#i drew this to procrastinate studying

[oblivious-tomato]

uh oh changed my mind about bamboo

the og summary still applies: he won't judge you for cheating, but he WILL judge you for slacking!!!!

not sure if googledidnt lie to me when i looked for "idiot" in chinese

[chickenchirps27]

Drawing request for @xthesilentarts using the template they gave me! Template below

The template XTheSilentArts gave me

[justn0t]

Early evening nap

[theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom]

studying? sorry, you mean attempting to quickly draw my blorbos with the limited onenote tools?

[hepaidattention]

I find it interesting how Ace's view of love is self-sacrificing, but only when it comes to him. this is not a hate on Ace post I love him with my whole heart. i just admire the writers for how complex yet consistent they've made his character. Ace has always done everything for Nancy, and whenever she risked things for him he always got mad. she risked a lot with the list of witnesses in s2 and he was so furious at her. she sacrificed herself to get everyone else out and safe from the wraith, and he was furious at her. yet, he would die for her, literally drank a vile that could have been poison, put his life on the line for every new mystery, does illegal things for her every day and never once questions his actions. the most selfish thing Ace has ever done when it came to Nancy was tell her how he felt when she was with Park, and he never even thought that it would do anything. he didn't think Nancy would feel anything back, he just couldn't keep it to himself anymore. then Nancy tells him that he might die because of the curse and he doesn't care, he's willing to sacrifice himself for her like he always has. yet the moment she is willing to sacrifice herself, he backs out. he says he doesn't think love is meant to be dying for each other which he's right - but yet before Nancy's life was on the line, he was willing to die. it's just interesting how he acts like he wants both of them alive, but really, he just wants Nancy alive. and that's not in some kind of morbid self hating way, obviously he doesn't want to die, but he's just not willing to risk NANCY. not himself, but Nancy. I feel like their talk at the morgue would have been more honest if Ace said "I'm trying to keep YOU alive" because Ace isn't really concerned about himself, but Nancy's.

[celestefem]

wip(?) of an oc. she’s basically a weird hermit who lives in the swamp and talks to ghosts, etc

[gottagobuycheese]

A WIP I didn’t end up having time to finish and I’m not sure when it’ll really be “IP” again sdkjfhsk, BUT since it’s still February 15th in some time zone somewhere, HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM DOKJA!!

[ID: a digital sketch depicting several characters from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, posing for a photo. A young Kim Dokja lays asleep in a hospital bed in the center of the frame. A slightly older Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung crowd his sides; on Kim Dokja’s right, Lee Gilyoung half-climbs onto the bed to rest his elbow on Kim Dokja’s shoulder, while on his left, Shin Yoosung kneels beside the bed and rests her hand on Kim Dokja’s arm. In front of her, Yoo Sangah rests her right arm on the foot of the bed, a somewhat wistful expression on her face as she kneels on one knee so as to not block the people behind her. Han Sooyoung stands behind the bed with her arms folded over the top, chewing a lollipop stick as she stares at the camera with a tired yet determined smile on her face. Finally, Lee Jihye stands in the right foreground, grinning at the camera and making a peace sign as she takes the picture. /end ID]

[kleptonancydrew]

What do we think of the newsletter? What the hell is up with sending something like that out on April Fool’s Day? It’s taunting us. Sure, let’s pack our bags soon. Haha you fell for it, never gonna actually happen. 

[agirlwithglam]

📑📚 ACE YOUR EXAMS 📚📑

This is a guide for people who have exams coming up. It consists of what to do if you want 100% on your upcoming exams, study tips, and more!

Study tips:

Check this masterlist by @merakinotes and also this post+ masterlist by @areistotle it has everything you’ll ever need.

Bank of questions / past papers study method: you can create your own questions on Quizlet or any online quiz maker or use past papers/ revision resources.

Study everyday. If your exam is even a month away, that’s good because it means you don’t have to study hours everyday, but you can at least keep a goal to study 30 mins a day or to learn/ understand/ memorise a new thing part of that topic every day.

Feynman technique. Basically pretend as if you’re the teacher and teach the topic to someone/ something (ex a stuffed animal)

Record yourself talking. When you’re revising, record yourself talking about some of the stuff so you can listen to it later when you’re unable to study.

Visual learning!! Personally, I love this one. If you’re studying something like science, history, etc, then draw pictures! Draw pictures to better help you understand a word/ concept. (Example: in science I couldn’t remember the whole definition of combustion so I just drew a stickman image of the atom and the oxygen and then those 2 chemically combined)

During the exam:

Never turn the exam in early!! Are you finished? Then re read the exam and re take the exam. Double check, triple check etc your answers. Keep looking through your answers again and again, step by step. Only give the test in at the very end.

Watch the clock! Don’t spend lots of time on one question trying to figure it out. Look at the time and make sure you still have enough to complete all the questions and maybe also recheck them.

If you don’t completely understand a question/ it’s more complicated: skip it and go to the next question. Come back to that harder question later.

Manifesting:

Remember: the 100/100 grade is already yours. You just need to claim it!

Affirmations: you can create your own set of customised affirmations or you can use THIS affirmation list that I made for high grades

Subliminal: I’ve made a playlist on YouTube with all my favourite academic subliminals. You can also search up 100/100 grades or full marks in tests subliminals.

More resources:

(These are just to further help you if these tips do not help. Remember that watching videos or reading about studying/ study tips is not studying. It’s procrastinating. Consume these in moderation.)

Studying tips for a straight A student by @universalitgirlsblog2

How to study like: 👙Elle Woods👙 | 📔Paris Geller📔 | 📖Hermione Granger📖

Study to success on YouTube

Jun Yuh oh YouTube

Fayefilms on YouTube

[spiiderdog]

Oof tumblr is compressing the shit outta this but here's our favourite bookworm and her adopted brother in a study session!

I drew this to motivate myself to study, ironically procrastinating on actual work I have to do.

