#it came with a few watercolours

[soggypotatoes]

so I've been saving up for a while to get myself this art kit for my bday present to myself, it's not huge but yeah anyway it came in stock so I bought it!!

it's multimedia and an artist teaches you through a workbook how they use the mediums together. ive started it, it's weird cause I'm pretty staunchly self taught, I never look up tutorials ever so I feel weird reading about how something works lol (even tho the tutorial part is barely a tute, it's mostly guiding you through messing around with the materials and how they work together)

anyway. point of this is im being tricked into using watercolour, my biggest fear in art, and it's going okay! I feel nervous with it though. esp since I'm still trying to just figure it out myself and the booklet doesn't teach you how to actually use it, so I'm playing it by ear. but part of why I avoided it was bc it seemed like a medium very resistant to like, just fucking around until you get something that works. but whatever. I'm gonna fuck around! and I'm having fun with it!

[marigraphia]

I've had this pose ref saved for a while and the Superman set photos just gave off the same energy 👉🏻👈🏻

The reference is this photo of Katharine Hepburn as Antiope and Colin Keith-Johnston as Theseus in the 1932 play 'The Warrior's Husband' (and I'd love for people to turn into a draw your otp meme pls pls pls this pose is so good)

And also, of course, the Superman (2025) set photos

[llitchilitchi]

Your watercolor piece is so BEAUTIFUL!!! its so hard to see fanart of traditional media and you absolutely *ate* with that one 🥹 the colors are so delicate and i love all the white space you left in between

aaaaa thank you!! always happy to see people be excited about traditional art :D

[geekwiththegoggles]

Oh and I finally got this back from my graphic novel prof

Pretty happy with this.

[the-offside-rule]

Franco Colapinto (Williams) - Guilty As Sin?

Requested: no

Swift Series

Warnings: HAVE YOU HEARD THIS SONG? OFC THERE IS

Y/n's pants and gasps filled the room as her fingers tangled in Franco's messy locks,his lips leaving trails of lilac marks, painting her delicate skin like watercolours. Her back arched up off the bed as his dark eyes gazed up at her, his fingers trailing down her sides. "Franco-" She whimpered, his teasing had become too much to bear now. "Yes, cariño." He hummed, his teeth now biting her at the lace trim of her panties. "I- I-"

Beep...Beep...Beep

Y/n jolted awake, the remnants of her dream still vivid in her mind. Her heart was pounding, and her face felt warm. She blinked, trying to shake off the lingering images; Franco, her former teammate, tangled with her under her bedsheets. She buried her face in her pillow, groaning. Why Franco? Why now? They had been teammates up until this weekend, sure, they had always gotten along well. But this dream... this stupid dream was different. It had been warm, sweet, and made her feel things she didn't know she even felt for him

Getting up, she shook her head and quickly got dressed in her Red Bull reserve driver uniform. Today, she had an FP1 session to focus on. She couldn't let a silly dream distract her. She smiled walking into the paddock, waving to the photographers and passers by. Yet, as she spotted Franco just a few feet away, talking animatedly with some mechanics, she found that his laugh floated over to her, clear and cheerful, and Y/n felt her face heat up again.

"Nope, nope, nope." She thought, turning sharply on her heel and walking in the opposite direction. She decided to avoid him, at least until her face stopped feeling like it was on fire. But as the day went on, her new behavior did not go unnoticed. Franco seemed puzzled every time she darted away whenever he came near. And soon enough, someone else picked up on the awkward energy. Liam sidled up next to her as she stood by the Red Bull pit wall, trying to focus on the FP1 prep.

"You okay, mate?" Y/n asked, flicking through the physical copy of her briefing that she asked for that morning. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. What’s going on with you and Franco?” He asked, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “Nothing!” Y/n replied too quickly, her collection of pages nearly falling as she jolted from the unexpected question. “Why would you think there’s something going on?” Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see him? Or the fact that you’ve practically sprinted away from him three times already today?”

Y/n glared at him, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “It’s... it’s nothing. Just… had a weird dream, that’s all.” His eyebrow arched. “A weird dream?” Liam repeated, his grin widening. “Oh, this I’ve got to hear.” Y/n crossed her arms, biting her lip, debating whether to confide in him or not. Liam was known for his teasing, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it. But he was also persistent, and he would never let it go if she didn’t give him something. “Fine.” She muttered. “I had a dream about Franco, okay? It was just… it was just a dream, but now I feel weird around him.” Liam’s eyes lit up with mischief. “A dream about Franco, huh? Was it... romantic?” He nudged her, wiggling his eyebrows.

Y/n shot him a glare, her cheeks heating up. “Liam!” He laughed. “Come on, you can’t just drop that and not expect me to ask! So what happened in the dream?” Y/n sighed, exasperated. “It doesn’t matter! I’m just embarrassed, and now I can’t even look at him without thinking about it.” Liam chuckled. “Oh, this is gold. I’m never going to let you live this down, Y/n.” He laughed, having to steady himself by leaning on her shoulder. “Thanks a lot.” She grumbled, turning to leave before he could tease her any further. But as she spun around, she collided straight into a solid chest.

Franco

Her heart leapt into her throat as she stumbled back, her face turning scarlet. “Oh, sorry!” She stammered, trying to avoid his gaze..He smiled, a little confused but still friendly. “Hey, Y/n. I was actually looking for you. Do you want to grab some breakfast together?” Her brain screamed for an excuse, anything to avoid sitting across from him with the memory of that dream. “Uh, I… I have to get ready for practise.” She blurted out. Franco gave her a knowing smile. “FP1 doesn’t start for another two hours. Come on, just a coffee?” Y/n hesitated, but before she could come up with another excuse, Franco gently took her hand. “Come on." He insisted, his grip firm but kind. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. Reluctantly, she let herself be led toward the Williams hospitality area. Franco chatted casually, oblivious to the chaos in her head, and she couldn’t help but sneak glances at his profile. His calm demeanor only made her cheeks burn more. As they reached the hospitality area, Franco ordered two coffees, handing one to her with a smile. “You’ve been avoiding me." He said lightly, his tone more curious than accusatory. Y/n quickly shook her head, nearly spilling her coffee. “No, no, I’ve just been… busy.” Franco tilted his head, still smiling but looking like he didn’t quite believe her. “If you say so.”

Across the way, Liam leaned against a wall, watching them with a satisfied grin. He gave Y/n a cheeky thumbs-up, and she shot him a death glare over the rim of her coffee cup. She was blushing furiously, but Franco seemed none the wiser, still chatting away about their plans for the weekend. Liam couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying every second of Y/n’s flustered state. This was too good to pass up. As Franco continued to talk, Y/n’s eyes flicked to Liam one last time, promising a revenge of her own someday. But for now, all she could do was sit, blush, and hope Franco never found out what had caused all this in the first place.

[marigoldendragon]

I did an oil painting of Jade! I wasn't sure who I wanted to paint, so I rolled a dice and Jade was the lucky winner. I had a lot of fun doing this one, I need to use my paints more often.

And I took a whole bunch of photos of the process, so you guys can see how it came into being!

First things first. Planning. Traditional painting doesn't have the luxury of being able to make sweeping changes as you go like you can with digital, so if you generally want to plan ahead.

Next I printed out my lineart onto some watercolour paper and taped it to a board. I then sealed the print/paper with some clear acrylic medium and painted my tape white because it was bright fucking green and would throw off my colour mixing. My set up is pretty simple. I have a jar of mineral turpentine with a strainer at the bottom to clean my brushes on, my palettes are just boards with wax paper clipped onto them (easy cleanup) and a roll of paper towels and some rags for cleanup. And I also use an medium that both thins out my paint and helps it dry faster, otherwise oils can take months to fully cure.

