#i knew as soon as i saw the sketch that this would become my new icon for a time

[mithrilhearts]

love the new pfp!

Thank you so much!!! I'm in love with it!!!

Check out the full artwork done by @crowrelli -> here!

[koolades-world]

Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

[intimidating-fettuccine]

This idea randomly popped into my head and I just wanted to write it down.

Just imagining Helen if he didn’t become a creep. Helen growing up and doing everything he can to get away from his abusive parents. Helen buried himself in his art, trying to perfect and improve it and make something out of it. Helen goes on to become a very well-known artist, making a living off of his work, so much so that he starts to travel so that he can experience new things and further his creativity with all the different views he sees and people he meets. Helen who saw you one day in a park and knew immediately you were the most gorgeous person he’d ever seen. Helen keeps going back to that park hoping to see you again, and he does.

He walks up to where you’re sitting and politely asks to sit next to you, and he’s elated when you agree. He absentmindedly draws the landscape around you, catching your eyes as you compliment him on his work. He bashfully thanks you, explaining he’s an artist and does it by trade. You ask to see more of his pieces, and he shows you photos of them, explaining all of the details and inspirations that went into them. You talk for a few hours, and at the end of it, Helen asks if it would be alright to get your number. Despite fearing rejection more than when publishing any art piece, you accept again, and he feels elation flowing through him.

He decides to stay in your city for a much longer period of time than he originally intended, halting his travel plans. The two of you keep talking, and eventually, Helen asks for you to model for him. You’re unsure at first, not really convinced you’d be the best model for him, but he insists, citing his beliefs; that you’re a very attractive person and he’d love to capture you artistically. Though flustered, you agree to his request and begin casually modeling for him. Soon, all of his sketchbooks are filled with you. Once Helen draws you a few times it becomes muscle memory to him, and he finds himself absentmindedly sketching you whenever he’s distracted. The two of you continue to grow closer, meeting up for lunches and dinners, hanging out when the two of you are free, and occasionally with you modeling for him in between.

Helen knows a few weeks into talking to you that he’d like to ask you on a date, but it takes a few months in truth before he gets there. Months where he was supposed to be leaving your area, but instead he’s renting an apartment, buying furniture, creating a permanent space he never planned on doing, but he can’t force himself to leave. By the time he’s finally confident enough to ask you, you’re equally as interested in him, and soon one date becomes two, and then three, and then four, and then Helen is convinced he’s never going to be able to move away from you.

You’re the most charming and wonderful person he’s ever met, with all of your quirks and habits, and he just can’t help but fall deeper and deeper in love with you every day. Sketches of you become paintings, some of which are subtle enough to obscure your identity he publishes, but those that truly follow his work and online presence begin to recognize the silhouette in his pieces with the person he’s regularly taking photos with when the two of you are on excursions, although nobody has definitive proof of it being you, it’s obvious that you’ve enamored the once lonely artist.

Helen continues to grow, amassing a bigger audience and obtaining a much more stable financial income from his work, taking up commissions in his spare time that contribute heavily. He still travels on occasion but is no longer alone. He takes you with him, showing you his favorite places, all of the beautiful areas you’d never been to before, but can’t help but recognize from some of the photos he once showed you on that fateful day at the park. Months turn into years, a lonely apartment turns into one with warmth and two bodies to occupy it together, and Helen can’t help but relish in the fact that you are the best decision he’s ever made.

Eventually, of course, he asks you to marry him. He takes you to a spot he said he’d been planning on scouting for a painting, a gorgeous area, one of the most beautiful he’d ever taken you to. While you’re admiring the scenery, he kneels down behind you, and of course, when you turn to face him finally and he pops the question, you can’t help but say yes. The next piece he publishes is of a hand, adorned by a beautiful engagement ring in front of a gorgeous view. Then, it becomes two people in love on their wedding day, the same ring spotted in the painting, now accompanied by a wedding band. Through all his early trials and tribulations, Helen never thought he’d find someone to settle down with, but he’s never been more thankful for anything than he is for meeting you. His art started so dark, so moody, but after growing with you it’s become filled with so much warmth and expression. The once lonely artist found his muse that changed his life for the better, his muse that he’ll continue to paint for the rest of his days, so long as he is able.

[schrodingers-romy]

Sketches [Choso x Reader]

Pairing: Choso x GN!Reader Word Count: ~ 1600 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Your charcoal artist boyfriend offers you draw you for the first time...

Warnings: implied no curses au, kissing; reader is referred to as beautiful but no gendered terms are used

Notes: This is so soggy fluffy oh my god. I am so down bad for this man. Anyway I was haunted by the image of Choso drawing with charcoal so here this is I guess.

You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes burning into you.

You do your best not to fidget, yet it is so difficult. Choso’s eyes always held a certain solemn weight to them, which made being the focus of his gaze feel unlike anything else. Just being at the center of his attention normally made your heartbeat quicken and your breath catch in your chest. After dating for months, you thought you were finally acclimating to it. You were horribly incorrect

His normal gaze was nothing compared to this. Even though you are facing towards the window, ostensibly looking out of it, you see nothing. Your senses are narrowed down to the caress of his stare on the side of your face. If being under his scrutiny usually made you feel hot, being under it now made you burn. It was all you could think about.

You had seen him draw before; the single-minded focus he would get when he was creating. Many a time had you sat next to him, admiring his silhouette as he drew, completely oblivious to your attention. He would be trapped in his own world, dark eyes locked onto the subject of his newest sketch as his charcoal flew across the page. You always admired how immaterial his sketches looked at first, like he was merely doodling lines as he watched something. But then, as if magic, the drawing’s true form would take shape. It would take only a few more strokes of the pencil, or a decisive smudge of one calloused thumb through the dusty charcoal, and suddenly a perfect image would appear. No matter how many times you saw him work, it always managed to amaze you… the creation of something out of mere dust.

Your boyfriend did most of his artwork in charcoal. It wasn’t something that you knew much about before you met him, but it suited him. If a charcoal drawing came to life, you would imagine it to look like him. He was dark, and somewhat imposing, like the starkest strokes of the charcoal…but with charcoal pictures, the closer you looked, the more you noticed the softness of it, the gentle grays hiding amongst the harsher black, like Choso’s own softness, his caring hidden behind a blunt exterior.

You once joked that the tattoo across the bridge of his nose reminded you of the smears of black dust he would leave on everything after drawing. In reply he took his thumb and stroked it across your face, telling you that you matched now with the goofiest grin on his face. You swore you fell for him right then.

Choso once mentioned that he favored charcoal because of the emotion he could express with it. You were skeptical, at first, but you soon saw the providence of that statement in every one of his pieces. It was…captivating. Every time he would show you his drawing, it was like he invited you to look at its subject through his eyes. The trees you passed by every day on your way to work, a dog at the park, crowds in the city, the clouded skies before it rained…every mundane piece of life that you had grown used to would take on a new light when he drew them. It was like seeing each for the first time again; it gave you a sense of wonder at the world.

That was why when he offered to draw you, you agreed instantly. Whatever he made was always so beautiful…and a part of you desired to become beautiful by his hand.

And yet now you almost regretted your decision. You had been sitting for what felt like an eternity now. You can’t even face towards Choso to watch him work, as you normally did, because he had posed you facing the window for ‘better lighting’ or some other such excuse. You have the sneaking feeling that he felt too nervous to have you looking at him as he drew you.

You can understand the feeling. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart thump faster, and you struggle not to move and shake off the excess anxious energy. It’s ridiculous to get so flustered over the halfway imaginary feeling of someone just looking at you. But you can’t help yourself. Something about being under that intense glare makes you hyper aware of your own body. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you…if he can see the way your throat bulges as you swallow nervously. If he can see your pulse beating in your neck. If he can sense the blood in your body shifting rhythm in response to his gaze, in a sort of observer’s paradox.

You are broken out of your thoughts by your boyfriend’s soft voice. “It’s done. You can come over here now.”

You stand up so quickly you feel a little dizzy from it.

Now broken from his typical artist’s trance, Choso looks almost sheepish now. A complete contrast to how you perceived him a moment ago, burning intensity replaced with flushed cheeks and slightly averted eyes.

Now you are the one staring as he looks away.

You make your way over to sit next to him on the couch, body tilted towards his.

He’s almost clutching the sketchpad to his body, although, as always, he’s careful not to brush against it until the finishing spray is applied and the charcoal set.

“May I see it?” you ask him gently, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. He relaxes slightly into your touch. You haven’t seen him this nervous to share his art with you in a long time, not since the very early days of your friendship before you even began dating. Your own anxiousness from before is mellowed out by the sight of his own. You don’t even know why you felt it in the first place.

Choso lets out a little sigh, and hands the pad to you, bracing for verdict.

It’s…beautiful. You love all of his art, of course; not only because it technically looks good, but because you can see him in his art, so naturally you would adore it. But this feels different.

The piece is relatively simple, made using only a single piece of charcoal and his fingers to smudge it. And yet it captures your defining features perfectly. The drawing is clearly you, and yet you almost can’t believe that it is, because you’ve never seen yourself look like that.

In Choso’s art, you look…stunning. Every slope and curve of your face is highlighted by the darkness of the charcoal...your eyes are full of life even though they are no more than dark smears on paper. Your body is tilted in a way that makes you look regal, refined in a way you’ve never felt.

You cannot even fully describe how you look in the picture. Your head is spinning with a million thoughts, but only one makes it out of your mouth.

“Is this really how you see me?”

Choso finally tilts his head up to meet your eyes, his own serious. “I don’t even think I did you justice.”

You are careful to set the sketchpad aside safely before you throw yourself into his lap.

You press yourself close to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck to conceal the raw emotion spreading across it. His arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you closer even as he holds his hands away from your clothes so as not to get charcoal on you.

You had dreamed of him drawing you, of him making you even a fraction as pretty as his other art…and yet this was more than you ever could have wished for.

“Am I really that beautiful to you?” you whisper, lips pressed to the soft skin of his neck as you try to cling as close to him as possible.

He pulls back, just enough to where he can look you in the eyes once more. His hands come up to hold your head, gently like he fears you may break otherwise. The black dust on his fingers is no doubt leaving smears on your cheeks, but you can’t begin to care.

His gaze is just as intense as when he drew you. You are locked into the depths of his eyes.

