit line connecting you both-and smiled.
And that smile is exactly what got you here.
On your back, dress being hiked up from Luffy’s erratic rutting into your spread legs on his messy bed, his hair was so soft, and thick between your finger tips as your hips were so plushy between his hands, and his kisses . His kisses were passionate, more calculated, in contrast to his first time.
Luffy couldn’t get a grip, he can’t believe how much he missed your lush lips on his, it was a sense of comfort for him he didn’t think he needed, and you didn’t either.
It has been a while since you had sex so it didn’t take long into this lip sucking match with your captain until your body moved on its own and you pulled the top of your dress down forced Luffy’s hand on your breast.
That’s when he stopped.
“Oh.”
Was all Luffy replied, hand still on the squishy flesh. You felt embarrassed. You should have been more in control of your urges, what if he just wanted a kiss?
“I’m—i’m so sorry—“ You struggle to fix back your dress, but Luffy’s eyes didn’t part from seeing your pretty perked nipples, he gave it a nice firm squeeze and then moved his other hand to do the same, rolling his thumb and index finger. “Lu—!”
No words could spill through his teeth, in an instant his eyes became dark. Luffy licked his dried lips nearly dipping to suck on one, but he paused, scanning the room with his eyes to quickly grab the fallen mistletoe and drop it on your left breast.
“What are y—“
“This means i can kiss your tits right?”
He has such a way with words.
Your can see his breathing building harsher pointing at your breast. You didn’t have much time to register his impatient question so he shrugged to plant a shy kiss on your nipple. The feel of warm lips pecking both breast back and fourth immediately went to your pussy, you felt yourself clench around nothing, toes curling in anticipation for him to make a more firm move on them. He must have read your mind because he stuck his tongue out and stretched it around your soft nipple to suck on making your back arch.
Luffy hummed before sitting up and cupped both breast and jiggled them for a moment.
“Your boobs are nice, Y/N. I see why Sanji looks at them alot.”
“…thank you, Luffy.”
“Has he ever touched ‘em like this?”He grinned thumbs now making circular movements on them.
“N-no!” You moved you back upwards a little, spreading your legs further for Luffy to follow suit, now feeling a very familiar bulge right on your clothed clit. “No he never…has.”
“Good because I can only do this now! Right?”
“Right…Luffy—“
“Shhhh I wanna kiss your lips more. You’re a really good kisser.”
Hands still playing with your chest he kisses your parted lips and allows his tongue for entry inside, sucking your tongue in the process. His kisses have most definitely improved.
From all the kissing and rubbing against one another you sat you a little on your elbows still not parting from Luffy, The mistletoe that was once on your chest felldown between your legs,
And Luffy noticed.
“Oh look!” He looked down seeing it land perfect right on your crotch. “It’s on your pu—“
“LUFFY!” You cover his wet mouth, feeling his teeth graze your palm as he smiles, “It’s fine—“
“No! It’s not!” He moved off the bed to kneel, seeing the full access of your damp lacy panties and did a crooked smile at the not so innocent sight. “I have to kiss your down there too!”
You couldn’t argue with him since you were too busy moaning out his name instead. His eye lids lowered looking down at your wiggling clit under the mercy of the tip of his tongue. His timid tongue licks sent shivers down your spine, your hands were thrown on his scalp as his were busy parting your thighs.
“MUAH! MUAH! MUAH!” Luffy snickered giving your clit big open mouthed kisses making you giggle out at his childish antics at such a lewd moment. “Don’t laugh! I am giving you a kiss down here!”
“Sorry sorry..” You teased looking down at his tired gaze. His eyes weren’t as alerted anymore, they were relaxed as he didn’t peel from your soft eyes, tongue kissing your slit before your very eyes, your stomach knotted at the sensation of his inexperienced tongue, not having any sense of direction, but hitting every spot inside you possible. “Mmmmm! Luffy!”
Your hips grinded on your face as your massaged your breast, following the motion of his tongue inside the sensitive bundle of nerves, you threw your legs on his shoulders to push him further which Luffy willingly obligated holding the sides of your ass.
Your taste was so unique, nothing he ever experienced, your smell is so pungent and delicious in Luffy’s mind and he loved it.
The pace of both his uncoordinated tongue and your hip rocking was building a tension in your tummy you had to release, “Luffy!” You cried breast now bouncing up and down, your thighs twitching uncontrollably because Luffy’s tongue just couldn’t stop hitting the bottom of the hood of your clit.
Luffy felt the tightness of your thighs keeping him in. Not that he minded it, you felt so warm. He kept sucking and groaning inside you, his thumbs rubbing circles on your tense thighs until your back arched off the bed cuming right inside his mouth. You cried, body shaking at the intense orgasm that he was now letting your ride out slowly with his kitten licks.
“I like kissing you down there more.” Luffy licked his wet lips of your creamy cum, and sucking a few fingers making you blush, “You taste good all over!”
You just nodded covering half your face from post orgasm with your arm, but Luffy crawled towards you to move it and give you a soft pepper of kisses on your cheek and lips.
“We should kiss more, but without the mistletoe.”
“We should, Luffy. But…how did you know how to…ya know…kiss down there?”
Luffy nuzzled into your neck, bulge still poking you and sighed, you smelled yourself on his breath which immediately made you bite your lip as you held him.
“I told you, Y/N. I seen A LOT in Dressrosa!”
#one piece#TimikosLuffy#one piece headcanons#black reader#one piece x female reader#luffytaro#luffy x black reader#luffy x female reader#luffy smut#mugiwara no luffy#luffy one piece#luffy#one piece smut#one piece x black!reader#x female reader
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Let's Just Rip Off This Band-Aid (Kliff Doll Repaint)
I still haven't finished adding the fringe to his scarf, but at this point, I don't think y'all will actually care that much. It's a personal project anyway, so I'll just finish it on my own time. Right now, I want to be released from the shackles of this project.