[rilakeila]

five times when the secret was almost revealed and when it did, where you and mattheo are secretly dating, teaser

word count 1.8k fandom harry potter pairing mattheo riddle x fem!animagus! reader warnings none notes hints at the animagus story, lowkey -3-

request i saw your post about wanting requests so anything mattheo as there’s never another content for him!!! but more specifically him with like an opposite gf!!! like she’s sweet and girly and kind!!! how do you think he’d be around her??? i turned this request into something new !

SECRECY kept your relationship with mattheo hidden from the hogwarts students. there was nothing shameful, just preferred to keep it private. truly, mattheo did not feel comfortable in having to hear comments about how hogwarts’ sweetheart ended up with the delinquent or even, the dark lord’s son (or that he was the most affectionate boyfriend, he would never hear the end of being such a smitten lover). you respected his wishes, continuing to share your secret kisses away from the public. though, it started to be impossible to keep away as time had passed on, you were certain that someone was going to catch you.

slip-up one: the late-night library study session

“it’s so nice having my girlfriend be the head girl of the school, comes with a lot of privileges, like staying out for so long,” mattheo said while procrastinating for the transfiguration test. you rolled your eyes, knowing that he said it quite often. prior to being in a relationship with him, you were a prefect, which allowed you to have a good running for head girl. you, more than likely, save him and the other slytherin boys constantly from trouble than any other task that you have around the school.

“if it means ensuring you out of trouble, i’ll continue to keep my role,” you said, looking up to see that he stopped writing down his notes, “or, you’ll be out of luck if you don’t keep studying, love.”

he pouted before flipping to the next page of his notes, “i don’t think i did this much studying before you.”

“well, if you can be on probation for delinquency, it'll be worse if you have to do it for academics. come on, your quidditch match eligibility relies on this paper otherwise you’re out for a week until the next test,” you said, leaning to peck the pout off, which instantly lifted into a small smile before resuming on your own work.

“yes ma’am,” before continuing, he pulled your chair closer to him, wrapping his arm your waist, hand resting on your hip. there was one way to heat up your face, pressing your lips into a tight line, fighting the smile. he knew that this action, even if it was reoccurring, would always make you feel giddy. the smile that you just wanted push away, he continued to write from the book, “you okay there, love?”

“of course,” you cleared your throat to maintain composure as you written in your notes. 

moments passed, a quarter left done of your notes, but what you did not notice that the boy next to you did not keep up with his work, opting to draw your side profile as well as sketching certain deconstructed parts such as just your eyes in one section, lips, even in different forms such as your smile or when you were talking with how it formed. taking a break, you looked to your side, only to see your boyfriend leaning on his elbow, sketching on the paper with other, a grin on his face. you reached out to pinch his cheek, wiggling it slightly.

he sat up, pushing the notebook closer to you, “you like it? here’s your animagus form, little kitty. and the little crescent on your cheek, and the sparkle near your eye. then, here’s you, right now, i drew big sparkle things in there because your eyes twinkle.”

“this is nice, i love it,” your finger traced around the paper, looking at each doodle. you always loved the details that he puts in every piece he has, loving all of his art, but his quick draws always had a much more special place in your heart. 

“just for you, love,” he gently tilted your chin upwards with his fingertips, his eyes fixed on your face with tenderness, savoring the moment. leaning in, lips almost touching, mattheo pulled apart quickly, which you heard footsteps, now knowing the reason of the suddenness.

you turned around to see who the additional person may have been aside from madam pince, but she was aware of your late night study sessions, despite always trying to shoo you both away. luckily, your continuance of volunteerism in the library since your fourth year, upkeeping her strict standards, gave you some leeway as well as your past prefect and current head girl positions. you were wrong in guessing who it was, seeing the disillusionment charm, you waved your wand, countering the spell, “blaise?”

your head turned, hearing soft but obvious steps, casting the counter spell, “and of course, lorenzo? what are you both doing up past hours in the library?”

“just scouting around, actually trying to get into the restricted section,” blaise nodded towards where they needed to go.

“and what about you, two? even outside of friend group hours, i feel betrayed,” lorenzo slung his arm around your shoulder, walking towards mattheo.

“we’re just studying, enzo, otherwise you’re out one player for quidditch,” you patted the hand that was slung on your shoulder before sitting down back into your seat, organizing all of the papers that were sprawled out onto the table. 

“sure, just the two of you,” blaise sat on top of the corner, looking through the notes, “or, do you have something that you both aren’t telling us, just as you were sitting a tad too close before?”

mattheo snorted before slipping blaise a small note which contained the information that snape required you to assist in helping him study, “snape’s orders.”

“an alibi, i’m next in line for tutoring, ms. head girl,” enzo raised his hand, in which you just laughed and nodded, agreeing, also catching the quick snark on mattheo’s face. 

you eyed the watch on your wrist, seeing it was reaching you and mattheo’s end of tutoring hours, meaning madam pince would be around the corner to tell you both off and for mattheo to ensure that you would reach your dormitory safely. you looked up to the boys once more, “alright, madam pince will be around at this time, as head girl, i do advise you to head out now before we all are in trouble. “

“but,”

“mattheo will get the information from the book you need tomorrow, pince has all of the books there charmed after some incident with some second years, come on,” you said.

“fine,” lorenzo whined before being smacked up his head by blaise. rubbing his hand from the harsh hit, he looked back to still see mattheo who was writing in his notebook, “come on, mattheo.”

“alright, i just need to finish this last set of words. go on without me,” he waved his hand, dismissing lorenzo. you couldn’t help notice when looking at enzo who has an amused expression, probably at how mattheo was never the one to study. sharing a look with your friend who just had a playful smirk before waving at you a goodbye, he casted the disillusionment spell. 

hearing the quiet shut of the doors of the library, you taken your seat next to your boyfriend who was just continuing his drawing of you, “you had me fooled, thinking you were actually doing your notes.”

