#like in my actual sketchbook you see the pencil marks so much more

[hippo-pot]

C through G got smudged and didn't photograph well (I really have to draw stuff darker if I don't want it to lose all clarity when it smudges, or buy better pencils I guess), and there's only so much I wanted to mess with photo settings tonight, but having never really tried to draw hands before, here's how it's going. I've been drawing these over the past week or so, I guess 11 in total since that's how many letters there are from A to P

she can be taught

[slytherinshua]

DOODLES

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. pairing. so mun x fem!reader. wc. 900.

“No peeking!” So Mun scolds, holding his sketchbook even tighter to his chest to make sure there was no way you would be able to glance at his sketch. You huff in defeat and go back to your own drawing which is looking more and more lopsided as you keep trying to capture Mun’s perfectly sharp jawline and fail.

“I’m butchering your handsome face, just so you know.” You mumble, grabbing your eraser for the hundredth time. At this point the drawing looked more smudged than legible and you were close to giving up.

“Good thing you have the real deal right here, then.” Mun replies smoothly, and you glare at him from over your sketchbook making him giggle. 

You wonder how he hasn’t even touched his eraser once as you watch him still making little details on his drawing with ease. You know he’s been drawing his whole life and his drawing skills are on par with his fighting skills, but you know he hasn’t had much time to draw apart from composition sketches. You were glad you suggested doing this doodling session with him. It was cosy and relaxing and definitely what you both needed to get your mind off the stress of everything. 

You’ve never had anyone draw you before, but you’re glad the first one to do it is your boyfriend. He’s only been drawing for 10 minutes, but you’re starting to get a little impatient to see the results, and so you attempt at sneaking a peek again.

“I said no peeking.” He stops you without even looking, catching your hand in midair before it can reach his sketchbook. 

“When will you be done with it?” You ask, and So Mun hums in response. “Baby.” You whine.

“I’m almost done.” He looks up to smile at you before resuming his pencilling. “Are you done yours?”

“I guess… It’s not getting any better so I decided to just leave it.”

“Can I see?” Mun peers over to take a glance and you hand him the open sketchbook. “Aww, you added a heart.” He smiles widely and you swear you can practically see his eyes sparkle.

“It’s so bad, though.” You mutter, cringing at the way you had messed up his proportions. 

“I think it’s cute.” Mun smiles again.

“I get to see yours now, right?” 

He nods and hands you the sketchbook finally, and your eyes land on the drawing. Your breath is quite literally taken away and you spend the first few minutes just staring at it, taking in every detail, every stroke of pencil. And a warm sense of comfort comes with how you just know that every mark of that pencil was created with so much love behind it. You can feel it.

“So…?” So Mun asks expectantly, blinking at you.

You open your mouth to give him a response, but then pause as the wind slightly blows the page of the sketchbook, giving you a peek of more drawings on the previous page. Curiosity takes over and you flip it, revealing an entire spread of you.

There’s a small drawing of you sipping a bubble tea, and you recognize the exact day it’s from given your outfit. You had stolen So Mun’s leather jacket on your lunch date that day, and he had even drawn in the little hair clip that you had worn.

Looking a little lower on the page were countless more drawings. One of you blowing a kiss, you with a kitten, several of you just smiling, and even one of you sleeping which you immediately suspected he had drawn while you actually had fallen asleep.

“Were you ever going to show me these?” You ask, blinking back tears because they’re all so beautiful and you adore each and every one of them.

Mun panics, “I- I wasn’t not going to show these to you?” His response sounds like he’s questioning the fact himself and you tsk quietly, flipping over to the next page only to find even more drawings.

“How many times have you drawn me without my knowledge?” You question, utterly bewildered at just how many drawings there are. With every page you flip, there are more, and soon you discover that the entire sketchbook is filled with just you. 

“If you weren’t my boyfriend this would be so creepy, you know?”

“Do you think it’s creepy?” Mun asks.

“No, it’s probably the cutest shit anyone has ever done for me.” You say in a complaining tone which makes So Mun laugh. You tackle him in a hug, kissing his cheek as many times as you can before he pulls you off of him in a fit of giggles. 

“I’m glad you like them because to be honest it’s become a stress reliever to draw you.” Mun admits, melting your heart easily.

“You’d better show me next time, or I’m going to go snooping through your stuff just to find your sketchbook.” You threaten and So Mun nods with a smile before reaching over to kiss you. 

He always kissed you softly, like you would break if he put too much pressure into it. Now was no different as his plush lips moved against yours, lifting up into a smile when you pull away. And his smile is so infectious and filled with so much love that you can’t help but to smile back.

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts (abp & tuc only),, @tempobaekh (tuc only)

[toffeebrews]

tell me your Ink headcanons NOW 😼😼😼

You're... giving me permission.... to share my ink headcanons.

well get ready

Talked about this one already but I'll share it again: I think Broomie is semi sentient. I like to think at first Ink didn't know that though, but still talked to broomie anyway. So, regardless of this fact Ink probably would've talked to broomie.

He's good at encouraging people but not comforting people. If that makes sense? (projection much pfttt)

If you ran your hand over the "tattoo" marks it have a slight divot in it. Like a crack in a road. Probably because... in my hc they're literally semi healed cracks.

They're is talented in many types of art not just one. Hes talented in singing, dancing, fashion design, mechanics, and architecture! Really the only one he struggles with is well... cooking. Do NOT let that man in a kitchen (I mean he's immortal why would he not learn multiple artistic skills?)

Y'know how canon!swap climbs on people because hes insecure about his height? I think Ink does the same thing.

(More yappening under the cut)

Deep down he feels like something is missing... what he doesn't know is he's missing his home, his AU. Sometimes hes goes on a search universe to universe in search of "something important he can't remember" but can never find it. Until he gets bored, forgets what he's doing or gets preoccupied with something else.

He likes switching up his looks so he may give himself a tail or paws or claws with his brush. Maybe he even changes the color of his limbs sometimes (that's more a crack hc though). He gives themself a new outfit at any chance he can get. (Edit: I actually imagine one of the reasons he would get excited for multiverseal events is mainly because he gets to show off a new outfit for that event. He goes ALL out)

Due to his dulled sense of pain often he isn't aware he's injured unless it's pretty severe. So he may just go about their day with injuries they don't know about. Typically Dream or Swap have to be like "dude you have a crack in your skull."

After that one comic with Swap and Ink, Swap bandaged up his skull despite Ink insisting he didn't need it. Mainly because Swap didn't know Ink could heal themself and just thought Ink was being humble. Everytime he went to go take it off, Swap would freak about it hasn't had enough time to heal. Until Ink did a more through "I have a brush bro chill" (not ink accurate dialogue).

He's super flexible!! like contortionist level of flexibility.

Oddly specific but I think they're the type to consume all sorts of fan content and enjoy it. Completely ooc and fanon stuff too. He would be the type to read a fic and go "I would NOT say that" with a giggle and write a heartfelt comment anyway.

If you know homestuck... Nepeta has a shipping wall. I think Ink would have something similar (projection?? blasphemy!). Maybe in his sketchbook or smth. I mean do you see how he reacts around his dads smh 😔😮‍💨. He doesn't take it all that seriously though... LMAO. But I feel like he would be like "🏳️‍🌈?" y'know? Is this making any sense? I hope LMAOOO

Ink knows being called "child" annoys Dream so when Dream's like "I'm not a child I'm 500 years old" he just uses different synonyms of kid " heya youngster" " hi boy" stuff like that to annoy him. Just to mess with him.

He loves "aggressive affection." Like he bites people. He also likes to be bitten (not in a sus way but like in a cat like way). He loves bear hugs. Stuff like that.

He loves being drawn on, like literally. He loves the sensation of art supplies on his bones. Particularly the texture of paint and pencil are the ones he enjoys the most. He draws designs and stuff on his bones sometimes.

He has that cartoon ability to walk on walls or the ceiling and completely defy gravity. How? Cartoon skelly powers ig.

[chaoticarson16]

May we please have Loui, NY, and TX hc’s? 👁️👁️

*not forcing*

Of course you may!

Louisiana:

• He’s a literal sweetheart that gets along with everyone. Like, he knows everyone and everyone knows him

• He will drop whatever he’s doing to help one of his friends. Doing the dishes? Not anymore. Eating lunch? He says he ate enough. Self care? You need it more than I do! Therapy? He’ll be your therapist.

• He very rarely cusses. Every now and then he’ll cuss in French but he rarely cusses in English. When he does this everyone goes quiet cause he’s either in a lot of pain, very upset, or MAJORLY pissed.

• Him and California are the only two not allowed to be ANYWHERE near guns. (With the Wild West and the Black Panther group, please don’t quote me on this, California would be able to shoot guns frighteningly well. I also believe Loui would be extremely good at shooting guns, like, completely incapacitate someone but still keep them alive. Everyone believes they’d be way too dangerous with a gun. Even Florida won’t give them a gun….sometimes)

• Him and Florida have a pet alligator that they’ve named Kitten. She’s around 8 feet and is the biggest softie ever. When the others hear they’ve got a pet named Kitten, they assume they have a cat and weren’t very creative with the name. They are wrong. Florida and Loui laugh every time they agree to meet Kitten and she’s a big ass gator. Govs the only one who got used to her (surprisingly) cause when they got married (pushing my Flouigov agenda) Kitten would constantly follow Florida or Loui and she eventually started following Gov too since he was there more then the other states and she now sees his as a family member.

New York:

• He LOVES to draw. Like, this man always has a sketchbook on him. Any chance he gets he buys a new one (literally me tho) but they don’t last cause he’s always drawing.

• He’s got hella tattoos. Him and California have the most tattoos out of anyone else in the statehouse. Most of the states believed New York had the most tattoos until there was a pool party at the statehouse and they saw Californias.

• Him and Colorado are surprisingly friends. They’re hiking buddies and like to go exploring together. New York likes hiking with Colorado cause he’s allowed to climb pretty much everything. Colorado likes hiking with York cause he’s one of the only people who can keep up with him.

• Him and Jersey like to act like they hate each other, but they’re actually twins and they’re really close. They created different signals (hand placement, facial expressions, pencil/pen placement) to have silent conversations in the middle of a meeting. They’ve started randomly laughing while Gov or one of the other states were talking and had to leave the room to stop. Everyone was very confused.

• Begged Illinois to go see the Chicago rat hole and when Illinois finally agreed he was super excited. He took so many pictures and even left some money there. He cried when he found out someone filled it.

• Him and California have a black oriental cat that they’ve named Gremlin. He’s so stupid and they love him very much.

Texas:

• Him, Jersey, and North Dakota all garden and they love to go to one of their houses and plant new plants that they bought while shopping alone cause they have no self control- (Jersey is the garden state and North Dakota is the peace garden state)

• He has a red dun quarter horse with white blaze and sock markings (yes I looked it up cause I had a very specific image in my head) named Janie. He likes go horseback riding a lot since it calms it down.

• He’s also got an Australian shepherd named Buck (I know so original) but the funny part is she’s a girl. She learned to nip at people’s feet when they call her a he and Texas finds that hilarious. When he says she has an attitude, he means it. She’s also like an emotional support dog for him which honestly he needs. This boy got hella trauma-

• This man is deathly terrified of big crowds. If he can’t easily get to an exit he starts to panic. And when I say panic I mean p a n i c. He started crying and having a panic attack after a meeting cause he was too tired to teleport and everyone kinda crowded around the door to talk. It was made even worse when they started crowding him to make sure he was ok. Buck ended up not leaving his side for a while after that, even going to meetings. If she saw people crowding the door she’d go up to them and bark till they left.

Sorry this is a bit late! My teacher threw a random test at us and I still haven’t finish it💀

[viva-la-topknot]

This will be part one since Tumblr will only let you upload 30 images at a time. You can see part 2 here!

