#look who was too lazy to draw a background (I do really like how it turned out tho)

[bees-of-chaos]

"It tears through my head, does it haunt you too?

Never really said I loved you too

Lucky, lucky you 'cause I'm fortune's fool

Such small words but they hit so huge

I don't think I realise

Just how much I miss you sometimes

We were young and so in love

We were just creatures in Heaven

For a moment we were just

We were just creatures in Heaven"

[picture credit: NASA]

[simpxxstan]

svt + nerdy y/n!!

a/n: this is absolutely self-indulgent. i'm sorry if i'm writing slower than usual, i'm trying to get back on track!

sfw content. gender neutral reader and established relationship.

very mildly suggestive (pg13 audience only!). nerd here refers to anyone with academic interests or a general high level of interest in uncommon/niche topics. i've tried to make the concept of nerd as inclusive as possible.

seungcheol

not a nerd himself but will encourage you 100% to be a nerd- buys you new pair of glasses when your eyesight worsens, new documentary CDs and even membership of a hundred foreign journals.

defo has a sapiosexuality kink- you can guess how attracted he is to your intelligence. but he's the smarter one on the streets, so he'll take care of you in every way possible while you stay in your little geeky bubble.

it's always baby let me recharge your phone bill for you; baby please eat your meals on time; baby you can't stop drinking water because of exam stress; baby if you're pulling an all-nighter, call me over, i don't want you to stay up all night alone.

jeonghan

loving jeonghan involves so much cuddling and lazy time when you both just lie under the blankets, his head is on your stomach and your fingers in his hair. it's at these moments that he encourages you to read out for him and he hums along whenever you pause to check if he's fallen asleep.

but jeonghan draws the line sometimes. he is supportive- but only when you're not trading off your time with him for the sake of peering into books.

you can sit with me and solve bivariate normal distributions or whatever you have to do, he whines into your ear. but you keep tickling me and i mess up the calculations! he laughs at this, i can't help it if you're just so ticklish, baby.

joshua

three years ago, joshua would've laughed if someone told him he would be more interested in the latest discoveries of astrophysics than in who's winning the la liga matches. but here he is- successfully converted into a nerd entirely because of your influence.

joshua was ridiculously easy to convert. all it had taken was the shiny, lovesick look in your eyes when you'd ask him if he wanted to watch a documentary on alternate universe theories with you, and he'd said yes in a heartbeat. and then it had just been a spiral into the metaphorical black hole. and he does NOT regret it, as long as he gets to spend time with you.

josh is this getting too boring? you'd quietly ask after an hour of the documentary, guilty for being too absorbed in it to even look at your boyfriend and see how he's faring. but joshua is melting at your concern, so even if it was a little bit boring, he'll reassure you sweetly, not at all baby! this is so new and interesting!!

jun

yes he may be from china, but clearly you know more about his own roots than he does! whenever you're watching news, jun loves it when you fill him up on some quirky background info that he didn't know about, but adds so much value to the context of the news.

in awe of your academic capabilities and keeps bragging about you to everyone. feels so proud when he can contribute to something you're passionate about too. he CANNOT fathom why someone as nerdy and intellectual as you should want to be with him.

junie, you're so smart! you praise him after he reports a profit he's making on a stocks investment. he shyly giggles, not like you, baby. you shake your head, i may be book smart. but you're street-smart!

soonyoung

hyper and calm partners!!!! he used to get annoyed with how you would pore into your books all day and how focused you were on your studies, but now he sees the charm in it all. it makes you happy, and in turn, he gets to wrap himself around you and be as clingy as he likes.

he really tries to follow with your nerdiness, his enthusiasm is there he swears! it's just not his fault that his attention span is so low and he ends up staring at your lips more than actually listening to you.

baby are you even listening? you ask, pouting. it drive him even more insane and he ends up giving in to his instincts and kissing you. yes baby! i heard everything!

wonwoo

WILL BE GEEKY WITH YOU! i imagine the two of you sitting next to each other at a table, him focused on his games and you're focused on your studies, your feet in his lap, and you're both sharing the same cup of coffee.

he loves collecting pretty little diaries for you, because he knows you write little poems and trivia in those diaries. whenever he's out on tour, he's bringing a locally-made diary for you, and if possible, he customises it with your name imprinted on it too.

wonwoo, there's a new adaptation of pygmalion getting shown in the theatre! do you want to go watch? i want to take notes from this adaptation and write about it on my blog... you need not even explain so much, wonwoo bought the tickets already when you began to talk about it.

jihoon

feels so giddy when he comes home from work and the first thing you do (in between his kiss attacks) is tell him a new fact you learnt today in whatever is your latest obsession.

jihoon loves his personal space, so when he's found you who's equally fond of your personal space and interests, it's literally a match made in heaven. they say it'll put distance between the two of you, but it really does quite the opposite!

jihoonie, can you help me learn this table? maybe ask me randomly and i'll try to answer. jihoon wants to tell the table to self-destruct from the entire world because you're near to tears trying to mug it up. but he doesn't. instead he says, love, how about i make a song for you which simplifies this? like a mnemonic but nicer.

seokmin

man was too desperate to get out of school to understand why you choose to be a nerd. but it's hella cute, so he doesn't need to understand. he's obsessed with your quirky habits- the way you bite your lips when you're finding a topic difficult, the way your glasses slip down your nose and you irritatedly push it up again, the way you crave the hot chocolate he makes when you're under exam stress.

admires your smartness so much! WILL brag about it to everyone he meets. WILL bring up the fact you told him yesterday, in today's conversation with his members just to show off your smartness.

posts stories about you being so cute while working hard for your exams but it's just you with oiled hair, acne breaking out like hellfire, and cramming notes at breakneck speed (you don't talk to him for an hour after this, but he doesn't get why you're so embarrassed, he only sees cuteness.)

mingyu

another one who WILL be nerdy with you. mingyu's always been a curious boy- even as a child, he would be drawn into new ideas easily. nothing is different now, and mingyu sits with you often when you're studying, his hands often wandering to your shoulders to massage them, and bringing you a regular supply of ramen and snacks.

you have a habit of repeating to yourself what you read, so mingyu steps in and asks you to talk to him and explain the topics to him as if you're teaching him. safe to say, he gets VERY turned on after such mock 'teaching' lessons and eventually loses focus on what you're saying.

gyu do you remember that paper i wrote last month? yeah, it got selected for a journal. you say it so nonchalantly that any other person would think you're showing off. but mingyu knows how much it means to you, and you're only downplaying it because you think mingyu won't think it to be a big deal, as most academic snobs tend to do. but lucky for you, mingyu knows exactly how precious an achievement it is to you, so he shows his appreciation to you instead of merely saying it (by showering you with kisses that make you tingle all over).

minghao

OH oh. will listen to your rants with the sweetest subtle smile on his face. will buy encyclopedias and reference books for your mini library. will take you to speaker sessions, workshops and other such informative events across the city, even places you've no idea about.

the most ardent supporter you could have asked for, he is in awe of your mental capabilities and your intelligence. you both have a lot of quality time where you're just sitting together and doing your things, but minghao values it like no other activity in the world.