“just to get rid of them, i always want pince to give me her permission of walking you late at night,” he smiled.

you returned the smile. though, there was a small worry that lorenzo and blaise did indeed just find out that you were dating, knowing that one of them was the gossip hound of the school. surely, he knew to keep secrets but lorenzo’s rumors would always start with a “what if so and so ended up…” and another person would ask another until the rumor ended up as being a fact due to the continuing relay to another, even if it was false news. you were more concerned for mattheo, as he truly wanted to keep the relationship a secret, as he said that he was not ready for the intrusion of others into his life. 

“hey, love.”

“yes, love?”

“do you think lorenzo knows about us? i wouldn’t want a rumor starting up or anything,” you held his free hand in both of yours, fingers massaging the back of his hand, which he truly enjoyed.

“no, we didn’t do anything, plus as long as he has some concrete evidence that rejects his hypothesis, he won’t speculate,” he placed his pen down, retrieving snape’s note that was near your corner of the table.

“okay, just making sure,” you nodded, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. you searched for any signs of doubt or concern within mattheo’s eyes, but there was a lack of wavering, then again, there was barely anything that trembled him.

“trust me, no on-“

“you two, get to your dorms immediately. if i have to round this corner, i will deduct house points,” madam pince’s sharp voice cut through the air, making you jump even if she routinely said the same thing most nights.

“good night, madam pince,” mattheo waved his wand, cleaning both of your spaces and into each of your book bags. a rushed hum was in response, which he always waited for, as if it was his alarm clock, letting him know that he was able to leave the library. with a silent understanding, you both turned to leave the library, walking side by side towards the exit. as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, he extended his arm to you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. no matter how often this happens, your breath always caught in your throat, slipping your hands into his, fingers naturally intertwining through with his. t he electricity that always sparked between you when you touched sent a thrill through your body, and you found yourself leaning into his side as you walked, relishing the closeness.

 the silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken emotions that hung heavy in the air. you couldn't help stealing glances at mattheo as you walked, taking in the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light, the way his smile softened when he looked at you.

"i'll see you tomorrow in class?" mattheo asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

"of course," you replied, your heart skipping a beat at the tenderness in his tone. "good night."

you leaned in, unable to resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your body at the contact. mattheo returned the gesture, his lips brushing against your forehead in a lingering caress.

"good night, love," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, before reluctantly letting your hand go, knowing that you needed to go to your respective dormitories.

even if with his certainty that there was no knowledge of your relationship and still in secrecy, there was still a bit of worry. though, just to be selfish, even for once, it would be pleasant to show a private, but not a secret of your relationship. it would have been less stress onto yourself, but whatever happened would happen. as long as it was with him.

incomplete, lmk if you

want to get tagged

in the complete fic.

[oblivious-tomato]

He won't judge you for cheating, but he WILL judge you for slacking!!!

pure lineart under the cut

[cielur5ww]

୨📜୧ ─────・ It's my problem, not yours.

▭ Synopsis﹕ Scaramouche had heard of you, the perfect student... the one who had it all. Though he had never interacted with you, he found you disagreeable. But it seems this time, you'll be getting closer than he'd prefer... so why does he feel this pressure in his chest and the heat rising to his cheeks?

★ ❪CW❫── male!reader!student x Scaramouche, AU modern, small insults, the reader is a perfect student, Scara hates you a little, Scara's POV, Scara being a tsundere

ᶻz ─── n/a﹕I just vomited this idea, ignore me.. Maybe I'll do more parts, MAYBE (I am very procrastinating and lazy). Any spelling mistakes... sorry, I don't want to review it, I'll probably post something new in another 2 months.

Scaramouche sighed, letting out a slight huff as he rolled his eyes to disguise his mild annoyance.

His delicate hands held the exam paper, and though he had thought he did well, he noted the few incorrect marks in his answers (only three), seeing the red number at the top, an 80. The maximum score was 100, and he had hoped to have scored at least an 85 or perhaps a 90, but he wasn't too surprised either. After all, he had only had a few days to study.

He could glance over his shoulder at his neighbor, who had scored a 60. That at least comforted him a bit, knowing there wouldn't be many with a grade as high as his.

His gaze wandered around the room, passing over each of his classmates' heads until he found your hair... The perfect student.

Scaramouche huffed slightly, feeling annoyed, and kept glancing away, gritting his teeth a little. You were the stupid perfect student, the teacher's pet, who probably scored a 100 effortlessly... But his curiosity drew him back to you in the distance, watching as you held the exam paper in your hands for several seconds instead of putting it away and being done. You were reviewing your exam sheet with the textbook open, as if double-checking your own already perfect answers.

However, in the end, it seemed you had left your exam sheet, flipping it over on your desk and closing the book. Your head was slightly tilted, maybe you had made a mistake in one answer... he thought, but still, you were the 100 student, if you got a 95, you still had an excellent grade. He sighed again, looking away to focus on his own affairs.

As he heard the slight squeak of the chair backing up a bit, he looked up once more, and some strands of his indigo hair bothered him a bit. He quickly adjusted his hair and watched as you stood up from your seat, still with your back to him.

"Teacher, may I go to the bathroom?" It was a simple and typical question among students, but this time, it was you who asked. Obviously, the teacher gave you approval, and you quickly left the classroom, blending into the class's murmur. But he saw you. Scaramouche observed you.

He simply didn't pay it much mind, leaning back in his desk and stretching a bit over the table, lost in his thoughts and staring into space.

Now that he thought about it, he had never interacted with you. Well, he had never spoken to you.

Scaramouche remembered the first and last time you had spoken to him, even if it was just a small accident.

It was in the hallway while he was carrying some books to the office (the teacher had forced him). There were quite a few books, and he struggled a bit to carry them, so he couldn't see well as he walked. Accidentally, he bumped the books against your back.

Ugh, just remembering it seemed like a stupid cliché encounter from love stories, like when the girl bumps into the guy and it's love at first sight. He groaned at that thought, but he continued to recall how you had interacted with him.

