#i really like this though i do have some notes for if i ever redo it (like say for a fic 👀)

[summerlimeismethebrony]

[Image Description: an 11-panel comic page on paper in which Laurice Deauxnim/Larry Butz and Maya Fey from Ace Attorney sit side-by-side. Laurice has tight posture and an uncomfortable look on his face, while Maya is looking around in an uninterested manner; a large textbox labeled "Waiting for Nick" points at the two of them. Laurice looks over at Maya with a sidelong glance, grimacing. Laurice turns away, asking: "...Do you hate me?" Maya bursts out: "WHAT? Why would I hate you?!" ["What" is in all caps to indicate volume.] Laurice flinches away from the outburst. Laurice begins to explain, saying: "Elise", but cutting himself off and shaking his head, starting again with a downcast expression: "Your mom was my mentor." ["Your mom" is underlined to indicate emphasis.] Maya leans forward on her hands and tilts her head in confusion. Laurice continues, waving his hand in the air: "Like, she taught me how to be a better person, to— to grow up, y'know?" Laurice looks back at Maya, his palm toward her, with tears in his eyes, and says: "But you... She was your mom, and you never got that." ["mom" is underlined to indicate emphasis.] Maya looks at Laurice with concern, as he says: "I wouldn't blame you, if you hated me." End Image Description]

I think they should be allowed a Real Conversation, actually

(And some close-ups, bc I forgot just how energy-intensive making a comic page is, and I ended up working really hard on this messy, self-indulgent little comic)

[covenofagatha]

A Helping Hand

You're helping your Professor gather ingredients for a potion she's brewing when you accidentally knock over a jar of sex pollen and need help.

Word count: ~3100

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering, Top Agatha, magic cock, blowjob, magic cum, pure filth, teacher x student, age gap (everyone's legal)

Your brow furrows as you stare at the open spell book in front of you. You have a Potions test tomorrow for Professor Harkness, and evident by your lack of understanding of any of the words on the page, you are not going to do well. 

“What’s wrong?” your roommate, Wanda, asks you. The two of you are the top witches at the Academy of Dark Arts, and yet, neither of you has a strong suit in potions. 

And of course, the Potions teacher, Agatha Harkness, is the hardest teacher you have. 

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to remember that, for the Wolfsbane Potion, you have to stir three times counterclockwise, say this incantation, and then stir four times clockwise, all while making sure I’m continuously pouring in Dragon’s Blood?” Your head hurts just from reading it from the book. 

Wanda snorts. “Agatha doesn’t expect it to be perfect.”

You give her a look. You both know that’s a lie. Agatha is the teacher that makes you redo written homework assignments if you leave too much space between the words. 

The Academy of Dark Arts was a home for witches like you and Wanda: witches that did not have a coven, or even a family. The Academy was supposed to teach girls to harness and understand their powers. 

You have been here the longest, ever since you were twelve. You are almost twenty now. You had always put off taking Potions until you could no longer avoid it, mainly just because of how hard everyone else said it was. You had briefly interacted with Professor Harkness before the class, passing her in the corridors or making eye contact at meals. 

And maybe, just maybe, you had developed a bit of a crush on her once you were in her class. 

Who could blame you, though? She was the definition of perfection, with the way power just exuded from her, and the way her long, dark hair tumbled down to her lower back, and her piercing blue eyes that you suspected could see right into your soul. 

But your little infatuation was not what you needed right now – no, right now, you need to study. 

“I just don’t know anything,” you groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t even read my notes.” Agatha often went so fast in class that you had no other option than to just scribble down everything you thought she said as quickly as you could. 

And now you just had pages of illegible chicken scratch. 

“She’s probably still in the green house, why not just go ask her for help,” Wanda says noncommittally, too engrossed in sketching a picture. How she is so calm with this test hanging over the both of you, you have no idea. 

But you nod. That’s a good idea. You can go see Agatha, ask her to clarify a few things, and then stay up all night cramming ingredients and directions into your brain. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise, and then scoop up your book and your notes. 

You pass by some younger witches in the hallway and you give them a tight-lipped smile. Wanda was really your only friend at the Academy, the other girls too boy-crazy or too self-absorbed for you to really connect with them. 

Other than those girls, though, the Academy is quiet. No sign of any of your other teachers, and you’re sure they’re either in their private quarters or still grading papers in their classrooms. 

You have to leave the main house of the Academy to get to the greenhouse, where Potions takes place. The cold November air stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but luckily, it’s a short walk. 

“Hello, Professor Harkness?” you say timidly, knocking on the door as you push it open. She’s sitting at a stool, cutting plants with a sharp knife. Her hair flowing down her back and she's wearing a tight white button-down shirt on that’s tucked into high-waisted purple pants, and a long, navy coat.

She glances up and smiles when she sees it’s you. “Y/n, what can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to come see if you could help me clear some things up for the test tomorrow,” you say, a little flustered by how good she looks. 

“Sure thing, hon. First, I need your help. Hand me those powders from over there?” She points the knife over to the counter by the sink and you oblige, grabbing the four vials and putting them down next to her. She picks each one up and examines the label closely. “Ah, shoot. Sorry, dear, could you find the jar with the powdered root of asphodel? It should be in the pantry somewhere. I thought I took it out, but I guess I forgot.” 

“Yeah, of course.” You repeat the powder name in your head a few times so you don’t forget it and then go search for it. 

You finally spot it on the fourth shelf, sitting in the middle of some other jars, and you reach up on your tip-toes to grab it. As you’re pulling down the correct jar, you accidentally knock it into another and it falls to the floor next to you. 

“Shit!” you mutter, immediately crouching down to assess the damage. The jar of some unknown powder has broken and its contents are spilled everywhere. Without even thinking, you start to sweep the powder into your hands so you can try to put it back in the bottom half of the jar that’s still intact. 

You didn’t even notice Agatha coming over after she heard the noise. “Everything okay – don’t touch any of that!” she exclaims, seeing the bottle that broke on the floor.

You drop the mound of powder in your hands and whirl around, eyes wide open. 

“What is it?” you ask, afraid of the answer, but she doesn’t give you one, instead opting to pull you by the sleeve over to the sink. 

“Wash your hands now,” she demands and stands there watching you scrub your skin until it’s red. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel fine,” you say, but as you say that, you notice something. There’s an unmistakable heat growing in your stomach. And it only gets worse when Agatha places a hand against your forehead. You lean into the touch and have to forcibly bite your tongue so you don’t moan. 

She looks you up and down and you can feel yourself getting hotter. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed. 

You’ve never felt this way before. 

“Um, just out of curiosity, what was that powder?” you ask, wetness pooling between your thighs. The ache between your legs is becoming hard to ignore. 

Agatha meets your eyes. “It’s called sex pollen.” Your heart skips a beat. “I honestly forgot it was back there. I came across some a few decades ago and wanted to study it.”

You swallow hard. “So if someone gets some of it in their system, do they just need to touch…” You feel yourself blushing, not quite believing you’re asking Agatha Harkness if masturbation is the key to get this heat inside you to die down. 

She smirks. “You can’t get it out of your system by yourself.”

Well, fuck. “There’s no other way?” 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She winks playfully, and you wonder if she’s ever used it, or used it on someone else. “But you said you feel fine so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Right,” you reply shakily. Her fingers brush a strand of hair out of her face and you literally clench at the sight of them. You feel so empty, so needy, so desperate for her. 

“You said you had some questions for the test tomorrow?” She takes the root of asphodel that you had forgotten you were holding and beckons you back over to where she’s working. She pats the stool next to you and you sit, the pressure on your clit making you jump. 

You just have to make it through this, go back to your room, and then drag Wanda out with you to a club or something so you can get fucked. 

The only problem is, you’re not sure you can wait that long. Your hips have started squirming on the stool beneath you and you can’t control it. 

“Um, so,” you start, opening up the textbook to the Wolfsbane Potion you were studying earlier. “The directions for this potion are–”

You’re cut off by her putting her hand on top of yours and you literally whimper at the contact. You stiffen and see her turn her full body towards you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, your darkened eyes, the way your hips are moving on the seat. 

“Oh, you poor baby,” she taunts. 

You give up the pretense of being unaffected by the pollen. “Professor, I’m so…I need…please…I think the pollen...” 

She laughs. “Yes, dear, I think the pollen got into your system. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?” 

You blush at the implication of Agatha asking if you have a fuck buddy and then shake your head pathetically. “I was gonna go out with Wanda and try to find someone,” you mumble. “I’ve never…” You trail off, not wanting your incredibly hot professor to hear you say out loud that you’re a virgin. 

“Honey, you can’t have your first time with a random person from a bar,” she tuts. “Plus, sex pollen amplifies feelings you already have. Getting fucked by a random person won’t help as much as by a person you already want.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you whine. “Can you…will you…please?” You can tell the pollen is affecting your ability to think straight because there is no way you just asked your centuries-old professor to fuck you. You’re about ready to run out of the room and die of embarrassment when she grins. 

“You want me to help you?” 

Your breath catches. “Professor, please, please, I need it. I need you. I just feel so…hot.” 

“I’ll say,” she says appreciatively, this time letting her eyes wander over you slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting this when the pollen wears off.” 

You shake your head. “I won’t. I’m sure. I want you so bad. I have for a while. And you said it has to be someone you already want.” 

Her eyes darken. “Get on the table.” 