hao? there's a new parcel at the door. you call him when a delivery arrives and he's at work. open it. he may not be around to see your reaction, but he can sure imagine the grin that's bursting out on your face when you squeal his name into the phone on seeing the hardcover special edition version of your favourite collection of essays.

seungkwan

lots of wide-eyed wondering at why you would want to stay rooted at a spot and read books over playing badminton with him. he wants to complain that you've chosen your academics over him, but that'd be a lie, so he can only half-heartedly whine about it.

comes around to your point of view as soon as you start showing him documentaries (on animals living in the Himalayas, as per your latest obsession). it begins with him finding the animals cute, to eventually finding you cute when you animatedly talk about them. and once he's totally converted, it's fairly easy for you to convince him to help you with exams.

expect eye rolls, smug smiles and hair being brushed back nonchalantly when the questions he had asked last night from your texts actually matched with the ones asked in the exam. i told you, baby, he whispers in your ear. now i want my reward, you've been drowned in books for way too long and not paying any attention to your boyfriend.

vernon

it was a surprise to him as well when he realised he's got a massive sapiosexuality kink. as someone who's run as far away from the education system as he could, he doesn't even know why he finds it so attractive when you're being nerdy. but, well, he does.

he loves hearing you talk about whatever it is that you're learning lately, and sometimes something or the other catches his attention. and then, you know he'll dive right deep into it to know all about it, until his curiosity is satisfied.

nonie, what's the video you sent me? you ask him when you return home from uni. i wondered if you've watched this one. it explains the theories of why the harappan civilization disappeared so well. you can only smile at his enthusiasm, i bet you've been looking at conspiracy theories again, nonie. the guilty grin on his face says it all.

chan

chan listens so well, but you can't really blame him if he doesn't retain the information. he's elated simply to have you wrapped in his arms as you talk about what happened in your classes today, and his nose in the crook of your neck so he can smell your lovely scent. intermittently nods his head (just wants to rub his nose on the soft skin of your neck) and hums in agreement of what you just said (suppressing moans when he can feel your heartbeat quicken when he presses kisses to your neck too).

it doesn't matter what your new niche is, but he's indulging it. he admires your ability to stay focused in a field as demanding as academia, and he's all for you to go ahead with your interests and education as long as you want to learn.

you wake up to post-its on your forehead every day when chan has had to leave early for work: get out of the house and get fresh air. shampoo hair today, interview tomorrow. practice the introduction speech again. drink water and take vitamins. STOP DRINKING COFFEE. and you giggle at each of them, because they're all things you've tried to remember for yourself and forgotten, so chan reminds you like this, but his cute handwriting and the little XOXOXOs he's drawn all over make your heart melt.

[bjlipss]

toji had a very specific definition of “babysitting.”

it involved putting on a random kids’ show at maximum volume, feeding the child an illegal amount of goldfish crackers, and then sitting back like some kind of smug, muscled babysitting guru who had mastered the art of minimal effort.

you, meanwhile, were reconsidering every life choice that led you here.

“toji,” you said carefully, standing in the doorway to the living room, “he’s drawing on the walls.”

toji didn’t even look up. he was sprawled across your couch like a greek god who had been cursed with too many snack crumbs. his sweatpants were yours, oversized(not on him) and super comfortable, which he had stolen and refused to return. his hair was a mess, one sock was missing, and he had a spider-man sticker dead center on his forehead.

“he’s expressing himself,” he replied coolly.

you blinked. “he’s expressing himself with sharpie.”

“it’ll wash off.”

“it’s permanent marker.”

“…so will the wall.”

you stared at him in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself when you talk?”

“not really. i try to tune me out,” he said, stretching one arm behind his head. “too handsome. too distracting.”

before you could respond with something scathing (or worse—fond), megumi, age five and already full of the world’s oldest soul, walked into the room holding a banana to his ear.

“hello?” he said into the banana, deadly serious. “yeah. dad’s being lazy again.”

toji turned his head slowly and glared at his son. “you little snitch.”

megumi blinked at him. “you said snitches get sandwiches.”

“…i meant stitches.”

“but i got a sandwich last time.”

you covered your face with both hands.

“see?” you said, muffled behind your fingers. “your own child is calling you out.”

“he gets it from your side,” toji grumbled.

“he’s not even my kid!”

“minor detail.”

megumi had moved on from banana-phone business and was now in the kitchen. you heard the fridge open. something clatter. the unmistakable rustle of a cheese slice being stolen. you glanced toward the hallway, briefly considered intervening, and then looked at toji.

“you’re gonna go check on that, right?”

“nope.”

“…what if he sets something on fire?”

“then he learns consequences.”

you sighed deeply, like you were aging ten years per minute, and sat on the arm of the couch. toji reached out lazily and tugged you down into his lap.

“you are the worst co-parent,” you mumbled, not actually trying to get away.

“you say that,” he said, chin on your shoulder now, “but you secretly like it.”

“do not.”

“do too.”

you hated how smug he sounded. you hated it more because he was kinda right.

it was stupidly domestic—the mess, the chaos, the ridiculousness of it all. megumi humming in the background, your cat looking personally offended by the toddler’s presence, and toji, somehow managing to be a menace and a softie at the same time.

but then he kissed your cheek, just a light brush, and mumbled, “thanks for letting me bring him here. he likes you.”

you blinked. looked at him. he wasn’t even looking at you now—he was watching the tv, pretending to be cool, pretending that didn’t mean a lot coming from him.

you smiled, just a little.

“yeah,” you said. “i like him too.”

megumi ran in with cheese stuck to his face, holding a crayon like a weapon.

“dad,” he said urgently. “the cat won’t high-five me.”

toji sat up and pointed. “respect his boundaries, gumi.”

“but i said please.”

“still counts as harassment.”

you burst out laughing. toji gave you a smug look like told you i’m a good parent.

and despite the sharpie on the wall, the sweatpants theft, and your now half-empty cheese drawer, you realized something:

this might be chaos.

but it’s your chaos now.

this

[velvrei]

under the flickering light

pairing: axel kovacevic x reader

summary: you meet axel at a crowded bar, drawn to his magnetic presence. a quiet moment in the alleyway leads to an unexpected kiss, turning a cold night into something unforgettable.

word count: 1k

…

the bar is alive with noise—voices overlapping, music humming low under the din, glasses clinking in the background.

you’re nursing a drink you don’t even really want, the condensation dampening your fingers. this isn’t your usual scene, but something pulled you here tonight.

you spot him before you know why you’re looking. he’s alone in the corner, one arm stretched along the back of the booth like he owns the place.

his dark hair is a mess, falling just over his brow, and there’s a worn leather jacket slung across his lap. the light above him flickers faintly, casting his sharp features into soft relief. he’s not looking at anyone—until he’s looking at you.

his gaze holds yours like a challenge.

your pulse skips. there’s no smile, no smirk—just a steady, unflinching stare. still, there’s something in the way his head tilts, in the arch of his brow, that dares you to do something. anything.

before you can second-guess yourself, you’re moving. weaving through the crowd, dodging elbows and spilled drinks, you reach his table. up close, his eyes are darker than you expected, and his presence—sharp-edged, magnetic—feels even stronger.