Once again, my poor camera and lack of editing do him no favors (he's got a real bad case of jaundice in that first pic. I PROMISE he's not that yellow-orange IRL ;o;), but he is (mostly) done.
Well, he was (mostly) done like a week ago, but just yesterday I decided to redo a few things to try and "fix" what was really bothering me about him, so I really made recursive progress. That said, I do like him more now than I did a week ago, so I'm not mad about it.
A little backstory: Alongside Kun3h0, I've been working on him for the past month, so I've been pretty occupied with this project for a while. Now, I do wonder to myself why exactly I thought making this would be a good idea. All I can really say is that my impulsive tendencies drive me to do things against my better judgement.
But, I will still give y'all my documentation and thoughts on the process + more pictures.
(I'll talk a little more about it later, but for those of you that aren't going to go through the long-ass readmore, the Neon J. mask is a reference to an old comic I drew.)
(It's so old, I was still writing everything by hand~)
So, the "real" answer to "why" I made this is really as simple as "because I could." As I said in the Kun3h0 post, I've been wanting to repaint dolls for a long time, years even, so in the back of my mind, I'm always thinking of ways I could finally start one.
Well, recently I just finally put together the ideas and motivation I needed to start. And of course, that was with Kliff.
I don't remember *exactly* how I stumbled across everything, but I do recall looking at doll clothes online and stumbling across this trench coat (pictured with the other clothes for this project).
(I took this pic mostly because I thought I was going to take pics of every major step of the process, but that didn't end up happening).
I thought it was pretty darn close to Kliff's coat, and I got the horrible idea that, "I could def make a Kliff doll to go with this coat as long as I can repaint it."
I feel like usually people would think the other way around, but that is basically the truth of this project: I didn't find clothes to fit the doll, I made the doll to fit into the clothes. Because for me, customizing the doll wasn't really the intimidating part: it's making the clothes. I don't know how to use a sewing machine, and currently lack the patience to learn (and due to some personal trauma that I don't really want to get into), but I can hand-sew, so starting any project that involves it requires me to be willing to set aside a lot of energy for me to do it, which I don't often have.
But, if I could find ways to cut down on the sewing, then I'd be more willing to start. And somehow, I was able to find just about everything I would need for a potential Kliff doll without having to sew anything. In the end, I only sewed together one thing, and it's the one thing that isn't actually finished: the scarf.
So, I blame the trench coat for the entirety of this project: if I'd never seen it, I would have never made a Kliff doll. In fact, I got the clothes before I even had the doll.
Since I was brainstorming this project, one of the most important parts is of course the base doll, which was tricky. Male doll repaints are fairly uncommon, especially of older men, so there weren't a lot of resources or places to get inspiration for this project.
From what I found, most male (fashion) dolls were very youthful, and the ones that weren't usually took heavy modifications to achieve, which was out of the question. Kliff was supposed to be an "easy" project, so on top of not wanting to sew any clothes for him, I also didn't want to have to alter the doll that much to make it look like him. This was a lot to ask for without putting in any personal work, but in a way, this goal was supposed to keep me from actually starting this project: really this whole thing was supposed to just live in my head as a fantasy as most things do, but then I just stumbled into the right set of things, so I couldn't stop myself from going through with it.
The doll I landed on was a BTS Mattel doll. Now I've said before that I know basically nothing about BTS, and that is still true, but that's beside the point. In my research for finding a suitable doll to work with, I found out that a popular base were these BTS dolls. At first, I wasn't into it because I was still running into the "youthful face" problem that I was with other brands: most of them had pillowy lips and nice soft faces, but I did eventually find one that I thought was close enough: J-Hope.
(It's not the worst match up.)
I don't have pics of my doll before I started working on him, but it was pretty close to the stock photo. He has much thinner lips than the others, and a taller, more angular head shape that I thought would work best for Kliff. I did worry a bit that the nose wasn't "strong" enough to really be Kliff (and IMO, it wasn't XP), but it was the closest I found yet, so I decided to bite the bullet and get one, and if I had one, that meant I needed to start gathering everything I would need for this project.
So, no backing out now.
Now, actually acquiring this doll was a whole other song and dance, but here's the part that's important for how the process went:
Due to a miscommunication with the seller I eventually got him from, there was a delay with shipping, so I didn't actually get him until weeks after "officially" starting this project. In the meantime, the clothes and things for Kun3h0 (who I started as an impulse project within the impulse project) had already been gathered.
The original plan was that I was going to work on and subsequently post about Kliff first since he was a comparatively simpler project. All the things I was avoiding for Kliff: sewing clothes and making modifications to the doll, were all going to be incorporated into Kun3h0, so she was theorhetically going to take longer and be posted later, thus telling a small story of "starting simple, ending complex." But since I didn't have his doll, but didn't want to delay working on Kun3h0 just to wait on him, I started on her and repainting his clothes anyway.
So, I don't have any pics of the doll or his clothes from when I was working on them, unlike the sparse ones I had for Kun3h0, I only have pics from after he was finished.
But I'll still tell y'all what I can to at least preserve the story.
For starters, repainting this coat was probably the most time-consuming part of this process.
I really thought that it would take one or two days maximum to turn this coat bright yellow, but I think it actually took over a week. And I really should have known; the coat was a medium tone, and I know that yellow takes a while to build up on anything that isn't light. I lost count at some point, but I swear that thing has over 20 coats of paint on it. Mind you, the first 10 or so coats were watered down with the textile medium, which also contributed to how long it was taking for the coat to take color, but at some point I just got so frustrated that I stopped mixing in the medium and painting directly onto the coat to get the color to layer faster. This is a huge no-no for painting acrylics onto fabric, lest the paint crack from creasing the fabric, but I just couldn't be bothered anymore. I needed this thing to be dandelion yellow NOW or I was gonna lose it.