After the collision, obviously the books fell to the ground, and you immediately apologized (when he was the one at fault), bending down to pick them up and arrange them in a row. He also crouched down, but didn't say anything, just furrowed his brow.

"Do you want me to help you carry this?" You had asked him kindly, your voice disgustingly soft for his taste, but he didn't say anything. He had already recognized you as the proclaimed perfect student, the teacher's pet, and... the number one in school.

He didn't like you, that was his point.

He wanted to refuse, but he also didn't want to carry those books again alone, so reluctantly he just carried half of them in silence, standing up and giving you a silent confirmation without meeting your gaze.

They walked together to the office, maintaining the uncomfortable silence between them. Scaramouche silently appreciated that you didn't unnecessarily try to fill that void. When they arrived, he immediately dropped off the books, giving a small greeting to the secretary to not seem rude, and then walked past you, distancing himself.

He didn't want anything to do with you, and he easily achieved that. He avoided you and kept his distance.

But oh, surprise! He and you shared three classes together: Biology, Arts, and Mathematics. Still, he didn't attempt to get closer or interact with you; it seemed unnecessary to him. He knew nothing about you, apart from being the "perfect" student. He thought you were arrogant, only showing kindness and politeness to maintain your facade of an exemplary student.

Scaramouche probably imagined that every time the teachers praised you or asked the students to follow your example, you were secretly laughing mockingly inside or looking down on others behind your soft and repulsive smile.

Scaramouche hated you.

Did he have reasons? No, but he found you distasteful for some reason.

The sound of the bell snapped him out of his thoughts immediately. Automatically, he began to pack his things into his backpack, and once finished, he stood up and made his way through the people exiting the classroom, navigating through the crowded hallway toward the exit.

It was break time, and he simply didn't want anything to do with the crowd of stupid people around him. So, he walked through the crowded halls, ignoring everyone. After all, he didn't really know anyone.

Scaramouche's feet carried him towards the stairs leading upstairs, until he reached the door that led to the rooftop. Normally, this area was blocked off, and it was forbidden to go out, but he really didn't care.

So, he easily opened the doors, removing the padlock (he had stolen the keys from the counselor's office). He closed the doors behind him so that no one would suspect that someone had been on the rooftop. He tucked the key into the pocket of his blue coat and took out his headphones and phone to listen to music, the only thing that relaxed him.

He walked across the rooftop, staying away from the edge to avoid being seen, but not too much in the center either. He headed towards the benches, which were strangely clean; probably the janitor also cleaned this place. He sat down, put on his headphones, and started playing music.

Gently, he lay back on his back, with his arms behind his head, starting to close his eyes, immersing himself in his own world of music, finding peace in melancholy.

Song by song, Scaramouche began to feel drowsy, sinking into a state of relaxation. However, when he opened his eyes, he found your face disgusting... again.

Why was God punishing him this day?

Automatically, he sat up, removing his headphones at the same time. He looked up and saw you. You had the impeccable school uniform, clean and strangely soft-looking hair, and your eyes were calm and gentle, in perfect harmony with your hair. You were too close for his liking, although technically you weren't invading his personal space, you were still there, practically in front of him, with your hands behind your back and a soft smile that he felt was fake.

"I thought this place was off-limits." You commented calmly, looking at him with those eyes that seemed as serene as water on the surface, yet so deep that they could easily swallow him whole.

He didn't want to answer how the heck he got into this closed-off place... so he simply averted his gaze with indifference, trying to show disinterest. To him, you were just an arrogant idiot, he told himself.

There were seconds of uncomfortable silence for Scaramouche as you continued to observe him with those eyes of yours. He felt uneasy under your gaze. So, he huffed annoyed, looking back at you and furrowing his brow.

"I thought the model student didn't break any rules in school." He declared, looking at you defiantly. He didn't care if you went and talked to a teacher, pointing him out for being on the rooftop, because you were there too. That place was supposed to be off-limits, but there you were, looking at him.

However, you simply smiled, as if it didn't affect you at all if he told a teacher that you had broken a rule. Although, on second thought, they wouldn't believe him, they would believe you because you were the perfect student, the role model. But if Scaramouche were to prove that you had broken a rule, it wouldn't matter because many teachers would probably overlook it due to your reputation as the responsible student with a bright future.

That's why maybe you were smiling so calmly. He clenched his teeth slightly, annoyed by your mere presence.

"I was just checking who was on the rooftop, as there have been incidents of students smoking here or having gatherings that are prohibited without a teacher's authorization." You responded softly, still smiling at him with that fake smile of yours, and you even sounded completely logical.

Your eyes, looking directly at him, made him feel small under your calm and deep gaze, like that of an animal observing its prey. But he wasn't going to let you take control.

"Do you see me smoking?" He responded, looking at you without hesitation, although the slight pressure in his chest increased with every moment you continued to look at him. Then, you gently closed your eyes and then opened them, looking in another direction, probably gazing at the blue sky.

"No, you're not smoking. I was just... 'investigating', I guess you could say." You said softly. Damn, maybe he understood now why they said you were so kind; it was your disgustingly soft tone of voice.

Although he also silently appreciated that you stopped looking at him. The tension in his muscles briefly relaxed, but his mind raced trying to decide how to act now. Respond? Ignore you? Say nothing? Leave? Any option seemed bad to him.

He decided to go for the first option, maybe then you would be satisfied with the conversation and leave him alone, ignoring him and forgetting about him.

"Are you going to tell a teacher, then?" He said, sounding uninterested because it was the truth. He really didn't care if a teacher scolded him for breaking a rule, as his mother wouldn't have time to go to the school and find out. But he continued the conversation, hoping you would leave him alone afterwards, and also so he would know whether or not he would be accused by you.

"Mhmm.." you hummed to yourself. He watched you step back a bit to lean gently against the whitish wall, crossing your arms, and again... looking at him. "Don't worry, Scaramouche, I won't." Damn, how did you know his name?

