#kind of a nothing sketch sorry i just needed to get this idea out

[g1ngerbeer]

clearing out my to-post list heres some qpp content

[greatgoddyke]

some bobbles (+ two unfinished things)

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest. 

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe. 

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you. 

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment. 

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.” 

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?” 

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. 

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife. 

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time. 

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference. 

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?” 

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?” 

“Our first meeting My Lord.” 

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise. 

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚��𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 2.3k exactly (i'm very proud of myself)

genre/tropes: established friendship, one-sided love (or is it?)

warnings: slight angst

pt two: here

notes from bambi: thank you to everyone who voted for this idea, sorry it came out late please forgive me 🥺

“Can we please get out of here,” Chris grumbled, pulling his beanie down over his face.

“So dramatic.” I tugged my wallet out from under the covers. “Come on.”

“We’re goin’ to Cane's, we’re goin’ to Cane's.”

“You’re chanting again,” I said as I closed the garage door behind us.

He opened my car door, slipping past Matt’s van. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”

“Sure, but you’re not a man.” In true gentleman fashion, he scrunched his nose at me. “Buckle up, weirdo,” I laughed.

We drove in comfortable silence. Darkness had sunken low over Los Angeles, though the city tried its best to keep the light around forever. Apartments glittered up into the night, cars rushed past, and from my speakers, a Travis Scott song thumped rhythmically underneath it all.

As we drove, I rested my left hand atop the steering wheel and touched his arm with my right. Chris looked over with his eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from the road for a moment to meet his gaze. “I just think you’re cool.”

“Thanks, kid,” he replied with a grin, looking back to the road. Is he shy? There’s no way.

I drove the rest of the way with my hand resting on his forearm, which he had helpfully rested on the center console. 

“Who’s paying,” I murmured, turning the car slowly into the parking lot.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you drove, it’s fair.”

“Mkay.”

Walking into Cane's was always a religious experience for me. Voices milled around us as college kids found groups of friends and joined tables together, children ran around begging for more lemonade, DoorDashers ran out with food, and order numbers were called out over the fray. 

I sighed. “There simply aren’t enough places where I can get good food for less than ten dollars.”

“Facts,” Chris said. “You want the same thing?”

I nodded and laid my head on his shoulder while we waited in line. Normally not the touchy one in our friendship, something felt different about tonight, I felt different–more open, relaxed. Safer.

That is until he leaned over and pretended to bite my scalp. 

Giggling, I pushed him away to fix my hair and he chuckled, looking up to the menu. My stomach tingled.

“–and that’ll be all. ‘Preciate it,” Chris said, taking our cups and moving to the drinks station.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Whaddaya want?”

I filled my cup and surreptitiously watched him fill his. Chris’s arm tensed in the harsh downlighting and the ridges of his veins became ever more prominent. I shook my head to erase the thoughts as though I were some kind of Etch-a-Sketch. I need to chill out.

Chris carried our food out to the car and I tossed him my keys. The parking lot was pretty empty–most people went through the drive-thru. I stepped over a curb and let my body swing around, arms flowing lazily at my sides. The air didn’t feel as heavy at night, even here in Smog City. I felt awake and content with being alive.

“What are you doin’?” Chris leaned against the car braced on one arm, watching me with a half-smile.

“Dancing, clearly,” I huffed, lifting my arms above my head for another turn.

“I’m gonna eat your fries,” he said with a shrug. At my shriek of protest, he snatched the bag of food and ducked into the passenger seat as I tore after him. I slammed the door behind me and fell into my seat, reaching out for the bag. “Give it, jackass!” I yelled with a wide grin. Chris pulled it into the air which caused me to collapse on his lap. 

“I give up,” I groaned and laid there with my nose in his stomach. 

“So dramatic.” He ruffled my hair again. “Sit up, I’ll get your food.” I looked up at him through the stray hairs he’d created and he looked right back. “What?”

I smiled and sat up, situating myself in my seat again. He paused before handing me my box of chicken and fries. “Did you get extra sauce?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think?” He rifled through the bag as I stole a fry from his box and returned to my own. 

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“You’re not slick.”

“yOu’Re NoT sLiCk,” I harped. “I’m just a girl.”

“Just a thief, maybe.”

“You wound me.”

“Don’t steal my fries then.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. Chris tilted his head in disbelief, and promptly proceeded to return the favor. 

We munched in the quiet for a while. It felt peaceful, and not awkward at all. Chris could come across that way when he didn’t talk, but he actually enjoyed silence sometimes–it gave his mind time to catch up to him. 

“Chris, look,” I murmured, pointing. A group of girls staggered through the drive-thru, laughing their heads off.

“Ooh, okay,” he said, putting his drink down and shifting in his seat. “Here we go.”

Our favorite game–coming up with stories of the people around us. We were the worst people to go to the airport with. 

“So, girl in the pink.”

“Definitely planned the whole outing.”

“You think so?” I sipped my drink.

“You can tell because she’s the most wasted.”

“Drinking to forget the annoyance–I can sympathize.” Chris so graciously bestowed upon me a side-eye of putrid proportions, and I pretended to ignore him completely. “My turn.”

“Cool Shirt Girl.”

“Dragged out of the house by the Dress Girl. Would much prefer being at home or doing something more chill than bar-hopping.”

“Oh, they’re bar-hopping?”

I studied the group for a moment. “Yes.”

“Noted.”

“What about Miss Bandana, what do we think about her?”

Chris sat up straighter. “She’s cute.”

“Not the point.”

“So you also think she’s cute.”

“I plead the Fifth. What’s her story?”

He stared unabashedly for a long moment before he spoke. “She doesn’t think she belongs with them.”

I blinked. “Defend your answer.”

“What is this, English class?”

I cut my eyes at him, he smirked, and continued. “Look at how she’s walking, she’s not having as much fun as everyone else but she wants to, look, she’s adding to the conversation, she’s making sure Pink Girl doesn’t fall over…but she’s not starting anything new to talk about, she doesn’t seem super confident. But no one who wears a bandana is shy so it has to be her insecurities about this event in particular, or these people in particular.”

He bit his chicken tender in half thoughtfully.

I sat agape. “Where the hell did that come from.”

“Hm?”

“That was a wild amount of description. And…probably very accurate, now that I think about it.”

“I love these games,” Chris chirped as he settled back into his seat cushion. 

“You’re so goofy,” I responded. “Hey Chris?”

“Yep.”

“Why’d you wanna go out tonight?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you want to get out of the house tonight?”

He shrugged, still looking at the restaurant in front of us. 

My eyes narrowed. “You left me a two-minute-long rambling voicemail about how bad you needed to see me.”

Chris didn’t react–or at least, not in a way a stranger would notice. His breath changed its pattern, he shifted his feet on the floorboard, and his grip on the armrest tightened. I waited quietly, holding my gaze on his face so he would know he wasn’t off the hook.

He took a deep breath. “I…wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said softly, sipping my drink.

“How do you know if you love someone?”

I choked on the liquid in my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Like…” he huffed a sigh of frustration. “Like what does love even mean?”

“Well, I think–”

“And how does everyone just know? What does it feel like to be in love? How can you trust that your feelings won’t go away over time? And why am I so scared of it? Who decided what love meant? Why were they the expert, what did they do to be so “in-the-know” about love anyway? Because it’s like–”

“Chris.” He was panting now. “Breathe, kid,” I said, touching his arm again. “Do you want me to answer your questions and give you advice, or do you just want me to listen?”

“No, I want to know, I just…It’s annoying. I hate feeling stupid.”

“And you feel like…you’re stupid when it comes to love?”

“Yeah. The romantic kind.”

I hummed. “You seem to have family love figured out pretty well.”

“Well sure, but I got lucky with Nick and Matt,” he sighed. 

“I think romantic love is basically the same.” He looked at me quizzically. “It’s like…Love, to me, is waking up every day and choosing that person regardless of what the day is gonna throw at you. Like if your channel disappeared tomorrow, you wouldn’t ditch your brothers. If your parents died, you wouldn’t leave Nick to deal with it on his own, you wouldn’t ignore how that affected Matt, you know?” Chris nodded thoughtfully. He looked at the dashboard but I realized his mind was probably very far away from the physical attributes of my car. I went on. “Love is different for everyone, so you may not agree with what I think about love, but someone will, and that’s probably one of the people I need in my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered quietly.

“Also, don’t feel stupid. I don’t know fuck-all about math, but does that mean I’m…I don’t know, ‘less-than’ other people who know more about math?” He shook his head and I laid a hand gently on his forearm. “Romantic love is such a small part of all of the love there is in the world and I really think you sell yourself short by placing so much value on people’s knowledge or experience with it. You’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, right? So how would you know? There’s nothing wrong with that, seriously. I haven’t either, does that mean I’m dumb?” Chris grinned at me and I turned away to hide my smile. “Don’t answer that, you dick.” He threw his head back in a laugh, at which point I rolled my eyes so hard it made my brain hurt. “Anyway…” I huffed, trying and failing to appear annoyed, “You’re doing great in the love department. I wouldn’t worry about it at all.”

He nodded and seemed to be satisfied with my answer. “You want a fry?”

“Yes.”

Chris pulled one from his bag and held it out to me. I tried to take it but he snatched it back and held it higher. “Come on, I thought you said you wanted it.”

“Jackass.” I opened my mouth expectantly. Chris placed the salty fry on my tongue and wiped his fry-oil-covered fingertips on my chin as I closed my mouth. I tried to bite him and he yanked his hand away.

“Down, girl.”