Let's kick off with a look back at this sketchbook by looking at my color sample pages! I'm not sure what the notes on the top half of the top image are for. I think they're probably super early Artifacts notes, back when it was called "Passive Aggressive".

This sketchbook had SO MUCH good stuff in it. This is a full color drawing of garish in which I used sharpies, colored pencil, gel pen, and fine liners. Her markings and piercings are now out of date, but I still /really/ love this one.

There's actually a lot of cool Garish art in here. Here she is sitting in one of the boarder rings, doing some fabric repair.

Here she is checking some of the markers on the boarder, which is part of the job the King sentences her to.

This is still one of my favorite things I've ever drawn.

This one's great too, Gilda with Brag, Gin, Tonic, and an unhatched Shaman-Ai. Gilda's markings are out of date and the Furred no longer have breasts, but other than that I feel like this one holds up well. Perhaps a candidate for a redraw?

I wanna draw hair like this again.

In this sketchbook I spent some time, in this drawing, figuring out how I wanted to render hair in traditional media. The bottom drawing led to the way that I now render hair digitally, too! 

There's a few sketches of her as well.

More hair experiments, this time with an alternate universe version of Kitti named Kitt. 

Here's another drawing of Kitt.

I think I drew this one right after the one where I did the hair rendering experiment with Kitti, this time the same experiment with Lilly. 

Taxi, lookin' cute.

And Taxi along with a character that isn't cannon anymore.

There's also some neat Kaden art in here.

I like some of these Kaden drawings more than others, like the one of it leaping from the right to the left I'd like to re-draw sometime, but it's cool to see how many times I drew it.

Full color of Hally O-Ween. :D

Jill and flowers.

Rose and Jack, from back when the two stayed together in the Knights of Nodd story. 

Rose only appeared 3 times, but here she is as myself, as a Pokemon trainer. And Speaking  of Pokemon, there's also an anthro of Sylveon. 💫 Knights of Nodd ✳️ Less Than Three 🎨 More Sketchbook Tours 🎨 General art tag.  

[marklilies]

# nct dream as your deskie

pairings: nct dream x gn!reader || wc: 3.5k || warnings: light swearing, mentions of food, dying (humour) and physical hurt (humour)

── MARK :

“what’s that?” you peer over mark’s shoulder.

mark bends down lower over his notebook to conceal his writing from your sharp eyes. “nothing, just some ideas for songs.”

you gasp. “you’re writing new song lyrics?!” he nods. “lemme see.”

“no!” mark snatches the notebook away from your grasp and looks at you, affronted. you draw back, a little stunned by his reaction. usually, mark lets you see all of his lyric scribbles. it’s part of your relationship as seat partners.

your brows crease and you sit back down in your seat, staring at the open textbook in front of you. your geography teacher is going on and on about tectonic plates and whatnot, but you can’t be bothered to listen. why won’t mark let you see his lyrics this time? you glare at the words on the pages, trying to figure out reasons why he wouldn’t let you see them. you just know this is going to bother you for the rest of the day.

mark sees you pouting and feels terrible about the way he snapped. it’s not that he has anything against you, it’s just… these lyrics are really personal. too personal. he writes you a note and slides it towards you, meeting your eyes apologetically for just a second before turning back to his notebook.

you read what he’s written.

“sorry y/n, i just can’t let you see my lyrics yet. they’re… about somebody.”

you chuckle and shake your head, doubt dissipating by the second. turning back to mark, you ask, “can i know who it’s about?”

mark hesitates. he doesn’t want to keep too much information from you, so he says, “someone in our class.”

this piques your interest, and you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “oooh, who is it? is it mina? you had the hots for her last year, didn’t you? or is it donghyuck, hmm? tell me tell me tell mee-”

mark smacks his hand over your mouth because you’ve begun talking a little too loud and the people around you have started staring. you freeze and remain like that for the next minute as mark looks around warily, trying to make sure no one else has heard you, especially not the teacher.

when he takes his hand away, he’s already a blushing mess. you cock your head, expectant, but mark puts his hands on his neck, evidently embarrassed, so you’re about to tell him it’s fine when he speaks up.

“i-it’s about the person sitting next to me…”

more under the cut!

── RENJUN :

renjun hands his sketchbook over to you to inspect. inside, the pages are full of beautiful drawings of all your classmates - hyunjin as a centaur, lia as a water sprite, karina as a doe, sunwoo as a vampire… the list goes on.

you hold the pages reverently in your hands, flipping through the book like it’s the only thing that can save the world.

then the teacher walks in, and all of a sudden it’s gone from your hands. renjun’s taken it back to occupy himself during class. “i wasn’t done with it,” you huff, propping your head up on your elbows as you watch him begin a drawing on a fresh page.

after lasting about three minutes with your intense gaze on him, renjun puts his pencil down and roughly pushes your face away from him to face the front of the classroom. “pay attention to the teacher.”

“speak for yourself, jun.” your voice comes out muffled because of his palm against your mouth. you grab onto his wrist and bring it down.

“the difference between us is that you actually have to pay attention during class or you’ll fail your exams. i, on the other hand, can pass them just fine on my own.”

you clutch your chest, pretending to be offended, but renjun gives you a smirk and his eyes are telling you to prove him wrong, so you turn back to the teacher in defeat.

“y’know,” you smack your lips and draw out your syllables, “if you tutored me, i wouldn’t have to-”

you catch sight of your features under a ring of gold, the halo held up by two devil horns sticking out the top of your head. “is that me?!”

“it’s not done.” renjun pushes his hair out of his eyes as he says this. “but yeah.”

“why do i have both an angel’s halo and devil horns? i mean, i understand the halo part, but the horns?” you tilt your head in confusion. “i’m a complete angel.”

renjun looks at you like you’ve gone bananas, then presses his lips into a straight line, trying to suppress the laughter that’s fighting to burst forth. “a-angel?” little giggles and short breaths leak through the dam, and you slug his arm.

“shut up. i’m not talking to you anymore.”

------------ time skip ------------

when you get back from lunch, you see that there’s a little note sticking out of your pencil case, folded neatly. you open it up, and the note is the drawing of you as an angelic devil. at the bottom, in small, messy script, renjun has written a few sentences.

“here’s your stupid portrait, dumbass. you’re a devil dressed as an angel. happy early birthday, idiot.

p.s. if you tell me to add your name onto my blank space, i will knock you out.”

── JENO :

you spread your various sticks of gum out under the table, in the shape of a fan. jeno does the same next to you. the two of you are in your seats, torsos twisted to face each other.

“i’ll give you strawberry for grape.”

“okay. i am so giving this to jaemin.”

you exchange gum flavours, you quietly celebrating at the acquisition of grape-flavoured gum, the one you’ve been addicted to for the past two days.

your math teacher drones on about vectors, and his words go in one ear and out the other. none of you are paying attention to him, because he’s the worst teacher ever and doesn’t actually help with anything, much less inspire you to like the subject.

“play a game with me.” jeno nudges you, desperate for mental stimulation. you nod, almost bored to tears by the lesson material.

“loser pays for the other’s karaoke.”

“deal.”

you decide to play apple on a stick. besides, jeno’s phone battery is already on the verge of going dead, so there’s no hope of playing pubg. “apple on a stick, making me sick, making my heart go 2-4-6…”

as you slap each other’s hands and clap as softly as possible to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the teacher, the rhythm gets faster and faster, until your hands are just a blur and you can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, trying to keep your mind completely focused on the game.

just as you feel you’re losing your rhythm, jeno breaks the pattern, accidentally snapping his fingers when he’s supposed to clap your hands. you squeal in excitement at the moment he loses, and he collapses onto his desk, head in his hands, but a smile peeks out from behind his palms.

“and that was it for the practice round. now for the real-” jeno laughs as you smack his shoulder indignantly.

“i won! i won fair and square, so now you have to pay for my karaoke.”

“you don’t even have anyone to go to karaoke with though?” this earns him another good punch in the side.

“hey! i have friends!” you stick your tongue out at jeno and he grins at your childish antics. “i can just invite yangyang or something.”

jeno’s face falls just slightly at the mention of yangyang’s name, but he quickly covers it up and teases you, “why? you like him or something?”

“he’s just my friend, dummy.” jeno visibly brightens at this revelation. you smirk at him, “why? do you like me or something?”

“pshhh, in your dreams, y/n,” he chuckles nervously. “fine. i’ll pay for your karaoke. but i have one condition.”

“what is it?”

“you invite me to karaoke with you.”

── HAECHAN :

haechan takes a marker and draws a line across your table, closer to you than him.

“this is the line that separates our desks. whatever crosses this line is mine.”

you frown at him. “but you have more space than i do.”

“yeah, because i’m me, and you’re you,” he replies with a cheeky shrug of his shoulders, causing you to roll your eyes. you readjust your things to make sure none of it crosses the line, because you know in your heart that haechan means what he says, and will not hesitate to take your things if they do make their way across the boundary.

putting his feet up on his desk, haechan tips his chair back, rocking it on its two back legs. you glance at him and do a double-take. “dude, get your feet off the table! you’re gonna fall down.”

“no i won’t. just watch me-” as he says this, his cocky demeanor disappears in an instant when he accidentally loses control and slips, tilting his chair back a little too much. reacting out of instinct, haechan grabs onto the back of your chair to stabilise himself. however, just as he’s pulling himself up, your chair tilts backwards with the force he’s exerting on it, and you almost fall with it. you scream and shut your eyes, but you never do hit the floor. opening just one eye cautiously, you see that haechan has caught your chair in time, righting it with a triumphant grin.

the teacher raises her eyebrows at the both of you, asking authoritatively, “is everything alright there?” haechan gives her a reassuring smile, but this only makes the teacher even more worried. haechan isn’t exactly known for his stellar behaviour.

“don’t worry, ma’am, i was just helping y/n up.” then he turns to you and pretends to chide you, “hey, don’t tilt your chair back, you could fall.” you stare at him, a mix of disbelief and annoyance pooling in your gut. the teacher sighs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously similar to “kids these days”, before turning back to the whiteboard to write on it.

ten minutes later, haechan is already asleep on the desk, his mouth hanging open and his head resting on his hands. you notice that his elbow has crossed the barrier, and a devilish grin creeps its way up your face. payback time, you think.

taking the marker haechan used earlier, you carefully uncap it and start colouring in his elbow, turning it a wonderful bright purple. amazingly, haechan never once stirs at the strange sensation, continuing to sleep like a log.

when you’re done, you throw the marker at his head and hit his forehead. “wakey wakey, sleepyhead.”

haechan blinks confusedly, and it takes about twenty seconds for his eyes to acclimatise to the bright classroom, noticing the purple patch that has formed on his elbow. he snaps his head up to glare at you, his tongue in his cheek, but then he gives you a fake laugh and grits his teeth behind his smile. “good one. haha. very funny, y/n.”

then he snatches your pen in retaliation, putting it all the way on the other side of his desk, far away from you. trying to get it back from him, you reach across, stretching your entire upper body over to get it.

your entire body freezes up when haechan puts his arm around your waist and brings his face to your cheek. “what are you-”

haechan’s lips ghost over the skin of your cheekbone, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, red blooming across your face. then he moves his lips to your ear, whispering, “hmm, you crossed the line. guess you’re mine now.”

── JAEMIN :

na jaemin. everybody’s favourite classmate. the second he walks into class, the girls are swooning and the boys are watching enviously. in their eyes, he even walks in slow-motion.

he walks up to his seat next to you and drops a pack of your favourite snack onto your desk, along with some chocolate milk. without saying anything about it, he sits down nonchalantly, proceeding to unpack his stuff. you catch his eye, looking at him gratefully, and he smiles back at you, his face radiant.

oh. so this must be why everybody loves him.

“did you finish your work yesterday? i remember you saying you had way too much to finish in one night,” jaemin says conversationally. you grin at him.