He remained still, watching your stupid smile that he disliked so much and how your lips pronounced his name. He didn't even know how you knew his name or why you had memorized it. Even though he hadn't told you, still... he looked at you, processing what you had just said, but at least you weren't going to rat him out. Was that a good thing? One could say yes.

"And this sudden kindness?" He immediately recovered, putting one leg up on the bench he was sitting on, bending it enough to lean his elbow on it and look you in the eyes, adopting a casual and unconcerned posture.

Or so he tried to appear, but his brain fried a bit when you called him by his name. He wondered why you had memorized his name, but he would go on with his intention. He wouldn't let himself be dragged down by you; you were just... ridiculous.

He watched in slow motion as you gently closed your eyes, fluttering your eyelashes, and then opened them again, tilting your head slightly... looking at him.

"I just noticed you weren't in class, the bell rang over 5 minutes ago." You commented casually, looking directly at him.

When the hell had the bell rung? He didn't even realize that time had passed too quickly for his liking... and he remembered that he also had classes with you today, and in math class, adding more weight to the situation. He would definitely be scolded, so he immediately stood up with a clear sound.

"Did the bell already ring? Why didn't you tell me, idiot?!" Scaramouche snapped at you, giving you a death glare as he checked the time on his phone. Even though he didn't give a damn about what the teachers thought, the math teacher punished him with too many assignments, which literally gave him a headache.

Scaramouche hurried towards the rooftop door, opening it. But a hand on his arm stopped him just as he was about to step onto the first step down.

"It's okay, Scaramouche. Let's go together, so the teacher won't scold you." You said softly. Now you were disgustingly close, he could feel the soft perfume surrounding you. It wasn't strong or intense, but soft... His brain went blank from your tone of voice and your strange comforting touch for him. After a few seconds, he reacted, stepping down onto the first step and turning around to look at you, pulling his arm away from your grip abruptly.

"Let go of me, idiot," Scaramouche muttered through gritted teeth, looking at you defiantly. But why did he feel like his cheeks were gently warming up? He lowered his gaze and turned, descending the stairs quickly without waiting for you. However, he could hear how you followed suit afterward.

After a few minutes, they were standing in front of the classroom door they had today, with the math teacher. Obviously, upon entering, the teacher was clearly not happy that Scaramouche had arrived late, but his expression immediately changed when he saw you with him.

He asked why you came back from the bathroom with Scaramouche, and in the end, you ended up lying for him, saying that when you returned to the classroom, you saw Scaramouche sleeping, so you woke him up and told him about the class time.

The teacher had no choice but to scold him for not falling asleep outside during class time and next time, threatening him with punishment if he did it again (basically, thanks to you, he wasn't punished this time). Scaramouche simply remained silent, not even thanking you.

He went to his seat, sighing irritably, trying to focus on the class and ignoring the fact that, in the distance, you seemed to have that stupid smile again. Maybe it was one of triumph for having helped him and now he owed you a favor... you were so annoying to him.

Thanks to your stupid pretty face and good reputation, you helped him this time and decided that you wouldn't tell anyone about the guy on the roof. What did you want from him? He doesn't know but he doesn't want to return the favor.

You were just two-faced, surely..

This was their problem, not yours, you're just a stupid busybody.

Bonus:

Scaramouche was there, sitting... trying to concentrate on Math class but really, he didn't understand at all...

"Where the hell did the teacher get that -26?.."

He simply groaned in annoyance in his seat, his gaze wandering over the others' heads, to where you were... and he thought about the roof.

Oh shit, he had forgotten to put the new lock on the doors.

At the next recess, Scaramouche immediately went through the crowd to the roof, to make up for his mistake, but when he went, the doors to the roof were locked... he was a little relieved, but he wondered if the janitor was the one who did it. And then he looked in his pocket for the key but he realized that only his cell phone and headphones were there... the key was not there.

At what point did he lose it?!

In reality, it was you who had stolen Scaramouche's key when you were with him, and when he was going down the stairs you made sure to lock it with the utmost care that it was silent because you knew that Scaramouche might react badly.

Scaramouche in the end deduced that the only culprit was you.

[seiishindraws]

Hello hello, I'm a big fan of your art. Um, I was wondering, if it's okay to ask, where do you look to for poses to use in your art? I struggle sometimes to come up with or find poses I like, and was wondering if there's any resources you use for that kind of thing? (Hopefully that all makes sense)

i feel like i differ from a lot of artists i know irl bc they all use pinterest to look for pose reference, i personally kinda just fiddle around until a pose looks nice and only seek out reference if im having trouble nailing down the pose im trying to draw

since getting back into art school, i do like 6 hours of life drawing every week and its done a lot to help me formulate poses in my head! cannot overstate how vital life drawing is if you wanna get better at depicting the human figure in various poses, you start to become so intimately familiar with how our bodies and bend and squash and fold in different positions

i feel like the only little tip i have here is, if you're drawing a pose and something about it feels off, consider "contrapposto", which is a term used to describe the balance of weight in a figure. usually one leg will be bearing a bit more weight than the other, and the hips and torso will never be completely parallel to each other. this image kinda showcases what im talking about.

one side of the body will stretch while other squashes, and having a stretch and squash between the torso and hips usually makes for a more interesting pose, and creating an interesting rhythm between the head angle and the torso and hips can help make a pose more appealing. this is not a hard rule of course, just things that automatically run through my mind out of habit now.

here are some midna sketches i made the other day while procrastinating on assignments lol. i drew these poses without referece, they arent like super elaborate or anything but i feel like theyre pretty charming at least

THIS ISNT A VERY GOOD EXPLANATION OF THIS CONCEPT IM SORRY but basically: draw from life, study the human figure an excessive amount and you will start to grasp things pretty well !!