“Grrr.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For earlier. That helped.”

“Good,” I said, letting the humor filter away from my features until (I hoped) only kindness and empathy remained. “I’m glad.”

A beat of silence passed, during which I turned back to my own food.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him. Chris’s eyes were not on mine. “I love you too, Chris. You mean the world to me.”

“I’m not sure how I love you.”

I sensed he had more to say, so I waited, brows crinkled.

With an anxious inhale, he continued. “I don’t know if it’s…family love or…something else.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

I squeezed his arm. “It is.”

A pause.

“Come here,” I said. I gathered Chris into my arms and he pulled me tightly against him, our torso’s separated by the center console. He smelled like cold spices and the mountains. “I care about you,” I whispered, gentle as I could possibly be. “Whatever form that takes.”

His hand slid up and down my back, pressing hard against me–like he was desperate for something, or feeling emotions he couldn’t articulate. 

“You are…very cool.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “Thank you, Christopher.”

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied in a more serious tone, squeezing him tight. He returned the favor, and he would continue until his arms ached and his chest begged for relief. We did this sometimes, in moments of great emotion. The words Chris knew could not equate to the sentiments Chris felt, so sometimes we just held each other until we couldn’t anymore. It had only happened twice before.

When he finally loosened his grip, I rubbed his shoulder and leaned back into my chair. “Was that what you called about?”

“Partly,” he said. “Also we haven’t talked so I just wanted to know if you were like…good.” He chuckled. “How’s your love life?”

“Nothing to report.” Liar.

“...That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Say something.

“You wanna head home?”

“Sure!” Say anything.

“Cool.”

I started the car. The engine roared to life as I adjusted my seat and reversed out of our parking spot. 

“Thank you for…all of that,” Chris said.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured back, looking anywhere other than his eyes. He couldn’t see the tears in mine–I wouldn’t let him. Chris didn’t need my drama right now.

We drove home with more music than conversation. I dropped him off and watched him walk inside, the boys’ massive garage door sliding down behind him. The car idled in the street for a while as I stared into the darkness. 

My phone buzzed in the cupholder–a text from Chris.

iMessage from Orange Juice:

   come over more often

   i missed hanging out with you

   you’re a rly good friend

Thanks <3 you too i guess, I typed, ignoring the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks. 

pt two: here

idea inspired by the following track:

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn

[nknoxe-n]

˚ ༘♡ ┊❛ Paint Me Like One Of Your French Girls ❜┊˚ ⋆｡˚

Nagi lounged lazily on your bed, his fingers idly tapping the controller as you booted up Mario Kart on the PlayStation. The familiar beeps and whirs filled the room, but his mind kept wandering back to the moment he arrived. You’d hastily shoved a notebook into your drawer, a flash of movement that had piqued his curiosity.

You were usually an open book and always said what was on your mind, it was something he liked about you because there was no hassle when it came to figuring out how you felt or if you were keeping secrets from him, not that he'd care anyway. It was odd seeing that nervous look on your face when you'd fumbled to put the notebook away, he'd never seen you so flustered over something so small.

“Ready to lose?” 

Your voice brought Nagi out of his thoughts as you'd picked up a controller as well the plastic casually held in your hands, although you'd decorated your main controller with a few stickers and the joysticks with rubber caps that'd resembled cat paws.

“Hmm,” Nagi replied noncommittally, his eyes drifting to the drawer. He was usually indifferent, content to let things be, but he couldn't help but be kind of nosy.

Time passed quickly as the two of you played game after game, Nagi won most of them, but you'd gotten a few wins against him before there was a game change. The idea of Minecraft was much more relaxing than getting butt hurt over Mario Kart, since Nagi couldn't really 'beat' you in this one.

Nagi glanced over as your stomach groaned, and you got up. “I’m grabbing snacks. Be right back.” You flashed him a quick smile, "Want anything?"

He nodded in response, his eyes drifting up to meet yours, "Uhm can you make me lemon tea...?"

"I'm not brewing you tea Nagi- I'll get you some chips or candies"

Nagi glanced at the door, ensuring you were out of earshot. With a sigh, he hauled himself off the bed. It was a hassle, but he was intrigued. He shuffled over to the drawer, opening it carefully. The notebook was right where you’d left it. He flipped it open, his eyes widening slightly at what he found.

Page after page of sketches, doodles, and notes. But one drawing stood out. It was a detailed sketch of him, capturing his relaxed demeanour perfectly, the kind of precision that spoke of countless hours of observation and care.

His usually indifferent expression softened. He traced the lines of the drawing with his finger, a slightly shocked, look forming on his lips he didn't expect something like this, when had you even drawn this? 

Footsteps approached. You returned, snacks in hand, catching him in the act. “Nagi, what are you doing?”

He held up the notebook, the drawing facing you. “Didn’t know you could draw like this,” he said, his tone as lazy as ever, but his eyes held a hint of warmth and genuine surprise.

Your cheeks flushed a dark red, the tips of your ears dusting with colour, snatching the notebook from his hands with a scoff. “It’s nothing, really- Just something I do when I’m bored.”

Nagi sank back onto the bed, picking up his controller. “It’s something,” he murmured, he didn't need to say much, but you almost seemed expectant when you stared into his dull grey eyes "It's uh... good"

"I know" You huffed before ruffling his hair, it was something Nagi had experienced from Reo countless times, a habit you just happened to pick up, he didn't care of course it would be such a bother to start caring about something so meaningless "You shouldn't snoop through people stuff Nagi"

"Sorry...?"

"Whatever" You'd grinned devilishly, he watched the TV seeing your block character start to hit him with a sword trying to kill him, his reflexes were just a bit faster though. When he finally got into a playing position he started chasing you around critting you out even if he had low HP"

"The kill is fair game now, maybe you can draw me winning this fight"

(Ik you can't play Mario Kart on PlayStation without an emulator or whatever it's called, just pretend it's an AU where you can for my dignity😭)

[voxmortuus]

Please could you do Will Graham x fem reader where she's kidnapped by him but he treats her so well? Like he is madly in love w her and even tho she doesn't like being kidnapped, she accepts her reality and starts to get along well with Will? And he's happy because maybe she can start feeling the same that him.

Smut and fluffy/angsty please! I love your work

►PAIRING: Will Graham X F!Reader ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 1.1k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►SONG INSPIRATION: Obsessed by Elle Lexxa ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angsty Reader | Fluffy Will | Unprotected Vaginal Penetration | Acceptance of situation - Stockholm Syndrome | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Hello Anon Requester and Reader. So in a previous post I had stated I will no longer be taking on Hannibal and Hannibal character requests until further notice. However, this request would finish up my series of Obsession. So for you and for the sake of finishing my series, I will fill this request and make it my third and final part of Obsession. You can read part one and part two in the links next to the masterlist. Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist | Obsession Pt. 1 Obsession Pt. 2

You were just as lost then as you are now. You had no idea what was happening, but you were feeling it. You were feeling it deep, this sense of acceptance over everything. Maybe Will wasn't so bad, maybe there was good to him, after all, you never wanted for anything, you never needed anything, and anything you ever desired besides escaping you've gotten. The way you take your toast with a little extra jam on the bottom corner for your first bite, or how you take your coffee with a little pinch of cinnamon in the grinds before brewing. He took note of all of this, and you never felt unsafe with him. He never hurt you. All he's ever wanted was to love you, and for you to love him and here you are questioning the very same thing.

Knocking at your door he peeks in and looks at you with such a kind loving smile. "Good morning. How did you sleep?" He asks you.

Nodding you give a small smile tucking some hair away from your face. "I slept alright, thank you. Coffee? Maybe I can, I don't know, join you for breakfast this time instead of eating in here? The room is starting to smell like breakfast lunch and dinner." You give a small smile and a soft chuckle.

Will's eyes light up and he looks over you and with an eager nod he looked over you and gave you a genuine loving smile. Swallowing your pride, you give him a smile back and search his face. He seemed kind, caring even. You didn't want to judge but it was like you couldn't help it. He kidnapped you after all, but there was just something so soft and somber behind his eyes. You could feel that he could really do damage if he chose to, but he didn't. He didn't hurt you; he didn't want to. He's been nothing short of sweet with you.

You reach for him and look over him and give him a sweet smile and he takes your hand and kisses your hand gently before he unlocks your ankle from the chain and leads you to the kitchen. Sitting you down he smiles.

"Coffee? What would you like for breakfast?" He asked.

"Coffee sounds perfect. Breakfast... blueberry pancakes? With sausage on the side and an egg?" You ask with a small smile. "I can help if you'd like." You offer.

Looking at you he tilts his head and smiles nodding. "I'd like that."

Making your way over to the counter, it felt good to stretch your legs and do something other than reading, or sketching, even pacing your room was growing exhausting. You would attempt to see if he can take you out back to his beautiful garden later. But right now. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy doing something different after what seemed like days.

Taking a moment to watch him, you feel this urge to reach out and touch him. Looking up at him you smile. He looks over you, but it was this urge to reach out a little more. Pushing past, you start to realize a little more about him that was deeper, it was a deeper acceptance of things, you realize you're really not going anywhere.

"I want you to make love to me Will..." You state, almost hesitant, but genuine. "In your bed..." you add.

He stops and looks at you, tilting his head, a little concerned, but there was something in your eyes that spoke truth. He knew what this was, but he was also blinded by his own wants, needs, and desires. His utter infatuation with you.

He pulls you close and kisses you deeply. In a fever you wrap your arms around him and pull him even closer, your hands in his hair. Bending slightly, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him as he takes you to his room.