“yep. i tried really hard and actually got my stuff done for once!” you slam your stack of finished assignments onto your desk, the feeling of accomplishment already welling up in your heart.

jaemin narrows his eyes at you, “you slept late though, didn’t you?” you purse your lips and nod sheepishly, then smack him playfully.

“way to step on my moment, nana,” you reply jokingly. jaemin makes a funny face at you in response, and you laugh.

when class starts, both of you listen attentively to the teacher. unfortunately, your late night and lost hours of sleep choose to catch up to you now, and your eyelids start drooping. the teacher’s words turn into a string of meaningless noises, merely background noise to the fight between your body and mind. stay awake, stay awake, stayawakestayawakestayawake-

the world is shut out and you doze off on your desk.

------------ time skip ------------

your eyes flutter open, and for a second you just take a moment to listen to the sounds of the classroom. students chatting, chairs scraping, fans whirring. no teacher talking? ...wait a second.

you jolt upright and something slides off your table at the action, the impact startling the two other students in class. your eyes find the clock hanging on the wall. it’s already lunchtime.

“crap,” you say under your breath. “crap, i didn’t take notes and mrs. watson might have talked about the exams coming up, what happens if i missed it all? oh no, oh no, oh no-”

looking around in a frenzy, your gaze lands on the sandwich and your notebook on your desk. your notebook is open, its pages filled with all the lesson’s notes in jaemin’s handwriting. at the bottom corner of the final page, jaemin has written, “here’s a sandwich for lunch! i took notes for you, i hope you don’t mind. >~<”

the notes are colour-coded and superbly neat. you exhale sharply, nodding subconsciously as you attempt to wrap your head around the fact that jaemin is this nice. the corner of your lips turn up and you start unwrapping the sandwich. it is then that you realise that draped around your shoulders is jaemin’s jacket, and you pull the collar closer to your face, inhaling his scent.

“...stupid, dreamy jaemin.”

── CHENLE :

“what’s up, y/n?” chenle dumps the bag of snacks he brings to school everyday onto your desk. the snack bag is literally bigger than his actual school bag, and it is filled to the brim with a myriad of snacks. candy, crisps, chocolate - you name it, he’s got it. it’s the goldmine.

of course, one of the benefits of being chenle’s deskie is sharing these treats. even when the lesson starts, the two of you are munching your way through the bag, hiding the packets under the table. there’s even a make-shift bin tied to the leg of your table; a plastic bag to hold the discarded wrappers.

however, one of the drawbacks of eating during class is that there is a constant need to hide the fact that you are eating. chewing without seeming like your mouth is moving, never letting the teacher see the food enter your mouth, and the hardest of all - chewing quietly.

chenle passes you a bag of potato crisps, and you gladly accept, opening it with a practised motion. the crinkle of the plastic packaging is barely heard by the class because of the thick woollen jacket chenle has draped over it, creating some sort of soundproofing material. perfect for drowning out louder sounds.

he takes one chip and stuffs it in his mouth, so lightning quick that no one would ever see the crisp in his hand. then comes the hard part - he chews so slowly that the chip is crushed softly. somehow. “pfft, i could do better,” you smirk, hands already reaching for a chip yourself.

the moment it’s placed into your mouth, you make eye contact with chenle and hold his gaze. the two of you chew like sloths, each trying to outdo the other at chewing softly. soon the giggles start trickling out of his lips, and your eyes curve into little crescents, trying not to follow suit. but holding in your laughter is a lot harder when you’re staring at someone who is also trying not to laugh, so the two of you burst out laughing, howls and guffaws piercing the heavy air of the classroom.

when the teacher turns her ferocious gaze on you, you know that you’re in for a ride.

------------ time skip ------------

“hey, what are we supposed to do? i wasn’t paying attention while she was lecturing us,” chenle asks softly, his elbow touching yours as you both stare at the piece of blank paper in front of you.

“she asked us to write ‘i will not eat during class, nor disturb my classmates during lesson time’ a hundred times.” your voice is flat and emotionless, evidence of your boredom.

“ew.”

“i know.”

you start on your lines, writing until your palm is sweaty and your wrist is sore. chenle does too, but gets distracted by the snack bag, which was miraculously not confiscated. thank chenle’s honey tongue for that.

“hey, your favourite snack!” chenle waves the packet in front of you, and the bright colouring effectively attracts your attention.

making grabby hands at the bag, you look at the snack with hearts in your eyes, saying, “oooh, gimme gimme!”

he holds it high above him, teasing, “nope. you can’t have this unless you promise me something.”

“that’s bribery,” you frown, but your want for the snack outweighs your pride. “...what do you want?”

chenle smiles sweetly at you. “come with me to prom at the end of the year?”

── JISUNG :

jisung slides into the seat next to yours, his almost empty canvas bag swinging from one shoulder and his hoodie hanging loosely off his body. he looks at you and smiles bashfully, “hey, can i borrow a pencil? i forgot to bring my pencil case.”

you roll your eyes in amusement and chuckle, “it’s the third time this week, sung.”

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. i promise i’ll make it up to you,” he says hopefully, looking at you with puppy eyes. you stifle your giggles and hand him a pencil, at which he beams at you.

sentence after sentence comes tumbling out of the teacher’s mouth, explanations about the phenomena of cell division and how it happens echoing around the room. jisung’s hood is up, covering his messy hair, and his hand is constantly in motion, pencil flicking across the paper with incredible speed.

“you’re actually paying attention for once?” you ask, incredulous. you can’t believe jisung is listening to the teacher, let alone taking notes so diligently. when he doesn’t respond to your quip, however, you realise he’s not taking notes at all.

you stare at the pages of his notebook. they are filled with jisung’s terrible handwriting, the words he has scribbled basically illegible. you can make out one or two words, but they don’t make any sense, nor are they related to the lesson at all. words like “waffles”, “chicken”, “games” and “boring” are highlighted, showing just how far jisung’s mind is from here. tiny doodles of stick men wearing funny outfits adorn the borders of each page, some of them even with funky hair.

you smile unconsciously, thinking about how very jisung it is of him to do that. then you turn your head back to the front and let all thoughts leave your mind, staring blankly at the whiteboard, words nothing but white noise to you.

“psst, y/n. y/n. y/n?”

“huh?” shaken out of your reverie, you blink at jisung, bemused.

he sighs and says, “sorry, thought you were dead there for a second.” you smile half-heartedly.

“well, maybe i am. on the inside.”

jisung snickers and he reaches up to his ears, which are also hidden by his hood. when his hand comes back down, it is holding a single earpod. jisung motions for you to take it.

“you’ve been listening to music all this time?!” jisung gives you a small nod as you place the earbud in your ear. “without me?!?”

jisung puts a finger on your lips, which shuts you up immediately. “just listen.”

you listen to music together for the rest of the day. (his music is good.)

© marklilies, 2021. all rights reserved.

taglist: @jensrose, @neocuddlytechnology

[rainieclown]

DEADLY OBSESSION

michael myers x reader - chapter one: new neighbours

you've been in the haddonfield memorial hospital for what felt like forever with ptsd from a robbery gone wrong when a new patient gets thrown in next to you. he's quiet, perfect company if it weren't for the high security around him.

tags: medication, hospital settings, this is before michael gets out of the hospital, orphan! reader btw, it's spoken about more in detail in the fic, michael being a mute for a while, he does speak in this tho, smut, first times, michael being inexperienced, creampie, biting/marking, big dick michael energy, hymen ripping btw

warnings: ptsd themes, therapy, mentions of murder and depression, eventual smut, loss of virginity, mild blood, slight breeding kink on michael's end

a quick note!

if anything related to the ptsd the reader experiences is incorrect/wrong please let me know so i can correct it and learn! i am researching this so i can to write it with the accuracy it deserves<3

three sharp knocks wake you from your nightmare, you sigh at the sight of the ceiling of your hospital room. bland, the room is so incredibly bland. "y/n, medication time!" the nurse that takes main care for you chirps happily through the door, and you let out a wheeze as you sit up and pull on a shirt. "coming." you say, voice monotone and small. opening the door, you see the nurse with a tray, but what does capture your eye is the guards standing by a door nearby. "miss burnham, what's going on there?" you quirk a brow, taking your sertraline from miss burnham as well as the glass of water. "oh it's just a new patient, don't worry." the nurse brushes your question off with a kind smile as she takes the now empty glass back. "come on, breakfast then art therapy!" she beams, gesturing for you to follow her. you glance at the door again, before leaving with miss burnham.

breakfast is bland too, no sugar in the porridge, no fruit, no juice. it's so distastefully bland that you want to push it away but you don't want to get told off for not eating by mrs finch who was the more strict nurse that worked on supervision in the more social places, most of the time anyway. miss burnham sits across from you, reading over your schedule from her clipboard. "so, after art therapy is your free period, what do you want to do then?" she asks, looking up at you. "can we watch a movie with the others?" you ask softly, and miss burnham's eyes brighten. "you want to socialise today?" she beams and you sigh, taking a sip of water. "sure." you say softly, glancing around the cafeteria. "that's amazing, that will make outstanding progress!" she smiles, resting her cold hand on yours but pulls away when you flinch. "sorry, i forget." she says softly, but you sigh. "it's alright." you say, spotting a scruffy teen who looked to be the same age as you being directed to an empty table.

miss burnham hums and turns to see what you're looking at. "oh, that's mr myers, he's your new neighbour." she says when she turns back to you. "he looks interesting." you say, observing the cuffs on his wrist. myers plops down at the table, ignoring the bowl they put in front of him. "hmm, stay away from him. he seems to be under high security." miss burnham says, turning back to look at myers. the boy's eyes flicker to yours and your breath hitches, a sense of mild panic rising in your throat. "if you're done, we can go to the yellow room to do some painting with doctor piers." burnham says softly, pulling your attention back to her. "sure.." you mumble, and follow her out the door, past myers who watches you the whole way.

doctor piers is a happy man who greets you loudly. you don't like his suffocating energy, so miss burnham sits you down in your quiet corner and gives you your sketchbook. you sit quietly and draw things from your childhood, things that make you happy, all while miss burnham actually colours in a colouring page with the pencils you use. you felt peaceful with her by your side, she was like your big sister considering she was close to your age. "ooh, i like him." miss burnham smiles, tapping her nail next to the rough sketch of snufkin from the moomins. "thanks..." you reply quietly, letting the nurse push the pencils to you so you can colour him in.

for once, you don't feel alone... don't feel isolated with your thoughts and bad memories. miss burnham is your safe place, your new family. "so, y/n. are you interested in anyone in particular that you want to befriend?" miss burnham asks, the scratching of her pencil on paper stopping as she leans forward as if the two of you were gossiping about crushes. "not really... just think it's good to try and ease myself back into being around people other than you." you shrug, putting the green pencil down to pick up a yellow one. "that's still good. do you want to try and finish the drawing of him." she asks, flipping the page carefully to the recreation of that fateful night. your breath hitches as you stare at the charcoal drawing of the man standing over your mother. "what else do you remember, if there's anything else?" burnham asks, watching you carefully.

it comes back in waves, it was supposed to be a robbery, your family was in the wrong place at the wrong time, the blood spatter, the ornament that was used as a weapon dripping with the red substance. tears fill your eyes as you let out a shuddery breath. "no." you say firmly, wanting to push the book away. "are you sure, you haven't drawn any facial features for him.. it will help the investigation a lot." your nurse reminds you, and your hand tightens on the pencil. "i don't want to!" you snap, getting up abruptly, chair screeching back. "okay, okay. deep breaths." burnham stands too, fighting the urge to gently rub your arm soothingly. "i don't want to think about it." you hiss, storming off. nurse burnham calls after you, and doctor piers looks up to see you making a run for it. "y/n, wait!" he tries, but you swerve him and run out the door.

nurse burnham can't keep up in her high heels, and you outrun her easily, making your way to your room after losing her. you're alone again, and you catch sight of myers, sat in his room just as alone as you are. the guard is talking to doctor loomis, a man who gives you the creeps. seeing an opportunity to get past, you slip into your room quickly, once again isolating yourself. in his own room, michael had spotted you through the glass on his door, and he walks up, peering into your room as best he can. "hey! back up, myers." the guard bangs his door, now without loomis's presence, but michael doesn't move. he's unfazed by the guard's aggressive nature. the noise spooked you, you looked like a deer in headlights as you stare back at him.

you seem... disturbed by something, and that upsets michael. the feeling in his chest, to grab you and hide you from the world grows at the look in your eye. michael's hand finds the door, and he yoinks it open once the guard unlocked it in an attempt to push him back into his cell. "hey! what're you-?" he cuts the guard off, knocking the man out easily. his body hits the floor as michael opens your door easily. you gasp, back hitting the corner of your wall as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. "please, don't hurt me! i didn't do anything!" you yell, and michael shakes his head as he closes your door. "leave me alone." you repeat the three words like a prayer, voice quieter as your hands grip your hair with stress. "i'm not going to hurt you." michael rasps painfully, shocked at how deep his voice had gotten in comparison to the last time he spoke.

his words don't seem to get through to you, and he grows mildly annoyed. eventually, michael sits next to you and pulls you into a tight hug, hoping it would help as he had no idea what to do. you yelp in surprise, breathing slowing with confusion as you look up at the brunette with furrowed brows. "i-.. what..?" you stumble for words, but michael doesn't say anything, his empty eyes observing you. "thank you..." you mumble, once you calm down, and michael nods. "what's your name..?" you ask quietly, and michael continues to stare before answering.