[leeny-leens]

Finals Week or Final Week? | B.Z. x Reader

Pairing: bsf!Blaise Zabini x fem!Reader

Summary: Studying for your finals with your best friend takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: Reader has anxiety about exams, swearing, mention of wanting to marry rich and murder your husband

Content: oblivious Reader to some extent, lots of fluff, Blaise is Italian, they're in love your honour, Blaise being an attentive king, not proofread or edited

WC: 3k

AN: My first time writing for Blaise and I low-key hate the end?? but oh well. Interaction of any kind is super appreciated <3

“That's it,” you declared firmly “I'm dropping out.”

“No.”

“Fuck you mean no?”

“You wanna hear it in Italian? No,” Blaise didn’t even bother looking up from his desk when he answered your question, having had this conversation 14 times and counting in the last three hours.

“But Blaise,” you whined, getting up from your desk and flopping on your bed dramatically. “I can't do this shit anymore! I'm too young to be suffering like this.”

At that, he finally gives you a silver of his attention, briefly looking up from his Arithmancy textbook to raise his eyebrows at your theatrics. “Relax, you're gonna be fine,” his words did absolutely nothing to comfort you, and you found yourself sighing in defeat. “What if I marry a rich old man and kill him for his money?” you mumbled, already imagining how you could pull it off. Pansy would surely help you hide the body, and Draco or Theodore could set you up with some rich, pureblood asshole in need of a wife. Lorenzo and Mattheo would probably be down to aid you in the murder plot, so really there wasn't much that could go wrong here.

Blaise finally put his book aside, his full attention on you as he turned your words around in his mind. “Really? You're gonna let the last seven years go to waste and marry rich instead?”

It was a rhetorical question, you knew that, but it was a welcome opening to procrastinate on your studies so you opted to engage in this silly argument with your best friend.

“Absolutely, it's less exhausting and sets me up for life,” you replied, your voice harbouring an edge of challenge, as if beckoning him to counter your statement.

Blaise wasn't one to entertain bullshit, not with his friends, not with his acquaintances. He found it to be a waste of time and energy, energy he could be using on far more efficient things like himself. But somehow, somewhere along his time here at Hogwarts by your side, he found that entertaining your bullshit wasn't quite as bad as he thought. The absurd thought of you going through with the marriage and murder scheme drew a chuckle out of him, the sound low and rich as it pleasantly echoed in your otherwise desolate room.

“What? Are you making fun of my future career Zabini?” you asked, clutching your chest dramatically as you sat up in your bed. He shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. “No, never” he replied, sarcasm dripping so heavily from his voice it was basically a slipping hazard.

“I’m just surprised you think getting married, killing someone and hiding it is somehow less exhausting than studying for your finals,” the mention of your fast approaching finals exams immediately killed whatever inkling of joy you'd fostered with the light banter between you, your head falling against the headboard with a groan.

“Don't remind me,” you grumbled “’Mso fucked Blaise, ‘m gonna fail and repeat the year.” When he realized that there was some sort of conviction in your tone, he stood up from the desk, approaching you on the bed. You had closed your eyes, mumbling to yourself about how worried you were about the exams and all the things you had to finish until then.

You could feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sat down, and you instinctively moved to make place for him. It was a habit really, you were so used to make space for Blaise in your life that you never had to think about it. When you walked in the hallway, you always left enough space for him to walk beside you. At dinner, there was always enough space for him to sit, just like in the library or in classes or even the common room. You couldn't quite remember how life was before you started making space for Blaise Zabini in it, but you weren't about to change that. You liked the way he took up so much of your attention, even with his quiet demeanor and biting remarks, and there was nothing quite like watching him sprawl out on your bed on a Friday night when you were hanging out together, just the two of you.

And just like you had learned to make place for him, he had learned to make exceptions for you. He didn't tolerate bullshit unless it was you, he didn't bother entertaining people unless it was you and he most definitely didn't initiate physical touch, unless it was, of course, you. Just like that, you felt his warm hand capture your chin, tilting your head to the side so you were facing one another. “*Principessa*,” another exception he made for you; the petname he'd given you after you forced him to watch every single Barbie movie with you back in third year had stuck all the way until now. “Open your eyes and look at me,” his voice held no bite and no anger, yet you couldn't shake the anxiety that settled in your stomach as you cracked your eyes open to look at him.

The darkness in his eyes was all-consuming, like a black hole sucking you in and leaving you breathless, unable to think about anything but him. Any thoughts of school or exams were banished in the close proximity of him, the warmth of his body seeping beyond the thin layers of your clothing and settling deep into your bones.

“You're going to be okay,” he said after a few beats of silence. Each word came out slowly over his lips, yet he said it with so much trust and belief, as if it was a fact he knew wouldn't change. “You're going to pass, and you're not going to get bad grades in any subject,” his hand released your chin and settled atop your hand instead. He was perceptive, too perceptive for his own good, so of course he'd noticed you pulling at the flesh around your nails, a nervous habit you'd had ever since you were a child. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb tracing over your knuckles in a soothing motion that almost brought tears to your eyes.

“Really?” you asked, your voice shaking more than you'd like. You thought it was stupid to get upset about this, dramatic even, but you couldn't help yourself, not when he was looking at you with such warmth and affection. It was like all your defenses melted under his gaze, reducing you into a gooey, emotional mess that you couldn't control.

A small smile tugged on his lips, and briefly you wondered how it'd feel to have them moving against your own, but you quickly threw that thought away. Now wasn't the time to wonder how kissing your best friend would feel like, not when you've known said best friend for the last seven years of your life and had the best friendship at stake along side your sanity and your entire academic career.

“Yes, really,” he said, in that warm tone that made your heart stutter and your brain fuzzy in the best way possible.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, absentmindedly biting it as you tried to even out your breathing. You couldn't cry, not tonight when you already had a stressful day behind you. Crying would only fuel your misery -and the murderous headache building up behind your temples- and there was no way you'd try to make it any worse.

Blaise’s eyes focused on your lips, and as if possessed by something else, his free hand came up to your mouth to gently pull your lip free from the destruction of your teeth. “Don't do that,” he murmured, “Your lips are too pretty."