Laying you upon his bed he looks over you as you toss your night shirt to the side and you sit up, reaching forward and pull at his pajama pants as he strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side. Dropping his pants, he scoots you further up on the bed, so your head rests on the pillows.

"Are you sure?" He asks. The first time he's asked for consent, but you know what, you were willing this time.

You look at him and nod. "I'm sure." you whisper as you press your lips to his and pull him closer.

Pressing your hips up toward him, you feel his member against your flesh, and you let out a soft whimper and a heavy breath. The kiss deepens. Feeling him stiffen against your warm, damp, needing core you whimper again and roll your hips against the stiffing flesh and with a small adjustment he slips his member between your heavenly folds, and he lets out a groan.

Feeling the way he stretches you, you let out a soft moaning whimper as you arch into him, your nails rake across his back up to his shoulders. His lips press against yours in a small fit of fever. With each thrust the grunts and groans matched.

He made your body feel hot, tingly, wanted even. Why did you not see this before? Maybe it was because it wasn't under your terms, but now, now this was your terms and it felt different. You could get more used to this than what you are now.

The roll of your hips matched the press of his in perfect unison, the moans from your lips bounced off the walls and it only fueled him even more. The way he filled you caused you to want more. You were absolutely lost in this moment, craving more you widen your hips and lose yourself completely to him.

While the act itself was intoxicating, what fueled you more was feeling that pining for a finish, feeling it swell within your core you clench your legs around him pulling him deeper into you. Letting out a seductive lustful scream in raw pleasure you feel this orgasm consume you. But it was when you felt him press deeper into you releasing his hot ribbons of seed, feeling them coat your walls you let out another trembling fluttering moan that fills the room.

After a few moments you both look at each other and you smile a somber calm loving smile. "Breakfast?" you ask.

With a chuckle he nods and carries you to the kitchen, setting you on the counter, his seed oozing from you as he smirks. It was this moment you realize that this man, you were going to enjoy the company of a little more than before. This moment right here that he knew you were going to be with him forever.

[twstfanblog]

(Little scene from Manhwa H (that's the one I'm on 🤣) @st4rz666

Little bit of the inner thoughts of Crewel. Kind of a bad dad, but like...nah I got nothing to defend him 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Also random OC name drop. He will appear in a lot of fics once I actually get around to him showing up.)

Divus hummed, eyeglasses on while he worked on a jacket he had gotten the idea for around lunch. While he adored his daughter, having her out of the house was a blessing. He and Dire didn't have to pretend to be in love and they could separate to do their own hobbies (or whatever one would call the nefarious deeds Dire got up to when no one was watching him). In the calm, quiet of the duchy, hand stitching in embroidery on a meter long tailcoat was just what Divus needed to unwind.

He held in a sigh when a servant announced to him that Yuu had returned from the Ashengrotto home. His puppy wasn't ready nor interested enough in embroidery to allow him to work on it, so into his work closet the jacket went. Once his office was cleared up, he waited patiently, knowing his daughter's first stop when coming home was to rush to him for a hug.

Hearing the door of his office open, he smiles seeing his puppy poke her adorable little head in, "Hello, my puppy! How was your-AH! WHO IS THAT!?"

Yuu beamed as she dragged a rag of child into the room. White and black hair that was stringy, a potato sack of a dress, and a dirty gaunt face with large bag heavy eyes, "Her name is Yu! She's my new friend!" She smiled to the child, giggling as she tried to smile back though clearly nervous.

Divus tried to hold in his sounds of...it was cruel, but disgust. He didn't like children, that was a fact he always knew about himself. He was lucky that when he was expected to produce an heir for the Crowley line, he at least found Yuu to be CUTE when she was born. A pleasing child was so much easier to learn to love than...whatever she had brought in.

He hums, stepping closer and eyeing the child, "Well...what family does she come from? I couldn't think of a noble house that'd allow their children to walk around as such..."

Yu wrung and pulled at her dress hem, mumbling her family's name under her breath.

"Speak up. I can't hear you."

She tried again, her nerves building under Divus's cold, calculating gaze. Voice trembling and soft, barely louder than before, "I...I'm Yu-"

"Speak!"

"Papa! You're scaring my friend! Knock it off!"

Trust his puppy to have a bark just as big as her bite.

Divus glanced at his daughter, a lecture on 'inside voices' dying on his tongue once he noticed the other child's expression.

Hollow eyes that held a flicker of hope, skinny hands gripping onto the soft flesh of his child's arm like it was a life line. The willingness to stand in her shadow for protection.

Admiration.

"..."Divus hummed, looking the child over once again before coming to a conclusion. Yuu could use a 'Yes-Girl'; someone to be on her side simply out of admiration. And with the proper care, this child could become a beauty in her own right. Divus would just have to add her into Yuu's beauty routines.

He smiles, kneeling before the two girls and pinching their cheeks, "Papa is so sorry, puppy. He'll be nicer to your friend. In fact, how does a sleepover sound? Your little friend can get a nice bath, a meal, and pick some of your pajamas to borrow for the night.

Both of the girl's eyes widen, beaming at Divus before Yuu cheers, "Thank you, Papa! I'm gonna show Yu my room so we can play! Call us when dinner is ready!"

Divus keeps his smile, waving at the two girls leaving his office before his expression drops into mild annoyance, "Of course my puppy manages to find a 'Robert' of her own..." he sighs, shaking his head and walking to his desk to open his sketch book to a new page, "I fear she'll be such a popular child..."

Divus was a social climber, a feat that he sacrificed his family name for. He sacrificed plenty to get where he was today, Robert's affections and friendship one of many. As he sketched, he wondered just how dear his child would become to this poor lost pup she had brought into their house...

[insomniamamma]

Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist! Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! Thank you, Mayor El, for planting this seed. I am currently mulling over a tattoo much like the one described here.

Warnings: Angst. Talk about failed marriage. Reader is an empty nester. Reader has grown children. Mentions of self harm scars. Blood. I have tattoos but it's been decades and I've done a bit of research to figure out the current state of it. Any inaccuracies are on me. And yes, Pedro's red devil Met Gala look was my inspiration for tattoo artist! Ez.

A bit of flirting. It is Ezra after all. But mostly gentle fluff.

 A chain of bells on the door jingles as you push your way through, briefly glare-blind from the sudden dimness, green afterimages from the sizzling sidewalks, air-conditioned cold hits hard, and you stand, blinking and foolish as the girl behind the counter sizes you up, wild mullet of bleach-blonde hair, face set and disproving, black lacquered nails and ears spangled with golden studs and bars.  “I’m sorry— I’m a bit early, I can come back—“ And she smiles, big and open and wide--  “Oh, heck! You’re the tardigrade lady! Ez did a bunch of sketches. Lemme go grab him-“ and she rattles her way through the beaded curtain behind the register and disappears “Ezra! Your three o’clock is here—“    A co-worker had recommended Needles & Pins when you’d admired her ink, a half-sleeve magpie with a skeleton key in its beak and constellations drawn behind it like an old map. It’s in Secret Springs. That’s kind of a haul. Yeah, but Ezra’s one of the best in the business. You’ve got plenty of PTO piled up. You’re just gonna lose it if you don’t use it. You could get out of here for a bit. Yeah, maybe. And Moira gives you a pitying look. You both know the chances of you using any of that PTO are slim. This last year and change has been a rollercoaster ride, your youngest graduating summa cum laude and fucking off halfway across the country, some job at an aerospace start up that you can’t even begin to understand, but she seems happy, and the vice-gripped, duct taped, cobbled together thing that your marriage had become finally shat out. I love you, he’d said, but not the way you need me to. And on that humid night, watching heat-lightning flicker through the clouds, you say nothing, just nod, because he’s not wrong, the two of you have been holding on for a long time, for the kids, for appearances, and it’s like unclenching a fist. Kept it civil, he let you keep the house rather than selling it and splitting the difference, moved back home with his brothers and his dad, still talk about once a week, mostly about Lilly and the boys. Married so young that you never learned to be alone. So you throw yourself into your job, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it’s press your shoulder to the wheel and shove.You and Moira laugh together, but when you get home you start researching Needles and Pins and Secret Springs, tiny state park with campsites and trails, bracketed with BNB’s and small shops, strange gerrymandered artifact, small strip of beach that hasn’t been subsumed by hotel chains and timeshares. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on vacation, the last time you’ve done anything for you and no one else, and you’ve e-mailed Needles and Pins almost without thinking. Why not? Why the fuck not?