"michael." he rasps, pointing at himself. "nice to meet you, michael. i'm y/n." you reply, eyes averting from his anxiously. michael sits with you as you start thinking. more intrusive thoughts break in, and you can't help the small whimper that escapes you as you rub your forehead. michael tilts his head, observing you. "sorry... it's just..." you sigh trying to find an explanation that didn't include what you thought of. "do you ever get intrusive thoughts?" you ask, finally looking at michael. the other teen nods, and you deflate with relief, he'd understand you. "they suck, don't they?" you chuckle half-heartedly, and michael shrugs. "oh, do they not bother you as much?"

he doesn't reply, and you nod slightly. "want me to show you around? i need to take my mind of things." you suggest, getting up and looking at the boy on your floor. michael seems to think for a moment before nodding and following you. you step over the guard carefully, and gesture for michael to follow you. the click-clacking of heels makes you grab the other teen's hand as you pull him around a corner. "shh! they'll be looking for me." you can't help but smile at the make-shift game of cat and mouse. it's been a while since you got to play games. michael blinks at you, letting you lead him around. "this is the rec room, it's the best room here. if you have a free period this is the best place to go. they let you watch anything they have." you smile, creaking the door open carefully.

doctor addison spots you and rushes over. "nurse burnham is looking for you." he whisper yells and you nod. "i'm showing the new guy around so shh!" you say, putting a finger up to your mouth. "it's good to see you getting out of your comfort zone. if i see her i'll tell her you're helping doctor loomis." he winks, and you smile slightly. "thanks addison." you say, pulling michael away from the room. "who's that?" michael's deep voice makes you jump. "oh, doctor addison? he's so cool, he'll give you snacks for after hours." you smile up at him, and michael notes the personality of the doctor. easy target to begin with. "you've seen the cafeteria so let's go to the gardens next." you say, peering around a corner carefully before ducking back, your back bumping into michael's chest. "my nurse is coming, quick, we can hide in here!" you whisper yell, pulling michael into doctor addison's office.

you close the door carefully, and michael observes the room. the decor is very vintage yet comfy, it suits the doctor quite well. you press your ear to the door carefully, listening as miss burnham speaks to doctor addison. you gasp as michael pulls you from the door, hand grasping your wrist. "are you alright?" you ask carefully, looking up at the brunette who didn't seem bothered. he shrugs, simply holding you near to him. your presence stirred something in him, and he didn't know if he should kill you or hold you closer. michael spots a candle stick, and his eyes dart from it to you.

michael lets out a silent breath as he decides on the latter, tugging you into his chest. your breath hitches as you hit his large frame, and your eyes come back to him. craning his head down, michael buries his face into the crook of your neck. you make a small noise, unsure of what to do as he takes in your scent. "uh... michael?" you furrow your brows, hands raised awkwardly as you didn't know where to put them. "shh." he hushes you, hands finding your hips. "what are you-?" your question is cut off by his lips grazing your neck, and it all clicks into place.

your body froze up, michael made a silent note of this. "i- uh.." you stammer as he continues to kiss your neck. "fuck, michael. we shouldn't do this." you say softly, glancing to the door. michael hushes you as his teeth nip your skin, he was testing the waters with you. your knees felt weak as your eyes fluttered shut. it had been so long since you had got to do anything like this, since you got to feel like a teenager. your hand find's michael's fluffy hair as you move his head closer to you.

taking the small success, michael sinks his teeth into your neck fully. the feelings in his chest explode as he finally marks you, suckling the dark bruise onto your skin. you whimper at the feeling, your other hand resting on his chest. eventually, his lips move again, and they find your jaw. you hum, letting him press closer to you as his lips kiss up your your own. when your lips meet, michael's inexperience really shows, he doesn't really know what to do so you take the lead.

eventually, his lips copy your movement as his hands tighten on your hips. you hum into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his scalp as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. it felt right, and you didn't know why. eventually, when michael pulls away, you gaze into his eyes and notice the scar over his right one. "oh, what happened?" you ask, fingertips gently grazing over the scar on his eyes. upon closer look, his iris was paler than the other, and you guessed his vision was poor from the one eye. you're not able to get a closer look as michael kisses you again. you hands cup his face as you melt into him, lips moving against his fluently. michael moves with you, and you gasp as your lower back hits the desk in the room. the other teen's strong hands lift you and plop you down so you're sitting on the hard wood of the table.

your arms wrap around michael's neck to kiss him again, and he's happy that you're slowly beginning to show interest in him. you make a small noise as michael pulls your legs around his waist, standing between them with his pelvis pressing against yours. teasingly, you shuffle your hips against him as you kiss him again. michael growls softly, grinding into you as he grasps your thighs roughly to stop your movements. "i've never done this before." you admit, keeping him close as he hums. "me neither." he shrugs, kissing you again. you feel eased by michael's lack of experience, it felt like the two of you were experimenting together and that comforts you.

eventually, michael's fingers find the waistband of your pants and you whimper as he tugs them down easily. "no underwear?" he chuckles softly, and your cheeks heat up. "some of us don't have that luxury." you mumble, averting his gaze. "it's fine." he shrugs, fingers brushing over your slit. you gasp at the feeling of him spreading you open, and can't help but move your hips against his digits. his middle finger teases your wet hole, and you whine when he collects some of it to bring into his mouth. you feel slightly embarrassed as he suckles your pleasure off his finger with no shame before moving his hand back down to rub his fingers over your slit again.

your smaller hand finds his, and you guide his fingers to your clit with a small moan. catching your meaning, michael's rough fingers start rubbing small circles over your bud. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingertips stimulate you. "fuck, michael!" you whimper, hands grasping his shirt to pull him closer. he hums at your words, moving so his thumb abused your clit whilst his fingers slowly pushed your hole open. you whine as his fingers press into you, your hymen stretching uncomfortably. "michael, please- i need you." you whimper, letting him lay you back on the desk. removing his hand from you, he pulls down his own pants, erection springing free.

you freeze slightly at his size, unsure if he'll fit. michael notes your uneasiness as rubs your outer thighs softly. you smile nervously as his tip rubs against your cunt, your hands grasping his anxiously as he slowly pushes into you. you wail as his cock rips your hymen, and michael smiles as your blood slowly smears his cock. "it hurts!" you whimper, grabbing his arms tightly with discomfort. michael shushes you, and gives you small kisses until you stop whining. once you've settled around the intrusion and your pussy adjusts to his dick, you give him the nod to say that you're ready. michael slowly pushes in so that he's fully sheathed before pulling out half way. you whimper at the feeling, pleasure slowly overtaking the dull pain you still felt.

eventually, michael finds a medium pace in you, smiling as his cock bobs through the skin of your stomach. you whimper, holding michael's arms even tighter as he fucks into you. "oh fuck..!" you yelp as his tip protrudes from your abdomen. "sh." he replies quickly as your back arches off the table. "fuck, michael- oh!" you press your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speeds up. eventually, his hand moves and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. you gasp and keen loudly behind your palm as your thighs tremble around his hips. michael grips the flesh of your outer thighs tightly as he adjusts your legs towards you at an awkward angle. despite the weird position, you moan loudly as his cock pushes deeper into you, his tip kissing your womb.

michael hums at the feeling as his hand gets tired of stimulating you, so as a substitute, he brings his hand down onto your swollen bud harshly. you wail at the sting of his slap, pleasure rolling through your body. taking that as a good sign, michael waits before slapping your clit again harder. unexpectedly, you cum on his cock as you shudder and tremble under him. your cunt squeezes michael's cock tightly, preventing him from moving. the way your gummy walls grip him as you twitch around him is too much, so michael pushes into your womb so his cum filled you up.

you gasp at the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, and michael seems to be loving it because when you come down from your high and loosen around him slightly, he's fucking his cum into you. you can't help but let out a small noise with every thrust, whimpering when michael stops, satisfied with how deep his cum had gone. your womb drinks up his seed nicely as you let michael grab your hands to pull you up into a sitting position. slumping against him, you nuzzle into his chest, your eyes becoming droopy with exhaustion. he grins at your sated state, pulling your pants up for you. once he is dressed as well, he picks you up carefully to bring you back to your room to rest.

michael ignores the nurses who try to stop him, marching past them as he carries your sleepy form to his room instead. he didn't know much, but he did know that only armed guards as well as doctor loomis were only allowed in his room for safety reasons and it was his best bet of keeping you with him. carefully opening his door, he closes it behind him with his foot and watches as the nurses stand anxiously peering through the window. he puts you down carefully on his bed, letting you settle as he sits down. his eyes find the nurses, one of them had left, probably to get security or doctor loomis. rolling his eyes, michael moves his attention back to you. you had already dozed off, and michael looks down to your stomach. the idea of you being swollen with his child excites him, a true marking. however, his hatred for children conflicts that, and he feels slightly frustrated.

three sharp knocks on the door can be heard, and michael lazily looks back over. doctor loomis is standing there, and he looks furious, but michael will stand his ground for you.

[gothicsal]

hi hi ! i was wondering if you could do like larry and sal with a cute artsy s/o? if not it’s totally cool :) ty

Of course I can! This is actually my second draft of this request, the first time I accidentally deleted the whole thing 💔. Hope you enjoy, Anon!

My requests are still open! Specified gender readers are fine, but if it is not included in your request, it will be gender neutral by default.

Sal.

He finds your sense of style so absolutely endearing to him.

The first time he ever saw you at school, you held a sketchbook in your hands, crouched down near a bush of beautifully blooming flowers, drawing every detail with precision and care.

Needlessly to say, he had been enamored with you ever since.

He adores everything you create. Sal could sit and watch you paint, sketch, or whatever your preferred medium was for hours at a time, getting lost in each line.

The first time you drew him, he almost began to cry. Every scar, mark and rough patch of skin that pained him with intense insecurity had been portrayed so beautifully by you, it brought him to tears. He keeps the picture in his room at all times, tucked away only for his eyes to see. It’s one of his most prized possessions.

Your cute outfits never fail to catch his breath in his throat.

One of Sal’s favorite ways to spend time with you is having you paint his prosthetic,

On your insistence, the paint you use is completely washable, but Sal doesn’t think he’d mind wearing one of your masterpieces wherever he goes.