I planned out all my colours in advance, so all I had to do was mix up the appropriate shades and then pretty much play paint by numbers.

The general process is block out each colour and then do whatever blending is required. If you want a harsh shadow you dont do too much blending, if you want a soft shadow you use a fluffy brush and go over the area multiple times.

And then you just go around area by area filling it in as you go. Of course there's a whole lot of different techniques and processes for completing a painting. This is just what I did for this specific painting.

And he's done! He took a few days to dry, even with the added fast drying medium. There's a few areas I'm not happy with, but I would cannibalise any colour on my palette by mixing it into the next colour I was going to use. So sans re-mixing that exact specific paint, I couldn't go back in to touch up anything.

The digital planning stage was done the evening before, and the painting stage was about 6 hours? So all in all anywhere from 8-10 hours total for this.

If you guys have anymore questions (this was a pretty brief overview) feel free to dm me or leave a comment or whatever. I don't bite and am happy to help anyone out there looking to improve thier skills, or satisfy anyone's curiosity.

[sunshine304]

FTH Fanbinding: "Concord" by Deastar

@youhideastar won my FTH auction and gave me a great gift: She wanted me to bind her CQL fic "Concord" including the thorough author's commentary she'd done. I was so happy when she chose this fic because I'd loved it so much and had pondered doing a fanbinding of it at some point anyway. 😄

Now that the book has finally arrived (spending two days in the air even, I guess, at least when one looks at the tracking info 😆), I can show it off here!

I tried some new stuff on this bind and also some things that I'd only done once before and that definitely need some, uh, perfecting. 😅 But overall, I'm very pleased with how this book turned out, as it's pretty close to what I'd imagined when I started it.

The fic is set in Cloud Recesses and Dea and I agreed that the colour blue should be prominent in the design, as it not only fits the setting, but also is of significance in the story itself. As the rules and traditions of the Lan sect also are quite important, I wanted a very clean, simple style for the case, a bit reminiscent of traditional Chinese bindings.

I did the title as a cut-out and used Japanese transparent paper for some extra flavour. The paper shows up inside the book as well early on and I liked the recurring motive of it. I'm also really pleased how well the hot foil came out on it! I was a bit scared that it might rip or something, but it's quite sturdy, after all.

I thought about doing a faux stab binding with red thread to get even more of a traditional feel, but then decided against it as I'd wanted to use two different blue book cloths and I felt that it might get too busy. Instead, I used the red ribbon as a nod to Wei Wuxian.

The little cloud illustration is used several times in the typeset and I like how it comes out in the title. I didn't even mess up this title, yay! (Mine's got a few tiny blotches but uh well, better mine than Dea's!)

I painted the edges with metallic watercolours - the second time I tried painting edges, but this time with several colours and trying to do a little illustration as well. Big thanks to @zhalfirin who quickly answered my question about how to get the paint to actually stick. 😆 I'd read several posts about how awesome water colours are for foreedge painting, but none mentioned that this kind of paint just rubs off again (I am no artist and have no knowledge of different kinds of paint). Zhalfirin told me to mix in glue and also wax the edges afterwards, which I both did and I think it's fine now. At least my fingers didn't turn blue. 😅

I really love how the shading came out on the head/tail; it could've been better on the foreedge and it looked great while the paint was still wet. Steep learning curve, this thing. I also died trying to sand the edges and I didn't get them completely smooth, but at least smooth enough to work with. That also needs some more work, I guess.

First time I sewed endbands with four different colours! I think they came out quite well! I also forgot the second row of dark blue on Dea's book and had to unravel half the endband again when I noticed at the very end... 🤦‍♀️

Nice marbled endpapers. For the title page spread, I used part a very famous Chinese painting, as it not only reminds me of the Gusu mountains but also, again, is very traditional. I played around with the colours to give the picture a bit of a bluer tinge.

The typeset itself was very straight-forward. There's the fic without commentary, and then the second part with it. I used a grey background for the comment parts to make it stand out from the actual story.

I had lots of printer issues with this fic (my copy actually had even more issues because the printer treated every page as an image for unknown reasons and therefore it not only took forever, it's also a tiny bit blurry. Hmpf.) and the greys tended to have a bit of a blue tinge, which was not my intention. But at least it works with the overall theme, I guess! 😅

I also did an extensive Appendix with all the meta links mentioned in the commentary as well as cut scenes and a little "praise for the author" section.

Last but not least, I decided to try making a slipcase for the first time! DAS_Bookbinding on youtube has good tutorials on that and I used one of them. It worked well on the first try. The second try, I used sturdier cardboard and should've added a few millimetres to the width, because the book didn't fit - the ribbon got stuck and I feared that it might get damaged. So I had to redo the case and then it was perfect.

I used wallpaper as cover material. 😄 The one you see on the outside? That's my living room wallpaper, a light blue with a lovely pattern and soft shimmer to it. My camera unfortunately is refusing to get the colour right.🤷‍♂️

The assembling process went well, for the most part. I'd forgotten to shorten the endpapers a bit which I only realised after I'd started casing in my copy. I carefully separated the textblock from the case again and then, in a moment of complete mental blackout, tried to cut the wet paper. 🤦‍♀️ That didn't go well. I managed to salvage it, mostly, and of course didn't repeat the mistake with Dea's copy, but ugh. 😆

This was a super fun project and I'm very happy with it! Thank you again, Dea, for your faith in me and your super generous donation! 💙

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g

Case and endpapers:

booklinen Colibri cornflower

booklinen Paradise aqua

marbled paper 120g

transparent Japanese paper

Hot Foil (Memory Keepers)

Slipcase:

fleece wallpaper Newroom Nisa lightblue

fleece wallpaper grey glitter

[stariikis]

colour your smile

synopsis ; when riki picks up a paintbrush, two problems surface. for him, it's fear of being unable to portray you perfectly. for you, you have no idea how to counter this fear of his. this fear that is a constant state of unrest in his mind.

pairing ; artist!nishimura riki x muse!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1097 warnings ; kissing and implied mental disorders

It’s pretty difficult for Riki to encapsulate all your beauty into a painting. 

He’s tried, time and time again. Sat you down in his allocated ‘art studio’ room, a tiny part of the house where the grey walls are splotched rainbow. Watercolour palettes lie uncovered all over the room, one sitting just beside your boyfriend on the wooden bench he’s parked himself on. 

In front of him is a blank canvas – tainted only by the strokes of graphite that sketch the outlines of your features. Wispy hair that partially covers your eyes, your button nose quickly drawn into a nub, and your smile accurately depicted, eager and wide. Riki captures the very essence of who you are, with little effort at all. 

It doesn’t look difficult to you, because he makes it look effortless. Like with one snap of his fingers, he can churn out another portrait of you. But it really seems like he does. To Riki, however, it’s not so easy. He tilts and turns his head, muttering dissatisfied remarks to himself. More often than not, he spends more than an hour sketching you and touching up ‘mistakes’. ‘Mistakes’ that you never even saw. ‘Mistakes’ that look like nothing in your eyes, but make all the difference to your perfectionist of a boyfriend. 

“You know what?” You murmur, slightly tired of having to endure another few hours of him scrutinising your portrait. “Why don’t you just try to paint freely? Without thinking about the quality. Keep your focus on me, paint as if you have nothing to hold you back.” 