  Appointments only. No walk ins. High end. Serious inquiries only.   And part of you balked, new to this possibility, had your ears pierced at Claire’s when you were twelve or so, and you’d felt stupid when you sent the e-mail off with some images attached. Sorry to bother you.   What a lovely idea. Water bears and fireweed together speak of resilience. The awakening of something new after a time of trial. There are species of pine that require the heat of wildfire to dry out their cones enough to spread their seeds. I would gladly meet with you to discuss this further.   And that’s how you ended up here, in this air-conditioned cave, narrow space full of framed flash art and old maps and framed photos of Ezra and the girl behind the counter, C? Sea? You didn’t quite register her name, flustered by the cool dark in contrast to the blazing heat outside.   “No need to yell, Birdie, I’m comin-“ Ezra rattles through the curtain. Broad is the first thing you notice, loud is the second. He is a confusion of color, heavily inked arms and a Hawaiian shirt bedecked with flamingos in sunglasses, spangled ears and a gold ring through his lip, bright shock of blonde hair amid his unruly curls. Smiling bright and wide,   “Hi there,” he says, purred southern drawl, and offers his hand, “I’m Ezra.”  “I figured,” you say and take his hand, warm fingers around yours and then he folds his other hand over yours, and you see that his right hand is an elaborate prosthetic, his whole arm up to his shoulder,  gold on black, a fearsome dragon framed in blooming orchids. You barely have time to register this and Ezra is ushering you through the curtain.  “I am guessing by your demeanor that this is your first tattoo,” and you smile, but can’t quite meet his eyes, his hand finds yours again and squeezes gently. “I’ve got several sketches based on our initial discussion, but i want you to know up front, if the art is not to your liking or if you change your mind about this entire venture I’ll not judge you for it.  “But the deposit—“  “A formality. Tends to keep people who aren’t sure of themselves away. I will never ink someone who isn’t fully committed, if you decide this isn’t for you i will refund you. No harm no foul. No pressure, clear?”  “Yeah. We’re clear.” Ezra smiles, dimples sinking into his scruffy cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents.  “Excellent,” he says, “Let me show you what me and Cee came up with.”

 

 “That one.” A tardigrade drawn in the traditional style, brilliantly colored in blues and greens with bold outlines, with two crossed fireweed fronds in watercolor.  “This is an approximation-“ says Ezra, “I will replicate the colors as best I can—“  “That one.” You say, “I like the hard and soft together.”  “I do as well,” says Ezra, “I must admit that I was hoping you’d choose this design. Strength and softness are not mutually exclusive. I should warn you though.  Watercolor tattoos tend to fade a bit faster than the more traditional styles-“  “Sunscreen and plenty of it” you say, and he smiles.  “That’s right, and A&D ointment as you heal. There’s plenty of fancy tattoo healing ointments to be found but A&D has always got me through. Why fix what’s not  broken? We’ll send you home with some instructions.” He takes the sketch you’ve picked out, “Hey, Cee! Can you finagle the scanner-“ Cee pops her head and arm through the beaded curtain. She grins, devilish and sharp like a crescent moon. “Old man, still can’t figure it out, huh?” Takes the sketch from his hand.  “Oi! You are but a humble apprentice,” says Ezra, but he smiles, “An initiate! A novice even!” Cee smiles back. This seems like an exchange that happens at least three times a week, and you feel yourself smiling along with them.  “Get her prepped. I’ll do the hard part.”  “That girl,” he mutters, “You take a seat right there—“ He gestures towards a set up that looks uncomfortably like a dentist’s chair, “Cee has my station set up, I just need to glove up and we’ll talk placement.”  “Left inner arm,” You frown. You’d said so over e-mail. Can’t help but watch the flex and bend of him as he pulls a shoulder length veterinary glove over his prosthetic, and then gloves his left hand, “It’s a bitch to take apart and sanitize. I can if needs be, but best to avoid all of that. I cannot exactly autoclave this thing. And I find the calving glove less unwieldy than Saran Wrap-“  “Wait a sec, Saran Wrap? Like on a plate of leftovers?”  Ezra dimples at you.   “Exactly like that. First time Cee witnessed it, she laughed so hard i thought she might drop dead right there on the spot. Next morning there was a case-pack of calving gloves on our front stoop like some sort of-“  “It’s Amazon, Ez, not witchcraft,” says Cee, popping back through the curtain with a sheaf of papers, shoots you a knowing can you believe this guy look, “You’d be lost without me. Just admit it.” Ezra takes the papers from her.   “Go on now, don’t you have fanfic to read? What’s that Star Wars thing? Reylo?” Cee’s face scrunches in a cartoonish display of disgust.  “Man, I never should’ve told you about AO3.” And with that she’s gone.  “Your daughter’s really something.”  “She ain’t mine,” says Ezra, leafing through the stack of prints Cee handed him, draws a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and perches them on his nose, “I don’t have that honor. Her parents kicked her from the nest and she found her way here.” He holds two of the prints in front of his face. “Show me your arm.” And you offer him your left arm, hand turned palm up. He cradles your arm, runs his gloved fingers over the thin skin there, noting the network of silvered scars, like contrails in a hazy sky, because how can he not? Old enough to be flattened and flush with the rest of your skin, no one’s noticed in years, but you know he must and you tense, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just selects a printed sheet at holds it up to you arm.  “This the orientation you want?”  “Yeah, I want him standing on my hand. Um, Ezra, the scars-“  “won’t be a problem, darlin, they’re old and soft-“  “I’m not gonna screw up your handiwork,” you say, and he folds your hand in both of his, gentle pressure that grounds you and when you look up at him, his eyes are soft.  “I know you won’t,” he says, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.  We can rewrite this part of your story. I trust you.” 

 Ezra preps your skin, alcohol wipes and mild soap and he shaves your inner arm with a disposable razor, rubs some gooey stuff on you that makes you think of putting on aloe after a burn. Gotta let this dry a beat, he says, we want the stencil to come out nice and clean, rests his hand over yours while the transfer solution dries, got to let it get tacky, he says.  Not quite holding your hand but not letting go either.  “I should warn you, the bit over your inner wrist will likely be the most painful,” swipes his hand over your skin, testing the resistance against his glove, “Skin’s thin there. Not a whole lot of meat between the skin and all the veins and little fiddly bits.”  “Fiddly bits,” you echo, and feel yourself smile, “You mean the bones?”  “And tendons,” says Ezra, clips out the stencil.  “That looks like carbon paper,” you say, and Ezra grins, “It’s functionally the same, but Cee insists that the thermographic printer makes cleaner stencils than the old methods, so here we are.” He lays the sheet of paper over your arm, rubs at it with a balled up paper towel, “We want the transfer solution to soak into the paper. It’ll leave the stencil behind on your skin. There’s some tricks involving deodorant, but i find this method works the best-“ you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, face pinched in concentration, pout of his lips, those dark eyes focused on the strip of skin between your wrist and elbow like this bit of you is the only thing in the universe. “—hey! you still with me?”  “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”  “You got a hotel room for tonight? It’s not by business, but i know you’re not local and getting tattooed blows a surprising amount of adrenaline-“  “I’ve got a  room booked,” you say, “Up over Peli’s.”  “Hope you brought earplugs,” says Ezra, “That place can get a bit rowdy on a Friday night.”   “I’m counting on it,” you say, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar.”  “Hmm,” he rubs at the transfer paper, “Do you feel your skin tightening a bit? We should be just about ready. I’m gonna click the gun on for a beat so you can hear it.”   “I’m not scared.”  “Didn’t say you were.” says Ezra, “I find this tends to go easier if people know what to expect. This buzz and my endless yap are going to be filling your ears for the next few hours-“  “It’s not bad. The tattoo machine, I mean.” And Ezra grins, slow curve that just hints at a dimple.   “My Ma always said my tongue is hung in the middle and wags at both ends. If, at any point in this venture, you need me to shut the fuck up do not be shy in saying so,” his face falls, eyes flick away a little, “There’s one more thing before we peel this stencil and get on to our business. I will need to stretch your skin, to make sure the lines are nice and clean, and for that i must rely on this foolish thing.” Ezra catches you around your wrist with his prosthetic hand and squeezes slightly.   “I do not have the sensitivity nor dexterity that i once had,” he says, “I have some haptic feedback, but it’s not the most reliable. If I grip or pinch too hard, you sing out and I will manually adjust the pressure.”  So focused on your left inner wrist and the tracery of your skin that he startles, flinches when you reach for him and grip his upper arm, brief squeeze and then gone.  “I trust you.” His eyes widen for a second, and flick away from yours.   ‘I suppose you do. Else you wouldn’t be here. Let’s get a good look at these lines before we get to fencin’.” Ezra peels the transfer paper up and you feel the pull of it, dark purple lines printed on your inner arm. And that makes it feel real.

You’re going to walk out of here with something like a story in your skin forever.   “The fireweed—“  “I know. The stencil lines are just there to keep me from going too loosey-goosey,” says Ezra, “That being said, how would you feel about some slight splatters? So the stems do not rise so harshly from the water bear’s back, perhaps a bit darker than the color of the fireweed. Something to really make this little fella pop.”  “Dark. Like a dark purple fading up into the pinks.”  “Yeah? What do you think?”  “I like it,” you say, and you feel yourself grin wide, and Ezra’s smile mirrors your own, “This is gonna be so fucking cool.”  “It will,” he says, those dark eyes bracketed in delighted crinkles, “I’ve got you, darlin. We’re gonna make some magic.”