There were consequences for taking that shortcut, such as the paint cracking in high motion areas and the coat getting stiff, but it's not terrible. In the end, I accepted the trade-offs or else I might still be painting the coat. Perhaps one day I'll reverse engineer the pattern for the coat and make him a new one, but I wouldn't count on it. In retrospect, I wonder if I would have had an easier time if I had thought to bleach the coat first?
As you might notice, I contoured/shaded part of the coat in orange. That's something that I actually *just* added yesterday and added another couple of hours to the work time. It was just bothering me that the doll was essentially a giant slab of yellow, and was part of the reason I didn't like it very much. But I got inspired by this repaint to try contouring the coat to give it more depth.
youtube
(I also used this person's videos to modify the hands. He has one deidcated to just reshaping the BTS hands.)
In the end, I'm pretty happy with the results.
The rest of the clothes weren't as difficult to deal with.
The pants took the paint a lot better, likely due to being dark paint on a light surface. Since I used less paint, it's not as stiff as the coat and still go on very easily. Though, they are VERY high waisted, and I'm not sure if that's normal XP
The shoes are also painted (and slightly modified), though I had to paint them twice because the first time, the paint got stretched off when I tried to put them on the doll's feet: the shoes were just *slightly* too small for the feet of the doll, so they really get stretched to fit his feet, and his heels don't actually go in all the way XP.
He's still capable of standing on his own, but I try not to remove the shoes, so I can avoid having them crack again.
In my "initial clothes" pic, I put down a different shirt than the one he's wearing. The original plan was to repaint the shirt black, but my work space is very limited, so I couldn't really repaint three pieces of clothes at once without significantly risking that I would stain other things. In the end, after getting scarred by how long it was taking for the coat to take color, I decided to just give him one of the black shirts that came with the coat. This does make him somewhat inaccurate since the current shirt has flowers/plants on it, but I'm gonna say that they make up for the lack of flowers on his scarf. Maybe someday I'll make him a new shirt from an old sock or something, but for now, I don't think it's a bad look.
Other clothing of note is the scarf, but since it's not technically finished I didn't take any close pics of it. It's actually made of an old headband of mine that I just cut and painted to look like his scarf.
Originally, I had actually glued on ribbon to it for the stripes, which took a couple days for the drying, but because I couldn't flatten out the scarf to easily glue the ribbon, it turned into a mess and bulked it out too much: since the scale of the doll is already small, I really needed to keep the fabrics thin. This was especially important for the scarf since it was going to wrap around his neck: if it were any thicker, it was going to practically eat up his face, which it still does, just less so.
Speaking of face...
When I finally got the doll in the mail, I started working on him right away, so I don't have any "before" pics of the doll.
After I did the usual "wiping off the face and pulling out his hair," I started with repainting the entire body and head.
Despite Kliff being ambigously "WHITE 🫵," Kliff isn't as pale as the original doll. I'd say even the stock picture I posted above has more warmth than the actual doll did. So, I got the base to be "coral" all over, dusted him in light orange chalk pastels for contouring, and most of his details are outlined in shades of burgandy. I didn't take any nude pics of this doll, but he is countoured all over his body and you can rest easy knowing I gave him some nips XP. But maybe someday I'll show y'all doll!Kliff's washboard abs XP.
TBH, I did want to detail some tattoos and some body hair too, but I just didn't trust myself to do either of those well with the tools I have (my brushes aren't thin enough, and my hand not steady enough for those kind of intricate details). Maybe someday I'll at least get his tattoos in (and after I've actually designed them XP), but we'll see. I don't plan on having the doll in short sleeved clothes very often, so details like that are the least of my concerns.
TBH, I was pretty proud of how the face paint originally went on. I really took my time to make sure it went down flat. It really was beautifully smooth~
But disaster struck.
I had painted the head while it was still separated from the body, and when it finally came time to reunite them, the paint on the head cracked and peeled when I shoved it back on. And, foolish fool that I am, instead of accepting my losses and starting over from a perfectly clean head, I just peeled the lose ends and repainted the exposed parts, which of course made the paint uneven. I somewhat justified this with the idea that most of it would be covered by other details, but in retrospect, I really should have just started over properly.
But, after that ordeal was over with, it was time to actually work on the face.
I can't clearly remember if I worked on Kun3h0 or Kliff's face first. I think I worked on them simultaneously because it took me a LONG time to actually get the courage to work on Kun3h0's face.
I thought I did a decent job on Kun3h0 since I really only had the 1 eye to repaint (the hidden eye is painted, but it's basically just a void with no details), and it was a bigger "canvas", so it was easier to paint. Besides having 2 eyes that I would need to make nearly identical, they were also a lot smaller, so it took a lot longer to paint them in a way that satisfied me (and since it's not easy to "redo" acrylic paint, his eyes lost a lot of smoothness too).
Again, I don't have any "before" pics, so it won't be easy for me to convey my troubles about it, but I do want to say that I think Kliff with a closed mouth is very cursed.
:I
He just looks like he's itching to say something heinous and that is no different for the doll.
It was so difficult for me both match his expression on a face that wasn't *completely* his and still look like him. Although I chose this doll because he most resembled Kliff, he was never gonna be a perfect likeness of him, but despite knowing this, it still bothered me that the face was still just very "young" looking.
Granted, I don't think the original Kliff looks *that* old either (if I didn't know any better, I would assume he was in his 30s, not his 50s, especially compared to other characters around the same age), but still not as *smooth* as the doll is (even with my paint mishaps).
If you can believe it, the face actually used be worse. I don't have pics of it, but like the coat, I actually repainted his face yesterday to again try and fix what was making me dislike it before. I think the problem is that I didn't outline the eyes as much as the final one (like, I don't think I lined his undereye at all), so he was lacking depth. The mouth was also a little more off. Instead of being like "<--->" it was more like "|-|"
(A rough illustration of what I'm trying to describe.)