“I could never even hope to capture how beautiful you are to me on paper. I told you I poured emotion into my drawings…but I’m not good enough to put all that I feel for you down in charcoal. I love you. I don’t think there’s anything I can create to express how much I do.” He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as he inhaled shakily.

You feel a tear drip down your face: not from sadness, but from sheer joy. Your heart feels like it’s about to overflow.

“I love you too, Choso. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

You reach a hand out, caressing his chin, tilting his face into yours so you can press a slow, loving kiss to his lips. He meets you at the same pace; not a frantic make out, but something softer. Something unrushed, syrupy-sweet, as if you both are trying to press your feelings into one another’s mouths. Like you could make your lover swallow your devotion by feeding it to them with each languid stroke of tongue.

Choso’s hands are all over your body; on your face, caressing your neck, rucking your shirt up to grip onto your sides. Gone is the prior hesitation to sully you with the smudges of charcoal lingering on his hands. Now it marks you everywhere; an artist’s signature in every black fingerprint pressed onto your flesh.

[imactuallyacartooncharacter]

I don't think I'll have the motivation to digitalize this but I really wanted to talk about my new au, so I'm just gonna post the dirty sketches.

I'm calling it "Post-apocalypse AU", and it's about what if all of the main characters (Bonnie, Finn, Jake and BMO) where born at the same time period as Marcy (during the Mushroom War) and they all end up finding each other and they help each other survive?

Some of the things I've decided:

- once, when Marcy was little, she ended up accidentally separated from Simon; Bonnie, who was the same age as her, ends up helping her out 'till she finds Simon again; they ended up running into each other a few more times over the years and became friends;

- after Simon left, Marcy went to stay with Bonnie for a bit 'cause she didn't know what else to do, but left a few months later to keep looking for resources;

- Finn grew up in a human colony, but once he went exploring the area on his own and got lost because he got chased by vampire; that's when he met Jake, who promised to help him find the colony so he would stop hanging over him (since he is a mutant he was really skeptical of humans) but they become good friends in the process;

- Finn and Jake met Marceline when she saved the two of them from a vampire and the three of them decided to stick together since them;

- the three of them met Bonnie when they fell into a trap she had set for oozers; she let them go as soon as she saw Marcy, but Finn and Jake were suspicious of her for a long time;

- they were all there when Marcy got turned into a vampire, and Bonnie took care of her during this time 'cause she didn't have blood, so she wouldn't be in danger around her, before they found out that she could feed on the color red; Finn and Jake started warming up to her after seeing how gentle she was with Marcy during this time;

- once, Bonnie gets taken by a group of humans that hated mutants, and Marcy was visiting Simon, so Finn and Jake were the ones that helped her, and that's then they truly became friends;

- they end up finding BMO at some point randomly and he just sticks with them without taking "no" for an answer;

- Marceline takes the whole gang to visit Simon sometimes; he already knew Bonnie from when she was a kid and used to spend some time with Marcy, so when they started dating he got really happy for them (also, how cute would Bonnie and Simon father-daughter in law relationship be???);

- also, it would be really interesting to see Marcy, Bonnie and Jake in a world that still wasn't accepting towards non humans;

- also, it would be cute to see Bonnie and Marceline as actual teenagers and not centuries years old immortals who look like teenagers.

I might edit this if I remember any more things to add :)

[hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf]

Muse

music major!bang chan x art major!reader

Trigger warnings: none

Content warnings: your teeth might fall out over how sweet it is??? that's literally it. it's all fluff lmao

Summary: after what you believe is a chance meeting, chan becomes your muse.

Word count: 3237

Author's note: omg hiiiii babes it's been a minuteeee. this is kinda short but it was the first thing i wrote after finally working through some stuff. shoutout to @hopelessromantic5933 for requesting this, sorry for making you wait almost two years 🥲 anyways, i hope you all enjoy it! don't forget to check out my other work ❤ and don't hesitate to send in asks! also redoing my tag list so comment or dm to be added! much loveeeeee

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

content after the cut

You let out a soft sigh as you grabbed your bag and stood from your desk. You were contemplating changing your major as you made your way out of the classroom, digging through your bag to find your phone. You loved learning new concepts and trying new things but the technique you were learning this week was one you’d never appreciated. You didn’t hate it per se, but you definitely avoided that style. It just didn’t speak to you.

You finally found your phone and began scrolling through your notifications as you made your way towards your favorite food truck. You made a confused face when you saw an Instagram notification from right after your class started. You clicked on it and were greeted with a page full of photos that screamed music major. “Who the fuck is this?” You didn’t bother to go through his pictures, choosing instead to scan his bio for any indication that you knew him. All you came up with was that you attended the same university and shared some mutual friends. He was cute from what you could see so you shrugged and approved the follow request, pocketing your phone as you reached your destination.

You placed your order and stepped to the side, turning to survey the quad. It was a beautiful day and everyone seemed to be taking advantage of it. Maybe inspiration would strike if you sat and people-watched for a bit.

You heard your name a few minutes later and gave a polite smile as you took your food, then scurried off towards your favorite tree. Campus staff had placed a massive wooden lawn chair and some fairy lights under that tree and it always felt so cozy. Plus, you had the best vantage point from there. You could almost see the entire quad from that one spot and you often found yourself sketching study groups there. Today would be slightly different since you were trying something new, but you found a sense of comfort as you settled into the chair and happily munched on your lunch.

As soon as you’d finished eating, you grabbed your sketch pad and pencil and allowed your gaze to sweep across the open field. It was teeming with life so all you had to do was choose someone and start sketching. You shook your head and chose a stationary subject first, needing to build up the courage to locate someone you’d consider asking to model for you.

Your eyes settled on a petite young woman who was seated a few yards away, sipping on coffee with her nose in a book. She almost seemed out of place here given how regal she appeared. Her posture was perfect, shoulders squared and back straight, and her hair fell over her shoulders in romantic waves. She was a picturesque beauty.

You began drawing, allowing your pencil to glide along the paper and create a version of the woman that you felt did her justice. It was far from perfect but you were certain no artist could truly capture her beauty so you gave yourself some grace. You were adding more detail when she began to pack up her things. You let out a soft sigh, knowing you’d likely never see the goddess again and this was as far as you’d get with this sketch. You flipped the page and decided to take a different approach as you spotted two men throwing a frisbee. Both were attractive, though one had a more athletic build.

You focused on the athletic one and took mental notes on the way his body moved as you began to draw him. First, you sketched out the general shape of his body as he twisted in preparation to throw the disk, then you began to add more details. You focused on the way his clothing fell and the way the midday sunlight bounced off his caramel brown hair, getting a strange sense of familiarity as you scrawled notes in the margins on the colors you’d incorporate when you got the chance.

You watched him closely as you tried to find another position to sketch him in, perking up instantly when you caught him with his arm outstretched, the frisbee leaving his hand. He was smiling brightly, displaying the most adorable dimples, and your heart sped up for a moment. You quickly began to sketch, memorizing as much detail as possible before he moved too much.

You gulped but drew even more frantically when he lifted his shirt to wipe the beads of sweat rolling down his face, revealing a six pack and prominent v-line. His proportions were perfect and if you weren’t so flustered by how attractive he was, you’d ask him to model for you. He was exactly what you needed for this project.

That strange familiarity came creeping back in as you drew but it was only when you made brief eye contact that you recognized him. He was the owner of the mystery account who’d requested to follow you less than an hour ago. You frantically looked away and continued drawing, praying he wouldn’t have anything to say when he undoubtedly recognized you from your photos.

You thought you were in the clear when he didn’t approach you after about five minutes but just when the thought crossed your mind, your luck ran out and the frisbee came flying at your head. You ducked your head quickly and listened as the disk crashed into the tree behind you.

“Felix, your arm fuckin’ sucks, bro!” Your breath caught in your throat when your unwitting model’s Australian accent reached your ears as he jogged towards you.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Called the man who’d lobbed the plastic at your head - Felix, as you’d gleaned from hearing the athletic man mocking him. He looked panicked, hands covering his mouth as he watched from where he was frozen in place. He was just as pretty and you certainly wouldn’t mind him modeling for you sometime. He had a wholesome, warm appearance.

“Sorry about him, he’s usually not such a klutz.” Your mystery man flashed a smile as he rounded your chair, taking a glance at your work as he reached down behind you.

“Ah- no, it’s not a problem. I wasn’t paying much attention.” You offered up a shy smile before looking back down to your paper. You didn’t notice him studying your pad as he retrieved the disk so you were startled when he attempted conversation as he righted himself.

“You sure about that?” He chuckled softly as he leaned over your shoulder to get a closer look and you froze. “Looks like you were paying plenty of attention.” He teased as he studied your art. Who was he and why was he so comfortable? Your heart was thumping and you wanted to vanish. “You an art major?” He asked as he stood straight once more and came around the chair to properly look at you. He was still closer to you than a stranger should be but at least you could breathe again.

Your cheeks were flaming red at being caught and you simply nodded as you began to gather your things in a rush. “I am. Sorry, this is probably really weird for you. I should-”

“What? No! This is really flattering. I don’t know a whole lot about art but you did an amazing job. Can I take a look at some of your other stuff sometime?” You froze once more but his blinding smile won against your nerves and you found yourself nodding. “Great! Can I get your number to get in touch? Or is Instagram better?”

“Ah, so you recognized me…” You let out a single huff of air that somewhat resembled a laugh as you closed your book.

“Of course I did. It’s not often I come across such a beautiful woman.” His dimples appeared once more as your cheeks went pink and your jaw dropped slightly, a smile slowly taking over your face. “Here.” He handed you his phone and you took it slowly, trying to collect yourself and remember how to use your thumbs to type your number out. When you passed it back, his fingers ghosted over yours and you retreated quickly as his smile faded into something far more flirtatious. “Thanks, I’ll text you. I’m Chan, by the way.”

“Y/n…” You murmured, enraptured by the man before you. You were dumbfounded at the way he spoke so comfortably and seemed to take an interest in you. This man was Adonis and was looking at you with an unbelievable level of interest.

“Pleased to meet you, y/n.” He began to back away as he pocketed his phone, his carefully crafted confident facade beginning to crumble, revealing a giddy young man who was thrilled to have gotten a girl’s number so easily. “I’ll let you get back to it. But do try and get my left side. That’s my good side.” He winked and you involuntarily rolled your eyes as a smile finally appeared on your lips as he made his way back to his friend with a triumphant grin.