 It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and you tell Ezra so, and he smiles, bent over your arm.  “Everyone’s pain threshold is a bit different,” he says, “You are squirming very little for your first ink.”’   “I was in labor with my oldest for twenty three hours. This doesn’t even register.”  “The linework is usually worse in terms of sharp pain,” he says, “The color and shading tend to be more persistently annoying. Like a shirt collar rubbing on a sunburn.” He has a light on a swing arm like a dentist uses, framing him in a bright halo as he hunches over your arm, catches his curls in bright filaments, the scruff of his cheeks, slope of his neck, breadth of his shoulders. Sharper pain as he touches the crease between wrist and hand, bracelets of fortune, you think they’re called, draw your breath in a sharp hiss, little hooked curves of the tardigrade’s claws.  “Breathe, sugar, you’re doing just fine. Worst part’s nearly done.” His eyes flick up to catch yours, warm soft and magnified by his glasses. “And I really must know. what’s your favorite dinosaur?”  “Deinonychus,” you answer unthinking, “Dromeosaurs are pretty cool in general, but Deinonychus is my favorite.” And you smile. Knowing exactly what he’s doing and thankful for it. “The raptors in Jurassic Park were actually Deinonychuses. Modeled on them at least. Actual velociraptors are turkey-sized.” Ezra smiles up at you, perfect plump lower lip bisected by a gold ring, damn he’s pretty, and nothing hurts at all.  “Huh,” he says, “And here I was thinkin you were a T-rex girl. S’pose that’s what i get for making assumptions.”  “Well you know what they say about assuming—“  “Indeed I do. My mother was very fond of whipping out that particular turn of phrase.” He stretches your skin so he can get the tardigrade’s odd little mouthparts just so.  “What’s your favorite?”  “Favorite what?” The curved, segmented back takes shape.  “Dinosaur. You can’t just ask someone that question and not answer it yourself.” Ezra stills for a beat, and then the needle starts up again, line sloping down to meet up with a hook-plated foot.  “Ankylosaurus.” he says.  “Really?”  “Sure. Mother Nature took a cow, a snapping turtle and a panzer tank and stuck em in a blender and then tied a cinderblock to the end of it’s tail. What’s not to love? Hmmm,” he swabs at the beaded blood and oozing ink, “Hard part’s done. How about a little breather?” Ezra stands and stretches like a lazy cat, rolls his neck side to side, heads for the refrigerator, tucked in the corner and plastered in stickers, punk bands or microbreweries, you can’t really tell.   “Stretch your legs,” he says, “This next phase will take some time.” You swing your legs over the side of the chair, stand up and then plop back down.  “You okay, darlin?”   “Stood up too fast.”   “Apple or orange?”  “Huh? Orange,” You feel your face going hot, “I followed your instructions—“ Ezra hands you a cold, sweating bottle of orange juice.  “I know you did,” he says, “When you get tattooed, you are signing up for an injury. One that happens over the course of several hours, but an injury all the same.  Everyone reacts a little different. Your sugar just dropped is all. You drink that juice and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.”  “I thought I’d be okay-“  “And you are,” says Ezra, “I’ve had three hundred pound bikers slither out of the chair at the first sight of blood. It happens sometimes. I’ve gotten woozy a time or two myself.”

He shoves up his shirtsleeve and shows you a dog in a space helmet,   “That’s Laika,” you say.  “Patron Saint of one way trips,” says Ezra, “You can see a bit of wobble in the curve of her helmet. It was far from my first ink and it still hurt like a sonofabitch. You didn’t do a thing wrong, okay?” He rests his hand on your shoulder briefly, warm weight of it grounds you, and he hunkers down so his eyes meet yours, no judgement there, just concern, and without thinking, you mirror him, rest a hand on his vibrantly inked bicep, Laika brave and doomed amid a swirl of watercolored nebulae, his skin warm beneath your palm and you feel the breath rush out of you, didn’t know how hard you were clenching your jaw, didn’t know you tight your chest was.  “Thank you.” And for a beat those lovely, dark eyes hold yours, before they slide away, cheek curved up in a half-smile.  “You are most welcome. Shall we proceed?”

 The color inking goes much as he described, more annoying than painful, like a constant pressing of fingernails against your skin, different gun with more needles packed together, ink laid in, blood wiped away, back and forth over the same bits of skin, needles dipped and rinsed, tiny plastic cups of color that make you think of a child’s paint set, and the two of you settle into easy conversation, a flow back and forth like a gentle tide, mostly Ezra explaining all the hidden delights of Secret Springs, you simply must get breakfast at Cisco’s, it don’t look like much but they’ve got the best biscuits and gravy i’ve ever tasted, and Cee swears by their Hangover Helper, it’s like a layer dip of grease. Hash browns and corned beef hash and scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and cheese sprinkled over it. I keep tellin Frankie he should rename it the Heart Attack Platter, but he won’t hear it— Ezra’s voice and the buzz of the tattoo gun and the rhythm of him pressing into your skin and wiping away the blood and excess ink set you drifting, content to listen to him ramble, like the patter of falling rain.  “So what got you here?” asks Ezra.  “Moira. I saw her ink and asked—“  “No, darlin, what got you here?” And you find it hard to speak, to put into words, did everything right, married and had kids and a house and a good job and a husband who loved you until he didn’t, did everything right and still ended up with an empty house and no one to come home to except the cat. Lilly and Liam and Joey off on their own and settled and they all call you on Sunday like clockwork, as if you are an obligation and not someone who held them when they were small, talked them through the fears of monsters in the closet, talked them through the humiliation of first love, you know they love you, they tell you every time, at the end of every visit, hug you so tight and tell you they love you. Love you too, but you still come home to a dark house and an empty bed, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched or kissed or held. Been so long since you did things for you without thinking of him and the kids that it feels wrong, shameful.  “I wanted to do something just for me, I guess.” You frown.  “I’m guessing you are not in the habit,” he says, “Of doing things just for the joy of it.” You laugh, a bright and brittle sound that pulls itself from your throat, even as your eyes burn, his eyes flick up from the brilliant pinks and oranges and purples, and you turn your head away.  “I’ve prodded a raw nerve, I’m sorry. Cee rightly says I have no filter-“  “It’s okay. It’s just…you do everything right and you still end up all alone, you know? Lil and the boys are all doing fine. They call me every Sunday, and I know I should be happy, and I am happy. Happy for them-“  “But not for yourself,” says Ezra. And you think of how the intimacy slowly bled out of your marriage, held on so tight for so long, thought you could muscle through it like you do everything else in your life, but love wasn’t enough, determination wasn’t enough, gritted teeth and stubbornness weren’t enough.   “No. Not for myself.” You frown. You haven’t put it in words before, too busy keeping it together, trying to gut through it like you do everything, keep your head down and push through, “You think your life is one thing and then it just isn’t anymore— this probably seems silly to you.”  “Not at all. I often think of cicadas,” he says, and returns his attention to the fireweed blossoms.  “Cicadas?”  “Yes. They live the majority of their lives under the ground, feasting on roots content with living in the dark and then something calls them up above. They split themselves open, crawl out of their old skins and take flight.”  “You’re saying I’m in the process of crawling out of my own skin,” you say.  “I’m saying that your future doesn’t have to look like your past,” says Ezra.

 “The past is another country,” you say, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard the phrase.  “Just so,” says Ezra, “Just so. We’re redrawing the map right here. And it is a joy to redraw it with you.”  “Are you—are you flirting with me?” Ezra scrunches his face in mock disdain, “I would never ever flirt with a client. That would be deeply unethical and Cee would undoubtedly yell at me. However, once I finish inking this last frond and we slather you in ointment and wrap you up you will no longer be my client-“  “And then?” He smiles at you, all dark eyes and dimples.  “Well then we are just two folks enjoying the moonlight and wetting our toes in the surf. If you’d walk with me a spell. If you can further tolerate my rambling,”  “I think I’d like to get my feet wet.”

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3

[mikailys]

MCL NewGen Ep 8 Commentary

Ik it's late and that several days have passed since the episode's release, but I wanted to wait a bit to let my thoughts simmer and write my review with a cool head. I need to rant about it so sit tight 'cause this one in particular is though lol.

As it was advertised, the whole episode revolves around Roy and a peculiar hobby of his: skinny dipping. Thomas is the one who spills the beans -as always- and everyone is curious about it. Roy explains that he only does it after the swimming pool closing hour and you know what: that is fine by me. Is it weird? Yes, but I'm not supposed to care what my co-workers do in their freetime so I personally don't mind.

And, unfortunately, that's all. To sum up, the plot is "co-workers try to go undercover to spy on their other coworker while he's skinny dipping :|

Since I don't like Roy, the premise of this ep didn't really appeal to me at all. But, weirdly enough, it had the opposite effect 'cause I've spent its whole duration feeling sorry for him. He gets the possibility once a month to train alone in a professional pool, and the six of us -which I recall you are his co-workers and his boss- have nothing better to do than to go spying on him? Just because they thought he subtly implied he wanted them to come see him?!

One. It is false since during the whole workday they kept "catcalling" him and joking about it and he wasn't really pleased to say the least. He put on a brave face, endured the working hours, and then left the office asap.

Two. You're adults, fully grown adults that are acting like literally teens. It's not normal for grown-ups to feel excited, see Elenda and Thomas, to play spies to see your co-worker naked. It is weird and creepy.

I'm glad at least I wasn't the only sane person to comprehend this was wrong and absurd on so many levels. Paradoxically enough, the only one I found myself agreeing with was Amanda, a character I couldn't stand until now, she gained a tons of points in my eyes + she's also a girl's girlie so gg.

Also, special mention to the hint of peer pressure put on Candy and Amanda by the quartet. I didn't like it at all and it shouldn't be even a thing considering the context.

No is no, even if Roy supposedly enjoys voyeurism, I personally do not.

This is really a shame cause they butchered so many characters with this unnecessary sketch, Thomas being the worst of them in my eyes. I'm not sure if my perception of him was wrong from the start, but I don't recognize this character at all. Silly jokes, creepy hobbies, and an immature, teenage-like attitude were never traits I would have attributed to him. I know I keep repeating myself but it's truly a shame that such poor writing has impacted the perception and development of the characters, which now seems clearly different from how they were portrayed in the beginning...

Going forward, I made then the choice to leave with Amanda and warn Roy about their ambush. It was nice to have that option tbh. The whole scene afterwards, sneaking into the public pool and hiding in the lockers, was utterly embarrassing because it’s not the kind of behavior you’d expect from people in their late twenties, but whatever the problem it's the whole context so I can't complain about it too much.