He might even let you paint his guitar, if you were willing. Each time he strikes a chord he’d be reminded of your overwhelming love for him.

Each anniversary you two share as a couple, Sal gets you a bouquet of the same flowers he found you drawing the same day he met you. It’s a very sentimental tradition between you two.

Speaking of gifts, his usually pertain to your artistic habits.

One birthday, he got you a bundle of expensive markers he’d been saving up for, as well as a teddy bear lined with pink fur.

The cute color and animal reminded him of you, leading him to buy it for you.

No couple can always be together, so Sal snuck a little audio box into the bear he got you. Every time you miss him, all you have to do is cuddle the bear right and a recording of him telling you he loves you plays from the bear’s chest.

If you’re into the idea of marriage, Sal lets you plan every detail you’d like. He figures your artistic eye is perfect for the job.

Sal isn’t much of the artistic type himself, but he’d try to draw something for you. Even if it looks like a kindergartener’s painting, you treasure it.

Larry.

Dude?? He is totally shocked by how good your art is.

You two initially got paired together for an art project in class, and have been stuck at the hip since.

Your style is totally the opposite of his, and he is so excited by this. He’s a metalhead stoner, and here you are, the cutest person he’s ever met?

He’d definitely want to have an art competition while high at least once if you smoke with him.

You two are constantly sharing supplies. Markers? He’s got just the shade you need. Colored pencils? sharpened to perfection. Paint? say less.

You two get matching tattoos!

Larry drew yours, and you drew his. You almost swoon over how romantic it sounds.

He’s always your biggest fan.

One mother’s day, you knock on his apartment door, a bundle of flowers and a painting you’d made especially for Lisa in hand.

Lisa already adored you because of how happy you make her son, but this is so sweet a gesture, she’s almost more eager to make you a part of the Johnson family than Larry is.

That’s the moment he knew he was completely and totally in love with you. No matter how embarrassed he gets by her nicknames, Larry loves his mother a lot, so to see you already treating her as one melts his heart.

Speaking of Lisa, she nearly kills Larry for it when she finds out, but you two paint the entirety of his bedroom walls.

Every inch is covered in art and decals, the clash of your two styles creating a masterpiece that completely captured your relationship.

Paint. Gets. Everywhere.

Your clothes begin to get so stained that you steal one of his old t-shirts instead.

He’s not sure how you can manage to look insanely beautiful in even an old shirt splattered in paint resembling an ugly tie-dye job, but you do.

[fallout-lou-begas]

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #22: Behind the Scenes

Hi! So I mentioned in my commentary on Issue #22 of @ikroah​ that the production notes for this issue were so big that they would need their own post that would come later. This is that post! Strap in, I’ll be going through the pages above and just sort of shotgunning everything I have to say about craft and how they came together to you.

So the first thing to say is that #22 marks a big shift in both how I produce and draw IKROAH. Right off the bat, here’s what’s different about this issue:

Digital thumbnailing! That’s right. While I did do some sketchbook work (see the end of this post for details), mostly figuring out the layout of the hotel room, the first thing that I did for this issue was “draw” the entire thing in these very simplistic, loose, “shitty” versions. This was crucial for not only being able to compose every panel in advance and view the comic as a whole before I even make a single pencilstroke, but it also let me do all of my lettering in advance. This digital thumbnailing step makes sure from the very beginning that I have enough room for all the dialogue in the script, and since this issue was so talky, it was a must. I instead spent most of my sketchbook time doing multiple takes of tricky panels as practice.

Perfect panels! No more scratchy, irregular paneling. Perfect squares and rectangles only in this one, and going forward. This was part of the digital thumbnailing process anyway. Since my canvas is proportional to the size that I draw at, it’s easy to know how big each panel is in centimeters, and as you can see in the scanned pencils in the gallery above, I obviously do still need to draw the panels. However, I don’t ink over the pencilled panels, and I just fit the art into the digital panels after digitization.

Blue pencils! If these scans are a little hard to read for you, that’s because I do all of my penciling in non-copy blue, now, which makes it very hard to...well, copy. After you apply a layer of ink, the contrast between the ink and the blue pencil is so significant that the pencils basically erase themselves inside the scanner. You can do this, too! You just need any kind of light blue colored pencil; in my experience “sky blue” works best.

More complex shading! I used to do a very intentionally simplistic, mostly two-tone based shading. Now I do three-tone. It’s an experiment, but I kind of like it. That’s what this comic is valuable to me as, anyway, it’s a very good lab for artistic experiments.

Anti-aliasing! That’s right, my art was never anti-aliased before. This is because I actually do not own any kind of tablet. I color everything with a mouse and keyboard in GIMP like a fucking maniac, so scanning my inked pencils and aliasing them makes it a lot easier to work with my own art digitally, given the tools I have. However, I decided that aliased art and word balloons were clashing too much with the anti-aliased lettering, so after coloring each page I just run them through an anti-aliasing filter, and then the speech balloons are already anti-aliased.

In the “sorry for the delay” post I made about this issue a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I was basically re-learning how to make comics entirely “in a good way.” See what I mean?

Now for the general notes. I’ll be commenting on things basically from the first page going on, apologies in advance to mobile users for making you scroll back up repeatedly to look at what I’m talking about, but desktop users can just open all the images in tabs...

Page One

You may think that the first page, such a complex full-page shot the streets of New Vegas, must have been the hardest and most time-consuming to complete. You’d be dead wrong. It took a single day to pencil and ink, and two days to color. It was probably the least labor-intensive page of the issue for one simple reason: barely any lettering. Lettering takes a long time and it’s very tedious. Also, despite all the dramatic lighting, it was pretty auto-pilot.

The background on the digital thumbnail is from the episode of King of the Hill where Hank goes to Las Vegas to grab his runaway father. The simplistic, cartoony approach to nightlife lighting inspired me, and I kept something sort of like the blimp-like building in the final page.

You can see that I moved around the people walking in the street between the pencil and final art; I thought it looked better and crowded the insert panel less.

My favorite part of drawing this page was just the concept of it. Everyone knows that the in-game area of New Vegas is very barebones, so I wanted to draw a scene that really took place in a city. This page takes inspiration from the area around Vault 21 while expanding it tremendously, and adding the monorail right outside. I also made the executive decision to make Vault 21 actually look like some kind of interesting, sci-fi vault instead of, like, a shack like it is in-game.

The Italian restaurant in the background on the left has its name cut-off, but its name is Chickalini’s, and that and the “famous chicken pasta” advertised on its storefront are references to an I Think You Should Leave sketch.

I completely forgot to draw the Securitrons. I didn’t even have them in the script. I got so caught up in rendering a cool city scene that I forgot that in the context of this setting there should be big TV-screen robots patrolling the place. Fortunately I remembered them half a week before the comic went up, and adding them in wasn’t too hard. I know that the prongs on their heads are antenna, not lights, but they look better with the little lights on top.

Pages Two and Three

The final panel on this page got completely redrawn. On the original pencils, you can see that I just totally fucked up the perspective. Remember when I mentioned I still did some thumbnailing in my sketchbook? Well here it is, alongside the inked version of the fixed pencil. Among the thumbnails you can see an alternate, less repetitive version of Page Three, but I ultimately went with the more rigidly paneled one because it felt better paced.

Another hard-learned lesson on this and other pages about not forgetting the little details: basically any time that you see Agnes’ coat and boots on her bed, or Cass’ clothes on hers, I had to add those in after I’d already almost finished the whole page. Continuity! It’s important!

In the pencils for Page 3, you can actually see that I drew Agnes holding a straight razor in both hands. I originally pencilled it in her far hand because that’s what I thought she was holding it in, because I drew her holding it in that hand in the mirrored panels. But then I remembered that I already drew the mirrored panels as mirrored, so I wouldn’t be flipping them, and to make a long story short this issue makes the second time in as many issues with mirrors where I’ve nearly had an existential crisis over how to properly draw reflections.

I’m sure a lot of people wonder why Agnes is shaving so...intensely. I generally don’t like to tell people exactly what something unstated in IKROAH is actually about, but I’ll make an exception just this one time to remind you that shaving as a trans woman can be a sensitive thing even when you haven’t got a nerve-wracking relationship with razors because when you were a child a deranged robot sliced off half your face with a buzzsaw (see IKROAH #7).

For the montage of Cass undressing as Agnes shaves, I remember actually asking some of my friends how much nudity I could get away with depicting if it’s not even particularly sexual, and I worried about needing to censor it or something with an obtrusive blur. I eventually decided it wasn’t necessary since Cass and her sideboob is mostly out of render distance anyway.

Pages Four

Nine panel grid, baby!! Fuck yeah!! Real comic-heads already know!!! Wahoo!!

This is one of my favorite pages I’ve drawn for the whole comic. The nine panel grid does a lot here all at once: the way it shifts from looking at Cass to looking with Cass toward Agnes, the incredible close-up in the middle row, the full bleed of Agnes’ good side...everything just really comes together here in a way that I’m super proud of.

I’m also super proud of Agnes’ legs in those boyshorts. This emotionally devastating argument doubles as the fanservice issue, apparently!

The red outline for emphasis around Cass’ line in the sixth panel (Agnes’ extreme close-up) is a trick I learned from rereading the Team Fortress 2 comics. They also inspired me to be a lot less lazy with my backgrounds, and to commit to their colors and use pop-color a lot more sparingly. I think it has great effect in this issue.

The perspective of the seventh panel here gave me a lot of grief. I’m no good with complex 3D posing software so I wound up mocking up the entire scene in Minecraft so I could draw it better. Yeah, Minecraft. No joke:

Page Five

Starting with the first panel on Page 5, you might be thinking, “Okay Lou, I know you color with a mouse and a keyboard but that’s a really fucking good Cass for having drawn it with a mouse.” You’d be right! That’s because that panel, along with some of the other egregiously well-done ones in such an otherwise sloppy mock-up, is traced off a reference image. My pencils are all me, though. Can’t trace even if I wanted to, unless I got, like, a lightbox.

Changing the room number from 301 to 310 may seem like an arbitrary revision, but it was actually for a very good reason: it was just more aesthetically pleasing after everything was already in place.

Pages Six, Seven, and Eight

Page Six’s digital thumbnail is a favorite of mine on this issue, it’s just really funny. The weird shape that is Cass sitting on the bed in the mock-up’s eighth panel is especially great.

You can see on the pencils that I drew Agnes’ “No!” expression twice, once in the panel and once in the empty space in the first row of panels. I wasn’t sure how close-up I wanted the final panel, but I ultimately went with the one drawn as I’d originally thumbnailed it. Still, the second take was really well-drawn, so I’m glad you get to see it here. Agnes has such a stick up her ass most of the time, it’s a lot of fun to finally get to do an extreme expression with her.

The first and last panels on Page 7 are probably the best examples I have of a digital thumbnail translating perfectly into the finished product. I saw it, I executed it, I loved it.

Yes the first panel of Page 8′s digital thumbnail has a weirdly distorted image of Will Smith from the “can you?” scene in I, Robot. It was the closest thing I could think of to the expression that I wanted for Cass there. I wound up moving her over to the right side of that panel in the final version, making the whole panel seem “slower” and more thoughtful.

The “horizontal lines for ellipsis” thing is a trick that I like to use in comics, one that was previously seen in IKROAH #5.

And that’s it! But one more thing...I already showed you a bit of the pencil thumbnailing that I did for this issue, but I think you all might love to see just exactly how small I can draw page as complex as the one of the Vegas streets...

[satorusplayplace]

NOBODY ELSE | LEE TAEYONG

CHAPTER ONE

genre ;; demon royalty!taeyong x demon royalty!oc, angst, fluff

pairing ;; lee taeyong x oc

word count ;; 902

warning ;; violence, taeyong is a dick, soft jaehyun, language, and mentions of sex. there might be more, but i’m forgetting..