————————————————

Your phone buzzed just after 6pm that night and you froze at the unfamiliar number.

Hi pretty 👋🏻 it’s Chan. How are you?

You quickly saved his number before responding.

hiii i’m good how are you

Much better now that I’m talking to you 😉

You were at a loss for words but he quickly sent another message.

I’d be even better if I could take you to get coffee in the near future. Are you free next weekend? Say Saturday at 11am?

You felt a jolt of anxiety shock your body but shook it off. You’d never grow as a person if you continued to shrink away from people who wanted to get to know you. Plus, he was cute. Which is why we’re anxious, dumbass. This isn’t about human connection, this is about a beautiful man flirting with you. You shook your head and typed out a response.

i think i can manage that 😆

Perfect! I’m thrilled to see you and your amazing work. 😌

————————————————

The coffee date had gone smoothly, with Chan gushing about your work and lighting up like a neon sign when you asked him to model for you. He’d been so flattered and excited that you’d asked and had immediately set up a time for you to draw him. After you’d gotten home, you texted him with more details, including where to meet and what he should wear.

Now, he was standing in your living room and you were circling him with one arm crossed over your middle while you drummed your fingers of the opposite hand against your chin. He was fighting the urge to shift around under your scrutiny and let out a tiny sigh of relief when you stopped in front of him with a smile. “I think I have an idea.”

“Have your way with me.” He grinned, ears going red when you stared at him somewhat surprised by his words. “Uh- I just- h-how do you want me to pose? That’s what I meant…” 

You laughed at his flush and shook your head. “Don’t make it weird.” You warned playfully as you pushed him towards your bedroom. You had a daybed with warm-toned sheets and pillows and knew instantly that it was the perfect backdrop. “Come on, I know what I’m gonna do with you.” He seemed to grow more flustered as he processed where you were guiding him and you almost laughed again.

Over the last few weeks, you’d grown quite comfortable with him but he seemed a little less outspoken. He was still very flirtatious but in a more genuine, careful way. He didn’t come on as strong as he did at first. While getting to know each other, you’d come to realize he was a kind man with a lot of love to give the world and a strong sense of self, not just your typical college kid. Most of your late night conversations were deep, thought-provoking, emotional discussions about life where you could see his soul was just as beautiful as his exterior. So while he certainly had his moments of being just some guy, he saved his perverted humor for his friends and kept most things with you pretty PG and entirely sincere.

When you reached your room, you nudged him towards the bed and turned to set up your easel. “Take off your shirt and socks and get on the bed.” He hesitated at first and was on the verge of sputtering some shy response when you turned back with your bottom lip poking out. “Oh come onnnn.” You whined cutely, further exaggerating your pout. “It’s for class.” Your pout was quickly replaced with a little grin as you grabbed your canvas and placed it on the easel. “Plus, it’s not like I haven’t already seen your body before.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and began to unbutton his shirt. You watched him in your peripheral vision as you continued to set everything up and had an idea.

“Actually, hold on.” You stopped him as he began to slide the linen off his muscular shoulders and he slowly put it back in place. “Just leave it open like that, that’s perfect.” You smiled as your vision fully came to you. “Socks off and get in the middle of the bed.”

He followed your instructions while watching you scurry off to your en suite bathroom to fill a cup with water. When you returned, he was sitting almost awkwardly in the center of your bed and you chuckled softly. You approached him wordlessly and knelt beside him to arrange your pillows so they were nestled in the right corner. You gestured for him to recline and stood back once he was slumped. He wasn’t lying down, he was simply sprawled across your mattress at an angle.

“Okay, bring your right knee up and sort of prop on your left elbow.” You watched as he complied and scrutinized his positioning for a moment before crawling back onto the bed. “I’m gonna make some adjustments.”

You noticed his flush creeping down his neck as you adjusted his open shirt how you wanted it to lay. “Put your hand like this.” You instructed as you demonstrated how you wanted his hand to rest across his bare torso and he complied. “And relax your left leg a bit. I want you to almost lay like Adam in Creation of Adam.”

“I think I get where you’re going with this.” He nodded, a tiny grin settling on his lips. You lifted a brow as you waited for his guess and instantly rolled your eyes when he spoke again. “You’re trying to tell me I’m a classic beauty.”

“Yes, but no.” You laughed softly as you shook your head. “Look over there.” You pointed to where you’d be sitting and made some final adjustments to his shirt as he followed your instructions. You noticed him forcing his breathing to remain steady and his flush reaching his chest as your fingers accidentally brushed against the waistband of his cream colored linen pants.

You didn’t allow yourself to worry over how you’d just touched him or to get flustered at the effect your proximity was having on him and pushed ahead, reaching to fix his hair. You adjusted a single curl and brushed a few strands away from his eyes before your gazes met and you lost the battle to remain calm. Your cheeks went a soft pink as he smiled up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You whispered back, smiling back at him and allowing your fingertips to trail down the side of his face. Seeing him this close made you even more certain of your decision to cast him as your model. His skin was flawless and his bone structure was heavenly. He truly was a god among men. And his lips…

“You’re staring.” He whispered, his smile slipping away as he noticed the way your eyes locked on his full lips.

“I’m not…” You refuted his claim but still couldn’t look away.

“You are.” His face grew redder and you thought he might kiss you but he didn’t dare move after you’d finally gotten him perfectly positioned. It was almost maddening.

“I’m not.” You finally looked towards his eyes and found him staring at your lips as well. “You are.”

“Can’t help it. You have pretty lips.” He slowly met your gaze and something in you snapped. You’d been wanting him to kiss you for a couple weeks and he hadn’t so you took matters into your own hands.

When your lips met his, he hesitated. Not because he wasn’t interested, but because he was surprised that you’d initiated it. You’d given him the impression that you wanted him to take the lead and he wanted to be careful with you so he hadn’t dared to do more than hold your hand. But now your lips were on his and he was in the clouds.

He slowly brought his hand up to cup your face without disturbing the careful placement of his shirt and allowed his lips to move against yours. Your heart was racing at how slow and sweet the moment was. It felt like the stars had aligned and you found yourself smiling against his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a little while now.” You whispered and began to pull back.

“Me too. I’ve been trying to take it slow with you though. Didn’t wanna move too fast and risk scaring you off.” He explained quietly, not really letting you move as his hand slipped to the back of your neck. “So come back here, we’ve got a couple weeks of lost time to make up for.” He teased as he chased your lips.

“You did the exact opposite. You were driving me mad wondering what exactly was happening between us.” You laughed softly before allowing him to kiss you again. His lips felt perfect against yours and you knew instantly that you’d quickly become addicted.

It couldn’t have been more than three minutes of sharing chaste kisses but it felt much longer and you frowned a bit when you finally came up for air. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to get to work now or you’ll be stuck waiting here until late into the night.”

“I could wait an eternity for you, babe.” He winked before immediately cringing. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the face he pulled and he took a moment to admire your joyful expression before shaking his head. “That was so cheesy, I’m sorry.” He chuckled and settled back into his previous position. “Work your magic.”

“For the record,” you started as you stood and studied him once more. “I love little pet names like that.” You hummed, making your way to your canvas. “So I’d really like it if you continued to use them.”

“Of course, baby girl. But don’t be surprised if I rarely use your real name then.” He grinned and relaxed his hand, allowing his fingers to splay out against his stomach.

“I’ll hold you to that. Now give me an emotionally tortured smolder.” You smiled to yourself at his soft laugh and began to sketch out the god of a man lounging on your bed.

[bananaactivity]

ahhhhh your latest morgie art was so cool--you mentioned the gray streak in his human form and i gotta ask--is it natural or a conscious choice? cause iirc one tragic aspect of hook/morgie is that one day, morgie will lose hook. hook will age and die, and with his neverland trauma will never accept mortality. but morgie is a le fay and of magic--is he choosing to age?

WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER

Also yea pretty much. Morgie has no qualms as it relates to the whole immortality thing. He completely excepts that everyone he knows that isn’t immortal will die before him, everyone except Hook of course. He’s really upset about that one…

He does alter his appearance to age. When he was a youngling he first managed to hold a human form and modded its look after his mom and its size after his cousin. He has to manually modify his human form to age, but after a couple years it becomes second nature for him to notice small changes in the human form as it grows and make tweaks. Before switching back from his primordial form he noticed the grays and age that Hook now had and tweaked himself to match his aging friends.

Small short super tragic fic incoming 😓:

“I know you’re doing that on purpose Darling, you don’t have to pretend anymore.” Hook smirked. Morgie sighed. He knew what James meant, but undoing all his work made him feel…uneasy. “ I know. I don’t do it for you James… It makes me feel better…about… our predicament.” Morgie had given up trying to immortalize his love long ago… Neverland had hurt him. Bad. He didn’t want to be the bad guy, but time was so limited he didn’t want to wait another millennia to see those sly blue eyes once more in some new timeline. He wanted to be selfish…but he wouldn’t be the bad guy, not to James. “ Come on darling, last time I saw you as well, you, I almost ripped my jacket off right there.” Hook bit his lip and stroked his mustache, irritatingly more grey by the day. Morgie looked at it and then he grew upset, “ James! It’s almost over. My time with you is so meaningful and yet so meaningless it drives me insane! I have millennia to spend with out you, I cant-“ Hook grabbed Morgies shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes. “ Morgs, Love, I’m only 45, I’ve got a good sixty left in me I think!” He laughed. LAUGHED. “ Sixty?? Hook, MILLENNIA VS SIXTY. That is SO little time it’s comical!?” Morgie began to hyperventilate, he couldn’t imagine a world devoid of James, every other friend of his had longer lifespan, but sixty years left? It must have been the cruel joke of whatever being had cursed his creation. Of course he’d fall for the one who would leave him so soon. “ Morgie La Fey you are such a strange creature.” Hook chuckled. “ What would your space dad thing think of you crying over a mortal man? I’m just a man Morgs. Not even a good one. But life’s only worth it to me because it doesn’t last. I’d love to spend an eternity with you but think about how boring it could get!! Let’s just… live in the moment.” James was so endearing… and sometime he was very right. “ I understand. But~ You meantioned something about my other… appearance…” Hook smirked again. “ What can I say… I love when a man can keep up with me, or a primordial beast thing I’m not too choosy~” Giving Hook something he wanted was always a treat. Losing him would be hard… but he’d see him again one day.

Anyways I had the random urge to write something quick, it’s not my usual fare but I wanted to do it bro.

(make sure if you see this post @throwawaybog you either comment under here or message me what you’d like to see a sketch of remember it’s gotta be descendants related, but it doesn’t have to be my designs though, and if you have references make sure to send those as well)

[fiorimaya]

JanPepper Week: Day One - The Beginning

@janpepperweek Oh gosh... I'm sorry for how late this is. Going to do my best to have something for all the prompts by October! ALSO I know what Janice said in the show about, you know... how she got Floyd LOL but I'm not going to use that (because I just don't know how LOL) but anyways... hope you all enjoy :)

The board-house full of Muppets was busy and loud as per usual, though the thoughts swirling through Janice's mind seemed much louder. All of it was becoming a bit too much for her, so she made her way to the roof and sat down, looking up at the sky as the sun set and painted the sky so many pretty colors. She took a deep breath; only sound she heard being the traffic on the interstate in the distance. This was "her place". Well, her and Floyd's. They had started going up there to the roof all the time just to talk. It had started just over a month earlier when Janice found herself in a rather difficult situation. She was in a band and one of her bandmates had been given another title: her ex. She and Zoot had tried to make it work, but it just didn't work out that way. The Muppet Show was nearing its second season and the last thing Janice wanted was for things to be awkward. Would the band's performances be awkward? And what about the At the Dance sketches in which Kermit had paired her with Zoot?

Her and Zoot had both kept showing up to band rehearsals, and even then, they still spoke to each other. It just felt different. It was weird. Janice didn't like that, and she was sure Zoot didn't like it either. They were close for the longest time; long before anything romantic started between them. Thankfully, it had gotten much better over the last month and a half. The awkwardness was slowly fading, and they were both thankful. But now... new thoughts spun in Janice's mind.

Floyd was always there to listen to her feelings during the whole thing that was happening with her and Zoot. Right there on the roof where she sat was where it always happened. Not only would Floyd listen, but he made Janice feel heard. He made her feel calm. He made her feel less alone. She truly believed that just him being there for her made the whole situation so much more bearable for her. She felt safe with him; and when she really thought about it, she realized no one else had ever made her feel that way. Not even Zoot.

There was just something about the way Floyd talked to her, looked at her, that made her heart skip a beat. She had known Floyd even before she knew the others in the band. She saw him all the time, yet somehow, she wanted to see him even more. She thought that she was in love with Zoot, but she was feeling something now for Floyd that made her doubt that "in love" was exactly what she had felt for Zoot. She cared about Zoot, of course she did. But with Floyd it was just different. It was more.

What would he, like, even see in me anyways? She thought to herself. And wouldn't it be too soon anyways? Like, Zoot and I haven't even been broken up for two months yet.

She sighed and looked up at the sky above her. It was getting darker now, and the stars were lightly twinkling despite the sun not being fully set yet. She knew Floyd would be here soon, looking for her once he noticed she wasn't with the others while they prepared for dinner. As if her thoughts sent him a cue, she heard the door open and felt his presence beside of her.

"Hey Jan. You okay?" He asked her, something off in his voice.

She turned her attention to him then. "Fer sure. Are you?"

He looked down and didn't answer. "Sorry it took me a bit. I noticed you were gone and started to come up but Teeth wanted to talk."

Had something happened between him and Teeth? She shifted so that she could face him, one leg curled under her and the other left dangling off the edge of the roof. "Is everything okay? Did something, like, happen?"

He kept his gaze down and let out a breath. "We just, uh, got into a bit of an argument."

Janice's mouth gaped. "An argument? About what?"

Floyd let out another breath that sounded more like a bit of a laugh this time. Finally, he looked at her. "You."

Janice was taken aback. "Me? Like, why?"

Floyd looked down again, blushing slightly. He knew he could tell her, that she wouldn't be upset with him for it. Because talking about anything and anything at all was just natural for them. It always had been. "He, uh... he caught on and noticed that I, uh, y'know... like you."

Janice just stared at him, not sure exactly what to say at first. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"Like... like me?" She finally got a few words out.

Floyd laughed his usual laugh then. "Yeah, Jan. I like you. Y'know, like that. He's just worried if something did ever happen between us like that, what it would mean for the band. Given your history with Zoot and all that."

That made Janice wonder if Teeth had caught on to her having feelings for Floyd, too.

Floyd continued. "I mean, I don't want things to be even more awkward for you and Zoot again after you two are finally getting back to a good, uh, not awkward place. But I just wanted you to know that I do like you a lot, Janice. And... I wanna be with you. I actually have for quite some time now."

Janice felt her cheeks getting warm as she tried to fight a giggle at how cute his rambling was. She couldn't remember him ever doing it before. She had to bite her lip as his rambling continued.

"And I understand if you don't feel the same or you're not ready or if you're, y'know, done with band members or-"

"Floyd, stop," she cut him off, her giggle finally escaping her lips. He looked over at her again, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "I-I do like you," she smiled. "Y'know, like that."

"You do?" He blinked a few times.

"Fer sure," she nodded. "And I wanna be with you too, Floyd."

Floyd looked at her in disbelief, and then let out a happy laugh. "So... we're a thing now?"

"I'd like to be," Janice coyly told him.

"And Zoot?"

"We'll figure that out later," she told him, wrapping her arms around him. He returned the hug, her face against his chest. She smiled more. "I'm sure everything will like, turn out fine. All I know is I like, wanna be with you no matter what."

Floyd nodded, even though she couldn't see from her position. He gently pressed a kiss into the top of her head and sighed happily. "I feel the same exact way, Jan."

[pbandjesse]

I am absolutely shattered today. More exhausted then I have been in a while. I am super glad my workshop tomorrow is not happening anymore because I don't think I could handle it. I am just. So tired.

I didn't sleep amazing again. My ears hurt again. I have had go take out all of my piercing. Which seems to have helped a little bit. But I also absolutely slept through my alarm because I was asleep on top of my phone. Thankfully James woke me up at 715.

I was in a horrible mood though. And I was very snippy. I was in my head telling myself to knock it off but I was having a bad time. I was to hot. I would be okay but it did not start well.

James left for work before me. And I took a few extra minutes to sit and watch my new fish because I read that it can help your blood pressure and I do think it helped a little bit. I was out the door by 755.

I got over to creative alliance and loaded up my wagon. As I walked from the corner where I parked t Creative Alliance Parker pulled up and I was like. Oh hi! And I really tried to put on all my energy. But I was for sure more low energy then normal. I tried but I was struggling.

The classroom was 72 degrees. Which was wild. Parker would realize and fix it pretty quick but it did not help how warm I already was. But it would be okay.

I started setting up my program and slowly the kids started coming in. Including some I knew! One from the nursery I subbed at before and one form puhtok. And everyone was really great.

James had given me a bunch of flattened cardboard boxes from soap being sold at the gift shop. So as the kids came in, some went to draw, and some came to help me assemble the boxes. And it was fun. A nice little way to get to know each other and jump right into making stuff.

They were all really excited about the Rubbermaid tubs of stuff I brought. And I gave them plastic bins to start putting things to the side in case they might want to use them for their dioramas. But we would be breaking into two groups later on so it was no rush.

The kids were really funny. And by the end of the day they had developed their own religion, with one of the older boys, Andrew, becoming the cult leader. It was all around an egg that did not shatter with the others. And then at lunch they went to the park and saw a dead bird and I think there is a chicken and the egg conversation to be had but they just kept chanting. And making art about the egg. Children are so wonderfully weird.

Parker took the kids on a tour of the two buildings first. Which gave me a few minutes to eat my breakfast. But soon they were back and we jumped right in.

We started with taking about what a dioramas was. I wrote things in the board and we discussed what it is, what it's made of, why someone might make one. And they had really great answers. Next we filled out the worksheet I made up with information for thinking about how your diorama will function. Who's in it? What's the environment? What are the materials? We then sketched it and then we made paper models of the ideas. Not everyone did all of these steps, and they really didn't have to. But it was good to work through the ideas.

We had approximately 2 and a half hours for each group. And I found that about half of each group spent the entire time making, while the other half finished in about an hour. So I had to push for adding things. And I would find some books and Legos to entertain the littler ones. But overall I think we did great.

I did struggle when I realized I forgot my hot glue sticks at home. So the first group only had 5 sticks. But they really made it work. Like it wasn't perfect but it was still good. Even if I was stressed. And I would cut my finger in my pocket knife when I was helping cut windows out of boxes. Ouch. It was bleeding pretty bad and I was mad at myself.

But the kids did great. Only a few little finger burns on the hot glue guns. No one seriously injured. And they all worked really hard. It was nice to see.

They had a snack break half way through the morning. I would have my little lunch then since I was planning on quickly driving home to get the hot glue during their lunch half hour.

After their snack some of them finished quickly. Some took the rest of the hour. Other started drawing. I had music going. It was a little tough for me to find music without cursing so we ended up listening to Mitski and Julien Baker all day. Which I enjoyed and I think kept the space calm.

We finished the morning session and Parker collected the other class and my class and I headed to the car.

I quickly drove home. Washed my face and tried to shake off the tired feeling. My feet hurt and it would only get worse. But it was okay. I grabbed the hot glue. Pet Sweetp. And quickly drove back. Got the same parking space even!

They were still at the park for lunch so I enjoyed sitting on the stairs outside. I was out there for like ten minutes when I heard the entire group of children chanting "all hail the dead bird!" Over and over. Children are hilarious.

I did have to ban chanting though because half of my second group was getting very frustrated by the boys repeating and being loud about eggs and I was getting frustrated too. You may worship the egg quietly in your head. I just don't want to hear it anymore.

The afternoon felt long. But I know it was mostly because I was very tired. I still had fun. And really enjoyed seeing what everyone was making. Some of the kids really were great at this project and I was so proud of them. This is for sure a 3rd/4th grade project. But what else it new, that's the age I work best with.

Around 330 we started cleaning up. Some were still working. Some were done. I was slowly cleaning up around them. Teaching some how to properly wash paint brushes. Giving others the job of sweeping. And soon parents were showing up.

As they were getting picked up I thanked them all for coming. One of the kids showed me a magic trick. I got to meet the other teachers who were teaching the kids to do magic tricks which was very neat. And after packing my wagon I was ready to go.

I checked in with Parker before I left. And he just said how awesome he thinks I am and how he loves how I know so many things. To be fair I know a little about a lot of things, and it's hurt me in the past. I remember when I applied for Penland to try and get a residency after college and they said I had to many directions in my portfolio. That I needed to focus. But that was never going to be me I guess. I think I like it better that way.

I held it together until I got home. But I was exhausted. My feet hurt so much. I desperately wanted to lay down.

And that's just what I did. I got home and took my shoes off and got on the couch. And that's where James found me not long after. I was very upset and very tired.

I just kept closing my eyes. But James asked me what I wanted for dinner and I wanted brass tap. It took me a while to get to that answer but I did get there. And it was hard to get up. But James pulled me off the couch and we headed to Towson.

James took us a fun back roads way. And I talked to them about some frustrations I am having and that helped me feel a little better.

We parked in the parking garage at the mall and went to the restaurant. And it wasn't amazing and I felt horrible. But I was happy to be with my James. Even if it was to loud. Ah well.

I still appreciated James trying to make me feel better. The food was fine and I saved the salad for tomorrow. We walked through the mall to go to the car because it had started to rain. And it was nice window shopping but I was very much ready to go home.

When we got back here I got changed and got in the couch. James did some painting for the stairwell. And me and Sweetp have just been resting.

And I am very very much ready for bed now. Thankfully the only plans I have this weekend is to have brunch with Callie tomorrow. She's coming to get me in the morning and we have reservations so I'm hoping it's pretty low stress. And I'm just really looking forward to seeing her. Hopefully I will sleep good and be able to feel amazing tomorrow.

I hope you all feel amazing too. I love you all very much. Goodnight everyone.

[shewastheheart]

ooh so we're doing prompts now? in that case: Esme and Carlisle high school AU?

A/N: Well, this is exciting! I love prompts so thank you very much :)

Set in Esme's era of the early 1900s.

-

“Is there any chance we could eventually decide on a new meeting spot?” Carlisle grunts, following her up the thinning branches of the trees. 

Esme laughs down at him, the sound like the soft song of a bell. “Come on, Cullen. Use those muscles.”

He huffs up at her in annoyance, but they both know it’s feigned. They both know he would follow her anywhere. 

The tree house preceded them in existence, built unknown and what he presumed had to be ages ago. They had no idea if it was actually safe or sturdy enough to spend as much time as they do inside the makeshift home of wooden planks. But it was Esme’s favorite place to be, so naturally, it had become his too. 

When they made it to the tree house’s ledge, Esme hoists herself up using the rope they’d tied to one of the branches protruding through the walls inside. Per usual, he looks away, avoiding the precarious flutter of her skirt at her knees. He follows her in by clutching the hand she offers for leverage.

The boards of wall were covered in Esme’s sketches and paintings, her sketchbook and art supplies tucked safely in a box they’d brought up in the summer upon finding the place. Her passion nestled next to his, the study materials for medical school and the poetry books buried inside so his father would never find them. 

It was here they could both be their true selves, with no judgment from parents or peers. Here, they could dream and laugh. She avoided the scrutiny of her parents, the criticism that stole her girlhood, and he could dodge his father’s harsh words and even harsher hands. 

His father had never liked him, not after his mother died in delivery. The local pastor had an affinity for secret drinking to forget it all, the alcohol coaxing his usual quiet rage to the surface; Carlisle was the perfect target. Esme never saw the bruises, but he knew she suspected things. She was too observant for her own good. 

“How’d you make it past him today?” she inquires now, lighting an oil lamp in the corner, careful to drag it away from the wall. 

“He wasn’t home yet,” Carlisle answers evenly, dropping to his haunches in front of the keepsake box. “I’ll think of something before we get back. What are you going to tell yours?”

“That I’m out with one of my many suitors, learning the intricate delicacy of becoming a housewife,” she muses. She joked about it a lot, but he knew her parents’ expectations infuriated her on the inside, the constant push for marriage, the lack of interest in her even completing her education. Esme wanted to go to college, to make something of her life; her parents wanted her to let Charles Evenson court her.

“Do they think you’re out with Charles?” he asks next.

She shoots him a look. “Perhaps. They never seem to respond well to me spending hours with my best friend who is a male, three years older than me, and protestant.”

“Isn't Evenson older than you? And is he even Jewish?”

“I think it has more to do with his family name and the money behind it,” she mutters. “Isn’t that why your dad hates me? Family name and lack of money?”

“My father hates no one but me,” Carlisle chuckles, plopping to the floor and resting his back to the wall. “But ultimately, I think he wants me in chapel, training for my future.”

“Hard to train to become a world famous doctor in a church,” she murmurs, settling beside him and bumping her shoulder to his.

He offers her a soft smile, he can’t help it. No one’s ever had faith in him before, but she does. He has no idea why, but Esme believes in him more than he thinks he may believe in God. 

“I'm going to graduate soon, Carlisle,” she says conspiratorially, curling her knees up and letting them brush his side, “Then we’re going to get out of here, you and me.”

He turns his head to stare over at her, finds her already waiting with liquid green eyes and a tender smile. His gaze unthinkingly falls to her lips. 

He’s wanted to kiss her for years now, ever since he met her.

He swallows hard and drops his forehead against hers instead. “Promise?”

He can see her lashes fluttering, blinking furiously as if to clear a haze before she finds herself again.

“Of course,” she chuckles, reaching for his arm and squeezing. “I’ll go wherever you wanna go, Carlisle. Anywhere but here.”

-

Esme usually meets him every day after school in the forest behind her house. Neither of them rarely go home beforehand unless necessary, but Carlisle has to pass his on his way here from the school and sometimes gets delayed.

She’s been waiting for over half an hour.

She frowns and glances to the darkening forest, wondering if there’s a chance he went in without her, if he’s already waiting in the tree house. 

She debates for a long moment before trekking into the maze of trees and brush she’s carved a path through many times before. If he isn’t there, then that means he was caught on his way and she’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see him.

She’s halfway through the ten minute walk when it starts to drizzle, the darkening clouds bleeding into the darkening sky and releasing downpour. Esme hastens her walk to a run, her book bag slapping against her back at she races to the tree. 

The lamp in the tree above is lit.

She begins to climb, nearly slipping a couple of times, huffing as she finally reaches the top. Peering over the edge of the landing just to ensure it is him in there, she sees Carlisle sitting on the floor, back to the wall and head tilted back exposing his profile. His eyes are closed and a frown is carved deep into his mouth. She wants to draw him, trace the outline of his throat with her pencil, follow it with the tips of her fingers. 

Esme shakes the thoughts away and climbs the rest of the way inside, shaking the dampened curls of her hair. It’s then that she sees the floor, covered in ripped pages.

Her heart sinks as she silently plucks the first scrap of paper her fingers touch from the ground, one of his anatomy book pages torn. He doesn’t stir until she’s nearly across the tiny room, blinking as if emerging from a daze. 

“Esme?”

That is also when she sees the entirety of his face. His left cheek is slashed with a cut, his eye blackened and swelling.

He stands as she gasps, closing the distance to better inspect, but he catches her wrists when her hands rise to his face. 

“It’s fine,” he whispers, and outrage pools like fire in her veins.

“This is not fine,” she hisses, tears stinging her eyes unexpectedly. “I know he did this, I know it was him-”

“It doesn’t matter!” he growls, dropping her wrists and turning away from her. “None of it matters anymore. He - he’s sending me away for leadership training in the city. I finally told him it’s not what I want, that I wanted to heal people in a different way. I told him I was twenty-one and he couldn’t force me to do this and - well, he disagreed.”

Esme bit down on her lip and followed his retreat from her, tentatively touching his chin with trembling fingertips. He let her, staring down at her with sorrow that bled from the ocean blue of his eyes.

“Let’s just go now,” she breathes, watching the storm raging in those eyes threaten to settle, confusion like a lightning bolt of calm. “We can leave, we can-”

“Esme, we can’t,” he whispers sullen. “You haven’t graduated, neither of us has any real money, we can't-”

“I can still go to school, so can you, we can just live somewhere else and-”

“No,” he quiets her, placing gentle hands on her shoulders. “We can’t just... we have to think this through better, longer.”

“You’re not going back there,” she gets out, shaking her head furiously before reaching forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

He stands there, stock still for a long moment. Carlisle is not used to affection, the soft nudge of her shoulder or the gentle press of her forehead to his always a breath-stealing instance that passes far too quickly between them. But right now? She needs him as much as she'd like to believe he needs her.

She's not letting go.

-

She's not letting go, so he wraps his arms around her slim waist.

They stay like that for a long time, her quiet breathing settling his pounding heart, and he lets his body relax into hers.

The rain pounds on the wooden walls of their tree house, his secret sanctuary found with her. Esme is soaking wet against him, the drench of her clothing bleeding into his, but he doesn't care. He wants to stay like this forever.

But then Esme is pulling back, one of her arms retracting to lift between them. He closes his eyes as he thin fingers rise to his cheek, scaling the length of his swollen flesh, her fingertips like ice to the searing pain surrounding his eye.

"Oh, Carlisle," she whispers mournfully, those tender fingers traipsing downwards to linger at his chin.

He hesitates, not wanting to see the ache of pity for him, but slowly opens his eyes again.

Her gaze is trailing down his cheek, examining the cut from his father's ring, but then they are falling to his lips.

"You need ice," she mumbles, but her thumb is touching his bottom lip now, tracing the outline of his mouth.

Carlisle leans forward tentatively, just to rest his forehead to hers as they so often do, but Esme is lifting on her toes, their noses brushing.

"Esme." He doesn't know what else to say, just her name - a question, a request, a plea all in one.

Her lashes are fluttering at her cheeks, her pale skin glistening with raindrops, and then she is pressing her lips to his, uncertain and shy and the most beautiful thing he's ever experienced.

-

Carlisle stiffens completely under the touch of her mouth, but only for a moment. Neither one of them know what they're doing, but all she's ever known with certainty is that she loves this boy and she's wanted to kiss him since they found this treehouse.

His hands slip up the curve of her spine to cup her cheeks, his lips moving to fit against hers more properly, like a puzzle piece they've been looking for for months.

Esme sighs and holds his inflamed cheek in her palm while her other tangles through the fine, blonde locks of his hair.

Her heart is beating like a nervous bird in her chest, fluttering hard and frantic against her ribs, taking flight when Carlisle kisses her again and again and again.

"I want to go," he breathes against the part of her lips. "Wherever you go."

Her mouth breaks into a smile against his and she kisses him once more.

"Good."

-

Carlisle wraps her in the blanket they keep in the corner, curling her close against him as they settle in against the wall. They talk for hours, like always, this time about his father, everything he's never told her. She holds his hand, fingers twined securely through his, head tucked under his chin with her cheek flat against his collarbone.

"You'll just stay here tonight. I'll pack a bag and meet you in the morning when I leave for school. I have enough money saved for train tickets."

"Where do you want to go?" Carlisle asks.

"Columbus," she shrugs against him. "Or we can leave Ohio entirely. Where do you want to go to med school?"

"Esme," he chuckles, running fingers through the wild curls of her hair, still damp and drying from the rain. "It's not all about med school."

"I know," she huffs, shifting against him to sit up, her green eyes brimming with possibilities when they meet his. "But I'm happy to teach anywhere, Carlisle. I know you've studied more medical institutions and colleges than I've cared to look at for my degree. I know you have a preference."

To be honest, it's been forever since he even thought about where to go. His dream for the longest time now has simply been to leave their small town in Ohio, with her.

He sighs. "Okay, how about... Chicago?" he throws out, expecting her to scoff at him, but instead, her eyes light up.

"Okay," she agrees, smiling broadly at him. "There will be more opportunity there, more progression, it'll likely be easier for me to get into a new high school, fast track to my graduation, and then we can go to university together and-"

He's grinning when he leans forward to kiss her.

-

Esme leaves him that night with reluctance, hating the idea of him being alone, especially after all he's gone through. But if she doesn't arrive home soon, her parents will notice her absence and their plans will surely be dashed.

She promises to return within the next few hours, sealing the words with a firm kiss his mouth that has his fingers fisting in the collar of her shirt.

She packs and hardly sleeps, rising with the sun and leaving with her school bag slung over her shoulder, absent of books, filled instead with clothing, some food, and money stolen from her parents.

Esme moves through the woods with bated breath, her heart accelerating as the tree house comes into view. She climbs the branches as fast as she can, leaving her book bag on the forest floor, but when she reaches the entry to the room... no one is there.

"Carlisle?" she calls softly, feeling like a fool for it, but - but why isn't he here? She knows him, knows he would never just leave without telling her, without leaving her some kind of clue. Climbing inside, she notices a few drops of blood that were not there last night, the paper rippings now cleared from the floor.

But upon further inspection, there is nothing else. No sign of Carlisle at all.

Something in her heart plummets to her stomach, hope roiling in acid, but she forces it away and folds her legs beneath her to sit against the wall.

He'll come back for her, he will. She'll just wait.

And she does, all day long. She waits so long that her father eventually treks out into the woods searching for her, probably noticing she never came home from school that day.

She remains hidden in the tree house until the distant shouts of her name disappear, knowing she needs to formulate some kind of reason for why she was out so late, but her mind feels numb.

Carlisle is gone and he left without her.

[cakessecretblog]

R 8/27

i once saw someone say, "my final act of love is leaving you alone", and i pretend like that's what i did for you, i tried so hard for years to prove how much i loved you. I know you did too, i know how hard you tried, i promise.

i know how i showed my love was different from most, i know i wasn't the most stable, caring or affectionate. i hate myself every day for the things i did wrong. i spend a lot of time dwelling, wondering why i cant go back and change it all.

i put on an old shirt today, it smelled like us. or what i imagine the smell we grew to create. isn't it funny to think that the time we spent was literally washed away?

its hard not you check on you, its been months, so many people blocked, removed, so many people i had to give up on. i simply want my own peace, yet i find myself on lonely nights like this thinking of you. i honestly don't even know what you're up to, or if you & her are even still together.

the other night i had a gut wrenching thought, that you might marry her and you might dance to the song i wanted for us. god that tore me apart.

i think you'd be proud of me if you could see me now. some days i catch myself thinking about reasons to text you. i think to myself, "does he not reach out because he hasn't given me a second thought, or is it because i don't reach out and he thinks its for the best to leave it alone?" and i guess its just a projection of how i feel, but the ladder is easier on the mind.

I've also done a lot of things not even i am proud of. i wont go into specifics, but its taken a lot of trail and error to get to where i am now, and I'm still not good enough.

I've made a lot of new friends, a lot of people have become important in my life without me even realizing. clearly, I've stayed single. but its not that i didn't try. I did, over and over and over. i meet someone that i like, and then on a random tuesday when the sun is bright in my eyes and i slept a little too late that morning, i fucking hate them. men, women, doesn't matter. nobody, no body, is good enough.

i cant tell if I'm lonely, or scared to be alone. some days i feel like if i don't start dating soon, it'll be a big topic of discussion at your families dinner table. "look at poor [redacted] and her inability to love and be loved, we always knew she was a nutcase" i wonder how many of those sessions you and her have sat in on and laughed over. does it bond you closer together?

i'm unsure if you know, but our son passed away this month. if you didn't know, im sorry you found out this way, i swear on my life i wanted you there. i just fucking couldn't bring myself to make that call. please forgive me. my inability to face you stole your last moments with our boy. i was also, petrified, that you wouldn't even care, our lives are so far separate now, would a call have even went through? on the other hand, if you know, why didn't you say something? no one did. you, your siblings, your parents. my heartache was nothing to bat an eye over.

theres so much i have to say to you. six long months of me alone in my room, just asking question after question. i feel like i could keep typing for hours, but everything would get redundant. i need time to think about the things i say.

what i really wanted to say at the end of the day is, i wish i could talk to you, but i hope i never see you again. and i love you. and i wish you were dead. and i wish we had the life we envisioned. a few weeks ago, flipping through my old sketch books i found a page, from 2020. it was a rough sketch of our first apartment together, and both of our hand writings.

oh god, i miss you so much.

[aaknopf]

In his prose debut, the poet and professor of literature Joshua Bennett tells the story of the exponential growth of spoken word poetry—of how, he writes, “a specific performance subculture came to be one of the most influential literary genres of our age.” With its roots in the Black Arts movement, spoken word grew out of the dynamic scene at New York’s Nuyorican Poets Cafe, itself the outgrowth of an East Village living-room hangout hosted by the visionary Miguel Algarín in the 1970s; he and other writers of color would gather to share and critique one another’s work, probably not imagining that the highly expressive, tell-your-truth style performance poetry they nourished would go global within a few decades—from Broadway’s Hamilton and Amanda Gorman on the inauguration stage to a robust presence in classrooms, at protests, and on campuses around the world. Joshua, a shy kid who discovered his voice in the heyday of poetry slam competitions, describes his first time out at the Nuyo in the passage below.

Excerpt from SPOKEN WORD:

On a Friday night in November of 2006, my senior year in high school, I put on a royal-blue T-shirt emblazoned with Bob Marley’s face, and a pair of red-and-white Nikes I’d purchased with my Foot Locker employee discount. I boarded the 1 train from 242nd Street after taking the BX9 bus from my childhood home, heading south for Manhattan, to a place called the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Earlier that fall, I qualified for my first city-wide youth poetry slam, which was to be held at the famous East Village bar and global center for spoken word: the most famous poetry slam venue in the world. The only other time I had been to the Village was to purchase my first album, Juelz Santana’s From Me to U, from a record shop not too far from the Cafe. I would keep the record as contraband that year—no hip-hop allowed in the house—letting its sharp cadences and outlandish tales of uptown bravado color the raps I recited to myself in the still moments between studying for English class and writing for the stage, which by November had already become my second job, alongside the gig at Foot Locker. The walk from the D train to the Cafe was an education. All the elements of my surroundings were turned up to ten: each radiant color and irrepressible sound. Bass blasting from the windows of cars, dollar pizza shops packed from wall to wall, rows of sunglasses stacked higher than any passerby. When you got to the part of Avenue C where the Cafe lives, you knew it immediately by the line that stretched all the way down the block (whether we’re talking Wednesday or Friday, it made no difference, I would soon learn), the large black awning and booth that led to the door, and the mural on the wall depicting the famed Nuyorican poet Pedro Pietri. Pietri was sketched in blue and black and surrounded by red bricks on all sides. The mural also featured five faceless figures in hats and trench coats, as if a collective composed entirely of detectives who also happened to be ghosts.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the front of the line, at which point I paid the entrance fee and stepped inside the venue. The first thing I saw was the blast of Technicolor: red and blue and bright yellow where the stage lights hit the back of the room. All the chairs in the venue were aimed toward the back of the space, where there was a bright vermilion rug onstage, and a wireless microphone in a metal stand on top of that. There were paintings all over the walls, and a DJ in the back spinning records in and out of one another at warp speed. The room was bristling, alive. On the night of that first slam, my big sister, Latoya, had just returned home from her senior year of college. She came all the way down from Yonkers to the Lower East Side to see me perform. The host that night was a poet and emcee named Jive Poetic, and the place was packed. As is custom, the DJ played Bell Biv DeVoe’s timeless hit “Poison” right after the judges were chosen and right before the sacrificial poet touched the stage. Thankfully, I didn’t draw the first slot during this particular slam. Generally speaking, no one wants to go first. When that happens, you have to set the tone for the night, and have no idea what kind of work your competitors will bring to the table. Whether you opt for a funny poem or something a bit more politically charged becomes a gut decision, instead of a strategic choice based on audience reaction and the poet who performs right before you. It’s a tough spot to be in.

Ten teenagers signed up for that night’s competition and discerning an early favorite would have been difficult amid such a large field. I did my best to stand out. As a friend’s former mentor used to say, “Your poem starts before you touch the stage”—by which she meant that the process of communicating who you are, what you are about, begins the moment the audience first sees you, before you have even opened your mouth. It may have been my first time performing at the Nuyorican, but I was familiar with the lore. I knew that when the poetry resonated, it got wild in there: people yelling, banging on tables, laughing so loudly that you could barely hear the poet. Likewise, you could just as easily tell when the crowd wasn’t into it, and that was my worst fear— not rejection so much as indifference. The point of slam is not simply to be heard. You want to be engaged, encountered, unforgettable.

The poem I performed that night was the first one I had ever written for the stage: “The Talented Tenth.” As its title suggests, it was a meditation on W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory of racial uplift (a theory, it bears mentioning, he would eventually retract). The ideas that would become “Talented Tenth” were shaped during the two-hour commute from my parents’ house to my private high school in Rye, and then back again each day. For all four years of high school, I would wake up at five a.m. and speed down the block with my laptop and books in my backpack while just about everyone else in the neighborhood, my family included, was still asleep. On those walks, I would think at length about what it meant to have been selected for this opportunity. I knew that my friends, family, and classmates from childhood all would have benefited greatly from the sort of educational resources I now had access to. Until I discovered slam, I was never able to put that feeling into words, and wrestle with what it meant to me, and for how I should live my life. Though I was exposed to poetry at home—Toya kept a copy of Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” taped to her bedroom door—the spoken word poets who entered my life my senior year, once I started going to slams, had an energy to their work that felt altogether new. For one thing, the vast majority of the poets I met around that time were my age. They used profanity unabashedly (to my mother’s chagrin), they talked about teenage angst, structural inequality, and global revolution in evocative ways, often addressing all these subjects in the span of a single poem. I knew from the very beginning that I had found my people—and my calling.

Jive Poetic called out my name, and I walked up to the microphone to mild applause and the discernible voice of my sister yelling “Let’s go, Josh!” from the front row. I took a moment to survey the crowd, closed my eyes, and tried to reimagine the scenes that brought me to this moment. The venue was packed to the brim that night. The stage lights shone so brightly I could barely see beyond the front row. The poem began:

I am a member of the Talented Tenth W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory in the flesh The cream of the crop the best of the best or at least that’s what I’m told by my standardized tests . . .

The poem clocked in at a little under three minutes, in accordance with the slam rules I had memorized well in advance. It reckoned with my experience of double-consciousness not only as someone who is both black and American—what Du Bois describes as “two warring ideals in one dark body”—but as a child of working people who attended an elite, predominately white high school. It then moved to a much larger narrative about racial discrimination and injustice, detailing the history of segregation, lynching, and structural poverty that I had learned from my parents over the years. Like so many spoken-word performances, “Talented Tenth” was a combination of autobiography and social critique. It was my attempt to hold a mirror up to myself and my surroundings at the same time, to invite everyone within earshot to hear my story and to see a piece of themselves in it. The performance went over well, and I was awarded a near-perfect score by the judges. Ultimately, I was selected as one of the winners of that night’s slam who would go on to compete in the semifinal phase of the citywide youth poetry slam competition. After the bout, Latoya took me out to Wendy’s to celebrate. It was truly a banner night.

Sitting at the bar that evening was a man named Miguel Algarín. I had never met him, or even heard of him, before that night’s slam. When I returned to the scene in earnest during the summers after my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of college, Miguel remembered me, and would say so. He never offered advice, or feedback on individual poems, or anything like that. The point, I think, was simply to clarify that the work had resonated with him. It would take me almost a decade of study after those first encounters with Algarín to begin to understand his contribution to the art form I was every day growing to love and setting out to transform in my own way. Without my knowing it, his dreams had been the foundation for my own. 

. .

More on this book and author: 

Learn more about Spoken Word and browse other books by Joshua Bennettincluding his recently published poetry collection, The Study of Human Life (Penguin).

 Follow him @SirJoshBennett on Twitterand Instagram. 

Hear Joshua Bennett speak on “Friendship and Black Study” with Jarvis Givens at the National Museum of African American History on April 5 (registration via Eventbrite, the event will be in person/online). Joshua Bennett will participate in the Vernon and Marguerite Gras Lecture in the Humanities Series at George Mason University in Virginia on April 13 (register here; the event will be in person); he will also read in person with The Friends of the St. Paul Public Library in Minnesota on April 20.

See the young Joshua Bennett perform his piece “10 Things I Want to Say to a Black Woman.”

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[pepperonidk]

Moon River || j.w.w.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader

Summary:  Soulmates can communicate with each other through journals. When one writes or draws in theirs it shows up in the other’s.

Warnings: absolutely none, it’s PURE FLUFF. so sweet you’ll get cavities ;)

Word Count: 1020

A/N: This is one of the first things I had written soo be gentle with this lmao. Very cozy rainy day vibes, grab a warm beverage, put on some good music, and a fuzzy blanket. (btw this is posted on my marvel blog @capwogers)

Hey soulmate, it’s me again. Today was a great day, even though it was storming all day. I actually really like stormy weather. Do you? I spent all day in bed and finished reading that book I got last week. I wonder what I should read next. Any recommendations?

xx Stardust

The curly loops and feather-light strokes of her handwriting filled the lines of his journal, as Wonwoo read his soulmate’s entry. Her handwriting had become more than familiar to him. He had seen it develop from the sloppy and shaky scrawls from when they were in kindergarten to the neat and compact letters on the page now. Wonwoo couldn’t help but question the whole soulmate thing. How could you possibly know so much about someone without even knowing something basic like their name? It’s a cruel joke, Wonwoo decided. He and his soulmate had tried before, but their names would not show up on the paper, leaving them to create code names for each other.

 But names weren’t the only thing missing. Wonwoo wondered if his soulmate lived near him. He looked out the window and saw the overcast sky, full of dark clouds. If she lived nearby maybe it was possible he’d seen her before. He tried to imagine what she might look like, the slope of her nose, the curves of her lips, the hybrid of colors in her eyes, all the details that could never be described properly with words. Wonwoo was a hopeless romantic and couldn’t help it when his heart sank at the realization that he just doesn’t know. He had always wanted to draw her, and every time he tried to do so in the journal, she would tell him that his sketch was lovely, but he knew he wasn’t drawing her.

Darling, I wonder a lot about where you are. It’s storming here too, so maybe you’re not that far away. I guess I do like stormy weather too, the thunder is oddly relaxing. And you finished it already? You definitely deserve an award, that dedication is unbeatable. As for recommendations, I hear Kafka’s got some interesting work, depending on how you feel about bugs. Today was kind of rough for me, but it’s alright. I’ll take it easy tonight.

Talk soon, Moon River

Wonwoo filled in the next few lines after hers, and signed his code name in his extravagant cursive. Both of their nicknames were references to their favorite songs. Wonwoo had an old soul, and it was evident in his taste in music. He would often let her know when he had found a new old song for her to listen to. Although her taste in music was a lot more current, she always enjoyed hearing Wonwoo's music as she felt it brought her a lot closer to him. 

Shutting the cover of his journal, Wonwoo thought about his plans for the rest of the evening. It had been a particularly stressful day at practice, as it always was when the boys disagreed on anything, and he really did not want to sit alone with his thoughts in his apartment. So he grabbed his umbrella and his journal and made his way to his favorite cafe. The rain had lightened up outside, slowing down to a light drizzle and made his walk down the few blocks all the more peaceful. He took in his surroundings, trying to memorize the details of the signs of life around him so he could draw it all out on paper.

Now inside the cafe, Wonwoo was relieved to see that it was not so full. He didn’t want to be alone in his apartment, but he also didn’t want to be alone in a room saturated with people. He ordered his coffee and sat down at a table by the window. Outside he had a clear view of the small bookstore across the street and people scurrying as the rain started coming down stronger. He pulled out his journal and began to draw underneath his entry a sketch of the scene outside. With his headphones in, Wonwoo didn’t realize how much time had passed until he noticed his soulmate had written underneath his drawing.

You’re missing something.

xx

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at the writing, and directed his confusion at his drawing. What was he missing? He turned his head to look back at the bookstore. There were the shelves of books, somehow still dry under the awning, which was a shade of green darker in some spots because of the rain, the paintings of white daisies on the window, almost faded out now, and the bench in front of it where a girl sat with a book in front of her. Had she been there this whole time? How did he forget to include her?

Directing his attention back to the sketch, he began to draw her in, not bothering to look back up in fear she might notice him staring at her. Her figure quickly came into being on his replica of the flower shop when he noticed another line of writing appear on the lines.

Those are hearts on the rain boots, not polka dots.

xx

Confident that he saw polka dots, he looked up just in time for him to make eye contact with the girl on the bench. His first thought was simply that she was pretty. His second thought was one of panic and fear that she might think he was creepy for staring at her. His third thought was when he put two and two together and realized he was staring at her. At that point he stopped thinking, dropped his pencil and ran out of the cafe.

 Wonwoo practically ran to her, but came to an abrupt stop a few feet in front of her. She stood up from her seat in the bench and smiled at the incredulous expression etched on Wonwoo's face. “It’s about damn time,” she laughed.

Still shocked, it took Wonwoo a few seconds before he finally replied, “I’m Wonwoo,” he stuttered out breathlessly. “And you’re my soulmate.”

[softshiin]

hiii!! saw you opened rqs so i came as soon as i heard :p

can i request an artist!s/o asks to paint on them with draken, shinichiro, rindou, sanzu and chifuyu? :D

feel free to ignore of you dont wanna do it <3 also to remove or change any of them if you wanna do someone else :p

have a great day!! and a cat

TR WITH AN ARTIST!S/O

summary: artist!s/o who asks the boys to pose for them

characters: ken, shinichiro, rindou, sanzu and chifuyu

warnings: fluff?

note: hello hello!! thanks for requesting hun~ sorry for being late :(

DRAKEN

; he knew that you liked drawing, that’s all

; ken always loved watching you while painting, and he must admit that you were also pretty good at it

; but you were too shy to ask him to pose for you, fearing a refusal

; at your birthday tho, he asked you if you wanted to do something in particular with him. like a date or sum

; “so uh,, actually, could you pose for me please..?”

; he was totally fine and delighted to become your model

; you ended up making him pose with his hair down ‘cause he looked so gorgeous tbh <3

SHINICHIRO

; okay so- this guys right here actually asked you multiple times A DAY if he could pose for you

; and you always rejected him, saying you weren’t that good at painting

and stuff

; to tell the truth, you weren’t enough confident in your drawing skills and wanted to improve

; after some months, you felt that you were ready to try

; “shin~ c’me here for a sec babe”

; after telling him that you wanted to try, his eyes lightened up

; “omg really??? are ya sure angel?? aaaa i’m so happy really- i could actually cry wait a sec-“

; he was just so cute lmg :((

; ++ he blushed a lot while you were sketching bc he felt embarrassed <3

RINDOU

; tbh he was secretly interested in this hobby of yours

; never expressed more than a “you’re good at it” or “that’s pretty”

; wanted to see a sketch of him so bad on your sketchbook

; never dared to look on it tho 😟

; and then one day you finally asked him “so.. wanna try to pose for me, rin?”

; ABSOLUTELY happy

; was trying to hide everything but his smile showed up as soon as he hear what you said

; “yeah uh, well sure i guess”

; your painting ended up really cute, he was blushing a lot pls<3

SANZU

; was actually into drawing too

; has already asked you multiple times if y’all could paint together

; but you never painted each other

; he was secretly waiting for your anniversary to ask this kind of favor

; he thought it would be fun tbh

; so during the special day, he suddenly asked “y/n, doll, what if we draw each other? it could be fun”

; your heart suddenly started to beat faster, feeling a lot of joy in your body

; “yeah let’s do it!!”

; that <date> ended up really cute <3

; you both tried new painting styles, and all the room looked kinda messy

; but you still had fun

CHIFUYU

; he’s totally shy when you ask him to pose for you out of nowhere

; “i- uh are you sure i’m the best model?”

; so insecure about himself??? baby why??

; def took him an hour or more to choose what to wear for you :(

; “are my hair fine? how do i pose?”

; feeling a bit nervous aw

; he didn’t know what to do pls he’s so cute

; it took you a bit but you tried to make him laugh during your sketching time

; so he would feel less pressured

; he was actually happy of receiving the painting !

; def hanged it up somewhere in his room with a note like “from y/n for me<3”

[promenadewithme]

May I please have prompt 62 with Simon Basset x female!reader?

Of course! Thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Prompt: 62 (”She doesn’t belong with him” “Than who does she belong with?” “...with me.”)

Warnings: very slight angst with a happy ending. I'm sorry, but I just had to include him saying "I burn for you".

Word count: 1.7 k

Tell me if you want to join my tag list!

Oblivious

__________________________________________

Dearest Readers,

it has come to this author’s attention that Lady (y/n) (y/l/n) and Lord Benedict Bridgerton were seen promenading earlier this week. We all know Miss (y/l/n) to be a close friend to the Bridgertons, but will she officially become part of the family? Rest assured, if there is an engagement this author will find out.

Your’s Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

__________________________________________

YOUR P.O.V.

“This is absurd!” you exclaimed. “We were seen walking and now we’re to be married?”

“Calm down, (y/n). You know Whistledown is just a gossip, no one will remember this in a week.” said Benedict, putting down his sketchbook to look at you. 

As soon as you woke, your lady’s maid showed the infamous society papers and you all but ran to the Bridgerton estate. Benedict was, as always, in the drawing room sketching away. He had already read the paper, but thought nothing of it. He was calm, so calm it irritated you.

“Ben, you don’t understand! If people think I’m engaged to you, they will stop courting me and, unless you plan on marrying me, that is a disaster! I have to marry this season!” at this point Benedict stood up and caressed your arm in an attempt of calming you down. To anyone else, this scene would be scandalous and incredibly improper, but you and Ben have known eachother since infancy and were the best of friends, so there was nothing romantic about the gesture.

“(y/n), my dear, what is this rush? We are still young, you can see so many more seasons before being considered a spinster. You are beautiful, smart, accomplished and any man in the ton would be more that lucky to have you as his wife. If they don’t see it, it’s their loss. As for the rumors chasing them away, I believe it will do quite the opposite.” he said with a smirk.

“Whatever do you mean? If they believe I am to be married, how would it attract them?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, not to brag, but I am a Bridgerton. If they think you caught my eye, they’d be curious to know what’s so special about you. So, don’t fret. All will be well.” With one last reassuring squeeze, he turned around and sat back down. “Now, are you going to Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at his sketch, not quite contempt with the shading.

“Of course I am, it’s the biggest ball of the season!” you exclaimed, sitting down on the sofa in front of him.

“Thank the heavens! If my mother tries to push eligible ladies my way, I’ll run in your direction.” he said, still sketching. Benedict stopped for a second and looked up at you “I heard a certain Duke will be there.” he stated with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and said “We all know he is bewitched by Daphne, it does not matter if he will be there.” 

“Of course it matters, you are in love with the man! And, to be completely honest, I don’t believe it is my sister who his heart belongs to. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, it’s the same way Colin looks at maps or Eloise looks at books.” He was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped.

“Like I’m an object?” you said, kidding of course and dying to change the subject. You had the tendency to get your hopes up and the last thing you wanted was to believe your friend and end up with a broken heart.

“Like you hung the moon and the stars.” he had a serious expression and your heart skipped a beat with the thought that Simon would ever look at you that way, but you knew it would never happen. So you waved your hand, smiled and said “I think all the charcoal and paint is going straight to your brain, Mr. Bridgerton. I expect to see your hands all clean if you are to dance with me to trick your poor mama.” Standing up, you curtsied mockingly and said your goodbyes before walking out the door. 

SIMON'S P.O.V.

Simon woke with news from Lady Whistledown. He was never one to believe in gossip, but Daphne was always talking about the society papers during their fake courting, so his curiosity got the best of him. What he did not expect was to read (y/n)'s name.

He had sworn to himself that he would never marry, but arriving at the beginning of the season he couldn't help but be smitten by you. He tried to fight it, but every time you smiled he saw himself smiling along, every time you wore his favourite colour he forgot how to breathe, and every time he saw you with Benedict Bridgerton he couldn't control his jealousy.

He confided in Daphne about it and she guaranteed (y/n) and the second Bridgerton son were just close friends, but Lady Whistledown seems to think differently. To be married? Was this true? If so, he knew it was for the best. He would be able to keep his promise to himself, but he could not help the ache in his heart as he dressed for the day.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased with the outcome. Your lady's maid had weaved delicate flowers in your hair, that was pulled up loosely and you wore your newest dress, long white gloves and the family diamonds. Madame Delacroix really outdid herself this time. It was your favourite colour, with princess sleeves, only slightly puffed, and had embroidered tulle at the hem and bottom part of the skirt. You looked truly beautiful.

"(y/n), it's time to-" your mother paused at the door and looked at you. She smiled softly at your reflection. "You look so beautiful, my dear... Do you think a certain Lord might like it too?" she said smiling softly.

"It is not the Lord's attention I want, mama. You know Ben is just a friend" you said, playing with the skirt of your dress.

"I know, sweetheart, I just don't want you do get hurt. All I want is for you to be happy and what better than to marry your best friend?" she hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek, still looking at your reflection.

"To marry the one you love..."

SIMON'S P.O.V.

"You really have outdone yourself, Lady Danbury." Simon said, looking down at the woman who practically raised him. She was wearing a white gown, a tiara and long white gloves, radiant as always, leaning on her cane.

"I always do, my boy. Now, look at that! Your beloved has arrived." she declared with a small smirk.

"I have already spoken to Daphne" he said, nodding in the Bridgerton family direction, however his heart was beating out of his chest as he turned to look at (y/n). It seemed impossible, but she was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. Simon looked away before he was caught staring.

"We both know I'm not speaking of the Bridgerton girl. You are not as discreet in your brooding as you like to think." he looked at you again, but you were already speaking to Benedict, who was leading you to the dance floor. "What is bothering you, boy?"

Simon stared at the pair dancing for a moment before responding. "She does not belong with him."

"Than who does she belong with?" (y/n) was laughing at something Benedict said and Simon could not bare the view anymore.

"...With me." he mumbled before heading to the gardens.

(Y/N)'S P.O.V.

The song finished and you curtsied, smiling at your best friend. The smile slowly turned into a frown as you saw Simon walking out, into the gardens.

"Go after him." Benedict whispered.

"What? We would be unchaperoned, it would be scandalous!" you answered, only loud enough for him to hear.

"I'll stand at the door and make sure no one sees. Go!" you smiled and wished you could hug you best friend. "Thank you, Ben." you said as you went into the garden after the man you love. The weather was pleasant and the garden was completely empty, with only the Duke passing back and forth close to the bushes.

"Simon?" he stopped in his tracks, looking surprised as he gazed back at you and stepped closer.

"What are you doing here, if we were to be caught unchaperoned yo-" you stopped the nervous man by saying "Benedict is at the door, no one will see."

"Of course he is." he mumbled, but you heard.

"What does that mean?" you asked, not understanding his sudden dislike for the lord.

"It means he is always around, always with you." he spat out.

"Well, he is my best friend." you could not believe what he was saying. "What do you have against him?" you questioned.

"Are you truly to be married?" he demanded, ignoring your question.

"What?" you replied, completely incredulous.

"Please don't." he murmured.

"Simon, I-" you tried to answer but he cut you off.

"Before you say anything, please listen to me. Don't marry him, please." he paused for a second, adjusting his posture. "I love you. You..." he shook his head. "You don't even know what you do to me. Ever since I can remember, I have promised myself I would never fall victim to love, would never marry, would not let my family name carry on. Then came you."

Simon took a step closer and continued to speak. "You changed my plans, awoke desires I never knew I had, you have stolen my heart and my soul... I burn for you." he took your gloved hands in his, caressing them softly. "Don't marry him, marry me." he gazed into your eyes, waiting your answer.

"Simon... It was never my plan to marry Benedict, I was completely honest when I said he is nothing but a friend." you smiled up at him before saying "you are the one I love, always have been."

Simon grinned before pulling you into a passionate kiss, one hand on your back and the other behind your neck. It was a good thing Benedict was at the door, if anyone saw this scene and the rumours reached Lady Whistledown... You didn't even want to think about the ruin it would bring upon your family.

When you and Simon finally parted you managed to mumble "We truly have been oblivious, haven't we? I thought you were in love with Daphne." he chuckled.

"And I thought you to be with Benedict. Good thing you followed me out here, my love." he said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"From now on, it's all I'll ever do."

[harfanfare]

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

 2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

 3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

 4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

 5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

 6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

 7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

 8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

 9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

 10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"