“you lost?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, with a rasp that makes your breath hitch.

“maybe,” you say, and it’s almost true.

the corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but close enough. he leans back, gesturing to the seat across from him with a lazy flick of his wrist. “sit. might as well stay awhile.”

you slide into the booth, your drink forgotten on the sticky table between you. he’s watching you—really watching you—and it makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight.

“what’s your name?” he asks, and when you tell him, he nods, like he’s trying it out in his head.

“i’m axel.”

the conversation is easier than you expect. there’s an ease to him that draws you in, a quick wit that keeps you on your toes. he teases, his words laced with a dry humor that makes you laugh, and when you fire back, his smirk deepens.

every now and then, his fingers drum against the table or his leg bounces under the booth, like he’s restless, like sitting still too long might kill him.

“you’re not from around here, are you?” he asks at one point, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“what gave it away?”

he shrugs, tipping his head to one side. “you don’t look like someone who spends their nights in places like this.”

“and you do?”

this earns you a real laugh—a low, rough sound that makes your chest tighten. “fair enough,” he says, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

you don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, the noise of the bar becomes too much. axel glances toward the door, then back at you.

“wanna step out?”

you nod, and he’s on his feet before you can even respond.

the night air is cold, biting at your skin as you step outside. the alley beside the bar is dimly lit, the faint glow of streetlights reflecting off wet pavement.

axel shoves his hands into his pockets, leaning against the rough brick wall with an ease you envy.

“better,” he mutters, glancing over at you.

you nod, unsure what to say. the quiet feels heavier out here, but not uncomfortable. he’s watching you again, his gaze unflinching, like he’s sizing you up or trying to figure you out.

“so,” he says after a beat, his voice quieter now, “what brought you here tonight?”

you hesitate. “just… needed to get out. clear my head.”

he nods slowly, like he understands. “yeah. i get that.”

his hand brushes yours as he shifts, just a light touch, but it sends a jolt through you. you glance at him, and he’s still looking at you—closer now, his head tilted slightly.

“is this okay?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

you don’t answer, not with words. instead, you step closer, your fingers curling into the lapel of his jacket, pulling him in.

his lips are on yours before you can even think. the kiss is soft at first, tentative, like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

but when you don’t, he deepens it, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other pressing against your waist.

he tastes like whiskey and something sharper, something that’s just him. the world narrows to this—his warmth against you, the rough drag of his jacket under your fingers, the faint hitch in his breath when you press closer.

when you finally pull apart, he doesn’t move far. his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

“didn’t think this is how my night was gonna go,” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“same,” you admit, your voice barely steady.

he chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against the side of your neck before he finally pulls back, leaning against the wall again.

“guess it’s not a bad surprise,” he says, his smirk turning softer.

you can’t help but smile back, the warmth in your chest chasing away the chill of the night.

…

hope you all enjoyed!! :))

taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @justchillin13 @yslbaeee @adv3rs1ty @yaya-1loveart @yoyoyourmum @amnesique @astreiz @izzyelise11

[py-dreamer]

@furornocturna, @violetjedisylveon

hey! Remember that shadowalkers au wip a while back?

And I mean damn, like what a leap? Amirite?

(Just realized I forgot Mac's pouch, Mei, & Wukong's beads

...oops

Pls forgive me I'm a forgetful klutz and am lazy)

Ok so well this be quite the turnabout from the last sketch um:

I included the shadows on the floor, it is called shadowalkers for a reason, and added the wee faces in them like I did for the first piece

The background was a pain in the ass and I tried a lil something something with the lighting/lens flares. Something similar to the lighting in the piece I did where they're cuddling

Now everyone might say multiply on the layers does miracles but can I just saw 'add glow' and 'glow Dodge' are my new best friends? Srsly they give that damn good zest that it needs

I had so much trouble just doing Mac's face in particular. Like the contrast between the dark scalera and light irises was too much even though I did it before and it worked then-

And like his proportions were way off even though they matched the f*cking sketch which looked fine and they didn't match up with Wukong's at all-

Then his hair looked too big and clunky like a large chunk rather than hair and cause Mk's head was blocking it, I couldn't shade correctly-

AND I WAS STARTING TO BLOODY LOOSE IT I WANTED TO PUNCH THIS LIL BI-

But then I made his head bigger and it all worked out 'u'

Here's the og sketch for comparison:

I will admit though, I am quite happy with how my art style has progressed over time and this just might be one of my best pieces.

Genuinely to any of my old marshiemallows, thanks for sticking around! And I welcome any new marshiemallows joining me on my little art adventure so here's love from a random artist on the internet who appreciates your presence to her wacky ramblings and drawings

Oh and btw, I will start to get more busy so pls relax ur expectations in terms of posting schedules (not that I really had one anyways but regardless-)

That birthday challenge was fun but man did it do a number on me

And especially cause I wanna try to focus more on writing the next chap of mah fic 'When the sun sets forever' on ao3

(Shameless plug but which you should totally check out btw, angsty monkies, time travel, Macaque bullying train, it's so much fun)

Oh! And for my fellow marshiemallows who have frequented the dreamscape a couple of times, not guaranteed and I am a wee noob with absolutely no experience in this very little chance I'll do this and it's mainly to see any interest in it so pls don't expect much-

BUT.

[coffeepaintwater]

pov; your classmate's seeing ghosts at 3am and you just want to piss. alexa play i know by fiona apple

notes/i need to start calling them rants but im a coward:

i hate full illustrations (i can't do background for shit). but, surprisingly this one was a quick thing. i really felt starved for ofa content in the mha fandom (hello btw first time posting anything for yall), but also felt so sad about the fact that these people had to basically die a second time when izuku let go of ofa.

technically, they were only brought together by duty and this need to save people, but i think it would shatter me to interact with such determined souls and then just- not. they've got me feeling some type of way AND THERE'S SO LITTLE CONTENT.

also, i've recently seen someone say that, while all might shouldn't have placed the responsibility of ofa on a kid, no one else should have to bear this burden either. and so, izuku was actually the best option. i think it has to do with the amount of determination he has. because, despite all might NOT KNOWING (!!!) izuku would eventually have to fight all for one, he picked the type of person who would have accepted ofa even if he knew it came with a bigger burden. and while i understand the "izuku is too young to suffer those things", i think this fandom in general focuses on the young age of the characters (which is important to discuss as well) to the point they ignore all the other nuance that comes with the themes of mha. (yes, i am mostly talking about fanfiction. especially those 'dadzawa' ones. stop projecting and go get therapy people, those fics are so ooc.)

izuku's story would be just as tragic if he was a twenty-year-old. all might would have unknowingly ruined/disturbed the life of anyone he gave ofa to. it's just that izuku, despite being a teenager, had what it took to defeat the danger, while anyone else might not have.

but, back to the actual art i post, because despite what it looks like, i'm not an essay account; i've added a watermark!!! it's so tiny you can barely see it but i've had a vision. also i love yoichi he's so drawable. the plan was to actually fit all of the vestiges as reflections but i realized quickly how unrealistic that was for the canvas size i selected and was too lazy to change it. so you get bruce (lee), kudo (fucking gingers) and bbg yoichi. i've learnt a tip for drawing really sharp lighting too so i'm remotely happy with this one.