Riki finally draws his eyes away from the surface of his canvas. He meets your gaze, looking remorseful as he does so. “I wish I could. But then I’d see all the errors and feel guilty. Wouldn’t you?” 

You slide closer to him from the opposite side of the wooden bench. You gently tug the paintbrush from his fingers, placing it beside the watercolour set that looks horrifyingly dry and crackled. “Are you scared?” 

Deep emotions. You take his hands in your own.

You feel them surging deep inside his veins, the whimsical vibrancy of colour flowing along the current. His imagination is running wild but he’s restricting it himself. Out of fear he’s going to mess up. Afraid it’s going to turn out worse than expected. When he looks away, running a hand through his hair and nodding, you’re hardly surprised. 

“Relax.” 

You whisper into the silence. 

“It’s going to be fine.” 

His fingers start to tremble. 

“Your beauty is too complex to be depicted in a simple painting,” he finally speaks, inhaling deeply from his own confession. “Everything looks grey — it looks so plain and so boring, and your smile there – so not you. I have to make this you, I have to do you and your beautiful smile justice.” 

“One hue off the right colour of your hair already scares me to my depths. Everything is so colourless and bare and empty I can’t even tell these strokes apart.” He runs his fingers along the bumps on the wall, forest green fading into baby blue and a harsh strike of vermillion. “I don’t remember how these came about but I remember they’re strokes of frustration.”

“Frustration?” You urge him, patiently. He’s still distracted, rambling and refusing to meet your eyes. But he’s an artist, and you’ve already resigned to putting up with episodes like these for a while now. At the same time, you understand. In your own way, you are an artist too. The only difference between you and Riki is,

you’re bold and daring. You see all the shades the rainbow has to offer. You complete your pieces without a second thought. Of course, they’re never top quality, but they’re satisfactory to yourself. 

Riki is hesitant. He sees in black and white, occasionally shades of grey bleeding into borderline brown. He feels it’s his duty to reflect and duplicate everything about his object perfectly. Like looking into a mirror, it should properly align with reality. It should elicit appropriate emotion. It should reflect all his object’s best qualities. He should be able to make them shine. 

And when he doesn’t, he lashes out. 

“What if?” He scrunches the apron hanging over his thighs. Lost in thought, you wonder whether he’s coming back down to earth or if his head is still in the clouds. Worrying and worrying and worrying. “What if I can’t do it again?” 

“You need to free yourself…” 

Ironically, you know what he needs the most to free himself, is a long, warm embrace that calms his mind. Bring him back down. Teach him to breathe again. You lean back to snatch the paintbrush and palette, holding it in front of him. His gaze clears and begins to transfix onto the materials in your hand. “This is what you came to do. Is it not?” 

He takes it with a shaky hand and blank stare. 

“I think it looks pretty,” you kiss his cheek quickly and slide back into position. “That’s your intention. I know. I look pretty there.” 

Your heart aches for him. Will he ever shake off his overbearing perfectionism and learn to enjoy the talents and skills he’s been blessed with? 

With adoring eyes, he turns back to the canvas and thankfully begins working on it. You hope the profound sparkle in his eye has signalled a change. Everything falls into routine, and you’re stuck breathing in the same scent of must and dried paint for the next few hours. 

Luckily for you, Riki seems to have let the weight evaporate from his shoulders. He can finally take smiley glances your way to compare his portrait and you. He can lean back with a pleased and impressed glimmer in his orbs. Every once in a while, he gives you and kiss and thanks you for staying so still and remaining so patient. 

You know his words carry more intent than he wants to let show. 

“You like it?”

Three hours later, he finally spins the portrait around and lets you have the first look as the muse. Though many portraits of your face have lined his walls since you started dating, you’re pleasantly surprised to feel something different. Though the paintings may all look similar. Same face. Same eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, hair, moles in the same spots. There’s a hint of confidence emanating from the mish-mash of colours. 

And Riki looks satisfied. 

“I can finally see the colours,” he rasps in excitement, cutely clapping his hands together. “I could finally colour your smile.”

i just got diagnosed with chronic migraines (i'm having one rn but it's because i'm not sleeping) so this is pretty self-indulgent. i am riki riki is me. ALSO. riki's aotm i'm shitting tears

more of my works >

[aangelinakii]

ON THE RIGHT BEACHES.

— what an uptight (and hot!) lifeguard.

summary : after cutting your knee on a rock, the lifeguard on duty pulls you away for some emergency first aid! it's a shame you don't actually need it. if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was flirting.

note : was starting to get withdrawals not having a fic based on one of her songs and also just a short but sweet one

WARNING : brief description of blood but it's not gore, just a cut :)

accidents happen, even at the beach! you're just lucky if there's a lifeguard on watch, ready to bolt into the water at seemingly any inconvenience.

in your case, at least, you didn't feel inconvenienced in the slightest. perhaps bleeding a little from your knee, but the salt in the water would clean it, and the most you'd be left with would be a little scar — not a problem!

but not for today's lifeguard.

as soon as he'd spied the red of your ailment from his white hut, he was running down from his post and onto the sand.

for you, you were able to continue messing around with your friends — chicken, marco polo, splat — but when you began swimming away from your attacker in marco polo in a fit of laughter, you caught side of the yellow and red.

from the shore, ankle-deep in the water, he beckoned you over, and you had to excuse yourself momentarily.

god, don't tell me he's here to say you've been playing too rough; you've been smacked in the face at least three times now! and that wasn't your fault.

"everything okay, mr lifeguard?" you chimed as soon as you'd gotten close enough, now wading through the soft waves onto the sand.

judging by his creased forehead and furrowed brows, no, everything was not okay.

hands on hips, he pointed down to your knee, a long watercolour painted stream of red drippling down to your toes. "this needs to be patched up. i can't have you swimming with an injury, you might hurt yourself more."

damn, someone takes their job too seriously — anything for a paycheck, i guess.

you couldn't contain the laugh that brushed past your lips. "i'm fine, honestly. it looks worse than it is, i can't even feel it. thanks, though."

and, with that, you were about to turn around. but he insisted, voice almost a whine when he spoke again.

"please," he sighed. one hand came up to his chest. "it wouldn't feel right letting you go back in with an injury."

no way this guy is being serious...

"are you antagonising me?" you almost scoffed, forehead creasing, and you swear the flash of a smile ghosted upon his lips, and was gone as soon as you spotted it.

the lifeguard shook his head, taking a few steps back onto the dry sand, coating his feet in it. "not at all. i'm just a lifeguard who wants to do his job."

definitely antagonising.

regardless, you gave him a one over, before glancing back at your friends, splashing around in the waves. they wouldn't miss you for a few minutes. and when you looked down at your injured knee, it did look quite bad. a bandage wouldn't hurt.

especially when it means some alone time with the cute lifeguard.

[midorisudachi]

"I have no name, but Jedi like you might call me a Sith." - The Stranger

I haven't posted my artwork here on Tumblr for a while! This idea came to me a few days ago. I truly hope you like this!

How amazing was Manny Jacinto as "The Stranger"? Talk about a totally bad-ass Sith! (And a hot Sith, too!) 😉 I've been wanting to see a true Sith like that (when it comes to live action) for a loooong time! He had the best lines, too. Another favourite of mine was: "I don't make the rules, the Jedi do. And the Jedi say I can't exist. They see my face, they all die." And of course, the coldest & most cruel line was: "Was that its name?" Ah, gave me the chills!