AUTHOR’S NOTE ;;  if you have feedback about something in the chapter or you spot an error. please comment it. please do look out for errors and correct me if i'm wrong about something! thank you! there’s also mentions of blood! i will put a warning on the chapter! there’s also a lot of violence in this!

SERIES MASTERLIST ONE NEXT

king valerie, everyone has heard the name before, even your parents have. valerie, also known as v, or val is a twenty-year-old young woman who stands at five-foot-ten. she's known as the king and queen's daughter. the next in line for the thrown in hell. not only the heir but she needs a king as well after she is announced as queen. another royalty in hell, the lee line. lee taeyong was the heir to a thrown over a small area in hell. this is who she would be announced as queen and king with, but to her luck. she hasn't met him and refuses to.

that's until the university she will be going to. she knows she'll see him there, and she never wanted to see him, especially with the rumors. the rumors about lee taeyong are unpleasant.

lee taeyong attaches himself to everyone fuckable person/object there is.

he fucks whoever he wants.

even if you don't want to associate with lee taeyong, as soon as you see him, or he sees you... just know that you're next.

lee taeyong is such a player. can't believe he's the heir to the other royal family.

valerie wanted to avoid that as much as possible. knowing that the rumors are true, especially when her sister was a victim of lee taeyong. which is why, the plan she has right now is totally messing with his head. we'll get into that later, let's actually start this story.

so, whenever you ask me again, how i feel. please remember my answer is you.

the lyrics played through her airpods as she felt lovesick to the song jaehyun, a close friend of hers released with someone. she was really proud of the two. valerie thought it was nice that they have the song released. she thought the song was cute. though, she hated how she didn't let herself fall in love with people because of her fear. she may be a hopeless romantic, but she's afraid of what's out there.

the song ended as faded in my last song came on. a breakup song, the keys of a piano. valerie knew how to play the piano and played the piano to this song as much as she could. valerie came home late knowing that her sister and taeyong would be in the room.

valerie rushed to her room and locked it. she put her backpack down at the desk and opened it up to grab out all the notebooks, her laptop, sketchbook, and pencils and pens to do her homework.

she listened to the piano version of her favorite songs. as she finished up some homework, she decided to post an instagram update of studying.

liked by jenoscrown, renjunsart, hyunsoonotes, and 3,980 others.

lettersforvalerie: i'll get this down i guess...

jenoscrown: you have to get me that we bare bears thing. pls 🤗❤️

-lettersforvalerie: ofc nono! i always have ur back with this stuff.

renjunsart: go back to posting ur art fucker.

-lettersforvalerie: i will. shut up.

hyunsoonotes: taeyong said ur insta is so aesthetic and that we should all study together!!

-lettersforvalerie: thx soo but no thx. i'm fine studying with renjun, jeno, johnny, mark, jaehyun and yuta.

-hyunsoonotes: wtv you say v

tyongsarchive: you have nice notes :)

view 2000 more comments

valerie finished up studying and decided to sketch her thoughts, write down quotes and have fun. she sketched some bodies for art class since that was a part of homework. she also sketched some more thoughts and doodled a bit too.

"wow. i wish my actual mother was here to see this." valerie smiled and just stared at the photo on the wall. the photo was of her demon father, angel mother, and her, the half demon, half angel. no one else knew about her being a half angel, no one but renjun, jeno, mark, yuta, and her father. the queen knew that valerie was an ex-girlfriend's baby and so the king took her since the ex couldn't take over, that's only partially true. no one was allowed in her room but those five people too.

valerie immediately packs up all the stuff on her desk into her backpack and takes a bath, it was night and there was another day of university tomorrow. she made sure her door was locked and triple locked it this time. she locked her window and sealed it with a spell that will last until she woke up in the morning.

valerie stepped into the bath letting the warm water and bubble consume her body. she immediately relaxed and a lot of her anxiety went away. she relaxed and washed her body and brushed her teeth before going out the bath to dry herself and get ready.

she came out the bathroom and put on a bonnet. valerie being mixed with korean and black, people knew that she wasn’t related to the queen. valerie just laid in her bed and the night consumed her forgetting about doing her hair. her silk pillow cases, and sheets and the fluffy purple blanket was calling for her the whole time while she realized that she needed to do her hair, so she did. she got her products and got through her hair and finally got to bed…

she would've gone to sleep, but the moans of taeyong and her sister kept her up that night.

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

hello!💙💙i hope im not bothering you but may i get a tsukasa or mitsuba x reader where their s/o loves to draw but never lets them see and one day they steal their s/o sketchbook and dont see any drawings of them and the boys are a lil dissapointed but their s/o has a secret sketcbook that they always keep with them filled with the boys portraits?? it would be rlly cute!!(feel free to ignore tho!)💙💜

tsukasa yugi x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader

a/n: no worries, you aren’t bothering me at all!! This is a super cute prompt, so thank you so much for requesting! (i love writing mitsuba too,,, just gotta love the sharp-tongued, short-tempered characters <3)

warnings:

word count: 1,471

Tsukasa Yugi <3

He thinks the fact that you can draw is super cool!! Probably more so than you do, to be completely honest- he’s extremely enthusiastic about it, but that also means he’s extremely annoying about it.

Lots of “let me look, let me look!!” “I wanna seeeeeeee,” “(Y/N), pleaaaaseee, what’re you drawinggggg?”

“Tsukasa, I love you, I love you very much. But, I promise you, if you don’t shut up and let me draw in peace-”

“:((“

So, of course, if you don’t let him see it, our gremlin of a boy is going to look through it one way or another. Pestering you relentlessly didn’t work, trying to slip it casually into a conversation didn’t work, so! You leave him no option!

One day, when you’re minding your business in class, Tsukasa checks your locker. Maybe, just maybe, you left it in there?

Hmm… empty- next stop!! Bookbag!

His eyes practically lit up, his expression excited, practically screaming “found it!!”

Tsukasa would open the sketchbook, silently wondering what on earth you could have drawn. His only experience in art was… well- with things that weren’t intended for art. It wasn’t ever proper “art” either. Just a lot of smearing. But anyway-

A part of him sort of hoped it would be something with him. Maybe even a little doodle, it didn’t have to be a fully colored, lined, amazing piece. Just little doodles, cos you loved him so much, and he infested your mind like the little parasite he is… y’know….

So, as he flipped through the pages, admiring your style- amazed with every little doodle, every little pencil marking, every little detail- he kept an eye out for anything that could have even vaguely resembled him. Yet, once he reached the end, he was rather certain that there was nothing. Tsukasa felt a bit disappointed, pouting despite the fact that you weren’t there to see it.

“Tell me how I knew you were up to something,” You sighed, looking at the boy seated next to your bookbag, the last pages of your sketchbook flipped open. He ignored the comment, placing your sketchbook to the side, then hugging you. You returned the hug, giving him a confused glance.

“What? It’s nothing incredible, but was it that bad-? I don’t even know everything that’s in that, so-”

“You didn’t draw me :(((“

“You didn’t ask me to???”

Still, you couldn’t help but laugh, well aware of the other sketchbook you had stored in the more secure part of your bookbag. Patting his back, then letting go of the hug, you bent down and grabbed your sketchbook and bag. Replacing the sketchbook he had flipped through, you then reached in and grabbed the other.

Somewhat embarrassed, yet know he already found out about your artistic abilities and would probably be glad to see himself, you handed him the sketchbook. “I’ll have you know, I’m not exactly overjoyed with you right now. But, since you’re a sneak, I’ll let you look at that one.”

Tsukasa opened the sketchbook with renewed energy, excited to see what was inside it. Was it him?! Did he actually infest your mind?!! Was he a good model??

Uncharacteristically, his face was slightly warm as he looked over the first page. It started off with a fully finished drawing of him- a very strong start, if he did say so himself. Not only was it him, it was awesome.

He flipped through the rest of the pages, happiness and excitement practically radiating off of him. You could have sworn you saw his eyes sparkling.

“THAT’S SO COOL, (Y/N)!!” Tsukasa would yell after shutting the sketchbook, throwing his arms around you happily, making sure that the sketchbook didn’t get damaged as he did so. “You did draw me! You drew a lot of me!!”

“Ahah- yeah. You’re… cute, after all. Why wouldn’t I draw my boyfriend?”

Mitsuba Sousuke <3

Nosey little dude, but on a more casual level than Tsukasa.

“I’ve shown you my pictures, so you should show me your drawings.”

“That makes sense,”

“So, show me.”

“Nope!”

“(Y/N)-”

Though amusing, Mitsuba will start to pout after a while. “Tch- it’s not like I wanted to see it anyway. It’s probably lame.”

“Awesome then! That doesn’t make me want to show you any more than I previously did~!”

Insert Mitsuba sticking his tongue out at you-

Still, Mitsuba does understand where you’re coming from. After all, he never shows you pictures he’s taken of you. Therefore! It’s only logical that you wanted to draw his cute face!! He muttered this, crossing his arms, yet pretending that it was no big deal to him. Nope, those little comments and attempted glances were nothing-

“Mmh? You’re cute, yes.”

“That’s not what I- whatever, pervert. It’s clear now. You don’t want to show me, ‘cos there’s raunchy art in there! Pervert! Creepy, you’re so creepy-”

“Then aren’t you a pervy creep for wanting to look in my sketchbook?”

“I-”

Mitsuba may have not talked to you for the rest of the day- but it’s fiiiine, he’s fiiiiiiine.

Especially since, by the end of the next day, Mitsuba passed your locker, planning on returning to the class from a bathroom break. As he glanced over at your locker, not fully shut because of your bookbag shoved into it, an idea crossed his mind. It wouldn’t take long… a little peak wouldn’t hurt. Just to make sure his s/o wasn’t a pervert, of course! Not out of personal interest!

So, he grabbed your bag, rummaging through it until he found a well-used sketchbook. His interest peaked, as he grabbed it, opening it up and flipping through the pages.

Some of the pieces were similar to pictures he had given to you, but he didn’t spot anything of him. Sure, your art was impressive, and he was rather content finally getting to see it, but-

But where was his cute face?? Not even his name??? No dreamy “(Y/N) Sousuke” written? Nothing.

Well, it’s not like he cared anywa-

“Really, Mitsuba? You needed to use the bathroom?”

“AH-” He yelped, shutting your sketchbook, as if that would make it seem like he wasn’t just flipping through the pages in slight awe. “Shut up, pervert! I went to the bathroom, I just- you were being suspicious.”

“By drawing?”

“YEs.”

You laughed lightly, though embarrassed as you took the sketchbook from him, putting it back into your bookbag. To be completely honest, your heart was beating a bit faster, slightly nervous that he found your art ugly. It wasn’t anything in comparison to his pictures, you thought..

And, when you turned around and caught a glimpse of his slightly disappointed face, your heart beat even faster. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He said, somewhat defensively- well, that much was normal.

“Sorry, it’s probably disappointing- I know my art isn’t the greatest, but it’s definitely improved over time. There are things I need to study, but-”

“Hey, don’t assume I’m upset with your art, dummy. It’s…” He blushed slightly, looking away from you and shoving his hands in his pockets, “it’s really cool. I’m impressed.”

“Then why are you pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.”

You raised your eyebrows, making Mitsuba flush further, opening his mouth as he thought of what to say in response to that expression. “I just- well, you were weird about it, so I figured there was something about me- something weird or suspicious. But, it’s all perfectly normal.”

It took a moment for you to get behind his words- but, after getting behind Mitsuba’s extremely indirect way of saying things, you understood what he meant. He wanted you to draw him. After processing that, you bit your lip, wondering if you should actually show him your other sketchbook… a glimpse at his slight pout, though it was now confusion at your conflicted expression, you turned around, rummaging through your bookbag.

Then, you pulled out another sketchbook, and pushed it against his chest. “Since you’re so insistent. Just go ahead and look through it, I guess.”