[cosmerelists]

A Sexy Fireman Calendar But Make It Stormlight

Happy New Year! Let's imagine what a "sexy men of Roshar" calendar would be like. And yes, yes I am trying to do purely visual gags in a written medium. What can I say? I don't draw.

Anyway, here's how I think such a calendar would be designed if it were made for us since I'm too lazy to look up the names of Rosharan months and I want to make holiday jokes.

1. January: Dalinar

What better way to kick off the new year than with a man who reminds us to just keep taking the next step?

Dalinar is sitting in front of a fireplace full of flamespren wearing his uniform...but with the jacket and shirt all the way unbuttoned, like he's relaxing after a long day of work, his presumably hairy chest on full display.

2. February: Drehy and Dru

The Valentine's Day month of course must feature Urithiru's hottest gay couple.

Drehy and Dru are lying on a heart-shaped mattress, with a red blanket draped artfully across their bodies, rose petals surrounding them. Aside from the blanket, they don't appear to be wearing anything at all...

3. March: Adolin

Adolin is wearing his Easter Best--namely a pink linen shirt with a deep V-neck, a white scarf, white pants, and a winning smile. Also, I think he should be holding a baby bunny, just to really sell it.

4. April: Lopen

Lopen is upside down, stuck to a wall, his rakish grin suggesting that this April Fool's Joke is on you--but also that you'll be laughing along with everyone else.

5. May: Rlain

Like a herald of Spring, Rlain is sitting reclined, his back against a tree, surrounded by blooming flowers. He's in warform, his sharply chiseled muscles making an excellent contrast to all of the soft, bright nature around him.

6. June: Sigzil

Sigzil stands, shirtless and glistening with sweat, beneath the blazing sun. It looks like you caught him mid-kata, spear in hand.

7. July: Kaladin

Kaladin has been photographed in the midst of a summer thunderstorm: his wet hair blowing sideways but in an artful way, his wet undershirt sticking to his chest, and a dramatic bolt of lighting in the background.

8. August: Skar

The back-to-school month features our favorite teacher. Skar is clearly mid-lesson, floating off the ground, glowing with Stormlight, holding his hand up as though expounding.

9. September: Renarin

Renarin is standing amid fall colors, leaves floating gently to the ground around him. He's dressed as if for the crisp fall air in a long coat, flannel shirt, and pants. He's holding a warm mug of cider, the steam rising past his face.

10. October: Hoid

Hoid...well I'd have to say he looks both hot and creepy. He's wearing a masquerade mask and suit, holding a martini glass. His eyes say that he has many secrets.

11. November: Rock

Rock has made you a FEAST for Thanksgiving! He's standing in front of a table laden in food (stew front and center, of course), holding his arms out wide as if inviting you to join him, a huge grin on his face.

12. December: the Stick

It's stuck in the ground, standing up, with a single Christmas ornament as decoration.

Yes, despite not being a man, the stick has made it into the Sexy Men Calendar. What can't it do?

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

[thunderousjustice]

Abgerny character design in my AU, Melodies category.

Extra

Okay, after publishing Beats and Effects designs, it's time to publish Melodies designs! Sorry for being absent for quite some time, it's because I have a lot of work to do to prepare for living in the dorm and going to university in a few months (yes, I'm going to go to university because I just graduated a few weeks ago). During that time, I tried to find some free time to finish drawing Melodies, and this group took me the longest to think of their outfits because I couldn't figure out how to draw them to fit their careers lol. Barry and Wally had their outfits for a long time, but Vurr, Kori, and Molly couldn't think of any. It took me 3 whole days to figure out their outfits (I was really burned out at that time, okay? When I finished my errands, the only thing I wanted to do was "rest", not draw. Drawing is just a hobby that I do when I feel like it, not all the time like many artists do). Okay, enough of that digression, let's get into today's content. As you can see, Melodies is a bit more special than the other casts. This is evident in the fact that Vurr and Wally have their own logos that reflect their animal avatars in the VR world. Kori has two designs, one before his pet chinchilla dies (Kori without the chinchilla coat) and one after his pet chinchilla dies (Kori with the chinchilla coat). And Molly has the "???" sign after her violin career. I'll slowly explain the reasons for putting these designs on the characters in order.

First up is the Vurr's. The reason I put Vurr's logo on the back of her laptop is nothing more than to "decorate" Vurr a little bit to make Vurr stand out from the rest of the characters, lol. Vurr's design is pretty "plain and bland" compared to the other characters in my opinion. So to make Vurr not look too much like a side character, I put a little effort into drawing a pink fox logo on the back of her laptop to make up for her already plain design. (Vurr's logo doesn't affect the main story. So don't expect too much from a "decoration")

The Wally logo is included because it is important to the main story and Wally in particular. If anyone has ever heard of a group of people who call themselves "Motorcycle Club", you will know what they are famous for. But if you don't know and have never heard of it before... then you should study it yourself because I am too lazy to explain it lol. If I were to explain it, it would be too long. But I will briefly tell you the background of Wally in my AU that motivated him to join the Motorcycle Club called "Pecyn Blaidd" (meaning "Wolf Pack" in Welsh).

"Wally was born into a family with a lot of problems. Mostly from his "father" who often abused him both physically and mentally. His mother often did not dare to stop him and let Wally be abused by his father often (but she still loved Wally, she was just afraid of her husband). Wally could not stand it one day and decided to run away from home temporarily. Along the way, he came across a motorcycle club called "Pecyn Blaidd" and saw their work together, which impressed Wally very much and he decided to join them immediately when the club's Vice President invited him to join because he saw potential in Wally. As time passed, Wally began to feel a "sense of belonging" in the club that he joined, something that he could not find in his own home. He had many friends in the club and was highly respected by them for his ability to coordinate with members effectively, to the point of being promoted to "Sergeant of Arms", which was quite a high rank that suited Wally's abilities. However, the club was not all good because there were many times that the club committed illegal acts and had conflicts with other motorcycle clubs. There were many times that Wally often got involved in such matters, causing problems with those close to him, especially Carl, who was his best friend and often warned him not to volunteer to do bad things that the higher-ups ordered, but Wally often did not listen and often claimed that he did it because it was his "duty" and that he had come too far to back down now. Wally's stubbornness and aggressive behavior often led to him arguing with others, to the point where some of them ended their relationship with Wally. Only Carl tolerated Wally's bad behavior because he believed that Wally could be improved if he was given the right guidance."