You’ve never moved so fast in your life. She takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere else in the room, and then her hands are cupping your breasts and her mouth is on yours. 

You moan hungrily into her hot mouth, feeling her tongue against yours. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling it gently, and she groans into your mouth. Agatha quickly undoes the clasp of your bra and finds your nipples, tugging at them. She kisses down your neck and your fingers leave her hair to hike up your skirt. 

“So eager for me,” she whispers against your clavicle. You gasp when she bites down. 

“Please, professor, touch me.” 

“I am touching you,” she teases, fingertips lightly skimming down your stomach. You tense at the touch as she gets lower. 

Your moan is downright pornographic when she first slides her hand into your underwear, sliding through your folds. She makes a sound as well. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” she says. 

“All for you,” you say weakly, hips grinding up and down against her fingers. She’s yet to touch your clit, but you fear the second she does, you’ll cum. 

“My dirty girl.” Agatha finally pushes her middle finger into you and you clench down immediately, needing more. She easily finds the spot that makes you squeal, and her thumb brushes against your clit. “Do you think you can take another finger?” 

“Oh my god, yes,” you enthusiastically agree and she slides in her ring finger as well. It’s a bit of a stretch but you’ve never felt better. 

“Your cunt feels so good around me,” Agatha says, grabbing your chin with her other hand so you meet her eyes. “So wet, so warm. I want to stay here forever. You can’t get enough of my fingers, can you?” 

“No, Professor, I love your fingers,” you babble, right on the edge. She knows it too. 

“Be a good girl and come for mommy,” she whispers right into your ear, her hot breath warm, and the name, coupled with the way she twists her fingers and roughly strokes your clit, sends you climaxing. 

“Fuckkkk,” you moan, your nails digging into her shoulders. She fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then slowly pulls her fingers, which are drenched, out of you. You can’t help but feel empty and the heat inside you isn’t completely gone. 

Before you can say anything, she slides her wet fingers into your mouth and you lazily lap at your juices. She bites her lip at the feeling. 

“How are you feeling now, baby girl?” 

Her fingers leave your mouth with a pop. “Better but I still think I need more.” 

Her eyebrow raises playfully. “My fingers weren’t enough to quell your thirst?” 

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I think I know something that might help.” She waves her hand and a poof of purple smoke appears. You’re not quite sure what she did, but she gives you a wicked grin and unzips her pants, pulling out a purple strap-on. 

Your mouth falls open. 

She grabs a hold of the base and starts to stroke herself, groaning. 

“Wait, can you-” 

She looks up at you. “Feel it?” She nods. “I wanna feel you clench around my cock. Wanna fill you up.” 

You let out a small gasp. “Mommy, please, I need your cock.” 

She steps back over to you and runs a hand up your slit, collecting your wetness, which she then rubs on her cock. “You’re plenty wet already, but why don’t you get on your knees and show me how much of a good girl you can be.” 

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. You practically fall to the ground in front of her, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. You look up at her, awaiting instruction, and she bites her lip softly at the sight of you. 

She puts a hand on your head and pushes you closer. “Put a hand around the base and then run your tongue up and down the length.” 

You do as you’re told and you delight in the loud moan that tears from her mouth. Her hand just rests on your head as you then experimentally suck the tip of her cock between your lips. 

“Good girl,” she says gruffly, and her praise drives you to test the waters and go down further. You bob your head on her dick, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so hot.” 

Meanwhile, the need inside you is growing so much you can barely fight the urge to slip a hand up your skirt. But you don’t. You figure Agatha won’t like that, and also, you want to focus all your attention on making her feel good. 

“Such a dirty slut on her knees for mommy. So desperate for this cock,” she says and you groan around the strap-on, making her hands tighten in your hair. She pulls you back and a string of saliva connects your lips to her. “Get up.” 

Once you’re standing in front of her, she flips you around and bends your front over the table so she’s standing behind you. She pushes your skirt up and traces your pussy with her cock, sliding it up your slit to your clit and then back. You’re grinding against her, trying to get some stimulation. 

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, voice hoarse with anticipation. You feel her line the tip up with your hole and then slowly start to push in. 

Both of you moan. She is so big but the stretch is exactly what you need. Once she bottoms out, she holds still for a second, letting you adjust to her size. 

“You take my cock so well.” And then she’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed and intensity. You lift a leg up so she’s able to get deeper and you can feel her hips stutter. “You pretend to be so innocent but look at how desperate you are for me. Just a little slut, needing me to fill her up.” 

“Yes, just a slut for you, mommy.” 

Her nails dig into your hip and her other hand comes down to rub your clit. You clench around her. 

“You’re so tight, so hot, you feel so good squeezing my dick,” Agatha murmurs, saying the filthiest things right into your ear. You’re so close and it’s only been a few minutes of her pounding into you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Her hand leaves your clit and you gasp. 

“Not yet, baby, wait for mommy. Do you want me to fill you up?” 

“Want you to fill me up, mommy, wanna feel you dripping out of me,” you babble. 

“Oh shit, baby, gonna cum in you. Cum for me,” she says, and you do. This orgasm is even more intense than the one before and you feel her give you one last hard thrust before warmth spreads through your cunt. She stills for just a second and then gingerly pulls out. You can feel her cum dripping out of your hole and down your leg and it almost makes you cum again. 

Agatha turns you around and spreads your legs so she can watch it better. She takes two fingers and lazily smears her cum mixed with yours all over your pussy lips. She raises her fingers to your lips and you eagerly taste both of your juices, moaning around them. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes. 

You sigh dramatically. “For now. But who’s to say I won’t get into more sex pollen some other time?”

She chuckles and matches your smirk with one of her own. “Well, I guess I better keep a careful eye on you then.” 

[nariism]

to the ends of our world — i. rin

academic rivals to lovers + "i could kiss you right now!" + "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

synopsis. all rin said was that he would help you with calculus. he didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

wc. 1.6k

notes. kind of a highschool au where rin is out for the season because of an injury 🙏 also kind of a one-sided rivalry because rin is a loser :p

— for @itoshiexx <3 | event masterlist ✉️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I could kiss you right now.

Those were the last words you spoke to Rin almost an hour ago.

He's agonizing over it, really. He probably should have at least said something back to you instead of shutting you out like he does every time he feels himself getting too close.

Instead he's dutifully working through his calculus notebook.

If he focuses enough on perfecting derivatives, he can ignore the way your presence beside him has only gotten weightier. But it's hard to do that when the words are still echoing in his mind.

I could kiss you right now.

You're just as adamant on finishing your workbook, eyes glued to the page and attention completely devoted to making numbers dance.

When you asked him earlier in the day if he could help you with the new sets, he was confused. You'd always been the one to best him.

It irritated him. You reminded him too much of his big brother.

But then he saw your notebook. You'd hesitantly handed it over to him when you showed up at his doorstep with courtesy snacks and a bag of oranges for his mother.

(Which she gushed about, by the way. He felt like burying himself in a hole when she asked if you were dating.)

You'd been trying for so long to figure out the solutions that some areas of the page were torn where you had kept erasing and redoing the work. He even found things scribbled out in frustration.

He would have laughed if you didn't have such a grim look on your face. Rin was never one for humour, anyways.

He reluctantly agreed to help, though he was sure your other grades would make up for one botched math unit. It was the petty pride in him speaking—in reality, the way you looked like you were on the verge of tears was enough to send him into fight or flight mode.

He had never seen such a dazed, stressed expression on you before. You were the epitome of a model student—good grades, class representative, and friendly enough that no one ever wanted to step on your toes.

No one but Rin, that is.

He told himself he hated you. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful. Successful enough to do anything you wanted to do, so long as you had the drive.

Everything Rin would have been if he hadn't injured his knee right before the football season started.

But what he thought he felt about you was a lie. He hadn't even realized it until you were sitting down on his bed, knee bumping into him as you lounged there criss-crossed.

He'd always just seen you as the person who sat in front of him in homeroom. Untouchable. He envied you, even though his grades were nearly as good now that he had all the time in the world to study.

Now, though, you're just as human as he is.

Rin can see your face instead of the back of your head. Your words are meant for him—thanking him, praising how easy his method for solving these equations is.

Then, you shattered his daydream.

I could kiss you right now.

You said it so unseriously, not even looking at him when you did. You had gotten to the end of your third page of work, conquering the math with ease now that you understood it.

It was your funny way of expressing gratitude. He knows you didn't mean anything by it, definitely. But it's been stuck in his mind.

And neither of you have uttered a word to each other since.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when you slam your pencil down in your notebook and shut it with an audible thud.

"Break time!" You sigh blissfully, though he isn't sure if you're talking to him or yourself.

You flop back into his mattress and he just stares in quiet disbelief while you scroll through your phone like you fucking pay rent here.

Rin debates whether or not to kick you off his bed so that he can finish his homework without distraction, or if he should just leave you be. Ultimately, he decides that it's too much of a hassle to deal with confrontation and silently goes back to doing derivatives.

He would feel bad shoving you away when you finally started talking to him, after all. And you look so at ease now, with your work almost done.

(Yeah, you started working at a faster pace than him with his method. You seriously piss him off.)

He comes to the conclusion that this is going to be a one-time thing. Rin hates the twist of despair in his stomach seeing you about to burst into tears.

He hates the peace that fills him when you're back to your smiling self even more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Rin wakes up to warmth.