Then Roy catches the sextet and pulls off his counter-prank. After snitching on us, we all decided it was a good time to play with water guns. Again, the idea was fun and silly in a good way, but context-wise mmh...

Now the long-awaited moment I've been patiently waiting for: the encounter with Jason.

Look at him I love him sm nsgsg

I had no idea how they would include him in the episode since he practically had nothing to do with the Devenemential gang. And honestly -unpopular opinion- they probably should have left him out of this messy episode because the reason they gave for his involvement didn’t fully convince me, and the special scene was disappointing.

Apparently, he also has deals with the guards -worst security protocol ever if you ask me- and he goes there once a week to train. And here I was thinking that the CEO of a famous and well-known company would have a private pool or the means to rent one lol. Looks like everyone's feeling the pinch these days. Good job Jason, saving money like the rest of us poor unfortunate souls, such a relatable boss.

Fun fact, it appears one of his dreams is to defeat Roy? In a swimming competition?? Like, okay? I'll gladly be there to root for you the day you actually succeed then dear.

Well maybe not everyone shares the same hobbies as you and Roy, Candy. Besides, why would he know about Roy's interests?? He's not as deranged as Thomas, who keeps tabs on his colleagues' private lives...

ANYWAY. Candy feels cold and needs to get out of the pool if she doesn’t want to catch pneumonia. Jason offers to help her by closing his eyes, but she’s not fully convinced. Again, NOT EVERYONE IS A PERV, CANDY. You're just the unlucky girl who's got to work with them. In fact you should bring him to Devenemential to have him teach your colleagues the art of not being crazy maniacs, I'm sure that could be of help.

I won't spend too many words on the next scene since I've already made a whole ass post ranting about it and sharing my headcanon. However, regarding the mistress scene, I will say that yes, it was poorly executed. But if the entire episode had followed this direction I would have gladly signed off on it because, all things considered, it’s not even remotely comparable to the plot we've endured so far.

Now for the special scene I am conflicted. Ngl I really thought for a split second that we actually managed to kiss him, but I quickly snapped back to reality when I realized it was just Candy being delusional and I am just as much as her. She must have ingested way too much chlorine to be having such a mental trip lol. Anyway, I didn't like it very much because it was clear that BV didn't know what to come up with. The fact that they managed to incorporate Jason into the plot was something, but asking for a well-written special scene was apparently too much.

On a side note, I’m DEAD TIRED of having to endure the worst humiliations in every single episode when we’re on Jason’s route. It's pretty embarrassing, and, at lest for me, it’s not easy to move forward without cringing every few minutes. Moreover, it always seems like he has to have the upper hand in every situation. When is our Candy going to stop acting like a fool and step up her game??

And that's all, the episode ends with Candy leaving the pool, wondering if she and Jason will ever stop meeting in the most weird way spoiler: you won't i assure you.

Now for the next episode I fear we’re in for another ‘fun’ plot since it’s called A Child at Heart, but honestly I have no idea what these interns will actually get up to. Maybe the theme will revolve around generational differences, since they seem to be Gen Z while our colleagues are more on the border of being Millennials? Idk but I do really hope the writing will be better than in this ep.

All things considered, I still have faith in BV. I know they have the ability to write a good story with a solid foundation when they want to—it’s just that I don’t know what’s happening with this series in particular. As other players have pointed out, it feels like this plot was originally conceived when NG was still set in a high school, and now they’re trying to repurpose it in a more 'adult' way. The problem is, it’s just not working.

The Halloween event is approaching, and let’s hope it can alleviate some of the discontent in the community. Hopefully the upcoming episodes will be better since they’ve addressed the topic in the forums but we'll see.

[adrealucia]

hii ! ive been obsessing over sean diaz for years and you might have a lot of requests from me soooo, I was wondering if you could do sean diaz (pre-accident) hard on crushing on reader who's like the popular kid who usually doesnt really notice him until he gets their number and turns out reader is actually funny and pretty nice despite popular beliefs :))

ah i have been dying to write this request ever since i got it, this idea is just really cute and i could totally see this being canon !!! I hope you like it

Popular Misconceptions

Sean Diaz glanced across the cafeteria, his eyes locking onto the table where you sat, surrounded by a group of friends. You, the popular girl, laughed and chatted animatedly, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around you. Sean couldn't help but feel a pang of envy mixed with curiosity. He had always admired you from afar, never quite daring to believe he could be part of your world.

"Hey, Sean, you zoning out again?" Lyla's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned back to his best friend.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Just thinking."

Lyla followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about her, huh?"

Sean blushed, looking down at his tray. "I mean, she's... interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" Lyla smirked. "Well, why don't you go talk to her? She's not as unapproachable as you think."

Sean shook his head. "Yeah, right. Like she'd even notice me."

"Hey, you'd be surprised. She's in your art class, right? You've got a reason to talk to her."

Sean sighed. "Maybe."

Later that day, Sean found himself in the art room, his sanctuary. He was sketching absentmindedly, lost in the details of his drawing, when he heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, he was surprised to see you standing there, a friendly smile on your face.

"Hey, Sean, right?" you asked, your voice breaking the quiet hum of the room.

Sean's heart skipped a beat. "Uh, yeah. Hi."

You held out your phone. "I was wondering if you could help me with this art project. I heard you're really good."

"Sure," Sean replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "What do you need?"

You sat down next to him, placing your sketchbook on the table. "I need some advice on shading. I can never get it to look right."

Sean glanced at your work and immediately saw the potential. "You're actually really good. Just need a few tweaks here and there."

You smiled, a genuine warmth in your eyes. "Thanks, that means a lot coming from you."

As you both worked on your projects, Sean found himself relaxing. You were genuinely nice, and as you started talking more, he discovered you had a great sense of humor. You cracked jokes and shared stories, making him laugh more than he had in a long time.

"Did you hear about Mr. Johnson's car getting covered in post-it notes?" you asked, giggling.

Sean chuckled. "Yeah, I saw it. Who even has the patience for that?"

You shrugged, grinning. "Probably someone with a lot of time and a lot of post-it notes."

Sean found himself enjoying your company more than he expected. Over the next few weeks, you and Sean grew closer. You'd text each other about everything and nothing, your conversations filled with banter and mutual interests. Sean realized how wrong he'd been about you. Despite your popularity, you were down-to-earth and kind, breaking every stereotype he'd had.

One afternoon, you both sat under a tree in the school courtyard, enjoying the rare sunny day. You were telling a particularly funny story about a recent party, and Sean couldn't stop laughing.

"See? You're not just some quiet artist," you teased, nudging him playfully. "You're actually fun to be around."

Sean's cheeks flushed. "Thanks. You're pretty cool too. I never thought I'd get to know the real you."

You leaned back against the tree, looking thoughtful. "You know, people always assume things about me because I'm 'popular.' But I get tired of all the pretending sometimes. With you, I can just be myself."

Sean's heart swelled at your words. "I'm glad. I like getting to know the real you."

You smiled, a genuine warmth in your eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. And for the record, I've always noticed you. It just took a while for our paths to cross."

Sean looked at you, surprised. "Really? I thought you were too busy with your friends and... well, everything."

You laughed softly. "Appearances can be deceiving. I've seen your art in the hallways. You're really talented. And you've always seemed like a nice guy."

Sean's heart swelled with happiness. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"Hey, anytime," you said, nudging him gently. "So, you want to hang out more? Outside of art projects, I mean."

Sean's eyes lit up. "I'd like that. A lot."

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the courtyard, Sean realized that maybe, just maybe, this crush wasn't so impossible after all.

[kairiscorner]

OMGG HII THIS IS MY FIRST TIME DOING A REQUEST I’M SO EXCITEDD

my idea isn’t good I’m sorry, it’s just so cliche

soo I had this idea where Miles 1610 and the reader are assigned as partners in some homework from the school (all of it can be in between itsv and atsv) and they just act like, you know, awkward teenagers. Reader is shy (and the fact that they have a little crush on Miles doesn’t really help the situation) but then the reader needed to take out some books of their backpack and Miles sees that they have an sketchbook and he’s “Oh you like to draw?” And reader is like “it’s probably the only thing I like to do😭” and then just have a cute conversation

sorry all the grammar mistakes, thanks for reading😭😭😭

OH HELLO ANON !! AWW, THAT'S SO SWEET ⁉️ you sound like such a dear, i'd love to do your req !! i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

shared hobbies. – miles 1610 x artist!reader

"morales, and..." your teacher was dictating the names of the partners assigned for a joint art project, and they turned their gaze to you, speaking out your name, finalizing the partnership between you and... him, miles morales. this would've been amazing news to you, because you were extremely familiar with this kid, mainly because of how cute his artworks were and how emotionally impactful his graffiti was.

you felt a shiver travel up your spine and caused you to sit up straight and look up from your sketchbook for the first time in a while. as the teacher dismissed everyone to find their partner to talk about their project, you froze the second you heard his sweet, languid voice and saw his big, pretty chestnut eyes looking into yours. "hey, partner." he told you with a grin as you smiled widely like a dork and nodded, extending your hand out to him for a handshake, initially, but then reverting to a high five, then choosing to just give him a fist bump when he held his palm out for a high five.

'why are you so indecisive?!'