It was Mitsuba’s turn to raise his eyebrows, as he took the sketchbook, and opened it up. His face burned, as he flipped through the pages. They were… filled with him. It genuinely made his heart pound, looking at the array of doodles, line art, and fully finished pieces- occasionally, a small heart or smiley face would be doodled alongside them. If he didn’t find your art incredible before, he definitely did now. Of course, he’d never admit it to your face, but his expression was enough for you to understand.

“A-ah… gross- idiot. Of course, I should have known a pervert like you would draw such a cute face. It’s obvious.”

“Right, right. Honestly, just give me a penny each time you call me a pervert, I’ll be rich in no time-”

[mystical-marauder]

Painting stars

Sirius enters an art shop, hoping to finally buy the supplies he'd been saving up for for months, but walking through that door brings him much more than expected

This is my first oneshot and I hope you like it and I'll post more writing like this hopefully and my writing can also be found on ao3 my username is @loveglowslikethemoon hope you enjoy :)

Today had been pretty quiet with only a couple customers and the shop was closing in 10 minutes, I was ready to go home...

Ding!

I look up from my book, ‘What kind of customer turns up this late?’ I think. I look around to the door, standing there is a tall, handsome young man, his grey eyes excitedly glancing over the shop, his black hair tied up into a bun. His fair skin is disrupted only by a small beauty mark, under his eye. The confident smile that suddenly splits his face as he turns to me, brings out two dimples that break his otherwise smooth cheeks.

"Afternoon! I'm looking for art supplies, I mean I am in an art shop" he says, chuckling. "I actually need some advice, you have a very wide selection and I'm not quite sure what to pick." he gestures vaguely at the shelves full of pencils and brushes, paint and charcoal, canvases and sketchbooks... "You see I love painting but I have no idea which brushes to use, it's embarrassing really."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, actually it's quite common, that’s what I’m here for” I reply with a smile “So you said you paint, right? What do you need, brushes, paint, canvases…?”

“I… um… I actually need everything… You see my parents, well, they kicked me out… and I left everything there… but I've finally saved up enough money to buy new supplies so here I am” he explains chuckling nervously. I look around nervously, unsure what to answer to that but I try to remain as steady and professional as possible.

“That's… terrible, I’m so sorry.” I say, smiling nervously, trying to seem comforting.

“It’s alright, it’s a good riddance I guess.” he replies cheerily “so about those supplies, what do you recommend?”

“Follow me, I’ll show you my recommendations. You’ll have to tell me a bit more about your style of painting so I can give you my best advice.” I say, leading him over to the shelves.

I quickly give him an overview of the different supplies before giving him a more detailed review of each product and advice. We slowly go through the shop and I don’t even notice the minutes fly by. As I walk to another shelf, I catch a glimpse of the clock. I should’ve closed the shop half an hour ago but I decide to leave it. I was having fun. What was the harm of staying open a little while longer? As the minutes pass, our chatter becomes less professional and more friendly. We talked and laughed together and soon enough, we’d picked out all his new art supplies.

“Well there’s everything you need!” I say, walking back to the counter. I start counting the price while chatting to him. “That’s £81.99, the easel is on the house for being such an amiable customer. Do come back if you ever need anything else, it was a pleasure to serve you.” I smile sadly, it had been more than a pleasure and I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye now.

“Thank you” he answers, giving me another of his confident smiles “I- I was wondering if umm… this might sound a bit weird but-” his piercing grey eyes quickly shift away, his normally confident appearance fading to show a childlike nervousness. “Before I left home, well, before I was forced out, I was studying anatomy, and well… I think you'd make the perfect model… Would it be alright if I painted you? If you don't mind, of course. Please don't feel forced to accept anything, but I'd love it if you do. And we could get a chance to get to know each other a little better, maybe somewhere where you don't work.” he clears his voice, as though happy to get this over with, and shifts his grey eyes back to me, his confidence returning. A new childish smile splits his face, as though it had never left it.

My eyes widen as I register what he just asked, and I quickly look away, embarrassed. ‘Perfect?’ as the word races through my mind again and again, I feel my face heat a little. Perfect? Me? No one had ever even called me pretty, let alone perfect, but now this man, who looks like a model himself, wants me to model for him and used that word to describe me. I return the smile, although mine is more nervous than childlike. He tilts his head slightly as though reading my emotions but seconds later, he lets out a small laugh which I quickly copy, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that flourished in me throughout this interaction.

“Are you sure you want me? I mean-” I cut off as I watch him nod confidently “alright I'd love to then!” I answer him, flattered, yet I can't stop the slight shake of my hands. What if I mess up? What if he ends up hating me?

“See you then” he says happily, turning away with a wink. I watch him as he walks out, finding myself to be grinning like a child, like him. I only have one thought left, ‘I don't have to say goodbye.’ I stay standing there for a few minutes with this thought before I snap back to reality. My eyes snap to the clock.

“Fuck” I whisper as I work out the time. If my boss finds out I closed the shop two hours late, I'm done for. ‘Oh well, it was worth it’ I think ‘and anyways he might not even find out.’ I start packing my bag when I suddenly realise he didn't give me a name let alone an address, how was I ever going to find him?! My eyes trail back to the door but of course he is long gone by now… I look around, panicked, as though expecting something to magically give me his address and that's when I notice the folded piece of paper on the counter. I slowly open it, my fingers trembling at the thought that it may not be what I think. I flatten out the paper and quickly read the snippet of writing. I smile inwardly, holding the small, unfolded piece of paper, relief slowly flooding through me as I trace the sentence again and again with my eyes, struggling to believe the evening's events.

19:30 tomorrow room 29 Mirror Hotel - Sirius Black

“Sirius Black” I whisper softly, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Sirius Black”

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

I try to steady my hand as doubt rises in me again, one thought racing continuously through my mind ‘What if I mess up?’ I reach out and knock on the door hesitantly. I wait for a few seconds, yet it feels like an eternity, before the door is swung open.

“Found my note I see!” he exclaims, standing in the doorway with a huge grin lighting up his face. I smile back, trying to look as confident as he did.

“Here I brought you this” I reply, showing him my bag. I take out a small black book and present it to him, “it’s my favourite book, actually I was reading it when you came into the shop, I thought that maybe...” I trail off, embarrassed. I rub the back of my neck, feeling the warmth radiating from my palm. “I just thought maybe you'd find it interesting, I've read it so many times I practically know it off my heart” I laugh quietly, quickly glancing up at him “sorry I'm rambling”

Sirius looks at me, curiosity in his eyes. A small laugh escapes his lips before he turns to me and takes the book. He flips it, seemingly interested before looking back at me and taking a step back, to free the entrance. “Well why don't you come in?” he asks, before marking a pause, “I'm sorry I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'm Remus.” I respond, looking back up at him.

“Remus, that's a nice name.” he comments, his grin never leaving his face “the book seems interesting! I'll be sure to give it a try” I listen to him talk while I walk into his room, which is surprisingly organised. There isn't much, a table with an old laptop on it, two chairs, a bed, which takes up most of the space, a set of drawers, a small window and, in the corner, the art supplies he'd bought the day before. “You can sit here” he tells me, pushing one of the chairs towards me, I take it and sit down, putting my bag down next to it, unsure what to do next, I watch him walk over to the corner and pick up his art supplies.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, my hands still trembling slightly in my lap.

“Nothing, don't worry” he replies “just sit there and relax, there's nothing to be scared of” he addresses a friendly smile at me, pulling up the other chair to face me and setting up his easel in front of it. He takes out a brush and some paint, mixing them on his palette, and starts moving his hand up and down the canvas in big yet careful gestures. As the minutes pass, I start to feel more relaxed, watching his movements getting smaller and slower. “So, tell me a bit about yourself” he says, his eyes not moving from the canvas.

“Hmm oh well my life isn't very interesting. I grew up here with my parents, they're both gone now. I work in an art shop, as you know, I really like reading and I don't know what else to tell you…” I answer, thinking that my life must be too boring for him.

“That sounds interesting to me, you must know the surroundings pretty well then! Maybe you could show me around a little, I've been here for a few months but I still manage to get lost sometimes.” he tells me, chuckling.

“I'd love to, but only if you show me how to paint” I reply, nodding happily. As the minutes turn into hours and his painting progresses, we keep talking, about everything and nothing. It felt easy to talk to him, no not easy, right. Soon enough, I knew him like he'd been my friend for years. While we talk, his eyes tend to stay on the painting but sometimes they glide over to me, snapping back to the painting seconds later. In what felt like a short period of time, yet was a few hours, the painting was finished.

“Are you ready? If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous but if it's bad, blame it on the fact I couldn't paint for the past few months.” he admitted with a nervous chuckle, grabbing the canvas and hesitantly turning it towards me.

‘wow’

That's it. That's the only thought that went through my head as my eyes met themselves on the canvas. It's so beautiful and…

“Well? What do you think?” he urges nervously. I suddenly notice his hands trembling slightly and his eyes watching me intensely. He always seems so confident, yet I can see the fear in his eyes now.

“It's so… It's stunning… I'm speechless” I reply, looking him in the eyes quickly before turning back to the painting. The painting looked so realistic, my light curly brown hair and pale green eyes standing out against my pale skin, there is only one alteration. Instead of the freckles that normally sprinkle my face, are little stars. They're beautiful, shining like the stars I can now see from the window.

“Your freckles, they're beautiful, they look like the stars in the night sky. I thought I should paint them as such… They're like little beacons of hope and friendship, when I walked into that shop, I never thought I'd make a new friend, and well, thank you for giving me hope.” Sirius looks at me, his eyes sparkling with the same hope he was talking off. As I look at him, straight into his eyes, I feel a smile reach my lips, knowing my eyes have the same sparkle in them. And as our eyes dig deeper into one another, as we share a smile of happiness of who we found, the minutes slow, as though this moment was frozen in time, which I wish could be the case. Suddenly, we both break eye contact, as though embarrassed by the connection we'd both felt in that second. We both look back up to the painting, our eyes meeting again for a second, causing my face to heat a little. I slowly lift myself out of my seat, taking a step towards the painting to get a closer view of the talent etched on the canvas in front of me.

“It's- it's really stunning” I mutter, still speechless, taking yet another step forward. As I slowly edge forward, I notice something, something that had escaped me at first glance, as it usually escapes others' attention. A thin scar, tracing along the bridge of my freckled nose. Freckles which usually hide it, making it hardly noticeable, especially at first glance. A scar that had been given to me when I was only five, by an overexcited grey dog at the park. It's claw had scratched against the skin of my nose, after it had ambushed me. It had left me with a gash, one that never properly healed and could now be observed under the shape of a scar. This scar. The one he had noticed, when no one else had.

“You got my scar” I whisper in amazement. I slowly reach out to touch it, feeling like all that matters now, is this single detail. A small detail yet seeing it there had given me hope. At the last second, I pull my arm back, like an instinct, and, remembering the paint is still wet, I drop my hand to my side.

“Of course I got it, how could I miss it?” as his voice reaches my ears, I glance to my left to find him standing next to me, admiring the same spot as I was. Him. The man who, right now, felt like a dream come true. We both turn to face one another at the same second, almost as though we're in tune with one another. I find myself getting lost in his stormy grey eyes again, knowing that he was looking straight back into my emerald green ones. For a moment, there's no movement, we both stand there in silence, our eyes sparkling at each other, knowing that this is right. A shadow suddenly masks one of his eyes and I understand that a lock of his hair escaped his small bun. I watch it sway slightly before I instinctively take a step forward, closing what little distance is left between us, and reach out. I mark a pause, waiting to see if he'll reject the movement, but nothing happens. Carefully, I grab the small lock of hair and delicately brush it behind his ear.

As I hesitantly move my hand away, Sirius lets out a low throaty laugh, and I suddenly feel compelled to do something I'd never dreamed of. Instead of pulling my hand back, I instinctively slide it down to the back of his neck, cradling it carefully in my hand, and lean forward, closing the distance between us centimetre after centimetre until we collide. It was a short kiss but our movements were coordinated perfectly.

We pull away, almost reluctantly, and I watch his face quickly turn a deep crimson, knowing mine isn’t much better. I watch his eyes, like two storms lost in the middle of all this redness.

“That was… something” my eyes move down, as I utter these two words, as though expecting them to close the distance again. Our faces were still within centimetres of one another, making me struggle not to kiss them again.

“Something utterly spectacular” Sirius laughs breathlessly, intensifying my impulse to lean in again.

The room falls silent again, as I continue to watch the slight quiver on his lips. The only disturbance in the otherwise perfect silence is the sound of light rain splashing against the window and pavement along with our shallow breathing.

For a long while, we stand there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes, not uttering a single word, yet I feel complete, everything I need is right here, in front of me. This man, who has the most luscious hair, elegance and grace radiating from his unpolished appearance, a mischievous yet friendly glint in his eye, who is staring up at me with those mercury eyes.

And in that second, I feel certain that this is where I belong. That being with Sirius is right.

[trashcankitty12]

Helia Headcanons

Helia Scofield, nephew of Saladin; Master Artist in the making.

Don’t let his soft demeanor and pacifistic leanings fool you; Helia’s up for the fight if he’s needed.

(All headcanons are mainly for my verses: Left and the New Company of Light. Fair warning.)

-Helia was born to Harley and Hannah Scofield.

-Hannah, Saladin’s twin (and the elder twin, thank you) is an illusion-based witch who works with her Great Uncle’s army. She’s a commander of the Pegasus Unit of the Callistan Army, and unlike her brother, tries to keep herself out of trouble.

-Harley’s more of a gentle soul who enjoys art and runs an art gallery in Callisto.

-As you can imagine, his parents, though loving to him and though they did love each other at one point, have had many disagreements about their lifestyles and what would be best for the family.

-Harley was more pacifistic while Hannah preferred to ‘face things head on’. (Both have great strategic minds though, and… Tended to use them against each other.)

-At a young age, Helia showed potential for magic. Hannah and Saladin tried to help hone his potential skills as a wizard, but the best he could do was simple spells to make himself faster and stronger than normal and to send magic notes. (And a few other minimalistic spells. He couldn’t do anything fancy like his mom and uncle though…)

-It didn’t really bum him out too much though. In fact, it was partially a relief that he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting someone with his magic if his feelings or concentration went out of control. And he had an easy way of keeping his utensils nearby while he was working.

-Helia was in a junior sword fighting league as a kid, something his Uncle Saladin and his mother were very proud of. (Though his father thought it reckless and dangerous and ugly… Even if there was a sort of elegance to sword fighting when done right.)

-He also participated in art clubs at his school and did his to earn high marks in elementary and middle school. (He tended to be a daydreamer and often spaced out in class, especially if the subject was boring to him. Which became another argument for his parents.)

-When he was about 12/13, his parents decided to divorce. Hannah relocated and deployed to serve in Magix at the Callistan Embassy (and to be closer to her brother). His father remained in Callisto.

-He was actually happy that they finally divorced, thrilled to never have to hear one of their ‘we’re not really arguing, just having a heated discussion’ sort of fights. Having to decide where to live and what his plans for the future, however, made him sick.

-His social anxiety was through the roof anyway, and on top of all of this… His art took a bit of a dark turn and so did his poetry.

-How dare his parents fight each other and then demand he choose? How dare they implode on him like this?

-(Faragonda and Griffin were honestly the best people during this time. And so were his childhood friends. They helped him keep his cool and realize what he wanted and how to go about talking to his parents about this stuff.)

-Helia left the sword fighting league, he never really enjoyed it anyway except for the moments he was benched and could sketch the matches. And he decided to stay with his father and enroll at the Callistan Art Academy. His mother was so proud that he wanted to follow his dreams, and agreed to weekends and holidays.

-(Honestly his parents were just happy that he was talking to them again instead of pushing them away. They were so worried, they even went to therapy so they could try and do better for Helia.)

-Helia stayed in touch with some of his sword fighting league friends and kept up with his childhood friends when he went to the Art Academy.

-He loved showing off his new works and talking his friends into being models for some of his works. (One of his favorite portraits is of his best guy friend posing with his new weapon after being accepted into Red Fountain.)

-His parents did move on from each other. On his dad’s side, he has a stepdad and a lovely younger stepsister who adores him. (And he has a half-brother on the way!!)

-His mom remarried a fellow soldier, Monroe. And Monroe has two children of their own; Seneca and Marie. (Older stepsisters… They’re loud and boisterous, but they mean well and Helia enjoys watching them pose and give him fashion shows to help out his own work.)

-Though he was only at the Academy for a short time, Helia discovered many things about himself. (And made friends with the Princess of Linphea who had gotten in despite her age. The fairy is truly gifted in making topiary art.)

-He loves his charcoal brushes and using colored pencils when doing sketches. Something about the way it moves on the paper just makes him so happy.

-And he does love to paint, though he’s not much for water colors. (And never ask him to do a digital piece. The last time he tried working with a tablet, he nearly got electrocuted. Granted, it was probably a one-time thing, but he took it as a sign.)

-Poetry is second love, aside from sketching and painting. He loves being able to verbalize his feelings and put the words down that he can feel inside. Its one of the few ways he feels he can truly connect to people, since it’s easier to write down the words instead of saying them. (Though he has done poetry readings from time to time.)

-Between portraits and landscapes, Helia prefers landscapes. And he’d really gotten into architecture drawings before he left the Academy.

-Because his parents were often busy when he was a kid, he found he had useful skills to ‘adult’ while at the Academy and on his own for the first time. (He can cook fairly well, at least, you know what you’re supposed to be eating and it tastes pretty good. But he’s no Chef Langdon.)

-He was great at keeping his room spotless and clean. His workspaces however? Not so much.

-Over half his wardrobe is stained with either paint or charcoal or clay.

-(Yes, he can do pottery. Just not very well. In fact, it usually looks pretty shit, but hey, he tried.)

-After seeing the news about what happened in Magix and how his uncle’s school was destroyed and the people he cared about nearly died, Helia decided to transfer. (Which took a lot of convincing with his dad and the Dean of the Academy and Saladin.)

-But once he was in, he was in. And when given the choice about his weapon, he went with one his mother loves to use, the laser-string gloves. Great for restraint and for quick weapon-recovery in battle without potentially causing further harm.

-Add in his ability to make himself stronger, and he can wield that glove with the confidence of a sword fighter.

-He quickly clicked with Timmy once he joined their squadron, despite the two having different views of technology.

-Helia was Riven’s roommate though, and while their personalities didn’t compete with each other, they didn’t completely get along either. (Riven reminded Helia of Hannah with his ‘let’s just face it’ ways and Riven felt Helia wasn’t much of a hero if all he did was restrain instead of fight.)

-Of course, as time went on, Helia and Riven do have respect for each other, and have many inside jokes that came from their time living together.

-Helia quickly found he was one of the ‘advisors’ of the group, with everyone coming to him for advice. He was flattered, sure, but dudes… Just because he managed to get what he got, doesn’t mean he knows how he did it.

-Aside from training with his gloves, he’s good using a whip and decent with a sword. Bows and arrows/anything needing aim isn’t his strong suit. He’s also not the best at giving reports on how things went on their missions, which is why that task gets delegated to Sky or Riven.

-He trained as a medic too, deciding that while he wouldn’t be the best in a fight, he can help with the aftermath. And his squad kind of needed a medic aside from Timmy and Brandon…

-Helia may not enjoy fighting, but he’s not above doing what’s necessary when the people he cares about are in danger. There have been plenty of times, not just when saving the Magical Dimension, that Helia has risked his life and limbs to protect his friends.

-One such incident was a survival trip to the Marshlands of Amanal. Brandon never would have made it home in one piece if Helia hadn’t thrown himself at the hippogriff. (And he somehow managed to befriend it afterward. No, he has no memory of how he did it.)

-Helia tends to be a stress-sketcher. Worried about a test? Doodles on his notes from class. Worried about an upcoming mission? Sketchbook in hand. Relationship issues? Sketchbook.

-Oh! He’s a great pilot too! Helia has a great sense of direction and has grown up around the ships, so he knows how to work them. (Now, if you want to know what makes them tick or how to put them together if they fall apart, ask someone else. Preferably Timmy or Riven.)

-Helia has a whole stash of teas. A collection, if you will. (Something that he blames Faragonda for, but hey, it’s not the worst habit ever.)

-After all the traveling he’s done thanks to Red Fountain, Helia sort of understands better why his mom and uncle loved their military days so much. Seeing new places, learning new things, enjoying new foods… It’s quite an existence. (If you can look passed all the fighting and wars and invasions…)

-Yes, Helia does yoga. He also enjoys dance. (And with friends like Layla, Musa, and Nabu, he never has to do it alone.)

-Some of his favorite people to sketch: Flora, for her grace and beauty and the way she seems to just breathe life into natural settings; Sky, for his posture and presence and ability to always appear in charge; Layla, for her strength and grace and how every body of water seems to be at her command; and finally, Timmy and Tecna, As a couple, those two just radiate this feeling of joy and it just… How can you not want to sketch it?!

-(Kiko is also a favorite sketch subject. The little rabbit just has so much personality!)

-This may come as a shock to people, but Helia enjoys horror movies. Preferably the psychological/thriller-based horror movies. It’s the way they capture human emotion and it’s just so poignant and interesting. He wants to learn how to convey such feelings in his work.

-Between his parents, you’d think Helia was closer to his father… In actuality, he’s closer to his mother.

-His mom enjoyed doing things and showing him things and just getting him to be more active and curious as a child.

-His father was more of a watcher. An observer-type. Always looking for something awe-inspiring for his next piece. (Something Helia and Harley bond over now. And laugh at, from time to time.)

-Helia enjoys swapping sketching ideas with Bloom and Stella, looking to see what they’re up to and how they can try and work off of each other.

-(And he has done some physical character sheets and layout ideas for Tecna’s video game idea to help her see her vision more clearly.)

-Helia doesn’t play a lot of video games. They’re just not his thing… But he does have a soft spot for the Sims series after Bloom introduced him to it, and he enjoys this maze creation game that a Solarian gaming company came up with for phones (level 200!!!).

-He swears more than people think he does. It’s almost comical how shocked people are when they meet this ‘sweet and soulful guy’ and then he drops a few ‘f’ bombs while working on his projects. (Not just ‘f’ bombs either… Dude gets creative with his curses. Even Riven’s impressed.)

-Helia didn’t go to Earth with the others, instead taking up a job offer on Callisto to help with remodeling his great uncle’s barracks. (And now, the castle itself… He’s so honored it’s his designs in the works.)

-However, he does visit from time to time. It makes him a little sad though, seeing Earth the way it is. All the pollution creating cars, the strange fashion, the way people seem to disregard each other. It’s so sad.

-When the ‘saving the Magical Dimension’ stuff stops, Helia’s hoping to join with his father’s art gallery and to build on his portfolio of projects. (He knows he already has a few jobs waiting for him, like Stella’s coronation portrait for when she becomes queen.)

-He just hopes his works inspire and touch people the way they do as he works on them.

[browniefox]

The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

[icollectyoursins]

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling. 

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him. 

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks). 

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

    You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

     Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork. 

     “Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

     “Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

     “Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

     “Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

     “I tried-”

     “And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

     Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.” 

     What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool. 

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

     A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

     He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

     He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

     “Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

     You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you. 

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research. 

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands. 

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk. 

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

     You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

     “What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

     You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

     “Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling. 

     Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

     “Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this. 

     “Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you. 

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down.