This style of artwork is called "Crosshatching". I haven't done this art style in a long time. It was fun to create. And yes, the proportions are correct! Especially with the right arm...you wouldn't see his right bicep from that angle. I used Sakura Pigma Micron pens for the artwork. The space/starry background was done with Koi Watercolours. White highlights around The Stranger is a Sakura gel pen.

I absolutely loved The Acolyte. (And don't come at me with your hatred towards the series. Any hateful comments will be deleted & I will block you.) I loved seeing an era in the Star Wars universe that was never seen before (when it comes to live action). I'm still lamenting over the fact that freaking Disney cancelled The Acolyte. (Shame on Disney & all the toxic SW fans who did their best to destroy the series...hope your misery & hatred makes you "happy" now.) I want more Acolyte. Shoot, even Manny Jacinto himself stated that he wants a season 2 of Acolyte. Yes, YES, YES! Please! Make it happen. 🥺 There is still so much storyline that can be told. The best lightsaber fights & Jedi vs. Sith came from The Acolyte. I wanted to see more "Ohsamir", too! Darn it! And to see how a Sith trains his apprentice. I want to make an Acolyte era style of Jedi, too! Those gauntlets that the Jedi wear look so cool!

[oceanreveuse]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗶 𝘆𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗶

◟fem!reader, sfw, reader wears a sundress, petnames (princess? baby) , maybe ooc isagi, reader + isagi meet during blue lock but this is set post-blue lock, quality time w isagi, a lil suggestive at the end, not proofread! ◟anastasia's footnote : happy birthday to my dearly beloved little sis @reonaissance !! welcome to the big scary world eeek !! i hope i did isagi justice at least a liiiiiiittleeee... i fought my demons to finish this (´；ω；`)

from the moment you met him, you figured he'd have the mindset to spoil you. it was blatantly obvious from the look in his eyes whenever he'd spotted you across the cafeteria, mindlessly blanking out his friends' words as they spoke to him. if it was anything to go by, it was almost as if his entire world disappeared the second you were in his vicinity - or his line of sight. it was pretty simple why; you were quickly becoming his world.

your birthday perhaps rolls around too quick for your own liking but for ISAGI, it's the best time of year. a chance to truly treat you like a princess where no one will bat an eyelid, he was beginning to grow a little tired of bachira and kunigami's teasing when you was the topic of conversation between the trio - he wouldn't complain usually, he loves to go on about you. in fact, they can almost predict when he's about to start another lovesick babble.

in between training, matches and flying you across the globe with him, isagi tries to keep everything as domestic as possible. he loves you, smitten and knitted together like your fingers on this late summer evening. the skies are pinks, oranges, hues of purple fading in like a watercolour painting. it's been a conversation before, muttered between cotton sheets and a warm breeze through the open window - you found it difficult sometimes to keep travelling with him, to stick at his side wherever he goes. you support him, yes you always will but you knew soon you needed to stay home, to cheer him on through a screen until he returned home.

"you're thinking again, baby," his familiar voice is soothing, eases the irritating repetitive thoughts that nag on your bones like a dog. you turn your attention to those deep blue eyes and a smile caresses your face, squeezing his hand in reassurance, "relax, will you? it's your birthday."

"i know it is," you roll your eyes with a playful huff, amused with his constant reminder that today is your special day. it would feel like a normal day otherwise, if your boyfriend wasn't so insistent. he gives a puppy-like grin in response, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"i have to make sure you know, we can't have you forgetting, y'know?" isagi hums, his blue eyes reflecting the sunset like a body of water - specifically like the lake stood before you, the mirror reflection of the sky disrupted by the ripples.

the breeze blows against your bare legs once again, ruffling the skirt of your sundress and isagi hums in response, eyes flickering down to watch the fabric momentarily. after a few seconds, he lets go of your hand to shuffle behind you, toned arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your back flush to his chest. his body is warm, a personal heater compared the hug of chilling air around the pair of you.

a calloused thumb brushes up and down on your hip, his chin situated on your shoulder as a silence settles between you, comforting when you just lean into his touch, his presence. taking a walk so far from home you got both away from the suffocating air that came with being a footballer and in light of that, the partner of a footballer. not a soul in sight other than a few ducks settled on the water, no loud clicks of press cameras and reporters eager to get a word in with isagi - just the two of you and your breathing.

"happy birthday, princess..." his voice trails off, a delicate kiss pressed to your neck moments after and you hum in response, placing a hand over his. your thumb strokes against the skin of his hand. a small smile decorates your face however isagi is quick to move his hand away, much to your dismay. it trails a path down your waist, the curve of your hip before settling comfortably on your thigh.

isagi's fingers slip under the hem of your sundress, a playful chuckle rumbling against your back as you give him a knowing look over your shoulder, almost a warning, "c'mon, i think i have another present to give you back at the hotel."

�� oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

◟the waves call for . . . @qichun @tetsuskei

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

[kenphobia]

Hellooo, therapy is expensive but reading your stories about silly puppets it's free.

So, I was wondering if I could ask for some imagines of Wally Darling (yeah, again, sorry 😭) with a s/o whose love language is giving gifts? Like, they love to shower Wally (and their other friends) in all kind of gifts no matter the time or place.

I hope that wasn't too confusing and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

KINDERGARDEN GAMES!

"T-a-n-g-a ka talaga, Wally." "... What—"

summary. wally is a puppet who loves his neighbors equally and cherishes them in many ways. but when his lover does gift giving more than him, he gets a bit competitive. ( headcanons / 0.9k wc / read end notes )

contents. general fluff, straight up romantic dynamic, implied filipino!wally, bits of playful Wally slander ( nsfw blogs dni )

✦ It started simple, nothing too big or fancy. When you brough him those oil pastels Wally had been eying for a while, he couldn't help but feel flustered. It's not like he haven't received gifts before, few of his neighbors love to give him little presents too, but it was different when it comes to you.

✦ Of course, he accepts with a smile and a slightly flushed face.

"Thanks, (Name)! I really, really appreciate this." Wally paused, switching his gaze from the oil pastels to you in a nervous manner. "I, um, I'll make sure to make great use of it."

You smiled, patting his hair carefully as to not accidentally deform the pompadour he spent half an hour styling and 5 whole bottles of glue. "Well, I'm glad you liked it! I have to go now though, Sally needs me with setting up her stage for tomorrow's play. See you later, Walls!"

Wally waved you goodbye, watching you leave and your figure getting farther and farther, completely disappearing as you turned a corner. He finally focused his gaze to the box in his hands, a gentle smile caressed his face.

For a short moment, He remembered how your eyes twinkled and reflected the warm light. Wally's gaze softened, humming as he went inside his house. He has an idea what to do using the oil pastels you gave him.

✦ It was sweet, Wally would say, but he wouldn't admit how he had dreames of the whole thing several times. Or well, daydreamed since he doesn't sleep. Home had a couple of incidents and scolding Wally for letting his paintbrush go and getting paint on the carpet.

✦ Wally didn't think much of it though, but appreciated it finely. That is until he received some homemade mint chocolate cookies at his doorstep. Eddie had given it to him, informing him that it came from no other than the lovely you.

✦ (Wally doesn't miss Eddie side-eying though. Sadly, not everyone can appreciate mint chocolate like Wally does.)

✦ It didn't just stop there, no, why would it? From cookies to handcrafted beaded jewelry of his favorite colors to little letters and poems to cute little doodles of you and him being pinned on his fridge everyday— Your gifts were endless and Wally wonders how could you make so much in just a span of an hour.