Groggily, he blinks the sleep out of his eyes until they adjust to the light of sunrise pouring into his room.

It's strange. He doesn't remember falling asleep at all.

What was he doing last night? He shifts a little bit and freezes when he hears the crinkle of paper beneath him.

Oh, his calculus homework. Did he finish it? It's due today.

He's just about to sit himself up to check the time and hope he has at least another hour to sleep before school, when he realizes much too late that there's a weight on his arm.

Rin gets yanked back by the arm that's pinned down, yelping quietly in surprise.

And then everything hits him like a goddamn truck.

Maybe more like a freight train, really, because he feels like he's about to have a fucking heart attack. Rin dares to turn his head, so comically slow that it's like life itself moves in slow motion.

Somehow in your sleep, you've become a tangled mess of limbs.

His arm is tucked under your neck—the culprit for making him whelp like a child when he tried to sit up. Your legs are twisted together and... Oh god. His free hand is resting where your hip melts into your thigh.

Panic rises in his chest because one, he's never had another person in his bed before. Period. And two, because there's heat boiling in the pit of his stomach and he's pretty sure he's about to keel over and pass away.

Just as he's about to shove you off the bed, realization dawns on him.

You look so peaceful when you sleep.

Your breath smells, and your hair has gotten tangled under the weight of his arm. You're muttering to yourself quietly in your sleep, and he's pretty sure he can see a bit of drool in the corner of your lip.

He so desperately wishes that his first thought would be to tease you about this until the end of time. Or maybe use it as blackmail against you, if you were to get a higher grade on the upcoming calculus exam because of his methods.

But instead, his first thought is that he never wants to move from this position. That he needs to savour this moment.

It's horrifying.

18 hours ago, you pranced up to the side of Rin's desk and asked if he could help you with the problem set.

All he said was that he would help you with calculus.

He didn't expect you to show up at his door right after dinner. And he didn't expect you to seat yourself on his bed before he could offer you the chair at his desk.

He certainly didn't think he'd be waking up to your morning breath and wishing the moment would last forever.

You've just been a bag full of mysteries. Rin hates mysteries. It's part of the reason why math works for him—no surprises, no ambiguity. There's always an answer.

Rin can't formulate an answer on why his heart feels like it's about to burst out of his ribcage.

You shuffle in his arms and suddenly the pounding in his chest ceases.

Is this what death feels like?

"Rin?" You murmur sleepily, shifting into his warmth as if this is something regular classmates should be doing. "What time is it?"

"I can't see the clock," he deadpans, though it's just a facade to hide how utterly enamoured he is right now. "It's behind you."

You groan, rolling over to check the time. He breathes a sigh of relief as you pull away but it gets stuck in his throat when you collapse back into him, your back against his chest.

"6:07," you tell him nonchalantly. And then you cozy yourself up in the blankets again, nice and warm, and go back to sleep.

"Hey," he shakes you lightly. "Don't just go back to bed, moron."

"We can talk about the homework later," you mumble as if that's what he fucking meant.

A million words run through his mind, parading to the tip of his tongue where they all fall off and die. He can't find them when you're slotting yourself closer and closer in your sleep, squeezing his arm against your cheek.

Eventually, he decides that it's not worth the hassle of getting up and having you see his flustered face right now. You'd never let him live it down.

So he closes his eyes and pretends that you're not just the person who sits in front of him in homeroom. Goody-two shoes. Smiley. Obliviously and annoyingly cheerful.

"I could..."

He swallows loudly, the words like molasses in his throat.

I could kiss you right now.

You're dead to the world, but he doesn't dare speak the thought into existence, anyway.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

("Rin! 95%!"

You shove your paper into his face and he opens his mouth to snark back about it.

But then you leap forward and press a kiss to his cheek. Everything in his head instantly melts into mush.

"You're the best," you gush.

He just glowers at you with burning red cheeks.)

[flippinpancakes64]

Would you be willing to write how would the Cullens react to the reader asking to do/wanting to do their makeup?

Doing the Cullens' Makeup

Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it!

I tried to branch out a little and include some more dialogue in this one, so hopefully it’s good.

Edward:

He's a bit hesitant

He is one of the oldest ones

And the most old fashioned one

He will take some convincing

Mostly he just doesn't see why you want to do that

Like you have your own face

You would need to start out small

Put just like a liiiiittle bit of blush on his cheeks

He will never let you do a full face btw

So you're gonna have to settle with giving him some subtle eyeshadow, a bit of blush, and maybe some lipstick

Once he sees that it can still look natural and not super obvious he'd let you do it more often

He does draw the line at leaving the house like this though

Alice:

Of course

You didn't even need to ask

She would just sit there and talk your ear off for however long it takes

She would find it really relaxing

Even if you're not good at it she'd let you do her makeup all the time

She just won't leave the house with it on :')

She would be nice about it though

"Oh, you put blue eyeshadow on me and the dress I already had picked out was orange so I had to change the eyeshadow to be orange!"

Would never ever tell you if it's bad

Now if you're good at it tho...

Sorry that's your job now

She won't leave the house now without you doing her makeup

"Come on we have an hour before we need to leave you need to start my makeup now!"

Will tell anyone that asks that you did it

She's proud

Jasper:

He's old fashioned

But I think he's so old to the point that he knows times are changing and he can adapt

So if you come up to him and ask he'll just be like

"Oh okay guys wear makeup now... noted"

And he lets you no questions asked

He will not leave the house with it on tho unfortunately

At least not with like mascara, eyeshadow, or eyeliner

But he would go out with some blush or some lipstick

He would really enjoy the intimacy of it

And he would love seeing you focus

He would really like the brushes on his face

Overall very relaxing

He wouldn't ever ask you to do it

But if you suggest it immediately he is sat and ready

Rosalie:

1000x yes

She loves being pampered just a little bit

And I feel like she already enjoyed doing your makeup before this

So yes of course you can

She has legitimately zero preference

You want to do rainbow eyeshadow and purple blush?

Okay go for it :)

If you're not good at it she'll still let you do her makeup

She will just sneak off to the bathroom afterwards to fix it up a little

And if you notice it looks different no you don't

"Did you redo your makeup?" "What no of course I didn't you just really did this good!"

Will make any colors you choose work as well

If she was planning on wearing something, oh well she's choosing something else that goes with her makeup

Emmett:

He doesn't care

He thinks it's a fun bonding activity

But he will only let you do his makeup if he can do yours too

And be warned, he is bad at it

He's sort of eye-for-an-eye type

If you want him to go out wearing the makeup you did, then you have to go out in the makeup he did

So yeah best to leave it behind closed doors

He does actually try tho

Full tongue sticking out, really focused on trying to get an eyeliner wing

He just can't

Either way he doesn't mind

If it makes you happy then he's happy

Though he would prefer to get lipstick from kissing you ;)

Esme:

I feel like she has a makeup routine

And by routine I mean this is the makeup she's been doing every day for like 100 years or however old she is

So she is a little hesitant for you to do something different to her

And she finds comfort in the routine

She would let you try though

Maybe like... later at night when she has nowhere else to go

If you do a good job though she'll be pleasantly surprised

And she might even let you do her makeup if there's a special occasion

If you do a bad job though...

Let's just say your skills are solely for before-showering makeup

Sorry :)

Carlisle:

(I have been waiting to use this gif for FOREVER)

Anyway he's from a time when guys used makeup very consistently in higher society

So it's nothing new to him

It's just been a while since that's been popular

"You want to do my makeup? Oh, that's nice that that's back in fashion."

He doesn't mind at all

He won't go to work with it on though

He does have a professional appearance to uphold

But he'll indulge you at home as much as you want

And if you ask him nicely he might even do the makeup he used to do for you

I think it would be funny

He would tell you all of his stories while you work on him

Very fun

We love a man who's comfortable in his masculinity

Vampire! Bella:

I feel like she's never been huge into makeup

In the movies we never see her put any on (not that Kristen isn't wearing any)

And there's no mention of it in the books that I remember

But again she's not opposed

I feel like she'd be really touchy around the eyes

"Stop blinking so much it's just eyeliner." "Sorry it tickles... and it feels weird."

She wouldn't know if you did a good job or not

She's never paid that much attention to makeup or what makes it look good or bad

So she would like it either way

Rose or Alice would have to be the ones to pull her aside and ask if she needs any help with her makeup if it looks bad

And she would say no and ask why because you did it

They just give sort of a "yikes" face

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it. chapter 2

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!

[charbies]

linktober 31 - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

I thought for the last day I'd write a little retrospective on what this whole thing was like and what I learned. I'm too tired to draw literally anything else I'm due for a break lol

So this was my second time ever attempting a linktober/october drawing challenge, but my first time managing to complete all the days and prompts. I feel super proud of myself and accomplished for pulling it off.

There were a number of things that were surprising and that were challenging for me that I wasn't expecting this month. If anything, I think this challenge really highlighted my flaws and mental blindspots with how I approach making art.

For one thing, I came away from this not liking everything I made. I think I only like about 9 or 10 of the 30 pieces I put out there. When I don't like my art, I tend to get stuck in this mental stalemate of refusing to finish a piece until I like it, but also refusing to retrace my steps and erase/rework what I have so far for fear of losing progress or not being able to replicate the line/angle/color/etc that I liked.