Why is Kori's occupation a scientist in your AU? Well, the reason might sound a bit random, but I think Kori is someone who likes to spend most of his free time burying himself in books to learn about various things. The creator said that Kori gets irritated easily and prefers to be alone. People with this personality type usually like to do quiet activities, including reading books. So Kori burying himself in books might suit him well (I think). It's also another reason why Frank likes Kori, even though Kori treats him like trash, lol. In my AU, Kori is a scientist like him (even though Kori doesn't specify that he's a scientist who's good at something like Frank) and has more knowledge than Frank, which makes him interested. Frank usually ends up getting kicked out by Kori out of frustration and annoyance because he likes to ask Kori about things too much, which distracts Kori from works a lot, lol.

The last thing is the "???" after Molly's violinist occupation. This part is considered a "secret", just like the nationality that Paul lied about in my AU. But I'll give you a hint as to why Molly has the "???". Basically, Molly has two occupations. The first occupation is a violinist. As for her second job, Molly chooses not to mention it for the safety of herself and those around her. She has a secret mission that, if completed, will reveal something that she has been "hung up on" since she was a child, and she will do whatever it takes to make it happen. (Don't worry, Molly is still a scaredy-cat, she just gets serious (in her own way) when she is faced with a danger she is willing to put herself through.)

Okay, that's the gist of it. I've explained a lot, and some of you might got too lazy to read til now. That's all for today. See you next time in the last category of Abgerny character designs, "Vocals"! (I know you guys are expecting the most from William's design in my AU, but unfortunately, William's design in Wendigo form "will not be revealed" in the next post. The next will reveal William's design in "Normal mode", not in in Horror mode. It will be a while before I get to the point where I draw the Horror design of Abgerny's character in my AU, so don't expect too much for now, lol.)

Someone: What about Barry? What is his information-

Barry and the others' info will definitely be done after all the character designs are done, okay? I like everything to be done in a systematic way, otherwise I get confused and forget what I'm supposed to do.

[swaymann]

Late mornings

Pairings: Joesph Woll x reader

Summary: you spend a lazy morning with your fiancé, Joesph Woll.

Word count: 986

Warnings: normal adult relationship stuff.

You blink slowly awake, fingers trailing soft lines up and down your back tenderly. You hum in contentment stretching out like a cat after a nap, letting out a small grunt and a yawn. Turning your head to see the person next to you, smiling lazily up at him.

“Good morning you” he chuckles as he brushes your hair out of your face and onto the other side of you, looking down at you with admiration across his face.

“Morning” You grin sleepily, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, the closest piece of him you could reach without moving much.

He leans down and kisses your forehead, his fingers still tracing soft patterns across your back. “Fancy some breakfast?” He asks.

“I’d love some, and coffee too please?” You ask sweetly, blinking blearily up at him.

“You know I wouldn’t forget your coffee” he chuckles and stands up, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers from the chest of draws in the corner of the room.

He grabs his phone and walks out of the bedroom, not without a passionate kiss on your lips first.

You watch him leave, sighing in content, admiring his ass as he walks. Thinking about how lucky you are, with the perfect life, and the perfect fiancé who you wouldn’t trade for the world, the person who treats you like a queen, the person that is always there for you no matter what, loves every flaw you have. You don’t know how you found the perfect man.

On a random day, owning and working at your own book store, in Toronto. Surrounded by your favourite hobby. Books and reading. One day, specifically a Tuesday, even more specific the 13th of November. A tall, dark haired, bright eyed man walked into your shop, asking for a specific book. Despite having that exact book in, he still kept coming back with new books he wanted, wasn’t till you were together that he confessed he only kept coming back to see you, he didn’t really need the books.

The thought brings another smile to your face as you sit up, stretching and cracking your back. Grabbing one of Joseph’s shirts and pulling it on, you pad your way to the bathroom and go about your business.

Heading downstairs once you’re ready, the smell of pancakes wafting through your house, enticing you to follow. Walking into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head on his back.

“Smells great Joe” you hum against his back, splaying your hands across his abs, secretly feeling him up as you do pretty much any chance you get. Admiring his body, honed by hours of training and playing hockey.

“It’s almost ready, babe. Your coffees ready for you on the table, just the way you like it” he flips the pancakes over in the pan. Picking up one of your hands of his abs, kissing your palm, giggling from his scruffy beard tickling your hand.

“God you’re the best” kissing the centre of his back you walk over to the living room and siting down on the couch, your coffee on the coaster, steaming and ready for you to sip the nectar of God. Cut up fruit, bottle of syrup and your cutlery are set out neatly ready for you on the coffee table in front of you. Sipping on your perfectly made drink as you wait for him.

Joseph walks into the living room, two plates in his hand, he places one in your awaiting hands and sits in the spot next to you, setting his plate down on the coffee table to start loading up with the additions.

You lean over and give him a quick kiss, “thank you for breakfast” starting to load up the fruit and syrup onto the perfectly cooked pancakes as well.

He follows suit as you both tuck into the pancakes. “I have training this afternoon with the team” he reminds you as you both enjoy your breakfast. Both of you leaning against the back of the cushioned couch, your favourite sitcom on low in the background.

“I’ll have to continue this lazy day without you then” you grin over at him, a little bit of syrup on the corner of your lips.

He chuckles, leaning over towards you, swiping his thumb across your lips and collecting the small dollop, sucking on his thumb, a small smirk on his face.

Your face heats slightly at his action, your cheeks turning pink, “when I’m back I’ll come back, right to this spot, and we can continue lazying around”

“Sounds good to me” finishing off your plate of pancakes, placing it down on the coffee table, his following and climbing into his lap. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close, his hands running up the back of your shirt and splaying across your naked back. Chest to chest, you kiss a path up his neck to his jaw softly as he holds you close. Your favourite thing is lazy mornings like this, enjoying each others embraces without having to talk constantly. Soft touches, tender kisses, and a whole lot of cuddling.

One hand moves off your back and runs through your hair. “I could stay like this forever” he admits, glancing down at you.

You look up at him through your lashes, “we have the rest of our lives for this” you grin at him, the engagement band on your finger, a gold band with emerald stones embedded in it, your favourite colour, and as joesph likes to remind you, his favourite colour too, because it matches your eyes.

You kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close, running your fingers up through the back of his shaggy hair. His arms holding you against him as he kisses you back just as fiercely. Life could not get any better than this.

[demiromanticmickey]

On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Two (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but can you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Series genre: a LOT of tasty angst, tasty smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+ / NSFW / MDNI. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. Posting schedule and series masterlist are here. 

Author’s note: Thank you SO much for the response to Chapter One! And if you're still with it, I hope you enjoy chapter 2! It has been a LOOONNNNGGG time coming! 😆 This one is slightly shorter, with a bit of exposition to bridge between the OG instalment and the meat of our newly embarked upon continuation! The next chapters are where things really kick-off, but I do hope you enjoy this stoking of some tension, and, of course, finally seeing Santiago again - for the first time since the jarring conclusion to chapter one!!!!!! 

Word count: 4.8k for this part 

“It’s okay,” Frankie rumbles, looking at you levelly. “You can ask me about him.” 

You sigh, squirming in place - on the rear porch steps of your sister’s home - as your game is finally unmasked. Your pretense dashed. 