✦ He doesn't have the right to judge you after making multiple portraits of you and sending some of them immediately to your home. It was a lot, but after all of you wonderous gifts that kept him awake and thinking at every hour, your front porch became bombarded with many paintings.

✦ Wally started doing art in other ways too. Pottery, watercolour, jewelries, etc. He even sent a whole basket of (definitely not stolen) apples to your door! The whole gift giving suddenly became a war between who could show their affection more than the other.

✦ Eddie had to intervene because he had been delivering gifts to both your houses every single day. Doesn't bother Wally though, it gives him the advantage of simply entering your home with a key he secretly copied and stuff all of his heartfelt gifts.

✦ You did caught him one time in your room, hanging up pictures of you, some of them were mainly focused on your eyes. You aren't exactly sure how to feel about it, both the paintings and the crime he had just committed.

Arriving to your humble abode, you furrowed your brows upon finding the front door unlocked. You quickly entered inside, trying your best at staying quiet while you put your stuff down on the sofa and wanderes around your home for the intruder.

The neighborhood isn't exactly a crime-filled place, but you still can't shake off the feeling of dread bubbling in your stomach. You gripped the house keys in your hands so firmly that you swear the plastic could cut through your palm.

You neared your room, breath hitching at the sound of shuffling and murmuring. You squinted through the darkness, seeing your bedroom door wide open and the lights turned on. Quickly, you rushed closer and hoped that the intruder wouldn't hear your panicked steps.

"Oh... That wouldn't work at all. Let's try this position." A voice suddenly pierced through the silence. It was soft, warm and awfully familiar that it made bits of your dread disappear slowly.

You leaned against the wall, turning your head and peeking from the doorway. Immediately, you locked your eyes at a portrait of you sitting idly on your bed and then to the blue cardigan the stranger was wearing.

Wait a second, That's not a stranger. No, that's—!

"Wally? What are you doing here?" You voiced out, walking in as your boyfriend turned to face you. His eyes wide in surprise, nearly dropping the painting. You found yourself deadpanning at what was on the canvas, it was a painting of you and Wally unsurprisingly.

Wally smiled, albeit nervously. "O-Oh, *Mahal! You're home earlier than I expected."

You hardened your gaze, squinting at his form as you crossed your arms. "Wally, why are you in my house?"

"Well, you see, Mahal..." Wally began, putting down the painting and making it lean on the wall. "I— I will explain it to you tomorrow. Byee!"

You didn't have a chance to say anything before Wally ran up to your window and jumping out, breaking plastic glass and leaving your room in a state of disaster.

That noseless bastard.

notes. did i completely forgot abt the other neighbors? yes. do i regret it? no. sorry, howdy 😔 but yaya!!! another wally fic, turned out a bit shorter than I like and more crackshippy but that's fineee

i hope you like it tho!!! this was fun to make and i rlly tried racking my brain for any creative juice.

inbox is always open, so come on by again for more wally slander /lh

*mahal - love in tagalog

[sseniita]

i'ma leave the window ooooopeeen

It was dark, stormy, and the villain was still an hour away from home. Her car had broken down (the police chase was its final straw), her phone was dead (it was run over during said police chase), and the rain was mercilessly pounding against her thin jacket. Coincidently, she had found her way to the alleyway of the Hero’s apartment. She wasn’t supposed to know where the hero lived, but after one day she surprisingly appeared in her apartment and stole her food and stayed the night (she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that night) she rationalised that it was only fair that the hero let her crash on her couch for a night. Despite her better judgement, she climbed on the fire escape and made her way up. 

The hero didn’t lock her windows, she was practically begging the villain to raid her fridge. The villain made her way in through the small window, slipping off her shoes being careful not to track in mud on the couches under the bay window. This was to no avail, once she was finally standing in the apartment she was dripping wet onto the hardwood floors. She took in the dark apartment, cosy. She was sure that in the daylight it followed a pleasant palette of pastel pinks, blues, and greens, but the only lighting was the occasional lightning that burst outside, allowing only for speculation of the hero’s taste in home decor. She did however, make out the crocheted plushies and framed watercolour paintings scattered throughout. It was a small apartment, the one main room cramping the kitchen, dining, and living room all in one. A quick glance to a door left ajar confirmed the hero must be sleeping soundly. Her cautious steps made their way to the fridge, hoping to find leftovers she could eat cold. Before even opening the fridge she felt a blunt pain to the side of his skull, a force with enough strength to toss her onto the checkered flooring of the tiny kitchen.

“Who are you! How did you- oh. Ith’s you.” The hero stood above the villain, bat in hand, wearing a tiny tank top and even tinier night shorts. Good lord. The villain’s hand quickly came to the side of her head to feel for any bleeding or swelling. 

“What the hell?” She screamed. The hero turned on a light, revealing her messy bun and retainer smile. 

“I’m thorry, I thought you were an inthruder” The villain brought herself up, supported by the countertop. The hero had put down their weapon and seemed unconcerned at her own indecent appearance. 

“In your defence, I am an inthruder.” She said, way to smug for someone who couldn’t stand up without the floors moving. The hero rolled her eyes at the jest at her lisp, without shame, she spit out her retainers, returning to her room to put them in their little case. 

“What are you doing here?” She said on the way, “How do you know where I live?” 

“Same way you knew where I lived.” 

“By being an obsessed stalker?” She yelled from her bedroom. The villain finally opened the hero's fridge, finding nothing but a few apples, a loaf of bread, and three heads of cauliflower. 

What is wrong with this woman? 

“Yup. You got any actual food?” 

“Nope. Get away from my cauliflower!” The hero threw a towel on the villain, a towel she considered an invitation to stay. 

“You stink.” she sneered. 

“Running around this city’s alleyways on a rainy night will do that to ya.” She winked. 

“Ya well, take a shower or something.” She yawned.

“Sounds heavenly, care to join me?” 

“You wish, Beautiful” 

The villain made their way, oddly excited to find out what shampoo the hero used to make her hair always smell so good. 

Cotton Candy Raspberry Explosion. Got it. She thought as she stepped into the shower.

The hero seemed to yawn the tiredness away, once the villain was finished with her shower she found the hero watching mindless late night tv on her extremely plush couch. The hero cradled a pillow close to her chest, the mess on the floor cleaned and a plate of grilled cheese still warm on the coffee table. She didn’t seem to notice when the villain appeared in the bathroom doorway with nothing but a towel covering her. 

“Uh, you wouldn't happen to have some ex-boyfriend’s stolen clothes around, would you?” 

The hero’s vision quickly moved from the tv to the villain’s arms. The villain's body had been laden with scars throughout the years, causing an annoying insecurity within the villain when on display, but something about the hero’s stare made her ego rise dangerously high. 

“You look fine like that” she smirked. 

“I don’t doubt it, but it’s a bit chilly.” 

“I can give you a blanket?” 

“Clothes. Please.” 

The hero laughed, as she stood from the couch, motioning the villain over to her bedroom. Being naked in the hero’s bedroom with only a tiny pink towel that had ‘beach babe’ written on it was a humbling experience for the villain. As the hero rummaged in her closet the villain found herself hoping she didn’t actually take out some ex boyfriend’s ivy league sweater for her to wear. Instead she pulled out a huge snuggie, which she initially thought to be a comforter. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Really? Cause it’s pink?”

“That’s not the problem here.” 

“Well I have nothing else for you! You’re huge-” 

“Sure am.” She interjected.