You stared at him wide eyed, unable to process what he just said. Did he mean it in a friendly way? Or was he thinking about you the same way you'd been thinking about him for months now, wondering what your lips felt on his?

The silence between you two was tension filled and heavy, not a word spoken as you relished the warmth and proximity. Schoolwork was the last of your worries when Blaise was eyeing your lips with such fixation and hunger. Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could swear that he leaned down just a bit, enough for the scent of citrus and musk to envelope your senses.

His hand cupped your cheek, the touch tender and uncharacteristically unsure, as if he was scared you'd pull away at any moment. Blaise was the most confident person you've ever known, his words carefully chosen, his actions well thought out and never faltering in the face of the unknown. But this? This was completely new to him, something he'd never thought he'd actually do, there wasn't an an ounce of his usual self assured demeanor behind the feather light touches. To his surprise however, you leaned into his hand, your eyes staring up at him with the same hunger he displayed. You'd never once shyed away from him, too entranced by the enegamyic allure he exuded, and you found yourself pulled into his orbit once more.

His face was closer now, so close you could see the gold specks in his eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and affection in a way that had your heart aching for him. His eyes flickered from your lips up to your eyes, searching for any hint of protest or dissatisfaction in your expression. When you managed to give him a light nod, answering the unspoken question for your consent, it was all he needed before he closed the gap between you, his lips tenderly pressing against yours.

The kiss was tentative and light, as if the both of you were in disbelief about this. It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, yet when he pulled away, you could swear hours had passed by, any sense for time malfunctioning from what you just experienced.

“Blaise, I-”

“I like you,” he cut off, not giving you any time to make excuses or apologies like he knew you would. “I like you so much more than I should like my best friend and it's driving me insane.”

Your throat went dry at that, your mouth falling open and closing again as if you were a fish on land. Could this be real? Or were you just hallucinating from the stress?

“Is this my finals week or my final week? Am I hallucinating?” you whispered suddenly, completely catching him off-guard. He blinked at you, once, twice, before throwing his head back with laughter.

Just then you realized that your response to his confession was completely ill fitting and the blood rushed to your face. “Don't laugh!” you exclaimed, hitting his shoulder with mortification “It's a reasonable deduction when you're suddenly confessing to me!”

To his credit, he tried to calm down from his sudden outburst quickly, his eyes staring at you with clear amusement. “It isn't sudden when you think about it,” he mused “I've always liked you, always gave you special treatment that no one else gets, principessa.”

Your mind cycled through all the instances Blaise had gone out of his way, and out of his comfort zone, to do something for you; too many to count you just realized. He was a well-mannered person overall, yet his words and action around you had always been just a bit kinder, a bit more vulnerable, reserved for you alone.

Your face burned brighter at the realization. God how could you have been so oblivious? You were sure everyone else had seen it, but you were too stuck in your head to see the way he looked at you, to notice the way his touch lingered just a bit too long.

“God I'm so stupid sometimes,” you mumbled in response, eliciting a chuckle from him. “That's okay,” he said with a teasing edge “I like it when you're stupid like that, makes it more fun to bully you about it.”

Any sort of protest or reply died in your throat when you felt him lean into you again, his lips brushing against yours gently. “May I?” his voice was low and quiet, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment.

Instead of replying, you set your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer to crash your lips against eachother, satisfied at the surprised noise you drew out of him.

The kiss this time was firmer, more steady with a simmering heat below the surface. The awkwardness of teeth and lips clashing against one another didn't bother you one bit, it only made it more exciting when you finally found a rhythm that you both followed as your lips moved in tandem against one another.

Both of his hands settled on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin through your clothes in soothing circles that had you blanking out. He was everywhere; his scent, his warmth, his lips and his hands driving your mind into a maddening blank state with not a single coherent thought left in it.

It could've been a few seconds or an eternity, but when you pulled apart, you were both gasping for air, eyes wide open at what had just transpired.

“I like you too,” you suddenly said, realising you'd never replied to his statement. “So much that I don't know what to do with it,” the hint of vulnerability in your voice didn't go unnoticed by him, his expression immediately softening. This was uncharted territory for the both of you, the promise of what you could be staked against what you already had.

“It's okay,” he whispered, his voice nothing but warm and affection filled as he took your hand and held it to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles. “We can take it slow, do it our own way yeah?”

“Even if I wanna go out with you but ‘m too stressed to think about anything right now?” you asked, causing Blaise to shake his head in amusement. “Then don't think about it yet, I'm not going anywhere,” you couldn't help the smile that overtook your features, grinning at him with glowing happiness.

“You're so fucking sappy sometimes,” nudging his shoulder playfully, you half shoved him off the bed to get up, laughing at the dramatic protests as he faked a fall to the floor.

“Only for you, ungrateful wench,” he huffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the floor with him. You landed on top of him, shrieking and thrashing in protest as you demanded he let you go.

You tried to escape his grasp, yet there was no use struggling against him, his arms wrapped too tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly against him.

“I need to get back to studying,” you mumbled once you ceased your protests, sighing contently when he bang rubbing your back gently. “Actually, you need a nap,” he chided. You eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he would suggest a nap when you had mountains of study material to get through. There was too much to do, and too little time, you couldn't afford slacking off now. “You have a headache, a really bad one at that,” he clarified, causing your eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

“How the hell-”

“Your eyebrows,” he added with a smile, gently massaging the spot between them, “You always furrow them when you're having a headache and you've been doing that more and more for the last hour.”

No words left your mouth at that revelation, at the sheer amount of attention he paid to you. You didn't even know you did that, yet here he was, paying attention to every detail about you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You expected the gesture to make butterflies flutter in your stomach, but instead you felt a sense of calm wash over you, secure in the knowledge that Blaise had always known you, always seem through you even when you tried to hide.