The hubbub of the lazy, Sunday BBQ is nothing but background to you now as Frankie zones in on your true wants, rendering you as an observer - rather than a participant - in the annual gathering you usually draw an abundance of joy from. 

Not so today, despite your best efforts at going through the motions. At pretending like everything is fine. 

Up to now, chatting idly with your bud in this safe little bubble, you’ve cycled through a gazillion conversation starters; each to emphasise just how interested you are in Frankie, and Whatever He Has Going On. Clearly though, you have failed to convince. Your friend simply knows you too well. Knows your weaknesses. 

Your one true weakness. Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

You look at kind-eyed Frankie apologetically from beneath your lashes, sorry that your flimsy chat has failed to mask your disinterest in... um, whatever it was he was saying. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cat.” Then, so help you, you ask the question you’ve actually been burning to ask all day. “How’s he doing, Frankie? Really?” 

Confirming the shift in tone, Frankie sets his plate of food aside and nestles his bottle of beer on the corner of the lowest porch step. Now you’re having a conversation. The pilot tents his fingers together in his lap, giving your question the full merit it deserves. “Pope?” 

Who else? 

“He’s… fine,” Frankie nods, studying your face as he says the words. Noticing -no doubt- the way you chew on your lip as your gaze wanders, fixing on the man in question. As you watch him mingle comfortably, effortlessly, amongst the throng of people on the lawn. Making connections, as per usual. 

Your stomach drops. An unease jostles in the pit of you. The niggle of regret. 

You shouldn’t have invited the guys here today. Shouldn’t have agreed to have them be present at your family gathering. Shouldn’t have agreed to follow-up it up with a squad weekend at the beach house - no matter that it’s tradition. But, then again, who were you to disrupt the usual way of things? And, more so, who were you to pretend that you didn’t want to see him again? After all this time? 

In truth, you had wanted nothing else but to see him again. That is, until you had laid eyes on him, and then, very quickly, you had pivoted. Wanted nothing more than to keep your distance. 

Why? 

Because by all accounts it’s true. 

Santiago is fine. 

Santiago certainly looks fine. He looks fine in all senses of the fucking word. He looks as though he’s thriving, in fact. 

Your face falls at the implication: that he’s thriving without you. 

With effort, you hum, schooling your expression into something neutral; however, Frankie’s already on to you. “Is that what you wanted to hear, chiquita?”

You turn your head towards your friend and exhale a small, pitiful laugh. Pondering Frankie’s question, you set your own plate and beer down too – a signal that shit’s getting real. 

Is it? 

Is that what you wanted to hear? 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, Cat.” With a dejected sigh, you lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder, hooking your arm into the crook of his elbow. “Does that make me cruel? If I don’t wanna hear that he’s happy?” 

Your buddy doesn’t answer rightaway, but he does rest a reassuring hand on your thigh in response, his plush bottom-lip protruding as he pouts – apparently mulling over whether or not to throw you a bone. “Okay. Look,” he begins  - always a soft-touch for you - and you instantly perk-up just a little. “He had a rough spell when you left and-” Frankie huffs out air, shaking his head as though he might have gone too far in divulging already “-fuck, actually, you don’t wanna know.” 

You head snaps up from Frankie’s shoulder as it begins to shake with mirth, your curiosity piqued. 

“What?” you probe, as Frankie turns his head to look at you, a smile cracking his sharp features. Apparently, Frankie has a small part of him which is cruel too. “We stumbled upon his heartbreak playlist. And it was not pretty.” 

“Come on now,” you protest, a little too defensively, your mouth suddenly dry.  “I hardly broke the fucker’s heart.” 

Frankie pumps his eyebrows. Shrugs his shoulders. Then, his bark-brown eyes mist over, just a little. “More likely than you think, chiquita.” 

With that, your eyes flick right back to Santiago’s figure on the other side of the yard, as if trying to reconcile Frankie’s assertion with the reality you see before you. After all, Santiago “Pope” Garcia looks fine. In all senses of the word. 

Right this second, for example, he’s engaged in a highly tactical water fight with your kid nephews. About to enter the killbox any moment, you wager, given that 5 and 7-year-olds don’t seem bound by those pesky rules of engagement. His cargo shorts are – naturally - far too tight, and he’s wearing his crisp blue shirt as though he forgot what buttons did half-way through getting dressed, the fabric split in a deep, plunging “V” across his tan chest. 

Despite all that, however, the thing which captures your attention most, is the beaming, wide-open grin he has painted on his face. 

He looks... 

...Happy.  

Genuinely happy. The bastard. 

This is the first time he’s seen you since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago. The first chance he’s had to make things right - and he hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. Despite being in your family’s yard. Eating your sister’s food. Playing with your goddamn nephews. You broke his heart, apparently. So Frankie tells you. And yet this fucker dares to looks happy. 

So… Is that what you wanted? 

For him to be happy? 

Without you? 

Or… is a small part of you cruel? 

You’re not sure about the answer to that question, but you do know that your eyes turn mildly devilish as they flick back towards your buddy, your voice hushed and downright conspiratorial. All of a sudden, you’re not concerned with being the bigger person. 

You decide you’ll willingly catch that bone Frankie is throwing. “Tell me more about this playlist, Francisco.” 

You need this, you justify internally. You need something. Some sign that Santiago is hurting too. 

You’ve needed this for months, in fact; but, goddamn - you especially need this before you and the squad spends a whole weekend together up at the beach house. 

You need it badly.

Why? 

Because you’re not fine. 

Not fine at all. 

Not fine without him. 

This is your family's yard, and it’s your family’s  party, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago… and you’re emphatically not happy about it. Have found that, despite what you had hoped for, your reunion hasn’t solved a damn thing. Hasn’t eased the knot in your chest. Hasn’t allowed you to feel any sense of resolution.

“Fuck.” Your eyes brim over with the realisation, wet and glassy, and a tight lump balls in your throat. 

“Come on,” Frankie mutters - softly but urgently - as your eyes begin to swim with emotion. He nods up towards the interior of the house, and you are endlessly grateful when, with minimal spectacle, your buddy bundles you inside, his arm slung casually around your shoulder for comfort. 

You’re not the retreating type. At all. You have always been comfortable running headlong into things that scare you. Even so, it is a marked relief when you do slink inside. A relief that you were able to save face. Keep your pain hidden. But, most of all, it is a relief that you no longer need to suffer Santiago’s abject joy. 

It is a relief in the same way it is to retreat from the blazing sun, and you immediately find sanctuary in the cool, shaded interior of the house. 

Still, given the tumult of emotions inspired by his general proximity today, you are less and less sure that you can handle this trip. 

The only thing pushing you to go through with it, in fact, is the knowledge that there’s one thing harder than being close to Santiago… and that’s being apart from him. 

Perhaps Frankie’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t break Santiago’s heart when you left. But, one thing’s for sure. Leaving him had certainly broken yours.

Truth be told, even after all this time, you’ve barely begun to put yourself back together. 

You’re in pieces; which - to be fair - is always how Santiago liked to see you, isn’t it? 