"u-um, yeah, yeah, i..." you stuttered, moving your arms and hands away from your sketchbook–exposing your doodles, sketches, drawings, and concepts out into the world–after taking out several books to find the references you both needed for the project. it fluttered open when it hit the ground, and it remained on a page of a sketch you weren't very proud of. miles' eyes drifted from your face to your sketchbook, and his smile only got wider when he noted how creative you were. he looked away, though, when you realized he was staring; you were soon shielding your works that you promised would never see the light of day by anybody else, grabbing it and closing it shut immediately. miles chuckled and looked back at your now wide open eyes. "they look really pretty, sorry i stared, that was rude, um... i didn't realize you liked art, too." he said with an awkward yet excited laugh that made you laugh, too, out of embarrassment and intrigue.

"yeah, i, um... i don't really use just one technique, i... i use all kinds of materials, art styles, ah, it... might be easier if i just show you. th-this is all i do, really," you blurt out as you shyly flip through some pages of your sketchbook, all your designs and ideas just poured out onto every page; with nothing but pure soulful, emotional, and loving interest for the world, people, and life itself out on every once blank spot on the pages of your sketchbook. "i... can't really see myself doing anything but just picturing out like, how the world would look like in a different lens, how people would like to me, how the sky, sea, land and–" and then you realized, you were rambling.

miles listened to you eagerly as his eyes and heart took in every wonderful bit of the art you made; the unconventional aspects of your self-expression just made him even more interested in you, and grateful that, with the way things turned out, he might be able to get to know you more as not just your partner, class or schoolmate–but as a new friend; a friend that you... happen to like as more than just a friend.

"listen, you are so creative, it's inspiring me right now to think of some doodle and graffiti concepts that've been simmering in my head for a while–whaddya say to maybe having a drawing session with me at my dorm and just think of how to do this project with something more eye-catching, y'know? sorry, my dorm mate ganke might be there, though, but we can chill, too, if you want!" he offered with a smile as you blurted out in the heat of the moment: "i'd love to!" "w-well, that's sone enthusiasm... great! i-i'll see you around... 6?" he stuttered out all flustered, not expecting you to say yes, let alone immediately.

you nodded and smiled gently at him, causing him to smile back at you and stammer a lot more. 'wow, they're... really pretty when they're smiling, how come i just noticed this now?" he thought to himself as you got a little self-conscious from his involuntary staring and smiling at you, hiding from behind your sketchbook with wide eyes that stared back at him. miles realized he was staring and apologized, but you apologized for your staring, and you both got into this back and forth apology game that ended up with zero progress being done on your project, and a hundred and ten percent of progress on getting to know each other. it was gonna be the start of something, something really, really lovely between you two.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless

[quibbs126]

Can you do a Baguette x Coffee Candy fankid if you havent already?

Sorry for the kind of terrible rough sketch, but I’ve finished with Coffee Bun Cookie

Alright, let’s see about her character

She doesn’t work in the TBD like her parents, but she does still have to deal with a lot of paperwork and office spaces

One thing I’m aware of is that the TBD is supposed to be a secret, people aren’t supposed to know it exists outside of those who work there, probably because they deal with time travel. So the idea was that Coffee Bun (and likely other TBD kids, aside from maybe String Gummy ones) wouldn’t be part of it. Though I’m not really sure what she does know of it, considering both of her parents work there

I’m gonna be honest, I’m not too sure how to approach that question, because Ovenbreak doesn’t give us an answer as to how much TBD family members, would know about their jobs, because it isn’t necessary for us to know. And it becomes even more pressing of a question when you’re making a kid for at least one of them, someone who should probably know what their parent does for a living. And it’s made even worse in this scenario because both of Coffee Bun’s parents work in the TBD. So what do they tell her? Does this fly under the radar for her, and if so, how? This isn’t an answer the game gives me because none of characters there are parents, and so it isn’t necessary, and probably won’t be

I don’t know, maybe Baguette retired after Coffee Candy made manager, and she was Coffee Bun’s stay at home mom

Also sorry, getting back to Coffee Bun now, I just had to get that out of my system

So Coffee Bun works a normal office job, though she has a bit of a passion for drawing, and has had a long standing habit of doodling on papers. She considers it more of a hobby and doesn’t really think she can make a career out of it though, so it mostly goes unnoticed. Her parents did try to encourage her to maybe pursue it further when she was younger, because she has talent, but she insisted it’s not that big enough of a deal to her

And if I’m being honest, that’s about all I have on her. I really don’t have much on her character. I made up the office job thing right now as I’m writing, because I didn’t have anything for her other than being paper related, since I drew her holding paper. I’m not really even sure an office job fits her design, she looks to me like more of an artist, nothing about her screams “office worker”. Maybe in current day it is something she wants to pursue a bit more, but she still needs money, so she sticks with her regular job

Maybe I’ll rework the character description later, I don’t know

Anyways, on to the design I suppose

So her name is based off of these coffee buns, which I got as a suggestion. She’s called that because it is bread (I think) and contains coffee

Coffee bun:

Okay, if you couldn’t tell earlier, I’m just gonna say it here, I didn’t really know what I was doing with Coffee Bun

I made her rough sketch ages ago, and I quite liked it, I just…never really knew what to do with her. I kind of just made something up here because I thought “why not finish her now?”

Also personally, I’m dissatisfied with her outfit. I didn’t know what to do with it, and she’s kind of just wearing something generic, which is a far cry from her parents’ distinctive outfit designs

She doesn’t really even have coffee buns anywhere outside of her head, which again, I already made prior and is probably the best part of her design

I mean her outfit is supposed to be browns and yellow because of the color of coffee buns, with it being brown on the outside (and they seem to range in darkness of brown, as seen in the images), and light yellow on the inside, but that’s about it

I feel like this is something I struggle with when it comes to character designs, especially with my Cookies. I can give them distinct hair, but I never really know what I’m doing with outfits, or how to relate them to their ingredients (granted, maybe that’s because I’m someone who has no sense of fashion and only wears T shirts and sweatpants/leggings every day). I also just don’t know how to make accessories, especially distinct ones

And that’s another thing, I feel like I don’t really connect the characters back with their ingredients, especially with fankids. They’re more arbitrary than anything meaningful. But then I also don’t know a lot most of the ingredients I choose, and I don’t know how to learn that information, or I can use something similar as a basis for the character

Like take for example, the new Cookie teased this morning. She looks to be made of strawberry Pocky, and she’s a drummer presumably because the shape of Pocky is similar to drum sticks. It’s such a simple connection and it gives you something for the character. But I’m not able to make those easy connections, and it frustrates me to no end and leaves us in situations like this

…Sorry I got carried away again. This post feels more like me ranting about my struggles with making characters than much about the character herself. Apologies to the person who requested this for loading your request with all this

I mean, in a vacuum, Coffee Bun isn’t half bad of a design. But it’s the fact that she looks so bland next to her parents and the fact that I had nothing for her at the end that makes me bring her down in my eyes

But I suppose you can disregard me if you want and enjoy her if you want to

[myocsfanfictions]

South Side Story

Shamelesse Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

Chaspter 9

“Babe?” Veronica’s voice as she opened the door got Desna's attention. She was frying a couple of eggs. “Coupons?”

Desna nodded her head, “Pretended to jog, got the one ones on 53rd Street, they are on the table,” she said, gesturing towards the sheets of paper.

“How did it go?” She asked, amused as V let out a laugh.

“That’s always so much fun,” Veronica said, sitting on the chair with a big smile. Sometimes, they did that, and both of them were with the Gallaghers. V would usually go with either Ian or Lip, and she flirted with the guy who delivered food in shops so that the guys could steal some goods. Desna would leave the house early in the morning with Debs to steal the sheets of coupons from the front house.

The Gallaghers needed help arriving at the end of the month. V and Kev, on the other hand, didn’t have problems, so Veronica would always do things to help the family, like helping them steal or letting them borrow their things. That made Desna like Veronica even more.

“What about Kev?” The woman asked, taking the newspaper and turning the pages.

“Still asleep,” Desna said with a snort, “Butt in the air,” V laughed again. Just then, Ian opened their back door to put a bottle of juice next to V.

“Thanks, handsome,” she said, giving him the coupons. Desna waved at the boy as he went out.

“I’m sorry about Kev and me,” Veronica said, making Desna giggle as she put the eggs on two plates.

“About what?” She asked, walking towards the table.

“We are loud,” V took a breath, “And not subtle at all.”

“That’s no problem,” Desna assured, “You are in love,” Desna said, starting to eat her breakfast, “Sex is part of it, and with the chemistry that you have, it’s just inevitable.”

She knew well what it meant to have someone close with whom she felt a connection and attraction so great that it was almost impossible to stop her from touching him, holding him, and kissing him. She envied what V and Kev had on some level, knowing that she’d never have it with Lip.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about this kind of stuff,” V said, but Desna shook her head.

“Nothing you do could give me a wrong impression,” she said honestly, squeezing V’s hand. “If anything, I’d like to be like you.”

V leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss on the hair, “Thank you, babe.”

Desna loved her relationship with both Kev and V. They knew how to be over the top, but that was just their character. Desna could not have asked for better guardians.

Her day went on. Desna went to school, took an English test, and set with Ian at lunch.

“So, will you ever make one?” Ian asked from next to her as she was finishing the sketch of a shirt on the pages of a notebook.

“I can’t see,” she reminded him before shrugging her shoulder. “This is just a hobby.”

“You fix my ripped shirt, alright,” he said encouragingly, and a smile appeared on her face.

“I don’t know,” she said, “And what should I do then?”

“Sell them?” Ian answered.

“Where?” Desna asked, and Ian shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t know. But wherever it is, can I get a share?” Ian said with a smile making her laugh.