So, while it's still not perfect, I do like him more today than I did a week ago.
I think the only things left to talk about are his accessories, starting with his wig:
I'm not actually a big fan of the color. When I started this project, I wanted to try and make him as accurate as possible, and the original Kliff design has a very "cherry jolly rancher" hair color.
However, how I draw him and how he appears in Encore Edition gives his hair a more red-orange tone which isn't as intense. In the end, I opted for accuracy towards his first design since that's the one I was technically most familiar with and wanted to replicate, but in retrospect, I should have realized that I was never gonna be able to seperate my personal quirks from this personal project, so I should have gone with a color that was more accurate to how I interpret him. (I dunno if I would have gone as far as to give him triangular eyes, but one of my biggest takeaways from this project has been that I should have just allowed this to be "my take" on the character instead of trying to be "accurate," meeting in the middle, and satisfying neither condition.)
I don't think I really got across how much I HATED brushing out yarn for the wigs when I posted Kun3h0. It was just such a tedidus process, from brushing it out, to straightening it, to gluing it down. It was such a mess. I'm still finding loose wisps of yarn hair floating around my home since I made them.
Since I had more than had my fill from making Kun3h0's wig, I once again started taking shortcuts when it came to Kliff: I really should have made more wefts for him. I figured since his hair was (compartively) shorter, that I wouldn't need to make as many, but in the end his wig turned out both too thin and too thick.
Since his hair is so messy, I didn't follow any kind of guide for his hair like I did Kun3h0. I basically just glued around the perimeter of the cap, horizontally on the inside, and made sure it would fold over in the front.
Part of the problem is that I made the wefts too thick: instead of just gluing down what could actually touch the surface of the work area, I wound up gluing layers on top of each other, so the wefts would be like a mm thick when they should have been less than half of that. So, I barely got enough coverage for the scalp, and the parts that I did get down are very thick. I think it makes his head look bigger than it should which kinda adds to the uncanniness of him.
I did try to style it as close to canon as possible, but there are some things that just aren't (easily) possible in certain mediums, and Kliff's wild hair is one of them.
In retrospect, I probably should have just sculpted his hair with clay or something: it probably would have been more accurate, but I don't have much confidence in my sculpting ability, and again, I didn't want to modify the doll that much, so I stuck with the yarn.
I might suck it up and try and make him a new wig, I still have a LOT of red yarn left over, so maybe I can make him some new styles too. But the tedium of going through with it makes it very unlikely that I'll follow through~
(The wig from other angles.)
Since the beard is made from the same yarn, I'll lightly talk about that. There aren't too many resources about bearded dolls, but I've seen people root it, glue it, and even just paint it if they weren't supposed to be thick. In the end I used this repaint for reference (suggestive content warning) and glued it on.
youtube
The scarf covers most of it, but I think it turned out okay. I need to add just a *little* more to his left cheek, but otherwise I feel like I was successful.
Next, it's usually hidden due to all the crap that's on his head, but I did give him an earring.
I didn't think about it until way too late in the process, and I tried to poke a hole through his ear so he could actually wear it. However, when I tried to do so, I almost ruined his head paint a second time. Saying, "fuck that," I decided to just glue it on.
If I had been more brave with modifying this doll, I might have just resculpted his ears entirely, because, being based on a real life human being, the doll's ears don't flare out that much, so they're easily covered by other things.
His glasses are just a piece of painted plastic that hold to his face using some plastic cord. They fit well while his wig is off, but putting them on with everything else is a goddamn nightmare.
Since his ears are so small, and his hair is so short, there's nothing for the glasses to "grab" onto without the cord, but the cord is too short to fit around the wig once it's on, but I can't make the cord longer to sit over the wig, because the glasses need to go over the headband, and it's a pain in the ass trying to layer everything like that.
So, I have to put the glasses in place first, TAPE the cord to his scalp so they don't move, put on the wig, then put on the headband. It's really such a hassle, but I don't think I can truly convey the annoyance of having to do it all without showing you. So, unless I absolutely have to, I'm never taking any of those things off him again.
I think the last things are the headband, mask, and tablet.
The headband is just a spare scrunchy that I have. I don't have one in the *exact* same color as the real one, so I went with the closest one I had, which was this teal color.
I didn't feel comfortable repainting one since it's essentially an elastic band, I don't think the paint, even with the textitle medium, would be able to hold up to all the stretching I have to do to even get it on his head.
If I happen to find a white one somewhere in my stash, then I might try dyeing it using water and acrylic paints to see if I can get it green, but for now, I think this works. A little thick, but it works.
The tablet is just a piece of foam painted with paint markers and the mask is a piece of cardboard. I wasn't planning on really recreating any scenes with this doll, but since I remembered that comic, and thought it would be easy enough to make, I went ahead and made it as an in-joke to myself.
Honestly, I think it's the most charming piece of the entire ensemble. Plus, he can wear it without me having undo/redo any of his other head accessories, so it's easy to make him wear it whenever.
My final comments about the doll itself are that he's fucking huge. I should have taken a pic of him next to Kun3h0, but he is too tall to even fit on my display shelf without sitting.
(Please ignore any mess you might see in the reflection. This is just one of the only flat pieces of furniture he can stand on without me standing on something to take a pic.)
Despite my interests, I don't actually collect dolls (I'm more into figures and plushies), so I wasn't expecting him to be so big. In fact, Kun3h0, who would be considered a small to medium doll in collector's spaces, was also bigger than I thought she'd be, so you can imagine my surprise when I got my hands on him.