A friend. A soldier. A lover.  

That’s the only way you can stand to view him now. In mere fragments. In the shrapnel of stolen glances; because trying to see him all at once? That’s like trying to stare directly at the sun. 

He is too bright for you and it burns. Even with all this distance. 

***

You’re surrounded by laughter and chatter, yet you feel an unease. An unrest in the pit of you. 

Will’s ballcap is tugged down over your eyes under the guise of staying warm - a flimsy excuse, considering the raging fire pit in the centre of you all, acting as the warm sun to your orbits of beer, passed amiably around from hand to hand via the cooler at Will’s side. 

Naturally, the conversation has veered sharply towards the crude - it reliably does when you are and the boys are all together. 

“For real, Pope. Since we’re, uh, sharing,” Tom interjects, already looking far too pleased with himself. “Do you ever play up the knee thing to… encourage women to go on top?” Tom’s question earns shocked titters from Will and Frankie and, despite yourself, a softly exhaled laugh from you. 

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Santiago asks Tom with an assured grin, and, upon being subject to the group’s attention, he leans forward in his camp chair. He drains the dregs of his beer and tosses the emptied bottle into the gathering pile in the sand, the label already peeled off by his nimble fingers.

Tom presses him for an answer, and you see Santiago’s pearly flash of teeth glinting in the firelight. “Play it up, buddy?” Santiago emits a deep, throaty chuckle which bobs in his corded neck. The sound is echoed by the other boys too, the threshold for laughter pleasantly lowered by the alcohol.��

Their movements are growing increasingly pack-like - a little less measured and a little more instinctual. Less individual and more unified. Moving as a team even as they sit still, with their spread legs and dropped shoulders and dipped chins. Alert eyes glinting in the dark with each lick of flame. Their energy would intimidate you, you think, if you didn’t know them. If you didn’t feel safer here than anywhere else in the world.

Still wearing that grin, Santiago scoops his hand over his stubble, his finger and thumb tracing around his mouth. “It’s practically a pick-up strategy.” His voice is warm sand and it scrapes you. Leaves a mark. 

Frankie titters off to Santiago’s side - a chaotic, beer-addled laugh. To his other side, Will grins too, his laughter striking a robust and deep note, even whilst shaking his head as though he’s somehow above it all. Together, their sounds form a cacophony you can feel deep in your chest - like the rumble of bass from a speaker, or the subdued roar of the ocean. 

If they are a pack, you - for once - are at odds. You feel it now more than ever, and it jars you. You are hyper-conscious that no display of mirth falls from you; and, in fact, the corners of your mouth turn down. 

Instead, you dwell on this roar - this rumble and hum under your skin. If you feel like the tide, like you are being swept up, Santiago is your shore. Everything about him draws you in, and you feel you could wash him away with the force of your need for him. 

Regardless of that, you continue to do precisely what you’ve been doing all night. You try to bury everything. To subdue your feelings. To calm this frenzy deep in the pit of you. In this moment, thinking about Santiago pursuing people other than you - listening to the damn stories - you take that urge quite literally, digging your bare toes deeply and intently into the sand as though you could disappear wholly into it. 

But; even that reminds you. 

Everything reminds you. 

Santiago. 

You’ve thought of nothing else all night. 

How could you? 

And, you feel the lack of him. 

The roughness of the sand against your smooth skin is a poor substitute for the rasp of his stubble. For the grit of his voice against your throat. The warmth of the curling, licking flame is a poor substitute for his body heat. His curling tongue. His fingers. The way you bury your feelings has nothing on how he buried himself in you. 

You fall into memories, tacky and hot, tumbling, and yet Will’s voice rips you abruptly back to the present. 

“How in the hell do you spin that one, man?” he asks Santiago with a genuine curiosity, his ice blue eyes dancing with amusement.  

Santiago risks a sheepish glance at you then, as though sensitive that his prowess with women might offend you in some way; but your eyes simply glance off of his like a flung spark from the fire pit, desperate to turn towards the dark and rid yourself of any heat which he may ignite. Desperate not to linger on the way the shadows and the light pool across the harsh planes of his face. The way his dark eyes are flickering and alive, and entirely capable of burning. 

And so, Santiago continues, relishing his moment. “Come on. It’s easy,” he breezes. He clears his throat, fully readying to inhabit his role. He shuffles in his chair and changes his demeanour, his body language, his voice. Shifting and contorting himself until he is layered with seduction. His frame even grows bigger, bolder, his legs spread. Chin raised and eyes hooded with a slow, sultry blink of those long lashes. 

Even this performance of heat hurts you; burns. Burns brightly enough that you have to look away from him before your skin is singed by it. “Hermosa,” he rasps, voice pleasantly scuffed by beer and smoke, the sound so rough and gritty you swear you can feel it scrape your skin. Your core clenches around the full, deep, dark tones of him, as though they alone could fill you.

The fire throws out careless sparks like cracked whips, and, like them, you cling to a dying heat. This vestige of the way he spoke to you in the dead, dark night at one time, your bodies all salt-slick skin. “You’re right,” he purrs, and you see that his body has shifted - angled towards Tom. 

You feel embarrassed. You feel alight, as though somehow, they could all find you out in this moment. Could sense the wet slick pooling between your legs. Smell it somehow. Like all of a sudden their eyes will converge on you and they will know - hear the flutter of your pulse in your throat. Sense the throb building in your core. Feel you barrelling from dull ache to desperation. 

“About what?” Tom asks, playing along as Santiago sneaks a hand up his thigh. 

Santiago’s smile is lopsided. Charming, but full of challenge. “Thinking that I’m a bad idea.” He’s hamming it up, for sure, but the syrup and grit in his voice is taking you right back there all the same. Right back to between those sheets, and a disobedient heat snakes down your back. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Well,” Santiago offers with faux regret, voice husky, and you can’t help but lift your eyes back to him. Can’t possibly look anywhere else now. Can’t help but observe the smirk twitching his appealing mouth and the way his thick brow arcs up. “‘Cause my knees are shot from years in the military, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get on top and ride me senseless.” 

God in heaven.  

Looking at him was a mistake, even like this. Even as he feigns seducing Tom, of all people. There’s just something about the rough edge layered into his voice right now. Something about the firelight painting his sharply-angled face with shadow. The flickers causing his smouldering eyes to glint with an echo of that formidable, latent heat. 

You feel this vestige of warmth in you ignite. Feel it begin to blaze and catch. You feel memories of him, his skin, his touch, amassing grain by grain. Ever so suddenly you are the shore now. Parched. A hot, baking expanse seeking its relieving tide. 

God, you want him. 

You feel your core shiver around the memory of him slipped into you, deep and dirty, teeth on your throat, and it’s almost too much to take. 

You need him, even though you’re still so damn angry with him. 

Or… no. No, that’s not it. Yes - you want him because of it. 

You need to fuck the residual anger from beneath your skin, for it has festered there for months now. Months, and you need it to move. Need it to give. Need it slaked and sated and gone. 