“Hey, I’ll do all the work!” She complained.

“But I gave you the idea,” he said back. She looked at him fondly, before leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Only because you’re sweet,” this made him chuckle. Then, they stood in silence for some moments.

“How are you?” Ian asked suddenly, “Yesterday you were pretty shaken up…”

Ian had told her that Frank had attached him because Mr. Jackson had hit him after what happened at Karen’s house. Desna was sure he had questions, like everyone else in that house who was not V or Lip, after the way she behaved.

“I’m good, Ian,” she answered, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t of any help.”

But he shook his head, “Don’t worry, really…” he said, “Lip wanted to go to talk to you, has he?”

Desna nodded her head, thinking back at how happy and relieved she had been as she had seen him in her room.

“Then Karen came to look for him,” Ian chuckled bitterly at her words, and she moved to look at him when she felt him shake his head.

“What?” She asked.

Ian took a breath. “Karen is a whore-“

“Ian!” Desna exclaimed, surprised.

“And I do not understand why he’d let you go and keep her,” his words made her look down. Lip was, in fact, acting with Karen as if she were his girlfriend. Bringing her home, cuddling before everyone—he had never done that with her…

“Because he likes her more,” she muttered, feeling her mouth going dry, “Probably he just thinks I’m good for fuck,” Ian turned to look at her, observing her expression that probably was giving away the awful feelings that she had inside of her.

“Then he’d be an idiot,” Ian said before kissing her cheek, to which she gave a small, sad smile.

“Or maybe, I am…” she said, scoffing, leaning back on her chair, “I mean, he told me from the start what he wanted. He wanted to fuck, not string attached, none of this shit,” she ranted, “What was I expecting from him?”

“So now is your fault?” Ian protested before shaking his head, “Listen, Lip knows very well how to be an asshole.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” she muttered just before her cell phone went off. Desna frowned as she went through her bag. Her ability to never find her phone was like a superpower.

As she finally found it, her brows frowned, reading the name that had appeared on the scream.

“It’s Steve,” she said, looking up at Ian.

“Steve?” Desna was quick to press the green button, “Hello?”

“Des, hey,” Fiona’s voice came from the other side.

“Fiona, what’s up?” She asked, looking up at Ian.

Fiona took a breath, “Did you, by any chance, have seen Frank somewhere?”

“Frank?” she asked, making Ian frown. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t leave the house yesterday. Why? What’s happening?” Desna said as Ian moved closer to try to listen.

“I can’t find him,” she admitted, her worry was evident in her tone.

“I… I’m sure he is alright,” Desna tried to say. Frank could be anywhere by now since he usually drank until he couldn’t even find his ass with his own hands, “At the Alibi?”

“I tried,” she answered nervously, “Kev said that he drank and went away. I’m very worried, Des,”

“He is probably sleeping somewhere,” which happened other times. Then, he’d probably appear out of nowhere looking for beer.

“No, this is strange,” Fiona said through the phone.

“Why?”

“It’s last Friday,” at her words, Desna's eyes widened. The Disability-check, Frank Gallagher would never miss fresh money. It never mattered where he was, he would always show up for his disability-check.

“Oh, shit…” Desna muttered, looking at Ian, who, by the face, must have listened to his sister, “Alright, Ian is here with me; we’ll find Lip and come back home.”

“Thank you, Des,” Fiona said, letting out a heavy breath.

“We’ll find him,” Desna assured her before ending the phone call and standing up alongside Ian.

“Let’s find your brother,” Desna said.

“Okay, I go right, you go left,” he said, pointing in the direction he was talking about.

“Alright,” she nodded before starting to run through the corridor, hoping to find Lip as soon as possible and not find him busy in any activities she really didn’t need to know anything about.

As she passed by, someone grabbed her by the arm, making her stop to meet Iggy Milkovich’s face. “Hey, where are you running to?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes traveling towards her chest.

“I gotta go,” she said, trying to pull her arm back from his grip, “Can you let me go?”

“Would you blow me again if I do?” Desna’s eyes widened at his words, “That mouth works magic, and you’re gorgeous as you’re at it. Did you know that?” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. The way he was smirking made her uneasy, “I’d like to see it in person again,” but she was finally able to free herself from his grip, shoving him away from her.

“Stay the fuck away!” She exclaimed, making him let out a low chuckle; as he got close again,

“Be very careful,” he said, “We don’t want the school to know,” Desna’s breath got stuck in her throat.

“To know what?” she whispered, but then Mikey Milkovich's voice echoed in the alley.

“Iggy, leave Sweetcheeks alone,” he yelled, “We have to fucking go!”

Iggy chuckled again as he passed by her to walk towards his cousin.

“To know what?” she asked again, but he only smirked before disappearing into the crowd. What did he mean? Desna hadn’t liked those words at all, especially the way his eyes looked at her. She felt nervous all of a sudden, and her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she kept asking herself what he meant by those words.

“Des!” Ian’s voice made her turn. “Found him!” Ian and Lip were making their way toward her, avoiding other students. Desna took a breath and put her hair behind her ears to try to calm herself down. Once she felt ready, she made her way toward the Gallagher brothers.

“I’ve already explained him everything,” Ian said stopping in front of her.

Lip frowned, “You alright?” Desna turned to look at him, nodding her head.

“Yeah,” she said, her throat feeling very dry. "Let’s go find Frank.”

*****

Tag List: @th3h0nkz @aunicornmademedoit

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies about the Vil drawing from yesterday + a long-ass reply with me musing about tops and bottoms in my yuri drawings 🤔

Anonymous asked:

Sorry Vil please forgive me but I'm in love with the Savanaclaw background students

Aww, Anon, aim higher..! Although after Vil trains them to be good boys, they might behave better. Unless that defeats the entire purpose for you, of course. 👀

Anonymous asked:

Vil and the beastmen was a Canon event, sou I wouldn't be shocked if they actually were carrying him around like that

Honestly if I wasn’t in love with Vil’s groovy for this event, I would’ve been sad that we didn’t get these boys carrying Vil around like that as a card illustration lol It feels right!

ghostvoid18 asked:

how do you perceive/like men topping men vs women topping women in your ships? i’m curious bc in your bl art the tops don’t go down on the bottoms but in the gl art (on the 🔑 account) they do 👀

This is such a good question, and I wish I had a definitive answer for you… With ladies it’s a bit more complicated than with boys for us; I’ll share my thoughts. 🤔 I hope it makes at least some sense.

I guess our main thing is that we want the bottom of the ship to get stimulated and dominated, and with m/m ships it also ties very deeply with penetration in our minds; this is why it’s so straightforward and uhh uncompromising. Technically, a top could still suck a bottom off, there is absolutely nothing that indicates that this could never be the case in general, but to us personally this is already a shift in their dynamic that we don’t really like most of the times. So if a top!boy goes down on a bottom!boy, even if he does give some stimulation to his penis, he’s mostly going to focus on his butt lol this is why we have a bunch of ass-eaters among those pervs.

I guess it really is all about penetration for the guys: bottom!boy’s peen doesn’t get much stimulation in general in our stuff, unless it’s something kinky (like stepping on it, slapping it, stimulating the urethra, maybe just bullying in general, etc).

With girls, however, I don’t focus on penetration nearly as much, in fact, I only recently started to draw girlies fingering each other lol There are a lot of sketches like this that I draw now, but this still isn’t a necessary part of w/w smut for us. I mentioned at some point that I don’t really like strap-ons and stuff, and this is still kind of true. Fem!Azul’s tentacles are a whole different topic though ehehehe-

So if you eliminate all nuance and boil it down to its most basic form, my main goal is to bully the bottom girl until she cums make the bottom!girl cum, and any means to achieve that are great lol So in my head, when I think about someone eating someone else out, I mainly picture a bottom!girl getting embarrassed, stimulated and honestly dominated.

Does that mean that a top!girl can’t force a bottom!girl to lick her down there, or that a bottom!girl can’t be a bit bossy and demand getting pleasured? Not really, because there is always nuance, so it could be different and I would look at it on a case by case basis. I feel like with yuri there is more nuance and fluidity in general, which sounds unfair, but it’s simply because the interactions and stimulations that are available for them are different, and have different implications too. Once again: despite the fact that I don’t think that penetration is necessary and don’t really like it in yuri smut, half of my recent yuri sketches have some forms of penetration in it lol 

You know what, I think the easiest way to describe it would be to say that we just prefer bottom!girls to receive the pleasure and be “the center” of what is going on.

The top!girl has all of her fun while playing with her and enjoying her reactions, so the idea of a top!girl pleasuring her lover with her tongue and maybe even penetrating her with it comes naturally to my mind – it feels like an act of domination somehow.

And bottom!boys just need to get fucked out of their minds lol

Once again, those are just my thoughts, and those thoughts are related only to the stuff that I draw and we discuss.

TL;DR: Bottom!girl both receives pleasure and gets dominated (even if she has some control like Malleus or Vil), and when it comes to which exact sexual practices they use, there is a lot of nuance. We prefer for the top!girl to eat the bottom!girl’s pussy though. Hope that explains it.

Thank you for your question!

Anonymous asked:

I was really hoping for more of the twisted wonderland women... Hope to see them soon!

Be patient, Anon, please don’t rush things :) It’s going to happen. I appreciate the enthusiasm and I enjoy it when people show it and I know they only mean well (obviously), but if starts feeling pushy, it would end in the opposite result for us. We have a queue of sketches/artworks to post, so we get there when we get there.