It was surprisingly hard to accept when I didn't like a piece but had to move on for the sake of time and post it anyway. But once I did it a few times, it got easier. I realized prioritizing my standards over my available energy is not gonna promote progress. If I kept sinking myself into one piece and not moving on until it was optimal, I never would have finished anything-- that was the pitfall that ultimately made me bail out 10 days in last year.

I also realized my sunk cost fallacy/"what if I erase this and can never redraw it good again" stems from some real lack of confidence in my knowledge and techniques with art. I'm self-taught, and I think I tend to believe that everything I make is a dumb happy accident, even though I have mental rules when I draw, use tons of references, and have a process lol. There are a few pieces I started over 2-3 times before I got them right, and that's starting to feel liberating instead of like failing to me now, which I never expected to come out of this experience so that's cool.

Another place I had to learn to let go of control in this was with allowing for style variation. I really wanted each and every piece to be coherent and painterly, like they all came from the same book or something. But then I couldn't decide whether I wanted to do all/no lineart, all/no detailed background, all/no heavy rendering, etc. At the end I settled on just keeping the same canvas dimensions and just prioritizing filling up the space. Glad I ended up doing this, because I really would benefit from continuing to chill out and scale back how much I default to making dramatic, high-render pieces. I gotta break out of my comfort zone and make more sketchy little guys!

Sometimes my attachment to the prompts fluctuated; some prompts I thought I would love and then just wanted to get them over with. Some prompts I thought I would hate and subsequently half-ass, then I ended up redoing them and putting more effort & time into and loved the end result!

It was funny to also see how some pieces that I loved straight up did not get a whole lot of notes or attention. Some pieces I was "meh" about did crazy numbers lol. I'm used to posting maybe 5-6 times a year on here, so I'm usually indifferent to getting notes (by which I mean, I'm super grateful for likes & reblogs and the super sweet & funny messages in y'alls tags, but I'm not butthurt when I don't get notes because whatever happens, happens). Churning out 30 pieces in 30 days made me sometimes get bewildered by what did and didn't get notes, but frankly in the end I think it helps reaffirm that I should continue putting whatever I want out there because it! is! not! graded!!!

So would I do Linktober again? Probably not, sorry! it was a lot of time & effort and took me away from fall festivities more than I would have liked. I kinda only managed to pull this off because I was transitioning between jobs this month and had a week off to just draw. But I also completely see the value in taking on a challenge like this and finishing what I started, I'm super glad I did this, I think my art improved from it. I would definitely do future drawing challenges/prompt things that are quicker or have less prompts!

My advice to prospective future linktoberers: pace yourself and be gentle; this is a great chance to do something exciting and new with your art, but above all it's about you having fun. There are no prizes at the end except for what you've learned and how you feel about it, and that's for the best!!

One thing's for sure, I am zelda'd out lmao so I'll be branching out towards some little projects I have lined up for personal art and other fandoms I'm into right now

So anyway thanks to all of you who read this or who gassed me up this whole month, I appreciate you!!!!!!!! ヾ(＾∇＾)

[southangel]

hey againnn! hope ur doing well ^^ wendy, stan, and kenny (seperate) x fem touch starved reader? could be nsfw or sfw whatever u want

- ⚡

Stan, Kenny, and Wendy Being Touch Starved

Warnings: slight mentions of NSFW themes

Notes: Hi anon!! Hope this doesn’t get out too late, i’m trying to use my free time on working on all of my requests. Okay yeah this got out late, oops.

Stan Marsh

Honestly, Stan himself would be touch starved himself, if not more.

He really just needs some love, so a simple touch on the hand or a hug would brighten him up so much.

Since you’re touch starved as well, you both just spend time together all the time, rarely apart.

You and Stan always hold hands, whether it be at school, outside, at home, anywhere.

Whenever Stan is cuddling with you, he gets really awkward often, so he most likely has to be doing something separate at the same time.

You might just show up randomly at his house, unannounced. Please keep doing it more often, it makes day a lot better..

Stan is a really good listener, he’ll let you rant to him about anything and everything as you cling onto his arm.

Will get very awkward if you just grab one of his hands and put it anywhere on you; just because you can tell he can’t do it himself.

Stan can be very clueless, so don’t expect him to know what to do once you start crying for him to come back to bed.

He’s learned to tell you every time he has to go for a bathroom break, even when you’re sleeping because you can tell.

Stan had gifted you a matching hat as his with different colors a while back; he can’t remember the last time he saw you without it.

He’s too scared to ask about it though, he doesn’t want you to take it as an insult.

He changed your contact name to parasite without thinking you would see it, you left him alone for a whole week straight.

Stan apologized for it so many times, it was kind of intense.

He got really used to you always being with him, so it just feels unnatural to have you gone from him.

“I swear i’ll be back quick. I just need some water..”

Kenny Mccormick

Kenny was never too touch starved, maybe a bit, but he loves it when you are since it’s just an excuse for him to show you more love.

From the amount of affection he gives you, it’s surprising that you still act like this.

You could message Kenny at a random our at night, expect him to be outside your window.

Both of you aren’t really that social, so you might just sit together at a lone table, not minding about anything else.

Kenny might rest a hand on your thigh, just to hold you over, might go higher if you’re wearing a skirt.

Similar to Stan, he can get really touchy as well. Any kind of touch is fine, but he likes to just focus on you the entire time.

Sends photos of himself to you when he’s away just to tease you, he finds it funny how annoyed you can get.

Feels a little bad afterwards, so Kenny shows up as quick as he can right after.

He takes a bunch of photos of you when you’re like this, just for fun.

Kenny probably will kiss you everywhere but your lips, telling you that you already got “enough” affection from him.

If you both ever have work that’s due, you’ll just ask for a hangout to work on that together.

It’s really just an excuse to be next to Kenny, he doesn’t mind it at all.

Kenny loves giving you head rubs, and he knows you like it as well.

Sometimes he ruffles your hair at the same time and it gets all messed up. He fixes it before you can say anything, and actually makes it look better.

You probably copy that exact hairstyle from then on, or make Kenny redo it for you.

Always open for late night hangouts, don’t be shy to invite him over.

“Do you think I look cute in this photo? I probably do.”

Wendy Testaburger

Wendy is a pretty busy girl, but she understands how it feels to be touch starved.

She tries not to stay away from you too much, just so that you can get the attention you deserve.

Wendy doesn’t want to give you too much though, the last time she did that her whole schedule was fucked up.

A simple kiss on the cheek is what she does most of the time until she comes back, she can tell how needy you can be.

Wendy ends up inviting you over on the days where you really need her, watching a movie together or even just cuddling if that’s what you need.

You’re one of her top priorities though, so she’s always making sure that you’re comfortable.

Wendy is the type of girl to lend you her beret, or just any piece of clothing to let you have a part of her.

You both exchange clothes all the time and it’s so fun.

You’re almost always sitting next to her, doesn’t matter where. She might get a little annoyed at first, but she knows it isn’t your fault.

Spam calling and messaging Wendy late at night would get her so pissed.

You know she doesn’t like getting woken up, but you should be grateful that she loves you because she lets you off the hook easier.

Wendy would definitely know how to deal with your emotions, especially on those days when you’re extra moody.

A good listener, but a good conversation starter. You love just listening to her talk, even if you’re only focused on her voice and not what she’s actually saying.

The whole time she was just trying to comfort you.

“Anything specific you wanna do? Or maybe we can just cuddle..”

[ilykaveh]

⭒ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ! I WANNA BE A WH0RE !

[ ALHAITHAM AS YOUR TUTOR . ]

content · fem ! reader, name calling, bimbo reader, alcohol mention, sub ! reader, teasing, degradation, manipulation, alhaitham is a bit toxic, in public, possessiveness, taking and sharing photos without consent, threesome mention, toy use.

· alhaitham hates socializing, let's make that clear. while you may have bumped into him a few times in the corridor or at mandatory school events, the first time that you actually met him was when you were over at his dorm.

· you'd spent a night at a frat party where you had bumped into his roommate, kaveh. the two of you hit it off over a few drinks and a couple of rounds of beer pong — before you knew it, you were on the way back to his place and getting a little bit handsy in the back of the uber ride.

· while you both intended on getting laid that evening, the reality was that kaveh passed out the moment that his head hit the pillow. regardless, you lay in his bed beside him, too tired to care, and fell asleep for the night.

· the next morning, you woke up to cold and unfamiliar sheets. upon checking your phone, you discovered that it was way past two p.m., and you’d missed your morning lecture. after picking up your discarded clothes and any other belongings, you stumbled into the common area whereby you were greeted by your stoic, grey-haired classmate.

· his nose was buried in a book as he sprawled out on the couch, and despite your efforts to make a stealthy exit, you knocked over a rather gaudy lamp. alhaitham’s quick reflexes surprised you as, without moving his gaze from the page, he reached out and grabbed the object before it could hit the ground. you stood there in shock for a moment as he looked at you up and down before breaking the silence, bluntly informing you that kaveh had a seminar to attend.

· the two of you made some light conversation, though it was really just alhaitham making short responses and you trying to be as polite as you could. in all honesty, the man was intrigued by you. he was used to girls in his classes being all over him as a result of his academic prowess and his above average physique. you, however… there was something special about you.

· he ended up inviting you to get some coffee and to go over the notes from the lecture that you missed, and of course you agreed, with the exception that you could go home first to get changed and grab your laptop. although it very clearly wasn’t a date, you hated going out without looking your very best. to your surprise, alhaitham walked you back to your dorm and waited for you to get yourself ready.