So... I don't really know where I can put him. He obviously can't live in front of my TV, but beyond being too big for my shelf, he also doesn't fit in with any of my other collectibles. And I'll be honest, the contrast of him "clearly not belonging" among my more "kawaii" items was a motivator in starting this project, I live for the gap moe after all, but in practice he really just sticks out like a sore thumb. (This is also why his first pics are in a slightly different location without many props. I just couldn't put together anything from my collection or find a spot among my things to take a good thematic pic with. The magazines/CDs he's with are from my dad's collection.)
I do have space at higher elevations in my room, but it's kinda off putting to have him staring down my room, looking like he's plotting something (my space is too small to ignore it). So I dunno what I'm gonna do with him. I did have plans to make him some... cuter outfits so he wouldn't stick out as much, but that requires sewing, and I'm kinda worn out from this project.
In conclusion, despite my troubles with this project, I'm not entirely displeased with the results. At the very least, it was an experience, and one that I might even be willing to do a third time 👀...?
But for now, I'd like to rest and maybe go back to drawing again. I feel like I haven't drawn anything "real" for a while now. We're inching closer and closer to the next follower milestone (4 digit number BA-BY!), so I'd like to at least get back to being good enough to sketch some stuff for y'all soon~
#gbunny makes#gbunny draws#custom doll#doll custom#doll repaint#kliff#nsr#no straight roads#for the record i do find this project thoroughly embarrassing for me#but i can't justify its existence without sharing it. so here it is.#like. i wish i could have been obsessed with somebody else.#anybody else.#well. someone who's socially acceptable to obsess over i guess#but i'm not. i'm obsessed with him so i'm going to make things of him#and they're gonna make me happy#despite the embarrassment#Youtube
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Okay I cant -- I need to say it out loud.
I am 100% sure, at this point, you are my favourite artist so far. And I have to honestly thank you for a lot of stuff so let me get to the point before my anxiety takes me back --
I came across you less than a month ago. I don't remember if I saw your art before reading your fictions (Mon Horrible Cherì was my first) or the other way around, but both inspired me so much I can't describe it properly. Art itself is my absolute weak spot. In my past years I always struggled working on that, I was never happy with my results, and mostly had drawn to pay bills than for my own happyness. In the end I hated it at the point that every line I drew was a cut on my hand instead of a moment of joy. And that was horrendous.
But then I came across your art, at some point - and I was amazed. Your style is something I wished to achieve years ago, or very similar to that at least, so I was totally into looking for more, and more, and more. I can't produce art of that quality, but for the first time I wasn't envious of another artist's ability and talent, I was just... Amazed. I felt very happy, can't say why, but your style totally fascinated me. It still do. Anytime you post something new it gives me a shot of serotonine, it makes me feel happy and inspires me to get back on my Huion and draw something too. I started to push it through everyday, and in less than a month I grew a lot. You don't know that, but you pushed me into art with a passion I didn't had since I was 16, and I turned 30 couple months ago. Now it gives me joy everytime I draw. It doesn't matter if the art I produce is no good, or if I change my style everytime (I'm trying a lot of styles right now), the only thing that matter is the way I feel when I sit here and just let my inspiration go. And I feel happy. Happy to draw. Happy to experiment. Happy to share. Somehow I don't feel ashamed of my art anymore, and I was for a long time. I improved so much in these weeks. I watched carefully almost all of your timelapses (I am in love with all of them btw) and followed your tutorials more than once. Your examples, the way you work, is just inspirational for me. I've seen someone was thankful to you for the way you use references and says people out there to do it too: I want to thank you for that too. References was a taboo until last month for me, and I was SO wrong! Those helps so much!
So, well. I am not sure I wrote this all correctly, english is not my native language (I'm italian) and I may have done some mistakes, well, I do not care. I just hope I was able to express you my gratitude for all you did for me - I had to let you know how much this means to me everyday.
Oh also: I love every part of your art, but I could stare at your linearts for days and never get bored by that. And the way you color! Don't make me start on that. I could speak for hours. Not sure you'll want that, believe me.
So, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for making me believe in myself again. Thank you for giving me back my passion. Thank you for reminding me everyday I can draw for myself, for my own happyness. And thank you for making me happy.
You are a great artist.
Thank you! <3
i put off replying to this because i wanted to draw you something, but i just haven't had the energy after work and dont want u to think im ignoring you 😭
but i dont have WORDS. i'm so fucking proud of you. i'm so happy for you. browsing your blog and seeing the sheer amount of art and AUs you're making is so inspiring. your happiness is contagious and i hope you only continue to grow, and continue to foster all that joy for art.
thank you <3
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My friend mentioned pirates a few weeks ago and that's been rotating around my head for a bit :)) was working on a snippet, actually :p but yes, pirates and the navy. Do with that what you will :D
:D anon
Oh well, that's something I always wanted to get into! I love pirates. Please let me try.
Brutal
• Masterlist •
Warnings: Mutiny, execution, blood.
A pirate was nothing but a bandit if it wasn't for the captain's reputation. A ship was nothing but a piece of wood floating. And to gain a captain's reputation, you had to dethrone one.
It was why all captains lived their lives keyed up. It was why they all knew how to sleep with an eye open.
For someone so paranoid, Captain trusted to their crew way too much. They believed that their meed for each other was enough to keep the crew in line for now. They were good on storage, all needs of the crew provided. What could someone else wish when they were sailing for a treasure only Captain knew the place of? Certainly, the wealth was worth more than fame.
Walking at the deck, checking around, Captain felt their fingers ache, a gift given them with the title. Rubbing their hands, they ignored the open weather and gave the order to prepare for heavy rain.
While the crew looked sceptical for a moment, they complied. Captain was on edge through the whole time, fearing that this time they could be wrong and their value in their crew's eye would decrease.
In less than an hour, a storm broke out. Some of the crew looked at them like they were a witch. They didn't mind the look but sent everyone into the hull before taking the helm. With the smallest sail not to stray away in the wind, it was hard to control the ship. By the time they managed to keep the ship in the route and the storm calmed, their muscles were trembling, and they were soaked from head to toe. It was an awful way to begin the day.