There was no use arguing with him about this, he allowed you to move away from him before tugging you on your feet and gently pushing you towards your bed.

“C’mon,” he said “I'll sleep with you if you want, that way we're both taking a break.” At that, you did settle into your bed with a little less grumbling, moving over to allow him to lay down beside you.

It wasn't the first time you both shared a bed; it had become a routine for you, sharing your space together no matter where. So the moment he settled into it behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

His warmth and scent, coupled with the quiet sound of his breathe, were the perfect way to lull you into sleep, the pounding in your head becoming nothing but a dull ache as your eyelids grew heavier.

The last you felt before slipping into a pleasant sleep was the press of his lips against the crown of your head,the chase kiss warming you from head to toe as you sighed blissfully.

Perhaps Blaise was right; you wouldn't fail your exams after all. When you woke up, you'd get back to studying and trying your best, and while you weren't sure if this was the last of your emotional outbursts surrounding the academic stress, you were sure Blaise would be there by your side. That thought was what accompanied you into your dreams, pleasant and warm sensations easing your mind.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Metamorph

Part III

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

Part I | Part II

____________

You clenched your fancy Kohinoor pencil between your fingers like it's a gun, staring at Aemond already posing in front of all of you. No procrastination, you reminded yourself firmly as you drew a long vertical line across the paper to balance the future drawing. Your teacher hadn't berated you for your mistakes even once. It'd be fine if you got this one wrong, too. Anything was better than an empty sheet.

God, but Aemond was so pretty. His high cheekbones, his strong nose and jaw, and those thin but expressive lips, the long scar across the left side of his face...

You quickly hid behind your easel.

Breathe. Just get out of your head, you repeated to yourself Aemond's very words. You needed to get started, and whatever happened next didn't matter as long as you allowed yourself to draw whatever came to your mind. Explanations and logic be damned. You were an artist! At these rare moments, you were supposed to feel, not think.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling to keep your anxiety at bay, you uncleched the pencil in your fingers and slowly started shaping the figure on a sheet. It's fine. Aemond wouldn't get mad anyway as long as you did what he said.

The more you put your pencil to the sheet, the easier it was getting, something unfurling in your chest, putting a stop to your anxious thoughts and fears of failure as you continued to build Aemond's body, starting to get into details once you finished with the primary form. Regardless of his talent and uniqueness as an artist, he was still only a fellow human being like you. There was no need to magnify his power.

By the time Aemond walked over to you, you were almost finished with the painting, landing the last strokes to color the palms of the man on the sheet. It was that very red paint you had been mooning over for many months, complimenting its unusual vibrant color and a pleasant consistency. It was hard to believe you were now using it for your own artwork, but time was running out, and you didn't have a spare moment to be drooling over the paint.

"What do we have here?" The artist hummed, making you jump in your seat. How on Earth did he manage to walk so quietly in a room full of tables, chairs, and people?

Trying to focus on his question, you suddenly realized you had no clue how to present your idea to the teacher. Did you even draw what he had asked you to? What was that, not changing the silhouette and using mainly paint to express yourself or something?

You felt the beads of sweat promptly forming on your forehead as you clenched your jaw.

"You've been improving," Aemond told you, eye on the drawing as he tilted his head to the side. "Body proportions seem right, and I like the way you shaped the arms and legs. You had difficulties with them before."

Oh, really? You surely had problems drawing arms, but you didn't notice you were becoming better. A pleasant surprise. Not that one wouldn't expect to improve after taking lessons from the most esteemed artist in the city.

"Why did you paint the head and hands in red?"

Oh, crap. Why did you? You frantically searched for an answer other than "no idea, Sir, I think my subconsciousness just took over my body." Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you looked up to Aemond bent over, intently studying your artwork.

Cautiously, you muttered, "I-I think every change starts from the head, Sir."

Would that qualify for an answer? But Aemond quickly directed his gaze at you and demanded, "And hands?"

Biting your poor lip that no amont of lip balm was going to save after today's lesson, you mumbled, "Hands are the tool that make the change happen, Sir."

"Very logical, yes. Now, forget about trying to give me a logical answer and tell me what you felt when you were drawing this. Tell me about the paint."

He bent over even closer to you, practically breathing into your face, and you almost lost the ability to produce any adequate sounds. Your teacher clearly saw through your bullshit, and the thought that he was upset or even mad at you made you feel miserable.

"It's a metamorph, Sir," you whispered, one step closer to having a panic attack and hoping no student in the room was listening to your rambling, "and red is a color of life. Of change."

Aemond cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why do you think red is the color of change? Is it because the change scares you?"

"It's not the change itself that scares me. It's what the metamorph is becoming, Sir," you uttered in a small voice and then added even quieter, praying only Aemond could hear you, "I think- I think he's turning into something violent, Sir. Something terrifying."

It took you a second to recognize what you've just said and what reaction it has provoked.

All of a sudden, you were staring in the face of Aemond Targaryen with his thin lips stretched so wide in a smile that it was even a little creepy. Was he... content? Did he want to laugh at your silly attempt to explain your feelings when you'd been drawing? You wouldn't even be offended, to be fair. It sounded like nonsense to you, too.

But no, he didn't seem to find it funny. Instead, you felt his palm squeezing your shoulder firmly, his smile unwavering as he spoke to you in a hushed voice the way you'd been answering to him, "Very good. My favorite artwork today so far."

As he got up, moving to the next student on your left, you were ready to jump and run away from the studio because, clearly, you were going to burst from the excess of feelings and anxiety in the next five seconds. Your teacher said it was his favorite painting today. This banal, lacking in originality in its every aspect thing was his favorite. When blood rushed to your head, making you sweat and feel disoriented, you clutched the brush between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut.

Aemond Targaryen liked your painting. Despite being the very inspiration for the beautiful but horrifying metamorph, he actually had some sort of fondness for it because later, before you left, he actually asked you to allow him to keep the artwork for his own collection. Why did he like it so much? You had no idea.

_________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy