#i love drawing their ink versions so much

[reanimationstation]

the seeming lack of content for coffeecake, ink edition, was recently brought up to me so CLEARLY i had to right that wrong IMMEDIATELY. also it was a great excuse to get to draw some of my favorite little guys kissing

[bacchuschucklefuck]

caps from comic Im doing

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

May... may we get info on the super au? 👉👈

"Monsters", in local dialect, can refer to any being that wields magic and/or is made of magic

SOULs are a culmination of magic, not self

tw/cw (trigger warnings/content warnings)

long post

medical system neglect/trauma

eating disorder (kind of)

food difficulties

knives

violence/murder/death (all implied/mentioned)

body horror, sort of

Killer

first to join the gang

hand arthritis because you're not allowed to enjoy your remaining arm (but you get an arthritis glove so)

mask

transhumeral (above elbow)

knee disarticulation

only character who gets a prosthetic

weird soul shape is the power

very stable

very unstable

Cross

second to join the gang

hood

mask

hasn't lost any limbs (yet)

knife summoning

"scarf"

saw Dream ACCIDENTALLY crush a metal beam with one hand and now screams at the top of his lungs anytime Dream gets close to grabbing him

Dust

third to join the gang

motorcycle-esc helmet

and they were roommates

literally

the economy is in shambles

Doctor: well actually we can't give you prosthetics unless we do a procedure to ensure you're actually missing your arms

Dust: ...but i was born without arms

Doctor: the procedure costs over a thousand dollars and i don't have the authority to diagnose you if you don't do the procedure

Dust: what

Doctor: im sorry

when the medical system is useless you have to improvise

bad for teeth probably

adjustable length grabber tool

whoopee cushion probably

villain outfit

scarf

ankle length

got blue to cut off the arms of a morphsuit and sew the holes up

GASTER BLASTER

Random Civilian: WTF

glowy eye

has a lot of magic to burn

Horror

fourth to join the gang

villain outfit fits him when he grows to a specific height

hasn't lost any limbs

motorcycle-esc helmet

least scared of Dream (because he can run away fast enough)

sharp teefers

Dream

was originally meant to be a manipulative government-working hero who's fake personality reflected canon Dream's while the real personality reflected canon Nightmare's

psychologically broken from spending 500 years in a statue

the constant hunger pains don't help

huge lidless eyes and permasmile tend to disconcert people (uncanny valley)

head is always slightly tilted to alleviate neck pain (making it worse in the long run)

little-no fine motor control

anything in his hands will be held with every ounce of strength he has (which is a lot)

Swap

was sweet and relatively innocent when he started working as a hero (and was a bit squeamish about even hitting villains a bit too hard)

naturally black hair, dyes it constantly to match outfit

prone to trembling violently when angry

blurred for violence

Karen: <- interrupting Blue while he's trying to do his job

originally tried to replace screams with laughter to trick his brain into not panicking during high-stress moments and now ends up laughing hysterically when startled/scared

Villain 42: boo

Past Blue: hahaa! you missed!

Villain 42: boo

Current Blue: AHAHAHA

Villain 42: hey man wtf

Current Blue: i don't know why i did that

Villain 42: it's ok

sledgehammer

mental stability is stretched thin from constantly supervising a murderous human-eating being with the psychological state of a severely traumatised child and a paint-eating psychopath with severe memory issues

Ink

travels the aus where he's human and technically doesn't actually belong to the super au

dislikes water (makes him start dissolving)

likes this au because he doesn't have to hide his supernatural abilities

Ink: wh.. where are my vials

keeps mixing up the definitions of hero and vigilante because it's different from au to au

supposed to have a tragic backstory but he's always forgetting it

legally diagnosed with traumatic brain injury and ASPD despite never taking the tests

[meimeikyu]

Dump as many geno headcanons as you physically have and want to share ( also ink ones if you have any )

ONGOMG OK I HAVE. MANY.!!! ILL ALSO DROP ANY INK ONES I HAVE BCS. I LOVE HIM TOO <333

theres no order in this its just. brainrot chaos

Okay first off, I think geno would be really really sensative to colour, both in the savescreen n out of it. Esp with his escaping the savescreen end, I think the ton of colour everywhere would be like super overstimulating for him since hes been in. a black void with minimal colour and light for. A very very long time- i like to imagine hed have like tinted glasses (something like sunglasses but also prescription glasses? i <3 geno with glasses) to help block out the colour n light.

i also think hed have chronic pain and dizziness/fainting spells (totally not just me protecting huh noo) due to having only a part of a soul, snd the fact its affected by determination, i feel like itd cause him a lottt of issues. he would experiment on himself and make his own little gear n gadgets n aids n stuff to help with it bcs. science boy. If he gets too emotional in any capacity (especially anger, but also like too sad even too happy just. too anything) he starts melting again starting from his socket. i think his scar would still bleed out of the save screen. it wouldnt hurt unless ppl are touching it but i think itd always bleed magic. which would be very inconvenient- he also likes to wear white and light colours due to the colour sensory issues which makes the bleeding scar a lot more obvious- i call it a magic defect in my head, basically just a permanent issue with his magic that he cant stop but also isnt inherently harming him.

i think about this guy sm i love him

continued geno ramblings hed keep doing science stuff outside of the save screen, both experimenting with his magic and (when he can rope him in) the other sans of their verse (who i call after). Geno n after would have slightly different memories. i think geno would remember past things after cant, but after can remember like the active timeline better then geno. geno would also have more science knowledge then him i think. Geno would probably lose tract of time in the save screen and have no idea how long hes been there. I also hc hes like. 100s of years old if you count all the time in the savescreen. he doesnt know that though. I think geno would get really paranoid that things would reset and he would get trapped in the save screen again. i dont think he likes the colour yellow. i think this man has (better than in the past) but still very bsd mood swings, which coupled with the fact he could melt and die if its too intense is not great. hed have to relearn a lot of his magic after injecting the determination and it still will never be the same as it was before, i think the determination would fuck with his summoning abilities especially.

(do monsters melt when they have too much determination because monsters are made of magic and determination fucks with and breaks down magic? am i only thinking if this now???)

i think his socket would have melted first because his eyelights have strong amounts of magic. i also like to draw him with not just the socket melted but like. that entire side of his head melted when hes in the savescreen. i think once hes out itd be a bit less melty but still not. pleasant. he has a little fabric thing he made that he wears out that covers that half of his skull to hide the melting. he only sleeps on his left side because if he sleeps on his right or back the melty stuff will get everywhere. I think hes put his hand through the goop into his skull more than once. for. scientific research. if he touches the inside it makes a ringing noise n gives him a massive headache. i think head get migraines very easily and be very overwhelmed by sounds bcs of the melty side as well. his fingers are slightly shorter than afters because the tips (where i hc magic like. pools.) melted off.

I dont know why I have this one but i love the idea of geno being a good singer. i dont know why but i love it. i think hed listen to music a lot, esp to calm down. He would hyperorganize things, and like to keep things on shelves and in draws and trys to keep the floor clean. his workspace would be less clean though, the floor would be clean but hed use the trusty old 'shove everything in the corner of the desk' method. He wears baggy clothes a lot and prefers them. He doesnt like the public. I think hed constantly hear a slight ringing in his head and it would annoy the hell out of him- robbed from my fren but hed always have some sort of sound on like music or white noise and hed have like. at least 2 fans in his room for noise. kinda from cpau but. he would not drink much and gets drunk vv easily (i had another headcanon to put here but. i switched to typing on my pc and i forgor it :<)

this guy is. so silly. so so very silly. is he even a guy? no one knows. i hc hes genderfluid and also pangender n i think hed use a bunch of like microgenders and the promply forgor all of them. i. i dont think he sleeps. i dont think he knows how. until he runs out of paint and WHOMP collapse asleep. I love him being like, nice but very blunt. i think he has 12 projects running at all times and none of them are the same medium. he has an ao3 account im 100% sure. wheres that one gif hold on

uhhhh overall i love this man so much but holy shit he needs a hug and. all the therapy. just all of it. like. yesterday. but ilove him so so much spins him around in a microwave in my head.

THE INK ONES!!!!

oh also he speaks french

THIS ONE!!!! HES JUST DOING THIS IN MY HEAD CONSTANTLYY (i cant find the source if someone has it pls let me know)

yeah i cant think of him without thinking of this gif its permanently my preception of him. hed bully kids on roblox but like in a silly way. i think hes like constantly making little changes to his outfit that no one but him can notice the difference but hed like proudly show it off. i think hed listen to at least one song from every genre and have at least 2 songs he adores no one in their life has ever heard of. he doesnt not have playlists he has one large thing of all his songs and runs it on shuffle. I think bcs of his paints the colours around him can influence his mood, and i also think the saturation of stuff would, n i also think thatd affect his art. Like when hes really happy hed paint with super bright colours but if hes more sad hed use greyscale and dark colours n stuff like that. I think he has a massive collection of art exploring really fucked up things he doesnt show to anyone. I do not think theyd just be sad art too, i think some of them would be but hed also have like max saturated color gore artworks. this guy has never kept a pencil or eraser or pen long enough for them to run out. he has a hoard of supplies bcs he always loses things. I think he has a list of a bunch of aus he wants to draw that he keeps on him at all times (not like aus to create but like, aus he wants to visit and create based on the scenery). i think broomy has a secret compartment on him that ink stores art supply backups and vial backups in. he does forget about it sometimes and has accidentally popped it open in a fight before, scaring both him and whoever he was fighting. speaking of i dont think hed be big on fighting, but i think he would do it sometimes as a way to try and explore how the people interact. i <3 having ink love to like. study others emotions. he has a ton of artworks just of peoples faces portraying different emotions. I dont think hed just draw and paint i think hed write and make music and do any form of art you can think of. except cooking. hes been banned from cooking and baking. he knows why.

overall rating: 6/5 Stars, so very silly

[rinnstars]

hello hello hello !! it's me again, aqua girl !

another req ( yes, bc my mind never runs out of ideas ) hiihihihih.

imagine the trope " she fell first but he fell harder " with rin. + literal highschool love?? THAT'S LIKE, SOMETHING I COULD NEVER HAVE :((

ik you haven't done my previous req but im just dumping this on your ask notif :)) i hope you don't mind thoo, please take your time and get some rest ! thank you thank you !!

project love!

the start of yours and rin’s love story (with a science project)

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, you fell first & rin falls harder ofc<3, not proofread + likes and reblogs r appreciated <3

a love at first sight - you’ve seen it happen in those mangas you’ve read since forever, where both characters’ eyes practically light up when they see each other for the first time, where their heart beat a little too loud characterised by the loud beating rhythm beside the character written in in black ink, where they practically see each other in their millions of lifetime lived before this one. of course, you’ve long given up on such dreams depicted in fantasy dreams, opting to relieve them through reading such mangas or hearing about it from friends that are viewing everything through rose-tinted glasses whilst laying on your bed with that playlist that the hopeless romantic in you when you were younger made right on valentine day to manifest. you think youre all grown up now compared to the much more childish and kiddish version of you when you were just a little younger, smiling without a care in the world with your hands wrapped around friends, hands holding that bag that’s a little out of place compared to your now plain and boring one bought simply to fit in. and perhaps, its foreshadowing when you fall asleep that night dreaming of another romantic fantasy plot that you practically ripped right off that show you grew up on.

and right now, you think youre practically those same manga characters as you sit right beside itoshi rin. its stupid - the way his hair perfectly frames his pretty face that is even more elevated with the sun reflected on it that you have to stare through the reflection of the phone youre awkwardly fiddling with, the way his eyes is practically angelic as it stares right underneath the desk onto a football notebook-esque thing that you cannot make head or tails of, and of course the way his voice practically make you flush and make your heart beat as though you’re riding a rollercoaster as you (try to) nonchalantly wave to introduce yourself to your new seat partner. you’ve read countless of mangas to know how this is supposed to go - you’ll be assigned a group project and he’ll somehow fall in love with you mid discussion and confess to you at the very first place you meet. except: you don’t even think you can carry this group project with the way your attention naturally draws to him so focused and determined as he slowly flips through the books as though hes studying for an exam, you don’t think you can even hear the teacher with the way your ears only capture that heart beat that even beats against your head with the background noise of his breaths that sends little electric shocks to your spine, you don’t even think you can get any work done with him beside you with you being barely being able to send a text to your friends about him. and of course after a few weeks of just looking at him through your phone that you pretend to type away at every science lesson, you are undoubted assigned said assignment - one that neither of you listened about during class and now turn to look at each other dumbfounded without a single clue of anything that has occured in this class.

if anything, you think you blame this unfortunate situation of you and him on wasting your luck on your lucky draws and arcade games during the holidays - both of you in the library having to write about a famous scientist and their creation that none of you have any interest in, scratching your heads as you two look at your laptop that has an embrassingly large crack on its screen. if anything, you think not even the lack of distance between the two of you can aid you in this graded assignment as you two scramble to find any citation and information just a day before the graded assignment is due. well, technically you think it wouldn’t have to be this way if he was actually awake on the day the assignment was announced and not awake out of shock of having his name called, jolting up within a few seconds as though practiced, or if you had the guts to ask him when he was free until the very last minute (that he thankfully apparently didn’t have practice) and with the time ticking, you don’t think you have time to be regretting on things better left unsaid, as you zoom in whilst letting rin take down the key point from the article and writing the page in the article section, slightly cursing as his hands accidentally smudges a little ink whilst writing. you think without the stress, you would practically be red in the face having being so near him, his hands touching yours a little as he lean in so close to the screen that you think he might just need glasses right next to your face to read the words as his eyes squint a little to make sense before pulling back to write hurriedly onto the large piece of paper that slowly gets filled.

and itoshi rin thinks hes absolutely lovesick and unlike himself. ironically, outside the field, he isn’t focused on much outside of things he finds a little fun in - horror movies and mangas he has downloaded on his phone to that he sometimes watches on the long bus ride home from his training centre, english classes that he gets to write stories that draws inspiration from said horror films, collecting his favourite soccer magazines from that convenience store down the street whose owner still recognises him by heart. and he sure isn’t focused in that science class that’s simply compulsory - he’ll do well enough to pass as per always, studying hard at home by making notes and doing the assignments and opting to take advantage of sitting at the back at the corner by reading soccer magazine bought an hour ago on the way to school beside his partner that he knows for sure isn’t focusing on whatever’s in front either. there’s nothing much for him to notice, all he really cares is doing decently in school to promote to the next year, using his football club to practice a little before heading to the pathways to his dream at that training facility that’s a little too far for him on days that is what truly matters to him.

perhaps its fate way of messing with him as he skips his one day of training, sitting beside you, right in the library cramming god-knows what project that he gets reminded the day before of the dateline. he didn’t think his heart ever pumped this heart against his chest outside of the field as he sits so closely to you that his head gets a little dizzy which only getting worse as he has to lean in to read the shaky words on the screen right beside your face that he thinks he makes contact with his own face, his hands brushing against yours that sends electricity run through his body as he attempts to write as fast as he can as his sweaty palm slows his usually fast writing down, his eyes that seems to naturally focus on you rather than the bolded letters on the screen that is practically his exam grade. hes never felt this way about someone else, his mind focused solely on his dreams and passion that everything else had always seem like background noise to him, but you seem to stand out strangely as though you’ve placed a spell on him that has him hooked. and when hes all done, walking with you under the moonlight, he thinks you look like an actual angel with the way the moonlight reflects on your face as it crinkles as you grin, laughing at some stupid joke he strangely says that is so unlike him he had to take a double take on what he said himself. and he thinks you might be a gift given from whatever deity he should start believing in - with the way you so smoothly enter his orbit that he swears he built layers of walls up from just a few years ago, as though you had the key to his heart and simply unlocked it and attached yourself onto him like you two were meant to be. and he thinks you really might be some sort of deity next when you wave goodbye to him at your apartment that seemed so natural, as you infiltrate his mind even on his walk home where he skipped his own bus stop for the sake of staying with you just a little longer, abandoning his own routine and throwing it away completely for you.

and he knows hes definitely lovesick - when he thinks back of all those stupid games his friends do at that training facility, calculating yours and his name on some random website to find the love percentage between you and him whilst biting his lip at two in the morning after finding himself unable to sleep with thoughts of you keeping his brain awake, taking out a flower from the living room at two in the morning to do the ‘do they like me not” in his own room with his palm sweating each round, and checking your contact he found from the class group chat looking at your profile picture and feeling his cheeks and heart grow warm at the bright smile you sported. and he thinks hes definitely screwed when you and him pass the project to the teacher, and all he can pray for now is for another project for you and him to do so he can get to have another excuse to be so close with you, to be in your orbit once more, to be someone a little more in your bright world.

and its weeks later at the same library, this time simply a study date as you focused on your work and he fiddles around with his pen, unable to keep his eyes and heart off you who he thinks looks adorable with your scrunched face and lip bit as you attempted to find the solution to god knows what, where he suddenly blurts out like an idiot he thinks:

“i think i really like you” which he thinks is an understatement to the growing feelings that claws at his heart. he thinks if you asked, he would do anything - from wearing those cringe matching t-shirts that he cant help but do a double take on whenever he goes out and pass by clothing store to daydream of you and him in those, from performing in front of a whole crowd some cringe love song to profess his love to the whole wide world like the mangas he sees you read underneath the table during science class, from even attempting to giving you the whole wide world. and he thinks he might have just given you just that as he looks at your stunned appearance, your eyes widening completely as you shifted your focus from your boring homework to his with just a turn of a head.

“.. i think i like you too, rin.” and you think ironically that you just might be living in those mangas that you used to read of and still do, as he looks at you as though youre his whole world, as your hand linger and finally holds his, fitting in his like two matching puzzle pieces meant to be, as you lean a little closer to his face, practically hearing both yours and his shaky breath and fast heartbeat as he nervously merge your lips together for a few seconds before immediately pulling away.

[meanbossart]

Hi RJ, I deeply deeply love your art, your style is amazing and your Astarion is one of my favourite renditions. Thank you so much.

I would like to ask you a rather specific question about your process, if you’re alright with that.

What thought process goes behind choosing a color for your lights and shadows? How do you do it?

I think you’re a master in creating a mood with light and the colors you choose really make DU Drow look like himself (true drow skin, just like i imagined it before ever picking up non-table top version of anything d&d!!) and gives your astarion this gremlin-like soft ugliness lol

Anyway, take care and thank you for any tips xx

Thank you so much! Colorful art is kind of a "new" thing for me, I used to do mostly black & white for comics and such. When I got into BG3 and decided to wanted to draw all these silly ideas out, I realized I was gonna have to venture back into it - It's far too colorful a world to get away with grays and inks alone.

What I'm saying is that I'm still very much learning! I'm glad you guys like my art but I definitely feel like my grasp on color isn't all it could be. I just do what I think looks good and makes sense with the setting!

First of all I think it's important to note that I usually have several different layers of shadow and light. FOR EXAMPLE:

AND THEN FOR LIGHTS... Each text color is a different layer, and that's not even all of them 😂

And the reason for keeping them separate is this: when first painting them on, I make a rough guess on the color, AND THEN-

Yup. I just fuck around with this until I'm happy.

Usually this lands me on (very muted) blueish or purple-y tones for shadows on a multiply layer, with the "base" shadow and for the lights it can be all matter of colors depending on necessity. You can also select your flats and individually change these colors per-surface. You learn what you like as you go! This isn't even a rock solid formula, I still experiment a lot and depending on the piece, the process can be both a lot simpler or a lot more complex than this.

A rule of thumb to start with is that natural light will usually constitute of gray shadows and very, very soft-yellow light - if there is even a need for any depending on your base colors/style. Night settings usually necessitate a slight blue hue on both shadows and light... However, this is art baby, do whatever makes you go "oh that's sick" when you look at it.

As for DU drow's skin, it is nothing but a mix of a grayish/brown base, shadow, and a reflective light! That's what sets him apart from the way I color light-skinned characters; light, when bouncing off his skin, usually (but not always) has a gem-like blue color. You can have all kinds of variations of this combo to give the skin on darker characters more depth.

[loustica-lucia]

Heroes of the Dragon Age

An animation I've made for Dragon Age Day 2023, featuring my main Warden (Alyssa Cousland-Theirin), Hawke (Eleena Amell Hawke) and Inquisitor (Sulevin Lavellan)!

It's to this day one of my best artwork and I thought I should share it here too! 90+ hours between the original sketch, outfit design, the rough animation, rotoscope, inking, flat-colours, background shading and even the audio :')

Interested in the process? I detailed it below since it was my first time doing something like that:

I would like to start by saying I'm not a professional animator!Everything you've seen here is the result of experimentation and a lot of practice to learn and understand how 2D animation works.

My first idea started in May 2023. I just finished rewatching DA Absolution for the X time, and wanted to analyse why I loved the intro so much. (Even after countless rewatch, I never skipped it once.) I was inspired to study it with my main three protagonists!

Then came the first test with Alyssa Cousland-Theirin, my Hero of Ferelden! I tried to understand which part to separate for the animation. Mainly the hair and cape because it flows a lot more than the rest! If I recall, my first idea here was to make her counter flame attacks (?). Then, as the camera turns around her, I tried to add a grid to know how the camera would work around it.

I ended up making the clip longer, so she could position herself to the further left and leave space to the two other protagonists.

Now it was time to try to animate Sulevin Lavellan, my Inquisitor. I really kept that quick doodling style just to capture the vibe without putting too much time/effort into it! The background would be static to contrast with Alyssa's. I also loved the idea of a rogue sneaking!

Instead of working on Eleena Amell Hawke, my Champion of Kirkwall, I went back to Alyssa and started working with Clip Studio Paint 3D models (this entire animation has been done on the EX version of the software!) It helped for rotoscope animation and maintaining likeness! That's when I got the idea to make the background swirl around the character to let the eyes be guided by the rest of the screen!

After a couple more hours, I planned the entire animatic with 3D models and quick doodles! I finally found a cool pose for Eleena Hawke, which was honestly the hardest of the three to imagine for some reason? I tried many other poses but ended up picking an animation from the game!

This whole time, I was studying a bunch of background ideas and how studio Red Dog Culture House (who made Absolution) work! Thankfully, they have a YouTube Channel where they shared some BTS content so I could analyse it!

Then, I simplified my character and their original designs in the style of the studio! These outfits are how I imagine them after Trespasser. Alyssa as the Queen of Ferelden, looking for a cure to the Calling, Hawke following Fenris to Tevinter & Sully as a Red Jenny Inquisitor!

The idea for Sulevin's animation actually came from a piece I doodled on a live stream, when I was drawing pose studies and turning them into finished artworks haha As for Alyssa, I wanted to draw the fight that got her facial scars!

Once their designs were ready and the background ideas too, I made the rough version of the animation! Basically a sketch done on top of the 3D models to add the details, staying pretty rough just to capture the idea and movements.

Then it was time to start the lines! I decided make a folder per frame, so I could separate all he main elements and draw them one by one. It helps keeping the likeness of a character in the different frames without having big "jumps" between frames! In fact, every parts were coloured differently to recognize them, and then I used vector erasers and masks (Ah yes, the entire lineart is done in vectors of course! It's easier to adjust and save time when working on similar frames!)

At first of course, everything overlaps! But I find it easier to draw too much and erase after, just to make sure everything is coherent in each frames! The cool thing about CSP is how you can change the colour of the layers in one click! So all the coloured lines turned into black in one second, and I could reverse it just as quickly to double check!

Then I started working on Sulevin! I made a blue line to mark where her feet were, as the sketch in the background wasn't perfectly straight! (Like Sulevin's sexuality 🤭😂) The silhouettes were very quick to do, but I had fun adding more & more details as she came closer to the foreground!

I really wanted to add that little dagger trick, but I remember it required me to change the pacing of Eleena's apparition, as it was recovering her arm too quickly! I had to change the pace of multiple frames quite a lot during the project, to make sure the flow was right! For Eleena, most of her animation remained around her arms and the staff itself, as magic would be the most difficult part! That way each character has their own focus: Alyssa has a very animated background, Sulevin got the grappling hook and Eleena the ice!

Then it was time to start adding colours! Just like for the lineart, I separated every colour on it's own layer, so I could easily adjust the colours later if needed. I added one colour at the time, going through all the frames, and then another colour!

I made full palette tests with the colours I would use for their background at this point, checking if the details remained readable! Alyssa was the most challenging in terms of clothes, because I made her a very detailled armour! I had to simplify the Theirin heraldry, vectorize/redraw the Cousland, and make a brush for her cape's pattern!

Once I was done adding the flatcolours, I started the background, and oh boy it was a wild ride. For the cave, I painted multiple tests. I imagine was to use CSP panorama tools, which transform a texture into a 3D sphere, so each corners must match to look good. Sadly, it made the background very blurry, so after hours of testing, I changed ideas. Instead of the random fire balls (?) I originally imagined for Alyssa, I made three simple frames of a Rage Demon to attack her.

I ended up using the cave as a repeated pattern to make it turn 360° around the character. For Eleena, I mixed inspiration from the comics, Dreadwolf & Absolution, using warm colours matching Hawke's signature red. Just like I made the cave very grey/blue to match Grey Wardens. For Val Royeaux, it was more complex because I wanted to make it green, matching the Inquisitor's signature green. But bright green couldn't work, and the original colour during day time was blue/white/gold. So I added more leaves, played around the design a bit! After adding the rage demon, I made the shading! It was surprisingly easy and quick to do now!

I clipped a white layer on the flatcolours to not be distracted by the colours, and made thin lines to separate the light/shadows, then simply filled everything with the bucket tool! Then you set the layer to multiply and remove the white layer, and you have celshading shadows! Now the character looks out of the picture, so I added layers of blue in color burn, saturation and substract blending modes to make her look like she's in the right setting! Of course, I did the same with the other two, giving Hawke a red overlay and Sulevin green shadows!

Then I added the details, it went from white irises, to sword/staff smears to earrings and smaller finition that goes on top of these layers. To add the lights, I simply selected the shadows and reversed the selection! Using warm and cold tones to create contrast with the purple/bluish shadows! I also added more ambient light layers for Alyssa to reflect the Rage Demon fire. Now it was time to add ice magic! My first attempt had too many frames, making it look weird! Sometimes it's better to lower the frame rate to make things less bumpy!

Then I downloaded some cool ice brushes on CSP assets that made it look less like blue magical flames! But when I covered the screen in ice, I realized "Oh wait, I could make a cool transition from the ice, to blue lyrium turning red?"Red Lyrium truly links these three games and The Veilguard somehow! I spent the next hour painting over the idol and putting it in a black background, with lyrium and then the golden Dragon Age title text.

For the SFX, I used free youtube libraries sounds & "Darkspawn!" comes from the violent human female voice set (iconic for ""Can I get you a ladder? So you can get off my back!"😂🤭) After editing all that, the animation was finally done!

Here's the final math:

About 15 hours for the sketching/rough/animatic phase, 30h for the lineart, 25h for colours, 10h for backgrounds, 5h for details & 5h for music & SFX, for a total of 90 hours. Aka the same amount of time it took me to finish Baldur's Gate 3 the first time lol

If you have any question regarding the animation or the softwares etc. do not hesitate to ask, I'll do my best to answer!

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

The headcanons you wrote for Berry and Rasp were so good! Would you be willing to do some romantic headcanons for the cool skellies? (Cross, fresh, and epic?) I'm so excited to see what other stuff you write and draw!

Oh my thank you traveler! I hope you enjoy the future content on my blog <3

Featuring:Fresh, Epic, Cross.

Masterlist

Fresh

Traveler did you really fall for a parasite?

Looks like you have a very cool datemate broski!

Fresh definitely has trouble showing affection at first, he's never been in a relationship before ya know?

However, he asks his best buddy Dream for advice! He also asked Ink and Error but they didn't have very useful advice

He's not a fancy guy, nah, he's taking you to the skate park or just a random park for a date and doing picnics until the moon appears.

Does not have a house of his own, he's a parasite, he doesn't work silly, so he lives with you on the omega timeline.

He tries to help around the house, he swears the microwave exploded on its own though!

I headcannon most Sanses as tall, and Fresh's probably the tallest (if we're not counting with Ted) , it's pretty common how much he picks you up just because he wants to.

Sometimes he says he's "going to work" and comes back hours later, turns out his "job" is annoying the living shit out of Error.

If you ever want to learn skate boarding he'll gladly teach you with a smile stuck on his face during the process.

Epic

Oh my, dating the King of memes are we traveler?

He's one of the best skeletons to date on the multiverse, lives in the omega timeline, is funny, treats you like you're the most important person who ever existed for him, now that I think about it you're kinda lucky traveler.

Talking about memes, he lags your phone with how much he sends you, Epic does not have pity on your poor phone.

He's the type of guy who the moment you ask for attention, he's cuddling you in the couch while a movie's playing on the TV.

Epic surprisingly knows more about the multiverse than how to cook. He managed to burn pasta. PASTA.

Grabs random cats from the street and adopts them, y'all have like 6 cats now, and one is named oi oi oi... Please stop your man traveler...

Makes you laugh on every opportunity he gets, especially when you're feeling down.

Takes you out to outertale pretty regularly, and every time he points at the brightest star he sees and says "Look at it darling! It's ya!"

Cross

Sometimes Killer teases you asking if you got yourself a boyfriend or a dog.

This is because Cross kinda acts like a guard dog, he's big and he can be scary when he wants to, plus, he works with Nightmare! What if someone tries to take you hostage? He can't let that happen can he?

I am aware that in canon Cross isn't part of the bad Sanses and all, but in this version he works with Nightmare destroying and terrorizing worlds to reconstruct his own.

You're definitely not living in the omega timeline, you're living on his unfinished AU instead!

He's used to waking up early, 6 am maximum, so when he sees your cute sleeping face laying next to him, he just can't let himself get up without filling your face with kisses.

Chara teases him for being such a softie around you.

Cross loves sleepy cuddles in the morning, especially when you're burying your head on his chest while murmuring for him to get back to sleep.

When he gets back from a long mission he usually brings you small gifts he thinks you'd like.

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[stellarmeals]

Discworld Inktober day 17 - Bill Door

I’ve been very excited about this one. Terry Pratchett’s Death books are probably my favorite series. Death, while never needing to eat, sleep, and is an immortal skeleton, carries humanity in his heart (metaphorically speaking). He’s constantly trying to be a person only in ways an immortal anthropomorphic personification can. Heres Death as Bill Door, which is a totally real and not fake name at all. This design is originally created by Marc Simonetti, i loved it so much I had to do an ink version of it.

I make these drawings for the fans (including myself) but if anyone’s feeling generous, theres a tip button on my page. Would be greatly appreciated 🙏

[itsxroxannex]

Just wanted to say that you inspire me A LOT.

I always loved you art. I love how your artstyle changed to something more unique. I love how expressive your art is. Also I love when you draw Error and Ink, they're my favorite boys/couple.

Since I discovered you usually don't use too much sketches I got REALLY happy, because I do the same!!!! And I was afraid it won't work, but you showed me how I can keep going!!!

Now I'm kinda studying your artstyle a bit (don't worry, mine is still different) and I encourage you to keep drawing!!!!! I'll be here, waiting:3

Specially the human versions. Would you mind if I ask you to make Error and Ink human? Just and idea, you don't really need to!!!

Well, you're one of my favorite artists, and I just wanted you to know that! Love your art and your kindness when you talk to your fans!! I hope I'll be good as you one day :]

Have a nice day!!

I did it >:))

And thank you so much!! I feel so happy to hear that!! ;0; 😭😭❤️😭❤️😭🥺🥺

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Inked

Tattoo artist!Carmen Berzatto x Reader

3.1K | The cute, blue eyed guy does your tattoo, then he does you as well.

Smut, Mikey lives AU, improper use of a tattoo station.

Carmy, who always stops his work to make sure you’re greeted properly when you deliver their lunch.

Who gets numerous complaints from the other artist in the shop when he suggests ordering sandwiches at The Beef during lunch for the third time that week.

“You just want to see he girl again.”

“we’ll agree this one time, but only if you ask her out.”

Carmy, who gets stupidly jealous when you’re getting a tattoo from the guy who does your preferred style of tattoos.

Carmy, who’s pretty sure you don’t even know his name.

So when you come into the shop that day with the ordered sandwiches, he’s gathering the courage to ask you but he never really gets the chance. When you drop the bag at the desk as you usually do, you’re immediately chatting with Layla, the lady at the front desk, about something he can’t hear from back at his station. He sees you take a piece of folded paper from your back pocket and hand it over. A moment later he sees Layla point at different flash sheets behind her on the wall, as if she’s having you choose a style. His observing is stopped by a sandwich being handed to him.

Eventually your serious conversation seems to have ended as all that’s heard over the now resumed buzzing of tattoo machines is cackling laughter from the front desk, which he was still happily watching between his appointments. Normally he’d been sketching in between his clients. Either refining his next appointment’s design or working on new flash designs, but today his mind wasn’t anywhere near a canvas.

He did catch the guy that did your previous two tattoos linger near the front, which Carmy was a asshole move since you clearly wanted something different than usual, otherwise you would have asked for him immediately.

He shrugged at his own thoughts and went back to enjoying his sandwich and watching the scene from a distance, hoping to catch the guy’s disappointment when you picked someone else.

And as if he had spoken it into existence he saw his eyes widen and immediately scrunch up in annoyance, huffing angrilly as he stomped past carmy’s station and glaring at his smile.

His small, mental victory cheer was short lived, though.

“Yo, Bear!” Layla’s voice bellowed through the shop. “Get your ass over here for a sec.”

With every step he took to the front he got more curious about what was on the piece of paper you had brought with you, but he was also feeling better with every glare he got from mister rude guy.

He stopped at the counter, leaning on it and awaiting his friend’s explanation for calling him over.

Layla scoots him the paper with a “She loved the coloring on these,” as she points at the open binder filled with colored pencil drawings. “You think you can work that into this design she brought?”

Carmy lets out a laugh as he picks up the paper and looks it over, already picturing what he’d do with it color-wise and looks back up to you. “So, you want this exact linework with this color palette," with a gesture that moves from your picture, to his open binder. "But with this type of coloring?" He looks at you with his fingers on a watercolor piece with soft pastel tones under smooth curves of a globe, a waterfall flowing from one ocean into the soft blue background. The design looked like an upgraded version of the small line only piece he had on his arm.

“If that’s possible, yeah.” You nodded excitedly before looking back at him. “It is possible, right? If not I’ll think up something else or whatever.” The disappointment your own thoughts were causing you was clear on your face, so much Layla almost felt bad for you.

A hand on your arm quickly made the thoughts disappear. “I’ll make it work, yeah. I got this.” He takes a pen and writes down the design details in he upper corner. “So, how soon do you wanna get this done? I got some open spots not too far out.”

“Really? I got this week left before we close the shop for renovations so I got all the time then.” You bounced on your heels from excitement as you worked out the appointment details and he handed you his card. “Thank you so much!” You put the card in your back pocket and looked around for a clock. When you spotted one you realized just how long you had been there. “Shit, I gotta go! If I walk fast I’ll make it back before my break is over. see you in two weeks!” You waved to them and called out a goodbye over your shoulder as you jogged out of the front door.

~~~

You kept the little appointment card in your phone case, getting more and more every day.

You got so giddy about it, the Beef staff teased you about it endlessly during the first week of renovation, up to the second you walked out of the door on your way to the appointment.

Arriving at the shop without your work attire or a bag of food felt strange but you were insanely excited. During your waiting time you had been stalking Carmen's artist instagram as well as the parlor's. You had initially picked Carmen as your artist for this piece because of his style, but after really taking a close look at his new posts your mind was already collecting more and more plans for him to cover your body with. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't been enjoying those tattoo hot take videos of theirs. Honestly you were glued to your phone whenever either page posted something new.

You arrived early so you quietly sat down at the front after saying hi to Layla. From your spot you could see Carmen busy getting his station ready for you, your quickly folded, printed design taped to an armrest.

After a couple of minutes he came up to you, offering you something to drink before walking you to his station.

"So, you nervous?" His sweet smile made all of your nerves disappear and smile back confidently. "Not anymore now that you're here." You couldn't help it, you were so much more excited for this piece than your first ones.

Maybe because this is the first big one, or maybe because of the intricate colors. Obviously because of the insanely cute guy being up close and personal with your thigh for hours.

It surprised you how much effort he had put into your piece. "We never discussed the size, only the placement so I printed the linework in different sizes." He looks at your leg, comparing the prints. "Look in the mirror for me? Which one do you prefer?" His eyes follow yours through the mirror as he moves the stencils onto your leg one by one. "The second one, but maybe a bit higher up?" You leaned in slightly to tap your leg up t where you want the design to be and Carmen follows your taps, holding the paper carefully for you to judge in the mirror. “Yeah, that’s perfect!” You smile at him, following his movements as he puts the sheet between the foils and transfer paper and runs it through the machine. After cutting the piece out again he grabs a sharpie and kneels down in front of you. “Alright, I’m gonna need you to stand perfectly straight for me.” He puts his hands on your hips to turn you all the way to the mirror and places the piece of transfer paper onto your leg. “Right there, yeah?” “Yeah.” You stare as he takes the sharpie and marks its position before taking it off again. He grabs a bottle of liquid and puts some on hi8s gloved fingers to rub it onto your skin. “Okay now stay still.” He steadily holds the paper between his fingers, his pinkies resting against your skin for stability as he carefully lines up the markings and smoothes out the design onto your leg. Giving it a few careful brushes to make sure it stuck everywhere, he gives it a once over and peels it off carefully, checking if it transferred fully.

You watched him work with his full attention on you, no chatting with the other guys or casual conversation. Only making sure you’re getting the best work. When the stencil was fully off your leg he got back up again. “While that dries, lets go over colors.” With a hand on your lower back he led you towards the small desk hidden behind the bar like wall that separated the stations from the front of the shop. “This is what you brought,” His hand splayed out on the desk. “And this is what you requested for the coloring.” carmen opens a leather binder and pulls out a couple of pieces of paper, turning them over and placing them down for you to check. “Holy shit.” It was all you could get out, honestly. You had imagined what the finished concept would look like, but this was so much better.

“This one has the original colors your print has too, and then these two have small edits that I personally thought would look better on skin.”

The first one was what you requested, but the other two had such a better palette. “That one.” You put your finger on the last one, it had the best balance of the original colors and Carmen’s additions. “Yeah, that’s gonna be the one.” The excitement in your voice and that little bounce when you announced your decision had his heart do a flip. He smiled back at you and went to grab and prep all the colors needed for his work. “Go lay down for me? Make sure you’re comfortable and don’t touch the stencil.” You stared and nodded, hands behind you as you backed up against the leather seat and hopped on. He followed your movements while shaking multiple ink bottles. “Or stay seated, I guess, if you want to watch me work.”He smiled at your shocked blush as he turned back to his toolbox table and started pouring colors into tiny tubs. You watched as he compared needles, holding them to the printed line work and placing every needed item neatly on his workbench.

A few buzzes from the machine indicated the end of his setup.

“Okay now you really gotta lay down.” With a gesture of his hand he rolls over with his seat and positioning your seat so he can easily work on your thigh. Once he had you comfortable and got ink on he needle he gave you one last word that he was gonna start. You gave him a thumbs up in response. He looks up at you, raise brows as he asks again. “I’m gonna start now, you good?” “Yeah. Yeah I’m good to go.”

With that said he rubbed vaseline over the bit of skin where he decided to start and carefully pulled the needle across your skin. The scraping burn felt painful at first, but with time it faded into a dull feeling as you stared up at the ceiling catching Carmen’s gaze from time to time whenever he asked if you were doing okay or needed a drink.

By the time the lines were finished the rest of the artists had left for the day. Even Layla came by to have a look at he progress before she called it a day. You sat up and accepted the glass of soda, looking around the empty shop. "We usually don't do tattoos today. Just bookings and designing." He spends a moment cleaning his machine, changing to a different needle for the colors. "I got lucky and have most of my scedule filled out for the upcoming time, so I could take you today." He finishes up prepping for color and cleans off your leg once more with a quick "sorry.". You swore the alcohol on the towel hurt more than the needle.

“You good to start on colors?” You gave a nod in response and laid back down. “Yeah, let’s go!” He gave you an approving smile, loving that you answered him immediately this time.

The colored reference you chose was taped to an armrest next to you. Carmen studied it for a bit, choosing the best order of colors. Again, the buzz of the machine notified you of the start of round two. You kept your breathing even through that first burning moment again and laid still, relaxed and content. The two of you made some stupid small talk, joking here and there. Whenever silence took over for too long he’d start narrating whatever part he was currently coloring, or you would ask tattoo trivia questions that he’s happily answer for you.

The hours passed way quicker than you expected and before you knew it your leg was being cleaned up for the last time and you were carefully helped off the leather seat to take a look in he mirror. With a hand on your back he led you closer to the wall. “Man, walking feels weird now.” You mention and get a laugh in response. “It’ll have faded by tomorrow morning.” He looked at you from his spot beside you, taking in the way you’re staring at your new art piece in awe. “so?” His hand slid a little lower, squeezing right at the hem of your shorts. “What do you think?” His eyes were still on yours as he asked. “It’s perfect, holy shit Carm you’re amazing.” Your thigh was now decorated with the bold, black cartoony linework of a carebear, colored with pinks and blues, beautifully blending into each other and its details done in such smooth thin lines you could stare at it forever.

Your gaze left your tattoo and turned to the side, staring right into his eyes. Your eyes flicked over to his lips for a second before you grabbed his curls at the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your sudden move caught him off guard but he quickly returned the kiss, one hand slipping lower onto your ass and the other one holding your hip to make sure you wouldn't rub your freshly tattooed skin against his jeans.

“Lets get that leg wrapped up, shall we?” He guided you back to his station to wipe and wrap your thigh, securing the wrap with pieces of tape.

You were leaned against the large seat with Carmen kneeling in front of you, his eyes on yours. In a moment of confidence you put your hand in his hair, carding your fingers through his curls as his hands moved up to the hem of your shorts waiting for your permission.

A tug on his curls lets him know him he could go ahead, carefully pulling down your shorts and panties while making sure he's not dragging the fabric over your wrapped up skin.

Looking up through his lashes he hooks your leg over his shoulder and inches closer until he's right at your centre. "You got no idea how long I've wanted to do this." With that he closes the gap amd his mouth is on you, his tongue dragging over your slit in a broad, slow stripe.

"Fuck, Carm.." Your fingers curled into his hair and  pulled him even closer. His nose brushed against your clit and his tounge easily slid into you, tasting all of you. His moans vibrated through you, having you buck your hips into him almost riding his face. He pulls away for a moment to breathe "Taste so good.. Bring this over for me next time you do a food run?" He jokes with his head against your good thigh, those bright blue eyes staring up at you.

You let out a breathy laugh. "Only on food runs?" The hand in his hair moved down to his jaw to guide him back up. His hands find your hips and in a moment his lips are back on yours. "Gotta thank my brother for always sending you over," He kissed along your jaw. "Got high, spilled about my little crush on the pretty one that brought our lunch that day." Moving your head your lips find his earlobe. "Chef may or may not have heard me talk about the cute artist with the blue eyes and pretty curls a couple of times.."

He smirks against your cheek and steals a kiss before grabbing you by the hips and turning you around.

One hand moves up to your back and presses forward so your upper body is laying against the cool leather of the tattoo chair, while the other kept your thighs at a small distance from the chair. With your head resting on your forearms you look back at him admiring you. When he caught you staring he gave you a quick look with raised eyebrows, looking down at where your ass was pressing against the front of his jeans before looking back into your eyes. A smile and a wiggle against him as response told him enough as he pulled his sweats and boxers down far enough to take out his cock ad rub it between your folds. “Don’t tease, Carmy.. Just put it in,” You press your hips into his again, practically begging him. “please..”

With a roll of his hips he pushes in slowly and leans down to kiss down your spine and softly bit your shoulder blade before setting a steady pace, holding your hips close to his so he won’t accidentally shove you into the chair. Your sighs and moans are sounding trough the parlor as he fucks into you with rhythmic thrusts. “You’re not charging me extra for the happy ending, are you?” Your smartass remark only got a pull on your hips and rougher thrusts as a response. He kept up his fast pace until you were seeing stars and his thrusts started getting sloppy. His forehead was pressed against your back as you clenched around him, taking a few more snaps of his hips before he stilled with a moan. “Shit, if you let me do this more often I might even let you walk out without paying at all."

You shifted so you could look back at him, sweat and curls stuck to his forehead, a tired amile on his face. "Fetch me something to clean up with and I will."

You both got cleaned up and laughed together, chatting about all kinds of stuff. Planning a small dinner date during opening night at the restaurant and betting on how each of your work teams would respond to the two of you dating.

You did end up not having to pay for the tattoo.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: lets all pretend Mikey runs the Beef and shit never went bad.

[cowgurrrl]

Dawns

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: Selena Quintanilla I miss you every day

Summary: The Morning After [2.9k]

Warnings: loving descriptions of Joel Miller, a whiff of angst, I think that’s it this is literally just fluff

Joel is a heavy sleeper. You kinda knew he would be, but he proved himself when you got up halfway through the night to get water, and he didn't so much as flinch. The only thing that roused him from his sleep was you sliding back into bed and kissing his jaw. He groaned and rolled onto his back, pressing you into his chest and bringing you with him. So, you're not surprised when you wake before him once mowers start working around your apartment building. He stays asleep, and light snores leave him every so often as he dreams. It's weirdly endearing.

In the morning light, he looks like a lost Adonis. His broad chest moves with his breaths, and his muscles contract whenever he moves, showing off the strength of his body, which has been forged over years on sites and by carrying kids around. He has a tattoo over his heart that you hadn't noticed before. It's small enough to hide easily, but you make out the letters easily: initials. One is Ellie's, and you assume the other is Sarah's. His girls forever close to his heart. His curls create a halo of amber salt-and-pepper around his head, and his beard is unruly in a way that people try to emulate to get the perfect "messy" look. On him, it doesn't look messy. It just looks like him. His heavy hand rests on your waist while the other lies above his head, almost in a pose. He's so fucking beautiful. 

There are lots of versions of Joel you'd like to draw: him on his knees at the foot of your bed, kneeling in a type of worship that the church would never condone; him smiling at you from across your apartment with orange fridge light shining on half his face; him tapping a beat into the steering wheel of his truck as the wind tousels his hair. But this version with the relaxed features and golden sunlight might be your favorite. It's private and unguarded, something only you have the privilege of experiencing. It's only fair of you to try to capture it.

You manage to wiggle out of his grasp enough to reach for your sketchbook on your bedside table, the water cups and snack wrappers from last night still lingering nearby. You lay on your stomach and uncap your pen as you glance between the empty page and his sleeping face. You start with his face shape, which is undeniably kind of easy to draw, before moving on to his features. His nose crooks a certain way, and you want to make sure you get it exactly right. Your eyebrows furrow as ink stains your pinky and the page fills up, and the morning slowly rises around you. 

It would be easier to take a picture and reference that instead of looking up and down, straining your neck in the process, but you like noticing the way his face moves so subtly in his sleep. This feels more intimate than sex. Art has a funny way of doing that. Guilt pools at the base of your neck, and you're about to shut your sketchbook and get some breakfast when he shifts, his hand blindly searching the sheets for your body. 

You freeze as he rolls over and opens his eyes, blinking through the light to find you lying there. When his vision adjusts, and he's rubbed enough sleep from his eyes to see you clearly, he smiles, and the guilt is quickly replaced with that dizziness that only he can induce. You smile back and throw your sketchbook on the floor, the pen still twirling in your fingers.

"Hey," you say softly as you get closer to him. He welcomes you into his arms and pushes the hair off your shoulders so he can see you. 

"Hi." His voice rumbles in his chest, deep and gravelly with sleep, and you want to wrap the notes around you like a warm blanket. You settle for leaning down and kissing him, his hands sliding around your body in the process. "How long've you been awake?"

"Not long." You say, a smile stuck to your lips. He glances over, taps his phone to check the time, and groans as he rests his head back on your pillow. You giggle at his reaction, and he looks at you like you're crazy. 

"How can you be this happy this early in the mornin'?" He asks and you shrug as you push a curl out of his face. 

"I woke up to a view." He hums at your compliment but doesn't say anything else. Every time you've complimented him in one way or another over the past few months, he's shrugged it off or barely acknowledged it. You wonder if he's just not used to being told regularly how pretty he is or what a great person he is. You wonder how long it will take him to believe your words. 

"What were you workin' on?" 

"Nothing, really. Just had to get something out of my system."

"Can I see it?"

"My sketchbook?" You ask, that same guilt clawing its way back up your spine, and he nods. 

"You don't have to show me if you don't wanna. I just... I dunno. I like seein' your work." Well, fuck, you think. How am I supposed to say no to that? You take a deep breath and chew on the inside of your cheek.

"I'll show you a few."

"Just a few?" 

"For now," you say, and he smiles. You kiss him before you move to retrieve the Moleskine from the floor. He curses under his breath like he's hurt, and you quickly look up to see if you somehow elbowed him or something. 

"Now, that," he says as he sits up to trace the edge of the tattoo that wraps around your shoulder. "Is a pretty sight." You laugh and relax into his touch as you watch him become entranced by the ink.

"Tattoos really do it for you, huh?"

"Everythin' bout you does it for me," he says, and you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks at the quip. "You do this one in a dorm room?"

"No, I had a friend who was apprenticing at a studio near the school. They gave me half off because she was an apprentice, but I think it turned out pretty good," you explain. His fingers follow the delicate lines around until he gets close to another one, and then he skips over and traces that one, his calloused hands much softer than any tattoo needle you've encountered. You let him follow the curves and bends of your different tattoos, but not before you press onto your elbows and lift a hand to trace the initials on his chest. "You were hiding this one from me."

"I think you were hidin' a lot more than I was." He says, and you laugh. He's not wrong. The juxtaposition of your covered skin versus his blankness is a little comical. Where you have deliberately placed art pieces, he has scars, freckles, and chest hair save for the letters above his heart. "Got it before Sarah went off to school. Figured it might be one of the last times my girls would be together."

"That's not true." You tsk.

"I know that now, but... I don't know. It's different than when they were younger. Good different, but still different."

"How so?"

"When Sarah was still home, Ellie had another woman to talk to. We were even numbers in the house. They would get to have their own days where they hung out and did whatever, which was really good for the both of them. But when she left, Ellie got really shy, like she didn't know what to do without someone guidin' her. Tommy and I tried, but I knew we weren't as good as Sarah. Nobody said anythin' bout it to Sarah, though, cause it wouldn't be fair to ask that of her. She has enough on her plate as it is, and she doesn't need us makin' her feel guilty." He says. He's so in tune with both girls that it almost blows your mind. It makes sense because you've seen him in action, and you know how he parents, but hearing him talk about the nuances of their relationships and giving them each space is refreshing. It would've been so easy to place blame on Sarah and ask her to help parent Ellie, but he didn't. 

"What changed?" You ask. He traces the lines going up the back of your neck until his hands frame your face, and he's smiling.

"This really great teacher started lookin' out for her. Changed our whole lives around." He says. You shake your head and force yourself to look away from his big, brown eyes.

"I was just doing my job."

"Don't do that," he scolds quietly. "I'm not sayin' anythin' that's not true. You helped Ellie in a way nobody else has done so far. You should've heard her tellin' Sarah bout you at Christmas. She couldn't say enough nice things."  

"I wish I could've met her," you say. "Sarah." 

"She really wanted to meet you, too," he says. "Next time." You smile at the idea of having him and Ellie around for long enough to meet this missing fourth member of their family. You hope he's right. 

Finally, you hand him your sketchbook and watch as he flips through the first few pages in silent awe. His eyes move around the page like he's trying to decipher a message when it's really just your sloppy scribbles you managed to get down between grading papers and working at the bar. To you, they're nothing revolutionary. They're just rough drawings that have this thing wrong with them or are missing that essential piece. When you look at them, all you see is what they lack. When Joel looks at them, all he can see is the art already there. He asks about certain things and points out different techniques he recognizes from Ellie's portfolio, like the hatching you did on a portrait of a stranger sitting in your bar. 

Sharing your art, no matter what medium, with anyone can be daunting. Someone you love might think you're a talentless hack but smile and tell you otherwise to not hurt your feelings, or they just don't pay attention to it at all. It's sacred. A piece of your soul materialized in the real world and left out in the open for anyone to come by and kill. Those emotions are still in the back of your mind, but as you watch Joel scan your work, you see admiration and reverence instead of disdain. He stops himself from looking at the whole book, remembering your words about only showing him a few, and looks at you when he's done.

"Baby, these are amazing." He breathes. The gentle tone in his voice makes your throat feel like sandpaper, and you have to breathe deeply to keep tears from welling in your eyes. You hide your face in the sheets, and he tsks as he grabs you and pulls you to him. You land on his chest, and then it's impossible to hide from him. Sometimes, it's annoying how strong he is. 

"Thank you," you say instead of listing off all the things you want to say about how bad the sketches are, how they're unfinished, and whatever else. He smiles as he gently puts your sketchbook down on your bedside table and kisses you. You straddle his waist as he cups your jaw and holds you close. You're vaguely aware of the sun rising higher and higher in the sky and the fact that he has a kid at home who's probably wondering where he is. His hands skate down your lower back as the kiss turns a little feverish and desperate, but you pull back before anything can start.

"It's getting late," you say. He sighs and rests his head on your shoulder. "I can make you some breakfast before you go."

"You really want me out that bad?" 

"No, of course not, but Ellie-"

"Is fine. She's with Tommy, and she's bout fifteen goin' on twenty. I guarantee you she's out with her friends at the movies or somethin' right now." He says. He's right; Ellie has become hyper-independent in the past few months and is almost always with a group of the art kids, but Dina and Jesse seem to be the ones she's closest to. Granted, Jesse isn't technically in the art club, but the bumbling basketball player always seems to find a way into your classroom despite never taking a class with you. Still, you can't shake your anxiety.

"What about when she asks where you were all night?"

"That's for me to worry bout, not you," he says. "If you really want me to go, I'll go but don't think you have to kick me out 'cause of my kid. She's fine, and even if she wasn't, I'd have already heard bout it." 

"Are you sure?" You ask, and he nods. 

"Positive," he answers. It's going to take a lot more for you to stop worrying about Ellie, but you let it go for now. If he's sure, then you have to trust his parental instincts. "Now, I think you said somethin' bout breakfast?" He says, and you smile. 

"I think I've got eggs and bacon." You say, and he groans at the thought.

"A woman after my own heart."

"You're a mess." You laugh as you climb off of him. You grab his shirt from last night off the floor and tug it over your head before grabbing a clean pair of underwear from your top drawer. Meanwhile, Joel throws on his briefs and the sweatpants you stole from him on New Year's Day and follows you into the kitchen. You get out the carton of eggs and hand him the package of bacon for him to put on the stove, a job he volunteered to do, as the coffee brews a few feet away. 

It's strangely domestic. Sharing the same space for the same goal as the dull hum of the city starts up outside. In your small apartment, you're safe from the demands of school for a few more weeks, and you don't have anything better to do than walk around your kitchen half-naked with him. He pours the perfect amount of creamer into your coffee and even pours a glass of water to accompany the caffeine. You push and pull him around the kitchen so you can reach certain things or show him where you keep plates. Any lingering doubt about your physical closeness has been dispelled and replaced with the ease of this morning. You could get used to it. 

You're in the process of making scrambled eggs when he starts playing music on his phone, a familiar explosion of sound coming over the speakers. Joel looks pleased even though he's the one who chose the music, and you laugh as he starts dancing toward you. Selena starts singing, and he sings along. Before you know it, he's grabbing your hand and spinning you into him. You struggle to match his feet when he takes steps you're not prepared for, and he laughs.

"I don't know this dance!" You defend, and he gives you a look.

"C'mon, don't tell me you've lived in Texas for this long, and nobody's ever taught you how to dance cumbia."

"Sorry to break your heart, maverick." You tease. He sighs dramatically but steps back enough for you to track his steps and copy them. Once you get the hang of it, he takes the spatula out of your other hand and takes you into his arms.

"You just do the same thing I'm doing but in a circle. It's not that hard, I promise." He instructs, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

"You have too much faith in my dance ability." 

"It's just a different kinda art," he says as he spins you. You manage to keep up with him and smile alongside him. You're not sure where Joel got so good at dancing, but you're sure it has something to do with the number of quinceañeras he's been invited to, if he's not been a part of one. He's gentle in reminding you of the steps and doesn't complain when you accidentally step on his toes or miss a step. It's fun and sweet and tinged with perfectly timed drum beats and Selena's effervescent voice.

He only lets you slip away from him once you remind him of the eggs cooking on the stove, but he's never far away after that. He helps you set the table and even makes your plate once everything is ready, so you don't have to. He refills your coffee and water without being asked and even pushes you out of the kitchen when you're done eating so he can wash the dishes. You like learning more about his little habits and nuances, and you think he likes seeing you in your own environment, too. 

You're not ready for him to go home and burst this bubble you've created. You're not ready to go back to school and reckon with possible repercussions. You're not ready for the real world to seep back in. You just want this morning with him and whatever other mornings he might be generous enough to share with you. Is that too much to ask?

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01

[shhh-secret-time]

Kyle Broflovski

26 y.o (He/Him)

Soul Synergy: Written on your palm is what your soulmate is thinking

Headcanons:

☆ Going to college on a full scholarship and with his help from his parents

☆ Still works part time at Tweek Bros Coffee, he wants to earn his own way in life

》 This feeds his caffeine addiction

☆ He still plays basketball, it helps him blow off steam

☆ Has a habit of piling to much on his plate

》 Stan usually has to remind him to take time for himself, forcing him to relax

☆ Probably tried to major in law like his dad but at some point he decided he really hated it

☆ Switches to something like English and General Classes for now.

》 I can see him becoming an Author! (I'm projecting)

☆ He tries to visit home often, holidays, birthdays, and on breaks!

☆ Does everything in his power to NOT talk about school. It's the last thing he wants to think about and he doesn't want to make his mother stress

☆ He and Stan live closer to campus, they went halfsies on an apartment together

》 Kyle cooks -> Stan does the dishes

》 Kyle handles paying rent -> Stan handles the handiwork around the house

☆ Will participate in Stan's board game nights if he has the time

☆ Although he loves D&D night and will not miss a session if he can help it. (I'm projecting)

》 I like to think he eventually becomes a DM the more he takes writing classes. I see those two going hand and hand

☆ He started carrying the lighter when Stan picked up smoking and it's just always been in his pocket

☆ Comes in handy when he smokes weed

》 I don't see him as the kind of guy who buys it or owns a bong/bowl/whatever, but I think he'll smoke if offered. Anything to just relax.

☆ Because of that he always carries an inhaler for Stan. He knows his friend hasn't had an asthma attack since they were kids, but just in case

☆ Also brings little bottles of water, enough for the other three. (Even Cartman if he can convince the guy to even look at water.)

☆ I didn't draw it but he's definitely got an EpiPen for sure.

》 He's the mom friend, I don't know what you expected

☆ Carries his glasses in the case, but he can't keep his glasses clean at all

》 Somehow his phone is immaculate, baffling really

☆ Looks at his palm often, so he started wearing gloves again

》 He gets distracted to easily with it

☆ The font on his palm is golden, looks like ink melting when it changes

☆ The closer his soulmate is to him, the quicker the words change.

》 If he thinks about it too much, he panics because what if he starts thinking something stupid and his soulmate laughs?

》 After a while he stops caring and just accepts that it is what it is.

☆ He's very protective of his hands because of it, often keeping his hands in his pockets if he's not wearing his gloves

》 More like he's protective over his soulmates thoughts.

His hand finds the silver necklace around his neck, the pointed star of David digs into his palm. The blunt ends of each point reminds him to breath. He turns it over a few times, doing the same with the lighter in his pocket.

He catches it out of the corner of his eye, the font on his palm gleams and twists. Running down his pale skin like watercolor does a canvas.

'Kyle! I love you!'

Kyle let's out a little breath, it dissolves into a chuckle. That breath takes the tight feeling in his chest with it. The beautiful font leaves room for a smile.

"I love you too." He whispers to the palm, placing a kiss over the words.

(Here's the blank version! ♡ )

[blednokrov]

hello! i wanted to say that i absolutely love your art style and the way you draw one piece characters, especially Zoro Nami Robin and SANJI!! your Sanji art dump made me lose it when i saw it, from the inking to the colours to the expressions i love everything about it.... i also love that you draw him with droopy eyes and eyebag, those are features i love to see on him in fanarts💖💗 i love the way you draw his nose too... there's just something about it haha

that being said!! i'm sooo excited to see more of your ocs and original stories! i'm so intrigued by the split witch story and i love your post explaining the different species of your other story... i wanna do that with my own stories now haha. thank you for sharing these with us too!☺️💞

Thank you very much!!! When it comes to drawing fanarts, it's very important to me to adjust character designs to my vision, which sometimes makes me afraid people who like the characters might find it unappealing or insulting idk. I'm glad you like my version of Sanji! Here's a little breakdown of my thought process behind it

Speaking of OCs, thank you very much!! I was a bit hesistant about posting my original content here because i gathered all of my following with fanarts, however my oc stories are very important to me (in fact most of art i draw is oc art i just dont rly post anywhere), so I'm very touched by such warm reception on my oc art! I never expected people actually like it and leave positive feedback so now I'm encouraged to post more of original stuff I've got! I've been having lots of fun developing lore and worldbuilding for those stories : )

[cookikiixp]

Hello Dreamers.

WELCOME TO BLUISH SPACE

ꕥHi hello it's me KIKI :3

ꕥ you can call me kiki i really don't mind being called by my ocs name it makes me feel happy

★I'm the creator of★

OMORI KIKI and OMORI DAISY!

(which u can reach with the tag of #omorikiki #kikiomori #omoridaisy #daisyomori #omoriboydaisy #daisyomoriboy)

↑ my omori ocs that i spent days to create and put my heart n sweat N many more things :3 (shh)

{i also have an omori au called awaremori but it's on my Instagram highlights and i didn't finish the charts yet like i said I'm lazy 💔 BUT MAYBE İN FUTURE ANYWAY}

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🫧𓇼𓏲*Lets take a close look to KIKI and DAISY✩‧₊˚🎐

🎨 the real world kiki 🖌️and headspace kiki

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Kiki's symbolizing colour: Baby blue

Kiki's symbolizing flower: Daisies 🌼

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/ᐠ - ˕ -マ and this is DAISY the omori boy comic version (literally the beta KIKI!)

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now we also have BLACKSPACE KIKI! she's out of ink... pain.... tears... sadness..fear.... ooohhhh .......

tho... I'm sure she'd love some company

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✎ᝰ. please feel free asking questions about her it'll also help me to develop her story further which I'm trying to update soon (as soon as possible I'm just lazy)

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✎ᝰ.ᐟ WARNING 𓇢𓆸

! my account is mostly about

OC X CC (oc[kiki/daisy]×cc[basil/flower)

but i also do fanarts of the main cast and omori characters I'm making so if you hate oc x canon or feel uncomfortable at all please dni or just block/leave etc

[YOU CAN REACH MY OTHER ACCS FROM HERE]

! I'm someone pretty sensitive so please be civil.

★about the★

OC[KIKI/DAISY] X CANON[BASIL/FLOWER]

(You can reach it with the tags #omoribloombrush #bloombrushomori #omoriboybloombrush #bloombrushomoriboy #basilxkiki #kikixbasil)

ᓚᘏᗢ

it's like my personal free therapy that's why i feel happy drawing abt them and receiving fanarts about them!!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 so please feel free to make fanarts of them!! (it makes me so happy that i start to run around squealing)

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Of course, since this is my last year at school, it's debatable whether I can be very active... anyway sometimes i get too lazy and get into art block so idk if I'll be able to make arts just so you guys are aware :D(it was much longer than i expected it to be?? idk i tried my best! :3