As the crew busied themselves with post-storm tasks, Captain couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Something didn't feel right, but they couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Perhaps it was just the aftermath of the storm playing tricks on their senses.
"Keep her steady, Helmsman," They muttered as they left for their cabin.first thing they did was drying their hair with the towel and getting in dry clothes. They couldn't warm up, however, even after changing. They could only stop trembling with their will. They assumed it was because their cabin didn't get much sunlight, but their state didn't change much once they were on the deck.
Crossing their arms, they watched the crew working at a perfect pace. Too perfect, they thought for a moment before they could prevent their paranoia . They leaned to the railing, sighing. Their instincts screamed danger, but they couldn't discern the source. Was it just their nerves, or was something truly amiss?
First Mate approached, their face looking quite troubled as always. "Captain, are you alright? You seem tense."
Captain forced a tight smile. "Just a bit weary from the storm. Keep an eye on the crew, will you? Something doesn't feel right."
First Mate nodded, their gaze flickering over the deck before returning to Captain. "Aye, Captain. I'll keep a close watch."
The day dragged on with a suffocating heaviness, the sun casting long shadows across the deck as evening approached. Captain's unease only grew as the hours passed, a gnawing feeling in the pit of their stomach refusing to leave them alone.
As dusk descended, Lookout's shout cut through the stillness, startling Captain from their reverie. "Ship ahoy! To starboard!"
Heart pounding, Captain rushed to the rail, squinting into the fading light. Sure enough, the silhouette of another vessel loomed on the horizon. Clenching their fists, Captain barked orders to prepare the canons for a potential conflict. The crew sprang into action, their movements swift and practised, but Captain was not one to relax before battles.
As the unknown ship drew nearer, Captain's worst fears were realized. It was no ordinary merchant vessel or another pirate.
"Damn navy," they muttered, but everyone heard that in the deep silence. "I will see it scuttled," they snarled as they ran to the helm, getting the ship to a better position to aim the canons.
It took only one shot to burst everything into chaos.
Their ship shook with the missed shot, and it was all they needed to order fire. Pirates, too bored of mundane days, fires as if there was no tomorrow. After the heavy fire, two vessels closed the distance until the ships locked side by side, a battle beginning. Captain was first to cross to the navy ship, their sword and pistol their only trusted ally.
But in the middle of chaos, something caught Captain's eye. A figure standing tall and commanding on the deck of the enemy ship, their uniform adorned with the insignia of high rank. It was the captain of the navy vessel, a formidable opponent whose skill matched their own, and a way to destabilise the whole ship.
Captain charged forward, their sword meeting the navy captain's in a shower of sparks. Captain's heart pounded in their chest as they fought, their senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through their veins.
Despite their best efforts, Captain found themselves unable to gain the upper hand against their formidable opponent. The navy captain fought with a ferocity and determination matched their own, and it only fueled their anger.
But just as the tide seemed to turn in favour of Captain, a sudden movement caught their eye. A group of navy soldiers, armed to the teeth, appeared from below deck and surged forward, circling their crew.
Realizing they were outmatched and outnumbered, Captain knew they had to act fast and smart. With a swift motion, they disarmed the overconfident navy captain and pressed their blade against their throat, the cold feeling returned agsin as a wave soaked them.
"Stand down!" Captain's voice cut the battle, drawing attention across both of the decks. "Or your captain will breathe their last breath."
For a tense moment, the navy soldiers hesitated, torn between their loyalty to their captain and the threat of imminent death. But with a resigned nod from their leader, they reluctantly lowered their weapons, signalling their surrender.
Breathing heavily, Captain released the navy captain. "Kill them all."
The order was given with a cold, calculated tone. Without hesitation, the pirates descended upon the surrendered navy soldiers, their blades flashing in the dying light of dusk.
Captain watched the chaos unfold with a mixture of satisfaction and remorse. They knew that in the world of piracy, mercy was a luxury they couldn't afford. Besides, their own crew had to see that they were Captain for a reason.
As the last of the navy soldiers fell, Captain turned to address their crew, their voice ringing out across the deck. "Gather what plunder you can and prepare to make sail. We're not safe here."
The crew moved quickly, looting the enemy vessel for any valuables they could find and securing their own ship for departure. With the wind at their backs, they set sail into the fading light, leaving the navy vessel burning down slowly.
Captain went to their cabin to dry up again, annoyance painted all over their face as they failed to keep their expression in check.
The rest was short-lived as First Mate barged in.
First Mate's expression was grave as they entered, a sense of urgency preventing Captain from snapping with annoyance. "Captain, we have a situation."
Captain's brow furrowed. They were too tired to deal with anything. "What's happened?"
First Mate hesitated before continuing. "There's talk among the crew. They're restless, discontent. Some are even muttering about overthrowing you, saying you've led us into too many close calls and that we'd be better off without you."
Captain's blood ran cold at the news, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "How many are with them?"
"Enough to cause trouble," First Mate admitted grimly. "But not enough to overpower us if we act quickly. Though but tensions are running high. I fear it's only a matter of time before someone makes a move."
Captain's mind raced as they considered their options. They couldn't afford to let a mutiny succeed, not with their reputation and authority on the line. But they also couldn't risk a full-scale confrontation that could tear the crew apart.
"Round up any loyal crew members you can find," Captain ordered, their voice steely with determination. "We'll confront the mutineers and put an end to this before it escalates further."
With a nod, First Mate turned to leave, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the cabin. Left alone once more, Captain cursed their luck and the treachery of those they had trusted with their lives. But there was no time for self-pity. They had a mutiny to end and a crew to rally if they were to maintain control of their ship.
Captain gave themselves a few seconds before barging out. They watched as the crew gathered at down, gripping the railing until their knuckles began to ache. After waiting the majority and watching First Mate separate some to form a circle around, they walked down the stairs.
"The only disadvantage of having my own cabin is being isolated from the circulating whispers. But truly, did you all thought I would not hear your talks about mutiny?" They snarled, their sharp voice cutting through the air like a knife.
The crew fell into an uneasy silence, their eyes darting nervously among themselves. Some shuffled their feet uncomfortably, while others exchanged glances, unsure of how to respond.
Captain's gaze swept over the assembled crew, their expression neutral despite their angry tune. "I've led you through storms and battles, risked my life countless times to keep this ship afloat and our plunder secure. And this is how you repay me?"
A few heads bowed in shame, but still, no one spoke up to challenge Captain's authority. They had the respect and fear of their crew, but even that seemed to be slipping through their fingers like sand.
"You may think me harsh, reckless, or even selfish, but every decision I've made was for the good of this crew and our shared goals," Captain declared, their eyes darting around with righteous fury. "If any of you still doubt my leadership, then let them step forward now and face me like true pirates."
Whispers grew for a moment and Captain spotted some movement, half of the circled crew subtly reaching their cutlass. Their number weren't enough to hinder the ship.
"Very well," Captain said, their voice carrying a steely resolve that brooked no argument. "If this is the path you choose, then let it be settled here and now."
Without warning, the first blow was struck, and chaos erupted in a frenzy of steel and fury. Blades clashed, shouts rang out, and blood stained the deck as the mutiny unfolded in a violent struggle for control.
It was a lot easier than going against a navy. The small uprising was over in a matter of minutes, mutineers brought to their knees. The deck was littered with fallen comrades and mutineers alike, the air heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of gunpowder.
First Mate approached, their expression a mixture of relief and concern. "Captain, are you injured?"
"I truly don't seserve you," Captain muttered to themselves and shook their head, wiping sweat and blood from their brow with the back of their hand. "Just a few scratches. What's the damage?"
First Mate stood in attention, taking in the scene of chaos and with a disgusted expression. "We've lost a few good men, and there are injuries among the crew, but nothing we can't handle. The mutineers are yours as our seal of loyalty."
Captain nodded, their jaw clenched with tension. "Good. See to it that the wounded are tended to, and get yourself something to celebrate with your men."
First Mate saluted, their gaze lingering on Captain with a mixture of admiration and concern. "Aye, Captain. I'll see to it right away."
As First Mate moved to carry out their orders, Captain took a moment to collect themselves, sighing as they approached to the kneeled rebels. There was no mercy in their heart.
"Did you truly think you could succeed a mutiny against me, who has survived and succeeded even more than you heard?" Captain snarled. "You are greedy animals who can't see the consequences of your own actions. What makes you think that your end will be different than any navy i wreck?"
A part of then enjoyed the mutineers trembling before them. And for a moment, they let that part take the control as they did in the deck of the navy ship.
"Now... what should I do with you?" They mused to themselves.
The mutineers cowered before Captain, their faces pale with fear and regret as they awaited their fate. Some dared to meet Captain's gaze with defiance, but the fire in their eyes quickly flickered out under Captain's icy glare.
"You've betrayed your comrades, your captain, and the code we live by," Captain continued, their voice low and dangerous. "And for that, there can be only one punishment."
A smirk took over their face. Surely they weren't being too... brutal. They gave what people deserved.
"Keelhaul*."
-•-
Keelhaul: to punish a sailor by pulling him under a ship, from one side to the other or from one end to the other
#whump#whump writing#ask#:D anon#pirate whump#leader whump#?#somewhere between whumper and whumpee#execution#mutiny#wait when did this past 2k words#not using accent bc i struggle with grammar and spelling as it is#tw blood
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God I should be drawing but I'm pissed off about how long drawing takes for me and you're all going to hear about it now.
I'll admit it! I'm sickeningly envious of the artists whose work I see on social media every day when they call something a "quick doodle" or say that they "try not to take more than an hour" on pieces like it or whatever and it's like. Full colour, shaded, usually at least somewhat rendered, meanwhile I've been working on my poxy lineart for several hours and it's still not finished. If I were colouring and shading this fucking thing it would take me two weeks.
All of the advice for getting faster at art is along the lines of "OH JUST FOCUS ON DRAWING QUICKLY AND DON'T WORRY ABOUT QUALITY! THE QUALITY WILL COME ON ITS OWN WHEN YOU GET BETTER AT DRAWING FAST! :))))))))" and it makes me want to chew glass because that's already my fucking drawing technique. I know it's going to take me an age to draw anything so it's a hustle from the start; no warmups, just get straight into it, there's no time for shit like that or we're going to miss our deadline. This sketch isn't as good as it could be but it's good enough. It felt like I was focusing well but it's already nearly midnight and we're only half done. Oh, that doesn't look right - but there's no time to fix it now, I need to get the colours down. Doing it that way looked good when I did it over there, why does it look like shit when I do it again over here? I can't remember how I did it the first time, surely I'm doing it the same way, but if I was, it wouldn't look so terrible. This would look a lot better if I knew how to blend but I don't have time to learn, there's too much to do and I can't afford the time it'd take to experiment when I can't guarantee it'll get the result that I want. This piece looks like dogshit to me but it's the best I can do; here's hoping no one notices how bad it looks! Aaaaaand post! 👏
It's exhausting! Having the Patreon means I draw at least a couple of times a month when I might otherwise just gravitate towards doing nothing for years at a time, but god. It takes up so much of my time and I'm seldom happy with what I make, and for all of the effort I put into it, it feels like I haven't improved in a decade. There's shit I drew years ago that looks better than the stuff I put out now and it's fucking infuriating. How did I do that? I can't remember. I've added all kinds of new techniques to speed up my art but it still seems to take just as long as ever and actively looks worse for it (but it's a cinch that if I went back to doing things like I used to, it would take substantially longer now). What's wrong with me? Why can't I get better?
I work so fucking hard, and for what?
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So you just steal artwork and don't care? Got it. Either that or my ask asking about sources from your posts on April 8th disappeared. Or I guess you could be off tumblr and not have been here for two weeks.
Hi Anon,
I'm assuming this is you:
If it is, yes, I did see your last ask - but life has been a bit shit lately and frankly, I didn't have the emotional bandwidth to deal with an accusatory email that gave me absolutely no details about what you were upset about so I could investigate. So today, despite it being an incredibly long and shit one that isn't over I'm going to reply.
*Takes a deep breath* From this point forward I'm going to assume that, like me, you are just a real-live human with feelings that get hurt and not someone who just likes to yell at people on the internet. So let me apologise that I have used your artwork without attribution, it was in no way my intention. Please take this apology as someone who was just trying to amuse themselves and perhaps help some other people out by reminding them to take their meds too. I absolutely suck at art-type things so in my mind, no one would think I did them or was claiming the actual 'art' part of them as mine. I realise now this is the internet, you guys don't know me, and so I should have been clearer that nearly all of these are edits. (There are a few waaaaay back I actually drew myself). Looking at the 7th, 8th & 9th of April (allowing for time zones and assuming that's when you saw your artwork). All of them except one have a link at the bottom of the image that links back to where I sourced the original image - I don't know if this is visible on mobile so I'll show it below (the bit circled in red)
So I'm assuming this one is yours:
It seems that one doesn't have the link. I don't know why. I haven't made any new reminders for this blog in ages (again - life) - it seems like most of the ones from early April this year were originally posted back in 2021. I got briefly excited about this blog again a few months ago and loaded up a bunch of old ones so this blog was still functional for the people that find it helpful. Going back I have noticed that others seem to not have credit either. It is possible I made a mistake and forgot to add them. It's also possible that Tumblr has a had a glitch/error/weirdness which means it's disappeared. I also used a bunch of images from the editing app I was using to add the reminder message and I wish I could remember what the site was called because I cannot for the life of me remember. Honestly, who knows. I have deleted the post(s) with that image - if it's not the right one please let me know.
I have always gone out of my way to ensure that anything I use is either free use, or non-commercial under Creative Commons. As an aside, I'm an academic and a person who has artist friends and my partner runs a business where our customers are largely designers and artists, so I do actually do my best to give credit. Am I perfect - no I'm not. Part of the reason I stopped making new posts was because of difficulty giving credit even on images that were non-attribution and finding images where I knew what the attribution requirements were (along with trying to remember everything everyone asked me to tag, and doing the image descriptions etc.) If anyone else finds something of theirs in one of my posts and there isn't credit attached please either dm me or send an ask and let me know which post and how you would like to be credited and I'll add it in. If you want it removed, I'm happy to do that too.
Sorry for the long post, hope it helps to clear things up. Finally, let me take this opportunity to say
"Don't forget your meds today my friends"
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Little bit of progress on the angelic language
I have several drafts of 'theories' and various things I've noticed in the show, but I thought I would share a little about this before I share any of those cause I know I mentioned it in my last post.
The Angelic Language...or whatever you wanna call it.
A week or two ago (I cannot remember how long it's been...probably only a week) my sister @lady-of-the-puddle and I printed off a shit ton of screenshots I took (I'll share my doc if anyone is super interested but there's nothing important in it as I've been doing all my work on paper.) From there we sat down, did a little matching of characters with real languages but frankly didn't bother spending too long with that cause frankly we're here to do more trial and error. But also it takes a long time to hand write in tons of different possible letter combinations on sheets of paper that we had to print out in black and white.
I previously took a screenshot from the scene where Michael is discussing the plan for Armageddon 2 Electric Boogaloo. I had a few thoughts on it and I'm wondering if it's quite possibly a key of sorts.
Here's a couple images of it. The first being the screenshot, the second being me adjusting the lighting so you can make out the symbols a little better.
As you can see there's two sets of symbols here and I have a couple theories as to what they mean but nothing quite lines up?? So there's that.
Here's my kinda half-assed notes on it that probably don't mean too much?
My theory here is maybe that it says something like 'The Earth' but if it does the characters don't match up where the 'H's would be soooo. My other thoughts on this were why on earth would Michael's bullet points be in English but everything else not? They're angels that clearly have their own language. Also why is the title on the document folder written in English and not this language? (I ask too many questions.)
My sister and I have tried a series of different letter combinations there and wrote them down in my screenshots of the giant ass text walls they show in the replay footage.
So far, nothing much has turned up (but also we've been super busy and haven't been able to try much.)
That being said, another thing I've found that...I find weird but I'm not sure what it means is that certain text walls seem to match other text walls for lack of better phrasing.
For example...
And I have closer images where Uriel and Saraquael's text change and match each other and you can make out symbols that the other cuts off, but to be honest I'm not sure how to show that too well without sending my photos through an editor. (I think my favorite thing about working with my sister on this is for whatever reason we both keep thinking these characters look like something we've seen in Nancy Drew games before.)
That's...really all I have for now. I haven't had much time to work on this and won't as I'm recently full-time and also in the middle of con-crunching. I just thought I'd share what my sister and I found a week ago (or however long it was as time has no meaning to me) because I'd mentioned it in my previous post about the all the scenes in the opening with Jim.
There will be more to come soon (maybe not with the language right now because that takes a lot of time and con-crunching is...well con-crunching) but I have several more posts drafted. Plenty talking about the opening sequence. A few about other things because my sister and I are losing our minds over this shit.
But soon enough you'll get to here lots about...typos and recurring things and out of place things. But for now, here's what little I have with this. I'll be back with more observations and speculation soon.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens season 2#good omens meta#very stressed and tired#I haven't had time to work on this for like a week or so now...#i have no clue how long it's been#what is time for it has no passage
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