· alhaitham clearly overestimated how quickly he would be done with this. reviewing the material covered this morning would typically take him an hour at most, whereas now the pair of you were on your third round of coffee and barely approaching halfway. hell, he was wondering how you ever managed to get into university.

· ever the sceptic, he even debated whether or not you were simply faking your stupidity to get closer to him, but by the way that you left for the bathroom for the sixth- no, seventh time just to redo your lip gloss, he doubted that. how drunk did kaveh have to be to bring you home? maybe you were just an easy fuck; it seemed that much was apparent to alhaitham. he cursed under his breath as he found himself contemplating how much fun his roommate had had the night before with you. he wasn’t a sleeze, but you were practically parading yourself around like a piece of meat in that short pink skirt.

· one coffee date soon turned into permanent tutoring. alhaitham told himself that he was doing it for your good rather than any selfish reasons — surely it's better that you study with him instead of some pervert that would gladly take sex as a payment for their time, right? or at least, that's how it was at first.

· it didn't take too long for alhaitham to become frustrated with your incompetence. he'd explain a given subject three or four times, and you would barely understand the basics even then. everything came to head with him snapping and running his hands through his hair as he called you a good for nothing slut, even going as far as to (rhetorically) ask if you would do a better job if he questioned you whilst having you bent over the table and his cock buried deep inside your whore cunt.

· at first, you were slightly taken aback; it was strange to see a man that typically kept his emotions under lock and key display such an outburst. then you thought about it a little more… maybe he was just giving you a study tip! that sounded more like the alhaitham you knew! he'd never degrade you over nothing, would he?!

· so you did what any sane person would do (or rather, what you thought any sane person would do) and said that you could try that, if he thought that it would help. alhaitham internally rolled his eyes, mentally cursing you for being so astronomically gullible. but after all of the strain that you've put him through, the countless hours of revising powerpoints and testing you with his personal collection of flash cards… he agreed.

· a pg-rated study session soon transformed into something out of a cheap porno. alhaitham prepped you a little, making you sit on the desk that you were using while he fingered you, all the while he recited facts for you to repeat back to him. by the time that you were ready, having reached a point dangerously close to coming undone, he leaned back in his seat and patted his lap, motioning for you to sit on his muscular thigh.

· you didn’t even bother to put your panties back on as you sauntered over to sit on his lap. your skirt rode up, leaving your wet cunt exposed. alhaitham undid the button on his jeans and pulled out his half-hard cock. your jaw almost dropped at the sight of it - it was certainly thicker than any other dick you’d taken, though the length is really what made you drool. your tutor teased your neediness a little before presenting you his idea: he was going to quiz you on some of the material, and if you answered right, you’d get his cock. simple enough… right?

· however, it would be stupid for alhaitham not to take full advantage of the dripping cunt in front of him, and the needy little doll that came attached. every time that you got a question wrong, or if he caught you daydreaming about his cock, he’d punish you. it was lighter at first, for example he reached under your shirt and groped at your breast. after five… no, six, questions, you made the mistake of hesitating and the man grabbed the base of his cock, then slapping the appendage against your pussy. he only smirked as you whined and bucked your hips against him, only for him to remind you that he still had a couple more questions to ask you.

· it was over an hour before you finally got to the end of his impromptu exam, and your demeanour was now akin to a desperate puppy. a pout had taken over your features, and your eyes were becoming increasingly glassy with tears threatening to spill if you didn’t get what you wanted - alhaitham was merely amused by what a delightful situation he’d found himself in, a pretty bimbo sat on his lap and begging him to be touched. you were putty in his very hands, so he saw it fit to allow you to ride him - after all, he was the one doing you a favour, right?

· these little study sessions soon improved your grades, and you were over the moon! upon receiving your results, you ran up to the taller man, who had to catch you before you both toppled over onto the grass courtyard besides the lecture hall. although alhaitham knew that he should be happy for you, the improvement instilled a fear in him: if you were smart enough to get these grades on you own, perhaps you wouldn’t need him anymore.

· that little thought sowed the seed in his mind that soon turned into a fully framed plan. sure, some would argue that it was a little bit manipulative, but it was for your own good, so he wasn’t causing any harm… right? and it certainly wasn’t done with a single ounce of malice, and you seemed to enjoy this little arrangement, so he continued to reason with himself that everything was perfectly fine.

· alhaitham’s scheme was simple: amongst all of the correct information that he taught you during your study sessions, he’d pepper in a few incorrect tidbits. it would prevent you from ever hitting full marks, and you could continue getting your pretty princess cunt stuffed full three or four times a week. he hated to admit it, but your adorable face as he pinned you down against his mattress and rutted into you whilst you recited what you’ve learnt to him. he always made sure that you thanked him for being such a wonderful tutor, and he even fucked you so good that you would agree with every single degrading phrase that slipped past his lips; it ranged from how you really were only good for getting fucked and that maybe you should drop out and become a full time whore to him reminding you that the only way you ever learnt anything was by spreading your legs.

· before you knew it, you were completely and utterly wrapped around alhaitham’s finger. you agreed to anything that he said if he promised that it would help you become smarter and would improve your grades! you even heard him out (and later went along with his plans) when he presented you with a cute pink dildo that you could slip into your panties before a test, and the idea was that you would recall answers easier because you were so used to learning with your cunt wrapped around his own cock.

· that being said, alhaitham was equally enamoured with you. he slowly allowed you to coax him out of his reclusive shell without even realising it himself. you would drag him along to social gatherings and parties - he told himself that he was doing it with your best interest at heart, after all anything could happen to such a dimwitted sweetheart like yourself, especially when you saw nothing wrong with wearing a miniskirt and a crop top out in the february cold. and no, it wasn’t like those fishnet tights or obnoxiously large white boots were doing anything to keep you warm at all.

· various classmates and other students on campus soon had you pegged as alhaitham’s girl, the precious, doe-eyed lamb that followed him around wherever he went and vice versa. other men were too scared to approach you as you had a scowling, grey-haired guard dog few paces behind you shooting them a death glare, and all the girls were insanely jealous about how you managed to bag the man that they’d been fawning over for so long. they even went as far as to gossip about how loose your cunt must be considering you’ve slept with half the guys on campus before him, and that you’d probably get bored and jump onto the next cock within a matter of weeks. alhaitham was quick to ensure that you never heard any of this, no matter how true the aforementioned statements were. a quick few threats here and a him flashing a picture that he’d secretly taken of your cunt struggling to take his cock shut them up rather fast.

· the only person that alhaitham allowed to hear you fuck though, was his roommate. in fact, he’d specifically speed up his pace in order to force louder noises out of your sweet throat in order to remind kaveh of what he had missed out on. he wasn’t totally mean though, no. because alhaitham promised that if you managed to pass this year’s finals, he’d let the blonde join in on your fun for an evening.

[deoidesign]

Happy webcomics day!!!

I'm not home (on a trip right now with family), but I still want to talk a little bit about my process, so I did what I could to find some wip shots 🧡

Plus, I'd also like to update my extremely patient readers with a little taste of what's to come!!!

Step one, of course, is writing.

When I'm writing I have four documents open. A "dump" document, a "yes this!" Document, an outline document, and a drawing canvas!

In the dump document, I put ANYTHING. complete stream of consciousness. The 'yes this' document is where I put anything useful from the dump document, and the outline is, of course, the outline. The drawing canvas is for me to sketch out problems and ideas and get sort of a different angle on things, since I can't really visualize.

Once I have a book completely written, I start thumbnailing!

My thumbnails pretty much look like this. Text, sketchy poses, indications of expression and maybe environment...

I thumbnail the entire book at once. I don't let myself do any edits on it until it's done, but I take note of edits I'd like to make! Then, once the first draft is out, I edit.

I'll move entire scenes, delete whole episodes, bring in bits from the end to have proper foreshadowing... Etc! It's a long process that makes my arcs feel much more complete and something I can be really proud of.

I can only do this when I'm really ahead, though, so that's why I've been on a long hiatus!!! I was forced to work without my process for a few arcs, and the difference is so huge to me that I refuse to let myself do it again. It makes a loner hiatus, but work way more worth waiting for!

Next step is lineart!

Yes, I skip sketches! I go right into lines.

I save every head I've ever drawn, and that lets me copy paste in a basic head angle. Then I redo the face, fix up the hair, etc. so it fits my panel, and then I draw the rest of the body!

This seriously saves me so much time, but less so for the drawing (i still draw a ton of heads and I'm very fast) and more just for helping me skip sketching entirely!

Then I do character flats, which since all my lines are closed that goes pretty quickly (slowest part is Steve's hair, I refuse to use a brush cause every one I've made looks terrible!!!)

And then I draw the backgrounds!

Which, I keep layered, clean, and HUGE so I can use them throughout the arc.

I used to feel bad doing this, but then I realized... It's not like backgrounds "change" irl. So why make them change in my comics...? It saves me so much time, but it ALSO lets me put in more detail per background! I draw probably 3 very large backgrounds per episode like this, and then I draw maybe 5-10 unique backgrounds for single panels per episode as well. I save these too, but they're rarely re-used.

And then my panels are done!!!

So there's a bit of my process for you all!!!

Happy webcomics day 🧡🧡🧡

And here's my comic, if you haven't read it and want to see the end result of this process, or if you have read it and would enjoy a re-read with the extra knowledge:

Or, if you would prefer books I have those too!

Happy to elaborate on any step, as well!

I make comics extremely quickly and as my full time job, and my process allows me to easily manipulate my format as well. I'm happy to share any of my knowledge if you have questions!!!

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

if you're still doing requests- nsfw alphabet with switzerland 👉👈

i am my motivation just doesn't agree if that makes sense and most of my requests i'm either far too ambitious with and keep re-writing or are just not something i'm interested in rn. thank u for handing me an excuse to write about the guy. was an easy and fun write. might have minor errors. very sorry this took a bit ! (also- should i redo the yandere alphabet with him? i feel its REALLY ooc now that i re-read it..)

Switzerland NSFW Alphabet

warnings : nsfw ofc, nothing intense otherwise though. made him dominant here, request again if you want him submissive.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Not the most extra individual, but it's definitely not non-existent or anything. he will be ensuring you're not in pain, not thirsty, not uncomfortable.. He'll probably want to clean up and whatnot though once confirmed that you're all good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his own eyes, they're always useful and a lot of his activities frequently require good eyesight, which he has. Definitely enjoys his hands too though, he's pretty used to work that requires physical labor so they're helpful too.

He's never said it, but it's easy to tell your thighs and hips are a favorite of his regarding activities such as these. His hands frequently drift there, and so does his line of sight when he thinks you're not looking.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers it inside, just more convenient in his opinion. He'll understand if you want it outside though, then it'll usually just end up somewhere else on your body, no particular areas of interest really.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Although he feels really creepy for doing it, if you gave him literally any shirts, pants, or anything along those lines as a gift, he likely smelt it while jerking off. It just really gets him going, and he hates it (loves it, just won't admit it to himself).

Also, side note, has thought about fucking in the forest. He usually doesn't like risks, but he feels really in his element when out in the woods and his mind can't help but drift to such thoughts.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Unexperienced, but not really dumb to what he should do and the alike. Might secretly read a bit to learn what all he should look out for, or do. Keeps looking away every ten seconds though throughout his research because he's sort of a prude.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Usually goes for Missionary. He's a very simple man, and doesn't like to get too weird when it's up to positions, so it just fits him. Would also be willing to do some other ones though, as long as they aren't too squished or require too much flexibility. It's not like he can't handle either of those, it's just very distracting to him and this is definitely something he likes to focus on.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not a silly guy in general, even less lighthearted when having sex. Finds it awkward if you make any jokes, but wouldn't mind if you laughed at any accidents or anything like one of you slipping.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn't see the point to shaving that which very few people will ever see, but he also doesn't like being overly hairy. He keeps it trimmed to a shorter length, just seems like a waste of time to do anything more. It's the same colour as his hair too, not even like the slightest difference.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not overly romantic, but it's the small things he does that shows his affection. Always keeps an eye out to make sure you're comfortable, has a tendency to adjust you without asking just to be sure you're in a nice spot. Still embarrased to kiss you, by the way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only when he finds it neccessary. Switzy is a rather prudent man, and sexual activity doesn't really land on his mind that often. Sometimes though, he does have those straying thoughts. Ones he has to handle himself. Ones he internally punishes himself for, but exist nevertheless.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sorta likes the idea of outdoor sex. Just scared of getting caught, is all. He's very much a fan of nature, and he's spent lots of time in it. He largely prefers it there over cities any day of the week. So maybe on some of his property, further out, after he's scoped the whole area and put a million "no trespassing" signs up. (And likely brought a gun.. Just incaese.)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, usually. Bathroom, occasionally. Elsewhere, in your dreams. Too horrified at the idea of his sister coming to visit him just to get scarred for life. Hates to do anything outside his/your own home, ignoring the above section of course (when he gets brave enough to test that out).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As I might've mentioned earlier, he loves your thighs and hips. Size doesn't matter, scarring doesn't matter.. HE JUST LOVES THEM! If visible, they instantly catch his attention, and sort of distract him. Only a teensy bit though, he's not gawking at you or anything.. Also likes it if you give him lots of big kisses while you rub him up. Anywhere on his body too, really, it's his favorite thing. (Even more- he loves if you squeeze his butt. He might huff a bit if you do, but trust, he secretely adores it.)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that risky. In any way you can think of. Literally all forms of risks are a major no for him. Physically risky, reputation risky.. All of them.

Also, anything gross. Won't go along with watersports, emetophilia.. Anything along those lines are a no-no for him. Would completely wreck his mood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sort of nervous on recieving oral? Not really for himself too, he just doesn't want you to feel physical discomfort or choke or anything.. It's not really his thing. Totally up for giving, though. You might not expect it, but he's actually rather big on giving. Would honestly be satisfied if that's all you two do for the night.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tends to gear towards a happy medium pace most of the time (exceptions can be made..). Sensual isn't really a word to describe it, nor is it rough. Not harsh, but not fluid. He feels if he goes rough he'll hurt you, and that's really not something he wants. But if he goes slow it just makes him feel shy, if that makes sense. It gives you the opportunity to really focus in on him, and he isn't exactly talkative in sex either outside simple questions and the alike, so it makes him feel awkard. A speed that's gentle but not too calm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's not a fan, and he'll rarely ever agree to go along with them. If he does though, then those are the times that the exceptions mentioned above happen. Though, admittedly, even though he isn't neccessarily a fan, he doesn't hate them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Okay, unlike above, he's actually a real hater of risks. And there's really no elaborating on it either, as it's pretty much already been covered. Will not agree to risks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While usually he tends to try and keep it at one to three rounds, he can do more. He's a physically abled man, and has quite a bit of stamina due to all the training he does and the alike. If he really wanted to he could go for.. Five? Probably could do seven, but he's just not that much of a sex fanatic, so that won't really happen.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would never buy any. Why get such a thing if he's already equipped with parts for this activity? Might be willing to try some simpler things though, if you get it. Don't expect him to go for any BDSM stuff though, that's just really not his thing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all. He simply doesn't have the patience for it. Teasing him does get you somewhere though, if you're interested. Just don't expect him to humor you for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to be as silent as possible. Naturally, he isn't that noisy anyways, but it still embarrasess him. Panting, grunting. Maybe lower-sounding very muffled whimpering (only if you work to get it out of him).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has considered jealousy sex.. On multiple occassions. Only racked up the courage for it once. Just finds it too silly and stupid to do it any other time.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Uncut, six inches. His pubic hair is a slightly darker blond, but similar to his hair. Only keeps it trimmed since he just doesn't get the point to shaving. Too much drama for something that doesn't really cause any difference besides aesthetics.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not high. It's non-existant, supposedly. It's mostly just due to the fact he chooses to ignore it instead of actually indulging himself in sexual pleasure though! Realistically, it's likely just a bit below average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he does go to sleep afterwards, it's likely after a couple of hours. He has a few things to do beforehand so he won't get to it immediately. Would definitely stick with you for a bit after you fall asleep though, even if he himself decides to not rest.

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[guppybibi]

SCREAMINF i loved that akito fic …… umm …,,.. can i req another

recently i’ve been learning iz*one’s secret story of the swan and ngl im kind of becoming a danceaholic so… this is basically just a self indulgent request

can you do toya + a gf who overdances like too much? like, legs are shaking, stomach hurting from holding her core, one knee red and bruised from redoing the choreography 45 times .. (not projecting at all)

and basically just him taking care of you if that’s ok!! ty and uhhh swan swan swan

oh and also also if ur taking anons can i be ☀️ anon? if not just ignore that ,,,,, take ur time ily 🫶🏻

𖦹 pairing: Toya Aoyagi x fem!reader

𖦹 content: Toya being the biggest sweetheart, mostly fluff with some hints of Toya’s past !!

𖦹 notes: haii thank chu ☀️anon! I didn't really focus on the dancing part (since I have no idea how it works..i can't dance.) and mostly just focused on toya taking care of u so i hope that's fine!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ

Toya can be described with a fair lot of words, and ‘supportive’ is no doubt one of them. So in no world would he try to stop you from taking these dance lessons, I mean–you supported his passion in street music through and through so why wouldn't he do so as well? Well it didn't start so serious, for the first few weeks you would simply just search up some dance tutorials on YouTube and follow each step with the perfect amount of grace needed. He found it eyecatching if he was going to be honest, the fact that you're pursuing something you want to actually pursue in the first place makes his heart swell. When you told him you signed up for a dance class he was beaming, he didn't give it a second thought at all, even if he did it was entirely up to you.

He wasn't going to stop you, no–not now, not ever. A good relationship allows both people to grow in all aspects possible, not bring them down or keep them there at the bottom. But when you came back from one of these lessons with a bunch of bruises and an aching leg, this was enough to ring an alarm in his mind. “Did you trip over?” He knows this was an obviously stupid question, no normal person would simply just trip and get this hurt. Unless you were accident prone or something, so he shouldn't jump into conclusions.

“Mmh, you could say that.” What a strangely vague answer, was it something embarrassing? Did you fall over while stretching or something? He sighs, not bothering to push you into saying it any further, though he knew deep down it was probably because of all the dancing you've been doing. He’s going to scold you later, what matters now is the fact you're hurt and he needed to help. “Lay down, please.” He requests before going over to the kitchen, the amount of trust he has that you’ll actually do what he says is worth congratulating. Technically you could've just not followed him but his trust isn't worth shattering, so you do as said.

A few minutes later he comes back with an ice pack and a cup of ginger tea, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he sees you sitting prettily on the couch. He sits right next to you, propping a pillow under your legs for elevation. “I’m not sick y’know, I'm perfectly fine.” You receive the sound of him clicking his tongue, shaking his head as he grabs the ice pack, placing them on your numerous bruises.

“It's nothing too serious–” He cuts you off, mentally hoping that you didn't feel offended with how blunt he is or the deadpanned expression on his face.

“Yet, not yet. It's better to take care of it now before letting it get worse. You can keep going to these classes but promise to at least rest when you get home?” He asks, wishing for some kind of agreement with you. He knew how painful overworking yourself was, he knew too well. The only difference here is that this was something you were actually passionate about, so it must've been your willpower to continue. “Fine, I promise..if you watch the choreography we did earlier!” Making him chuckle and shake his head side to side in defeat, he couldn't say no to you!

“Aren't you tired from repeating the same moves?” “Nope, I could keep doing them if my body let me!” How hard headed..if he wasn't here you would've probably danced until your legs fell off. “Sure, show me and then you rest, ‘kay?” You nod and stand up enthusiastically, preparing the music on your phone before you start the routine.

Your moves were graceful, almost like the gorgeous yet dangerous waves of the ocean. Though he did silently cringe at all the marks on your legs, at least you were happy. That's all that mattered to him. He was captivated by you, he doesn't even notice how you stop moving and the music stops playing. “Did I do well, hun?” You asked, trying your hardest to keep your feet on the floor and not start jumping. The tip of his ears turn red, not so used to the loving pet name. “Mhm, you did wonderful, love. Now, get to rest. I'll mix something up for dinner–” “WAIT–No! I’ll cook, please let me cook–” He shoots you a confused look, making you smile sheepishly.

“I can assure you I can cook something simple for you.” “Without burning down the house or giving me food poisoning?” “What…?” “Uhh haha, nothing! Um..I’ll lay back down..” You gulp, instantly praying for your already aching stomach.

He may not be the best at showering you with comforting words, but the way he treats you like a shard of delicate glass and all of his other little actions was enough to prove how much he adored you.

[blue-slxt]

FWB

*Request: maybe some idea for u : feisty humain!reader having mood swings w her best friend (Loak or Neteyam) because she is in her ovulating week and he teases her until making her tell him why she is acting weird like that today. then he asks her to explain the "symptoms" and she says that she want to fuck more and that she’s more attracted to people during this time and he asks if it’s applied to him too & u already know the end of it🤭🤭 hope u can take something from it, xo 😘*

Okay, so this is my first human!reader fic so go easy on me 😅 I might redo this one in the future with Neteyam because I’m curious about how much different it would turn out if I wrote for him instead. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one 🤗 All characters are aged up.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut.

Pandora was beautiful. Even though you had to admire its beauty through the shield of your mask, it still left you breathless every day. Looking out at the bioluminescent flora and fauna every night through your bedroom window was unlike anything you had ever seen on Earth. You wanted to be out in it every day. But today you were hit with a painful reminder that you were human.

You jumped out of your sleep drenched in sweat. What were you dreaming about? You couldn’t fully remember. The memory came in flashes and blurs. Moans, smacks, and heat is all you’re able to really make out before you lose the visual. You suck in a sharp breath feeling a dull ache in your breasts. You cautiously press on one trying to figure out what was causing the pain. You find nothing and brush it off as a consequence of sleeping on your stomach. When you make your way to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you strip off your sleep clothes and notice a giant wet spot on your panties. That’s weird. And then it hits you. You check your app on your phone and realize what week it is. You’re ovulating. You roll your eyes and make a mental note to plug in your toys before you leave your room.

After a shower and brushing your teeth, you go join everyone for breakfast. While you’re fixing your coffee, a familiar voice enters the lab. Everybody greets Lo’ak as he walks through the cafeteria over to you. “Hey, I found this awesome lake with a cliff that’s perfect for diving. We’ve gotta check it out!” he’s oozing enthusiasm and excitement and it’s adorable. All of a sudden, it feels like there’s a throbbing between your legs.

“Sounds cool, Lo’ak. Maybe another day though.” You say about to walk away, but he blocks your path.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve already been waiting for like 2 days because of training. We’ve gotta go now.” “I’m not in the mood Lo’ak.” Your irritation is growing. You loved Lo’ak. He was your absolute best friend, but he was persistent. And while that could be endearing in certain circumstances, it could also be kind of a nuisance. Right now, you really just needed to get back to your room and take care of your little problem.

“What’s up with you today? I thought you’d be dying to go.” He’s starting to get a little concerned looking at your face. “Your face is getting red.”

You can’t handle the way he’s looking at you right now, “Nothing is ‘up’ with me Lo’ak so will you drop it please?” you push past him and continue down the hall to your room.

Lo’ak follows right behind you though. “I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s wrong.” You roll your eyes as he follows you into your room. “What? Somebody eat the last of your snacks or something?”

You huff out a big sigh and set your coffee on your desk. “If you really must know, I’m ovulating.”

His face screws in confusion. “Okay…What does that mean? Is that a human thing?”

Right. You and Lo’ak are so close that sometimes you forget he is actually an alien. “How do I explain it….it’s like when a na’vi woman goes into heat, but for humans we also can get bloated and moody and crampy and a whole bunch of other stuff. You follow?” you do your best to try and explain to him and his eyes jump around while he’s trying to make the connections in his mind. ”So you’re in a bad mood because you’re in heat?” he does his best to try and make sense of your situation.

“Basically, yeah.”

“So how do you make it better?” he crosses his legs making himself comfortable on your bed like he often did.

“There’s not really a way to make it better. I kind of have to just ride it out. Unless, I got pregnant, but it’s not like that’s gonna be happening anytime soon. But I’m irritated because I’m insanely horny and I can’t really get any relief.”  You brush your hair to the side with your fingers trying to soothe yourself and Lo’ak watches your hair brush over your neck and expose your shoulders.

“Well, what if I helped you out?” he asks casually.

Your body freezes in place. “Lo’ak I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“That’s why you’re not asking, I’m offering. I mean what kind of friend would I be if I knew I could help you out and I did nothing?” Lo’ak had always kind of had a thing for you. You were his closest friend and he found a comforting familiarity in you that he didn’t feel with other na’vi thanks to his slightly more human traits.

You think about his offer for a split second before snapping back to your senses. “How would that even work? I think you forget that you’re like 8 feet tall. You would quite literally split me in half.”

He chuckles knowing that you’re not wrong. “Just lay down and let me handle it.”

You’re skeptical. “What are you going to do?”

“Just lay down. You trust me, right?” You slowly make your way over to your bed next to him. “Yeah…”

“Okay then. So don’t be so uptight.” You lay back and let your eyes scan the ceiling of your room. Your breathing gets faster when you feel Lo’ak hook his fingers in the waist band of your shorts and panties and slide them down your legs. You close your eyes trying not to focus on the fact that your best friend was now staring down your exposed cunt.

This is crossing so many lines, but your mood would only get worse if you were to stop now. Work yourself up just to rip away your chance at real relief? You weren’t in the mood for edging today. There was no turning back now.

Meanwhile Lo’ak is wide-eyed as he stares at your body. He’d never tell you this, but he had imagined you exactly like this countless times. When he’d come to see you and you’d be dressed in barely-there comfy clothes, when you’d bend over to pick something up, when the front of your shirt would fall a little lower than it should and he would catch a peek at your cleavage. The restraint he had to hold on to was legendary. And now here he was licking his lips greedily as he almost gets stuck just staring at your form that squirmed with anticipation and nerves.

He lowers his head between your thighs and carefully swipes his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your whole body jolts from the feeling and a small moan escapes. Lo’ak’s ears flick in your direction and he’s now painfully aware of how hard he is right now. He continues lapping at your soaked entrance closing his eyes to savor the sweet taste on his tongue. He groans against your heat and the vibrations make your hips grind against his face. “Mmf…Fuck…Lo’ak!” your voice comes out in a breathy whine.

One of his fingers teases at your entrance before he slowly slides it inside of you. His finger is huge stretching you deliciously. You look down at his face and he’s already watching you. The eye contact makes you lose it. “Yes! Yes Lo’ak! Right there! Oh, fuck you’re gonna make me cum right there!”

“Shit, so fucking tight. Cum for me.” He says between sucking on your clit. It’s too much. The way his finger curls up to press against the spongey part inside your walls and the sound of him French kissing your cunt sends you over the edge. Your body shakes violently and your walls squeeze around his finger. Your head falls back while you reach your peak and subsequently come down.

Lo’ak reluctantly pulls his mouth off of you and pulls his finger out of you and watches your chest rise and fall rapidly while you regain your composure. He tries to position himself so that he can hide his bulge not wanting to let on just how badly he wanted to fuck you dumb right now.

“Feel better?”

You lazily nod your head at him.

“Good. So can we go diving now?” he tries to lighten the mood before any kind of conversation can follow what just happens. You’re not really ready to talk about it yet either.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He jumps up in excitement and you get dressed and find your mask.

“Thanks, Lo’ak.” Even if you weren’t really ready to talk about it yet, you still felt like you should at least thank him.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure.” He shoots you a playful wink before walking off.

[im-out-of-it]

season 1, episode 6 “of men and angels” discussion list

so I just want to start this off by thanking anyone who is actually reading my ridiculous and stupid thoughts because I know season one is long as fuck. but the reason it’s so long is because in the show and the books, Alec’s identity isn’t really brought up that often. in the first five episodes, it’s heavily focused on clary being a shadowhunter and jace. but now, Alec is getting more screen time 🫶🏼

1. Magnus opening up his home even after Valentine is hunting warlocks doesn’t get enough love. he could be locking himself up, hiding, but he is not only helping shadowhunters but also another wolf. Magnus has such a big heart 🥹

2. now jace is all like but I can’t ask Alec, he and I are fighting. and whose fault is that?

3. “same old judgmental mom to me.”- Izzy’s relationship with Maryse. Isabelle gets ignored by Maryse and gets treated as everything she does is somehow insulting

4. “He can call me when he’s done chasing the little girl” ok alec go off 🔥 he’s right though. Jace has thrown Alec to the side and expects Alec to be okay with it.

5. another rare smile out of Alec 🥹

6. Robert is now saying they can’t have someone the entire shadow realm is looking for outside of the institute. then call jace and take it up with him. y’all think Alec hasn’t tried? Alec is done trying with Jace

7. Alec: you need to come back to the institute. Jace: you need to help me first. seriously? everything that comes out of jace’s mouth is a cry for help. have you thought about actually being there for Alec, jace? I don’t know maybe being his friend and taking threats serious?

8. I couldn’t find the gif but Simon saying how jace treats Alec like a lap dog is my favorite line from Simon. all jace does is tell Alec to do this and do that. he never asks if he can, he just tells Alec he needs something and uses their parabatai bond as a statement, of alec will do this for me. Alec doesn’t do anything for himself, it’s for others. and this is just how clary treats Simon as well. she expects Simon to do what she needs but I don’t ever see her asking him or even asking Simon what he needs or wants.

9. shadowhunters are supposed to protect the shadow world but the way they talk to mundanes and downworlders shows the opposite. Jace calls Simon mundie, mundane and clary calls Magnus warlock in this episode.

10. Robert saying the lightwoods are the best of the shadowhunters- he’s not wrong 😌 but I’m biased

11. side note- I like how the show focuses more on the lightwoods. even later on when they try to make herondales seem “superior” izzy is like we’re royalty basically. it’s always funny to me when they try to make jace or any herondale seem better but who was always saving his ass or the day? LIGHTWOODS. put some respect on the name please

12. Magnus coming in with the tea this whole episode!!!!!!!! “Shadowhunters believe in the law as absolute. They could never conceive of one of their own as going astray.” the clave believed when Valentine was murdering downworlders and fabricating some story as if the shadowhunters were the innocent and victim party. because how dare a shadowhunter be evil?????????

13. “I have followed every rule. I have given up everything.”- alec. wait until you find out your parents were in the circle 😭

14. I get why Alec is upset because while he’s been dealing with EVERYTHING, izzy gets to be a diplomat while he gets sent off to a chapel. no wonder Alec is upset.

15. CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW GORGEOUS MAGNUS LOOKS????? HE IS KILLING IT IN THE FASHION DEPARTMENT

16. VIRGIN SHADOWHUNTER ENERGY COMING RIGHT UP

17. MAGNUS IS HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE

18. poor max with the runes 😭😭😭 I think he senses tension in the family so he’s just trying to do his part

19. did clary really just ask if Luke is her father? y’all look nothing alike. this girl keeps showing us how much of a brain she doesn’t have

so my tumblr messed up so I had to redo most of these 😭 but part 2 coming soon

[hollycircling]

would you consider dropping some tips on how you color? your art always has such a nice feeling to it

Thank you so much, and yes, absolutely! 

So... I have been agonizing over how to answer this question for over a week because I tend to make a lot of my major decisions based on what looks and feels good to me in the moment. It’s sort of hard to explain. Then I started getting philosophical with it (“how does one color? How do I explain aesthetic?”), and I started rambling, and had to cut the answer way, way, way down lol.

But here’s what I can help with right now. I think the most important part of how I color is my tools and what they allow me to do. These are currently my favorite brushes to use: 

From top to bottom, I use Kyle T’s Gouache for just about everything. A lot of my recent pieces are done entirely in that– I love the chunky texture and how the pressure mimics traditional gouache. It’s great for children’s book illustrations, and filling linework, and realistic portraits. She is my soft wife and I love her. 

I practically never use the default hard round. Ignore that. 

The roller brush is another one I use for painting. It was my go-to before KT’s gouache, so you’ll find it a lot in my older work (and as a big texture thing in my current works). The “Sampled Tip” below that one I usually use for children’s book styled illustrations. It’s like a really dense, waxy crayon, so it’s fun for textured lines and details.

I always paint in my own shadows and highlights, but I like to use the soft round if I want to blow the shadow or highlight out. It’s for extra large areas.

And finally my pencil. I use it for sketching as well as linework, if I plan on doing a linework-centric piece. I don’t think there’s much of a difference between the two there… one is probably smoother than the other. 

______________

The reason why I like textured, pressure-sensitive brushes so much is because they’re important to how I paint. When I blend, I don’t use a blender brush or a smudge tool. What I do is layer two colors– lightly– then use the eyedropper to select the color between them and continue painting with it. That’s probably the key to most of my work. I’ve gotten pretty fast at it, so I’m constantly selecting colors from the painting and reusing it throughout my painting. 

I still use the color-wheel to hand-pick what I think will look best, though. This is probably going to be a really frustrating answer, but I choose color palettes based on basic color/lighting theory combined with personal aesthetic preference. It can take some studying (of both theory and other artists’ work). If you’re ever looking for a really great reference on the former subjects, I highly recommend Color and Light by James Gurny. Even if you’re not into watercolor or dinosaurs or realism, the guy is a master at explaining all that different stuff in depth. 

Shape and negative space are also pretty important to me, but that's a whole other thing. And as a side-note, I recommend following more children’s book illustrators. Their work may look simple, but a lot of intention goes into how they use color, shape, space, and texture. 

Also, on texture, I hand-draw most of mine. I love to add little scratches and drops and splashes when the painting is almost over. It's one of my favorite things to do :')

____

Now, the other most important tip:

Once I’m happy with the sketch/linework, and once I’ve laid down the basic colors of my piece, I do a Really Terrible Thing. I become a graphic designer’s worst nightmare and collapse everything onto one layer. 

Then I paint directly on top of it, linework and all.

I do this for a lot of reasons, but mostly because 1) my tiny brain is overwhelmed by the clutter of too many layers, and 2) it forces me to approach a piece as if it was traditional media– a process which I find a lot more comfortable and rewarding. I paint right on top of the base colors, and right on top of the linework, effectively redoing and cleaning up what I already have there. Even if I'm working with a blank background, I'll paint a new blank one on top because it gives the feeling of a more unified piece, if that makes sense.

Basically, I approach my drawings as if I’m using traditional media. I like chunky brushes, utilizing (what I personally think are) interesting color combinations and textures, and smashing everything down onto one page so I can just paint. 

Anyway, please let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like me to go into detail on, any pieces of mine you’d like to know how exactly I went about it, etc etc etc. I’m happy to answer ^^

[kalisseo]

Honestly I wanna know more about your au Joan

oughhh Joan.... I've been neglecting her....

buuuutttt the most developed stage of her is when she's freshly unfrozen, she goes through a lot internally

joan can't process waking up in the future, in the early stages of the au toots died so she also had the grief of that. in the current lore she still has him, so she's grateful that at least something hasn't changed

the psilly legs thing doesn't happen, but she still has that whole arc of being nostalgic

when she wakes up, she's confused about everything that's new, also she's confused about her feelings for abe and jfk, she decides to date him to move on but that makes her worse

basically her same worries about stopping being her own person, on top of that they don't have much in common or to talk about, and she feels used, also even though jfk tries to get her interests, he simply doesn't share them and doesn't get them, so that makes feel Joan isolated, eventually it gets too much for her and she dumps him because she's unhappy

she's also harriet's friend, and she's happy to have her because she's kind of a guide for her, also they actually share some interests, but their personalities clash sometimes , and they still have an argument over the school musical

Also her make over is bc of Harriet!

after summer, once classes start again, she meets Vlad, and they start as friends, their friendship goes smoothly because unlike with Harriet, they have more similar visions about what they want to do with their art

eventually joan and abe date, another failed relationship, but this time no because she's unhappy but because they don't really love each other romantically

they are happy! they each other's company and appreciate each other, but there's no romantic feeling. Abe was the one who confessed, and joan accepted because why wouldn't she? what she wanted all along is right in front of her, why would she reject it? also during that time she's not as close with harriet (note: the redo au has two versions/timelines/routes, this depends of which one is happening) so again, she's nostalgic and can't identify her feelings

they break up, but in good terms, again they weren't really unhappy, so they keep being good friends!

joan is in a lot of relationships, after this she dates vlad, I still haven't decided in what stages of s3 this happens but it happens

I don't like it that much that she's in a lot of relationships tbh, but Im still thinking if killing off joanfk, but I like them as worst relationship ever, and joanabe it just feels wrong for them to never date, even if they break up

I don't even remember why vladarc started but I'm too attached to this point to not make them canon, sigh

but yeah, the relationships she has affected her a lot 💔💔💔 someone save her