“-and unless you wanna wait around naked for an hour while your clothes dry, this is the only option.” The hero threw the snuggie at the villain and she almost caught it before realising that would require both hands, one of which wasn’t available for it was busy gripping the towel for dear life. The towel was so damn tiny it couldn’t even wrap around her completely. She let the snuggie fall to her feet and admitted defeat.

“A little privacy?” 

“You, alone in my bedroom? No way. Use the bathroom.” 

The villain used tiny kicks to get the snuggie into the bathroom all while the hero’s laughs mocked her from behind. 

The hero was lucky her grilled cheese tasted so good; so there she was: pink snuggie, pink towel on her head, eating a grilled cheese and watching family feud reruns with her arch nemesis at 2 in the morning. She was half hoping the hero to offer to cut her cuticles. 

“So what are you doing here, anyways?” 

“Police chase.” She said through bites. “Phone died. Awful storm. And you just happened to be close by. Thought I could crash on your couch tonight.” 

“Why would you think that?”

“Hmm?” 

“I’ve been trying to arrest you for four years.” 

“Well, I’m taking the grilled cheese as a truce.” 

The tv continued for a while as the both women got comfy, the villain had long lost any tiredness, but the snuggie was proving comfortable to the hero at her side. It was 3 AM when the hero’s head had finally fallen onto the villain’s shoulder. It was 15 after when she started snoring. The villain had to remind herself how much of a pain in the neck the hero was to resist pulling back some hairs from her cheeks. They had gotten too comfortable. To buddy-buddy the villain's superior had said. The villain vowed to never fraternize again after they went a tad bit too far once. But god was it good to look back. 

They had both anticipated awkwardness or total avoidance but it seemed neither of them wanted it. Opting to ignore the fateful encounter and pretend it never happened. But it happened. It really happened. As slowly as she could she turned off the television and began to scoop the snoring hero into her arms, she tossed a little, murmuring something about her cauliflower while lifting her up. She ignored with great strength the soft skin of her thighs against her fingers and the way she cradled her head into her neck as she carried her to her bed. The crocheted plushies never ended, a bee, a dinosaur, a plushie that looked strangely like it was wearing the villain’s suit. She ignored the heat in her cheeks and set the hero down on the squishy mattress. 

“This is a terrible mattress for your spine.” She whispered, tucking her in. 

“Mhhrrm” she responded. 

She was about to leave and rummage through the hero's closets for a blanket when a hand softly gripped her wrist, with eyes stilll closed the hero mumbled something almost incoherent. 

“Stay,” she whispered. 

“We shouldn’t, hero.” 

“We won’t do anything. It’s just cold.” 

“You have like 14 blankets on your bed.” 

“It’s still cold. I have no more for you to cover yourself with.” 

“Ever the sacrificial type, hero.” She allowed himself the pleasure of finally getting the hero's hair out of her face, resting her hand on her cheek. She sunk into it, releasing her grip on her wrist. The villain couldn’t help it any longer, she made his way to the other side of the bed. 

“It’s my job”

“Just tonight, hero.” The second she was under the blankets she was met with the hero’s warm presence gripping onto her. 

“Ya, you’re not my type anyways. I just want you for your body.” She muttered into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around her, shocked at how perfect they felt together. Before the hero's quiet snores reappeared, the villain felt a smile against her skin. 

“Your bosses suck by the way.” 

“So do yours.”

“Hmm.” She readjusted herself. “I should start locking my window.” 

The villain chuckled. “Nah.” 

[andi-dromeda]

Talia was a wise woman. A great woman in fact. She healed Jason's mind and brought him to the all caste so he could heal his soul. Perhaps it was because she wanted to give him the chance to live a new life, far away from anything that could remind of the horrors from his past. That's what Jason thought at least. But truthfully, that wasn't the reason. She still remembered lowering Jason into the lazarus' waters. His brown eyes had faded to a milky blue after his death but once the waters engulfed him they turned an acidic green. His arm snapped to grab hers like he was being jerked about by puppet strings. He lacked any of the grace he had when fighting and any of the lifelessness he had whilst doing anything else. Suddenly, the green was spilling down his cheeks and green smoke came out of his eyes. The voice that spoke from his lips was not his. It was some sort of cacophony of what she could only assume were hundreds of spirits somehow possessing the poor boy.

"Betrayed and forgotten,

two sons rise again,

to destroy the pantheon,

to end their fathers' rein,

with blades of soul,

and control of the sky,

they've paid their toll,

their victory is nigh,

whose side are you on?

make your choice,

when the new king arrives,

the wise will rejoice."

After the last word was spoken, Jason's skin became agonisingly hot. Talia dropped him after she felt her fingers begin to blister and stared down into the pit. For a moment, time stood still. None of her guards dared to move and she continued to look, transfixed, into the waters. Suddenly, a hand burst through the surface and Jason emerged different. His eyes were a turquoise shade she'd only ever seen once and the white hair streak he gained only cemented her line of thought. Blades of soul? The turquoise of the All Acres' pools? The white hair of the All Caste? It was the only sensible conclusion.

When they arrived, they were greeted by Ducra who swiftly got Jason settled in a room that was clearly occupied by someone else too. "Your new roomate is up on the eagle if you want to meet him. Talia and I have some things to discuss so I'll leave you to it Man-child." Jason frowned at the name but decided not to argue. He looked over his roomates side of the room and figured he'd put his detective skills to use. The guy's belongings were organised militaristicly neat. His clothes were spotless and folded into perfect squares. The only other thing that hinted at a personality was a pile of sketchbooks. Jason grabbed the one on the top of the pile and flicked through the pages. Most of them were charcoal sketches but occasionally there would be a few watercolour paintings. The one that stood out to him most was a girl who's hair and clothes were drawn with charcoal. Her skin was left nearly completely white except for some cross hatching to show shadows. The part that caught his eye was the electric blue paint that filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks in the shape of tears. Her expression seemed... like she'd found something she thought was lost forever. Perhaps a lost toy from her childhood. Maybe a lost piece of jewelry that she got from someone special. For some reason, the next idea Jason had was a lost hero.

He shook his head and placed the sketchbook back on the pile. There was nothing else he could learn about his roomate here so he started looking for the eagle. He wasn't sure what the eagle meant until he saw a massive statue of an eagle perched on the top of one of the mountains. There were a few floating islands that led like a path up to the eagle so Jason wasted no time and hopped across. They circled around one of the outstretched wings and Jason leaped onto it. All this jumping was reminding him of rushing over the roof tops as Robin. The memory briefly brought a smile to his face until he remembered what happened after that. A bitter taste filled his mouth so to distract himself, he kept looking for the mystery man.

A soft tune floated through the breeze from a top the eagles head. Jason climbed up to it with ease and found a blonde boy playing a flute. He seemed to be lost in the melody. His blonde hair gently swayed with the wind and Jason thought it was fitting since he was playing a wind instrument so beautifully. His eyes turned to the boys lips that were masterfully controlling the flute. He had a scar on his lip and Jason wondered how he got it. Probably in battle if he was being trained by the all caste. Jason patiently waited for the boy to stop playing before he cleared his throat. The boys eyes snapped open and Jason noted they were the same electric blue he used for the painting of that girl. A gust of wind snatched Jason into the air by the collar of his shirt before the boy realised he wasn't a threat. His eyebrows shot up and he quickly let Jason down.

"Oh my gods I'm so sorry." The other boy panickedly apologised. "It was just instict I didn't mean to-"

"Its fine." Jason reassured as his lips quirked up into a smirk. He suspected he was going to get along with his roomate just fine. "I get it. I've gone through shit too. If you ever catch me off guard, I can't promise I won't judo flip you."

"Just don't hit me with a brick and we'll be fine. Gods this is such a bad first impression for my new roomate." The boy seemed to relax and let out a chuckle. "How'd you know I've been through stuff?"

"Well you pack light so either you're really into minimalism or you're used to having to live on the move a lot and if you ended up here, I'm gonna guess that's not because you just love travelling. Also, you currently have great footing for if someone were to attack you and your muscles don't seem like they're there just for vanity. Oh and the whole wind powers thing."

"You're perceptive."

"Thanks?" Jason responded unsure how to take a compliment. Bruce and Alfred didn't compliment him much. They were more likely to compare him to Dick and tell him his faults than they were to tell him his strengths. He decided to think about that later or preferably never and push the conversation forward. "I'm Jason. What's your name?"

"Jason?"

"That's my name."

"No I mean I'm also called Jason."

"Oh."

"Maybe we should get nicknames or something so when other people refer to us we aren't confused."

"Good idea. Ducra called me man child but I'd prefer to go by something different."

"Lucky, she calls me zappy."

"Why?"

"I have lightning powers as well as wind stuff."

"Cool. I have no powers except for coming back from the dead randomly."

"No way. Me too!"

"Crazy. Well anyways, how about I be..." Jason thought for a moment. "I think I'll call myself tire iron or Iron for short."

"I asume there's a story behind that?"

"There is." Jason smiled remembering when he called batman a "big boob".

"A long time ago I had a coin called Ivlivs. It was gold and could turn into a sword or a spear. I think I'll call myself Gold."

"Yeah, you look like a Gold."

"And you have silver hair so I guess we chose well. By the way, how old are you? Sixty? "

"Ha ha." Jason playfully rolled his eyes. "Well I died a few months before I turned fifteen. When I crawled out my grave, my sixteenth brithday had passed. By the time my mind was restored my seventeenth birthday had already happened but mentally? Your guess is as good as mine."

Gold thought it over before asking. "What age do you want to be?"

"Seventeen feels too far away but fifteen was a literall life ago. So I think I want to be sixteen."

"That's funny because I died a bit before I turned sixteen but I've worked out that only considering the time I've been alive I'd be seventeen."

"What's funny about that?"

"Well, you know. You just look so old with your white hair." Gold joked and Silver pretended to sigh in exasperation.

"Careful, I might push you off this eagle."

"You could but I can fly so it wouldn't achieve much."

"How fast can you fly?" Jason asked glancing at the way he came up.

"Pretty fast. Why?"

"Okay then scratch my original idea. Race you to our room no flying?"

"You're on!"

And just like that they were off. Talia watched the two from afar and recounted to Ducra the prophecy she'd heard. "It seems these two have more in common than just their names and returns from the grave. They share a fate." Talia ruminated and Ducra nodded.

"It would seem so. Their victory is assured. Why do you worry for the man child?"

"I'm not worried for him... I'm worried for his father. I've had to choose between Bruce and my Father before and it killed me. I'm not sure who I should choose between Bruce and Jason."

"Isn't Bruce your beloved?" Ducra questioned.

"Yes but he should've protected Jason more. Even if Jason's death was part of his destiny, Bruce shouldn't have made him feel unwanted or badmouth him after his death."

For a moment, the only noises that reached their ears were the Jasons' distant laughter.

"Then it seems you know who you should choose."

Talia sighed and tried to forget the days when her beloved seemed like a pure, uncomplicated hero. "It seems so."

🎉🎉🎉

@perseus-jackass happy birthday! Here’s the boys!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Watercolor and Daisie

warning : fluff, mutual feelings, comfort, tiny angst, older man younger women, no use of Y/N, reader is female

Van Helsing x fem!reader

Summary : It was just supposed to be a quick purchase for his watercolours. But when he sees the lovely saleswoman, as pretty and innocent as a Daisie. But the tables turn as night falls and he fears for his flower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a coincidental encounter in the big city, but it was an encounter that would change the lives of both of them. London is one of the great cities of the world - risky, loud, modern and full of people and mysteries.

Whether Jack The Ripper or just the moving shadows, they all found their place in London. Also a creature of immortality, of bloodthirst of which only a handful of people knew. Dr. Van Helsing was one of them.

The vampire hunter with his dark coat, the expensive fur collar and the white shirt, which was set off by his dark blood-red vest. A handsome, engaging, perhaps mysterious man. A man with many sides, his good kind ones and his strong ones like his will.

He was firmly convinced that he would send the creature back to hell. Eliminating the threat of London. His way led him through the streets of London the lanterns were not yet lit and yet the sun was slowly setting in the sky.

It bathed the city in a golden colour and illuminated everything like a canvas on which the colours spread. In it he moved purposefully towards the small art shop where he hoped to get new colours. His last painting, a small farm with a cow and blue flowers, had used more paint than he had intended.

Letting his gaze wander through the street, only a handful of people came towards him, most of them staying indoors at an increasingly late hour. But he knew that the more time that passed, the better it would be for Dracula.

Shaking his head slightly as he thought again of the horrors he had encountered, he tried to focus back on his colours. Reaching the shop after a few moments and stepping inside, the small silver bell sounded its announcement.

A more rustic shop appeared, finely crafted wooden shelves and dark velvet curtains together with the chandelier created a pleasant atmosphere. His bright blue eyes travelled around the shop and landed on the various smaller golden signs.

The various art materials were written in fine script. ,,Sir, can I help you?" a female voice sounded and his attention went to the young woman standing behind the counter.

She herself was looking up from a smaller canvas standing next to her, which appeared to be the one she had been painting a few minutes ago. ,,I'm looking for watercolours, Miss," he replied, giving her a gentle smile as she nodded and walked around the counter. He knew she didn't have to, but apparently she valued customer service.

Walking over to him and making a welcoming motion, she led him past the marked shelves before they arrived in front of the watercolour section. ,,Thank you, my dear," he said gratefully, giving her a grateful, almost knowing look as she stopped in front of him for almost a moment too long.

Her eyes were on him for a moment almost too long, running over him and hardening on his leather gloves for a moment too long. ,,You're welcome to call me if you need any help," she said hastily, giving him one last friendly look as she headed back to her counter. Running his fingers over some of the products, he picked out the colours he needed and went back to her, satisfied.

He saw her smile effusively at him and he couldn't help but compare her to a pretty Daisie. The pretty and innocent, pure white petals and the bright cheerful yellow inside.

She was cute, he thought. ,,I hope you found everything?" she asked as she put the items into a small bag and accepted the money he had taken from his wallet. ,,Yes I did, thank you, you have a really nice shop Miss, I will definitely come to you again," he said goodbye and took the bag.

He briefly saw sadness flash in her eyes as he turned away. Walking to the door, however, he stopped in the doorway and turned to her once more. ,,What time do you close?" he asked more seriously and with a hint of concern.

She looked surprised for a moment and replied cautiously, ,,At nine o'clock at night. Do you want to come here again?" she asked but saw his brief shake of the head before he gave her a reassuring look.

Tried to ease the worry he had caused her and was relieved that it worked before he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the dark streets. Time had passed faster than he had thought, the sun had disappeared in the sky and he could already see the moon slowly rising.

Putting the small bag in his dark leather doctor's bag and already a few streets away from the shop he saw that he had forgotten his wallet. It seems I have to go to the lovely Daisie he thought and turned around to walk back towards the shop.

He had only gone a few metres when he heard a scream, bright and feminine. Immediately he felt his intuition. Told him it had to do with her. Running back the way he came as fast as he could, he reached into his pocket and felt the cross in his fingers before continuing down the path.

To his worry, he saw that the door was hanging by its hinges, almost as if someone or something had ripped it out. But he knew exactly who it was, knew what monster would be in the shop. ,,Get away from her, you monster!" he demanded, raising his cross in front of him as he stormed into the shop.

He saw Dracula bending over the woman's body, her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to free herself from the monster. It was clear that she had not succeeded, but what worried him was the blood hanging from the monster's mouth.

Dracula hissed at him, but the deepest night had not yet fallen. Van Helsing saw the godless creature looking out and then trying to escape the cross.

He was several woods and colours after the vampire hunter before the vampire fled out the door and into the night. Van Helisng rushed after him but as he looked out he realised he would not catch him. A painfully frightened sound pulled him back to the woman.

He saw her trying to hold herself upright against one of the cupboards and not fall over because of the lack of blood. ,,Calm down my dear, everything will be alright" he told her but saw only a faint tired look before he gently and carefully as possible took her and lifted her up in bridal style. ,,Do you have your quarters here too?" he asked her, concern in his blue eyes as he saw her blood flowing lightly down her neck, covering both her clothes and the floor.

She looked more emaciated, more tired and weaker yet still lovely carefully he put two fingers to her neck. A weak but steady pulse he noted mentally before he heard her whisper, ,,In the back room, the stairs" she said so softly he was afraid she would die of blood loss. Looking around with her in his arms he saw the door she was talking about.

He saw that the room around the stairs was used for storage but the steel stairs lead up. ,,We're almost there my dear," he murmured and closed the door behind him before he began to walk up the stairs, careful not to bump into her. Walking up the stairs he found himself in a small but pretty flat.

The walls were covered with pictures of every kind - small, big, round - everything was there. Going to her bed and gently putting her down, he immediately took care of her. Opening his bag and taking out the hand pump, he looked around for a bowl of water.

Finding it only moments later, he washed his hands but kept his gaze on her. He was afraid she might faint. Even though her eyes were closed, he saw that she was still there, with him.

Pulling out a chair next to her bed and sitting down on it, he grabbed a simple white cloth at the same time. ,,Don't be alarmed," he said reassuringly and dabbed away the slightly liquid blood still flowing from the wound with the cloth.

He saw her wince in pain and soothingly stroked her slightly trembling one with his free hand. ,,I'm here, everything will be all right, Miss," he said and dabbed the cloth in alcohol he had in his pocket over the wound, ,,Shhh, don't, but everything will be all right," he admonished himself lovingly and continued to stroke her hand, trying to take away the pain as best he could. Before he had cleaned and stopped most of the blood with the cloth.

Reaching into his pocket again he took out the pump and desinfected the two needles at the ends. ,,S-Sir I-I what was that creature?" she murmured, watching her fingers tremble with fear and her eyes show fear.

Fear that she was corrupted by the evil that could haunt her, had haunted her and was only prevented by him. The handsome stranger she didn't even know the name of.

Soothingly stroking her fingers, trying to give her his warmth, he replied, ,,A vampire my pretty a godless creature of the night. A creature that feeds on the blood of the living". Saw her close her eyes for a moment in fear, processing the information she had received from him.

Seeming overwhelmed and yet somehow understanding that it was not human, a creature of evil. ,,Thank you...so much," she thanked him and tried to sit up but was gently pushed back onto the bed by the older man. ,,It wasn't just my duty to help such a beautiful, talented woman has to be helped," he said with a smile and pointed to the various pictures hanging in the room.

He saw the little smile that came to her lips as she watched her work and was pleased that he acknowledged her paintings, praised and appreciated them. She hardly noticed the picks that followed as he stuck the needles of the pumps into her arm, she was too busy talking about her artwork.

The different methods she used from watercolour to oil and aquarelle, even pastel chalk could be found in some of her works. As his blood ran into her bloodstream, he watched her, listening to her excited and full of life despite her condition.

As he watched his blood flow into hers through the two rubber tubes, he couldn't help but feel a slight warmth on his cheeks. The gesture had a certain intimacy that he had only just begun to feel.

A few minutes later, he gently took the needles out of his arm and hers and pressed a cloth on her wound until it stopped bleeding before doing the same to himself. ,,You should rest for a few more days and you will regain your strength," he ordered and gradually packed his things carefully and gently. He saw how she seemed to realise what this meant and would have disappeared long ago.

But when he suddenly felt her gentle fingers on his, he paused and saw her look full of pleading as she asked, ,,But I am so terribly afraid, can't you stay with me until tomorrow?". He looked at the ticking clock on the wall, there were still a few hours until the safe morning. Besides, a gentleman would never leave a woman in need, especially not a pretty flower.

Putting his bag aside and wrapping his warm fingers around hers, he pointed to a small landscape painting. ,,Did you paint this?" he asked the obvoius, pleased that she immediately responded. Like a pretty flower in bloom, she excitedly told him about the painting and how she had been on holiday in the Alps.

She had seen them and it was so beautiful. But that's how they spent the next few hours, talking about her paintings and little trips she saved up for and sold the rest of her paintings with a heavy heart.

In return he told her with joy about his researches, his journeys and his fights. Was only more pleased that she found it fascinating how he worked and with what.

By the end of the night, as the clocks chimed again and again, she had fallen asleep in his arms, even snuggling lightly against him as he still gently stroked her fingers and watched her sleeping still form. Knowing that he now had more than one reason to come back to her shop and not only for colour. Perhaps also for the reason of love.

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@villainsidechick and @fanfic-she-wrote I thought you two might wanna read it since you two seems to be the only ones here that are blogging/writing/posting for Peter Cushing and his charcters

[memeulousbf]

could you possibly do a George x reader where reader does pottery or is very artistic and paints with him :) I love your writing btw

MEMEULOUS ARTSY HEADCANONS

warnings : none . . . requests are open!

george wasn't interested in paintings and art. sure, he'd say it looked cooled and compliment your oil paintings and everything, but he never seemed immersed into the world of pottery and ceramics.

at least that was what you thought until the day you decided to go into his apartment uninvited. he trusted you enough with the key - you had been dating for almost two years so that amount of trust was understandable.

george yelped at your sudden appearance. he was stood up at the small breakfast bar with a paintbrush in hand and had accidentally flicked a bit of coloured water onto his cheek.

he murmured a hi, sliding the thick paper to the other side of the breakfast bar as you walked towards him, grinning. "are you painting?" you asked and he only gave a quick, nervous smile back.

you walked around the bar to look at his painting. "ugh... it's not very good. I wanted to get good at stuff like this so we had more in common.." you peered downwards to the painting. sure, it wasn't a masterpiece, but just by being painted in george's hand, it was perfect to you. a watercolour painting of a field filled with yellow flowers and a blue sky hanging above.

"that's so sweet of you george. it's amazing." george smiled, planting a kiss on your cheek. "I wanted to get a bit better before you saw anything," "mm? show me how you do it." you slid the paper back to him and his face tinged pink.

"alright..." he started, taking his brush and dipping it into the watercolour blocks. "I got the watercolours as they were the cheapest and I didn't know what else to get," he said as he stoked the bristles on the card.

"here." you said, cupping your hand around his dominant one and stroking down the paper more smoothly. the green stroke came out more even than the last few. "thanks. maybe I won't get better at this if you'll keep guiding me with you hand." he joked.

"eugh. just cringed." "haha, fuck off." then he turned around and pressed his lips against yours.