It’s not a healthy desire, you think, and you feel a little shame at that. You are grateful then - as Santiago effortlessly drags you back into the inescapable pit of him - that the boys’ laughter tears you abruptly from this impossible yearning. Gives you a lifeline. Reminds you where you are. How far you’ve come. 

You got out. And that meant leaving him behind too, didn’t it? 

“You’re such a fucking dog, man,” Will snickers. 

The chair over, Frankie’s shoulders are shaking with laughter too, his head tipped up to the sky and his eyes disappeared with it. You wish that you could laugh like that. That you could feel light, but instead you feel heavy and sick. 

“That works?” Tom asks incredulously, and you take another hasty swig of your beer, the froth hissing against your lips and a hoppy taste flooding your tongue. You briefly wish it was something stronger.

“Don’t go getting ideas, Tom,” Santiago says smugly, slapping his buddy emphatically on the thigh. “Works when I do it.” 

Oh, you bet it does. You bet it works. 

Tom throws Santiago a stink-eye then, before sitting slightly taller in his chair, his face contorting in a clear attempt to smoulder. “My knees are shot from years in the military...” Tom echoes, trying to inject a similar level of grit into his voice... and, the contrast? The failure? It is… an instant relief. 

Tom’s attempt is laughable, in fact. And so, when your favourite pilot’s dense, throaty chuckle sounds out to your side once more – this time, you can’t help but crack a smile too. Indeed, the laughter which spills out of you is a welcome vent, and so you reach for it wholeheartedly. 

There is an eruption of good-natured, teasing banter from the boys now - and Tom looks miffed that his attempt to tease Santiago has almost entirely backfired. Then, grasping for this welcome escape route a tad too eagerly, perhaps, you submit your own dig. “You might wanna run that script again. Give us a little less of that insurance infomercial vibe next time, buddy.” 

Frankie can barely breathe from laughing now, his hand coming to clutch his belly, and it’s pleasantly infectious. The atmosphere is safe and cocooning and familiar, and for the first time tonight you almost forget. You almost forget the thing that you haven’t been able to forget for months. That Santi isn’t touching you, and that, God; you need him to. 

But then, your relief is snatched from you all too suddenly. “Well sure,” Tom aims, his shot primed to land. “You would know how it goes, right? First hand? Did Pope use that line on you too, right before he and that guy from the bar practically double-dipped you?” 

The group fucking brace. 

You can feel it. 

It’s the exact same energy as when you’ve all grabbed for purchase in the helo or the humvee, right before a collision. The world seeming to flow in slow motion, your stomach being tossed up in the air and rolling as you lurch and sink.  

Most of the time, sure. You pride yourself for being able to take the boys’ banter on the chin. For having a thick skin. For being able to muster a scathing comeback, rolling off your tongue without a thought. 

But this? This has you beat for a second. This has a sinkhole opening up in your middle.

You meet Will’s eyes for a split second in desperation, but he looks at you helplessly, and you know. You know you need to say something. You know you need to, before they witness -before he witnesses- you falling apart. Before you let your silence reveal that you’re not over Santiago. That this hang isn’t ‘just like old times’. Not like ‘before’. That maybe, it can never be how it was again. 

Finally, something comes to you, and you grab for it; once again, a little too eagerly. “At least I got some, Tom. I doubt you could even seal the deal these days.” You push the words out and hope they sound light, even as you feel a tremor in your body. In your throat. Even as you feel Santiago’s eyes on you without looking. Can imagine them, dark and knowing, and worst of all… apologetic. Maybe even pitying. “Oh hey! Just like your ‘career’ in real estate!”

“Ohhhhh shiiittt,” is the prevailing sentiment from the group, hands flung up into the air as Tom realises he’s just been owned by your spectacular throwdown. 

Good, you think. Good. You’re glad the asshole’s getting his comeuppance but, even so, your petty victory does little to fill the hole in your chest, your heart still hammering and your fingers still trembling subtly against the cool, wet neck of your beer. 

To your surprise though, Tom doesn’t even bite back. Not this time, and that makes you feel even more annoyed, somehow. It makes you feel as though your anger is misdirected. As though Tom’s not the asshole here. As though he’s not the dude you’re fuming at after all. 

Still, your comment served its purpose well enough, you think, as steady, safe banter erupts again. You are pleased that you avoided the full impact of this collision, brakes slammed on as you still teeter on the cliff edge; but your heart feels bruised and rattled in the roll cage of your chest all the same. 

Mainly though, you are pleased that you are no longer the focus of everyone’s attention. However, your skin warms when you notice one man’s eyes remain on you, his gaze fixated and hooded and intense, and a shiver of heat dips down each notch of your spine. 

You look away. You tug Will’s cap a little further down over your eyes and you wait. You wait for the topic to shift so that you can excuse yourself without the cause being quite so obvious. You wait, until you can’t take the heat from this fire a second longer. Then, and only then, you make your excuses and dip out, retreating into the empty, quiet shell of the house. 

You pad into the kitchen, the cool interior immediately relieving against your hot skin, gooseflesh snaking down your arms and making your hairs stand on end. The dim light is certainly a respite from the searing brightness of the fire and the sting of the smoke in your eyes. But most of all, of course, it is relief from him. 

Santiago. 

It’s rough. Rougher than you expected. You simply can’t take this distance from him. You’d thought, before, that the miles between you - between here and Colombia - had been hard to reckon with. But this distance? The vanishingly small distance where he’s right here yet has never felt further out of your reach? That’s a thousand times harder. This petty distance – this rupture, this wound – hurts far more, because it feels far harder to heal. Far more festering than a clean break, and seeing him has already torn out every self-applied suture. 

You don’t like that things seem to have been irrevocably changed. You don’t like that your two bodies - which used to be so in sync - are now so awkward around one another. Purposefully aloof, rather than tactile. Remaining so separate, rather than together. 

It has been slowly amassing all day, the weight of this pain. Of this lack. And now, after feeling the absence of his touch so intensely - of that blessed togetherness- ironically, you finally need a moment alone. 

You cross the room and fold yourself over the kitchen counter, hinging at the hips. You rest your head in your hands, laying your forearms flat along the cool, marbled surface. 

For a brief moment, it is even a relief. You breathe deeply. Put him out of your head. But, after only one moment more you find yourself missing the pain. You’ve become fond of it, in a way. You haven’t been able to let go because, in truth, you’ve wanted to feel the continued burn of this loss - like a scar.

It is the only proof you have left that he touched you at all. 

That you came close to having something with him. Within touching distance of it. 

But now… 

You sigh deeply. You hate this torment. You hate not knowing how to be around him. The way the familiar is recast as unfamiliar. Your certainty now uncertainty. Your home now a hotel. 

You’ve spent the whole day so far keeping your distance. Talking only to the group, always some buffer of Tom or Will or Frankie in between you. Always leaving one seat between your bodies. Avoiding prolonged eye contact. Going out of your way to make sure the two of you were never left alone.

Being left alone with him is the last thing you want; and the first, of course. 

And, as if on cue, a low whistle sounds from behind you. You know the sound without looking, and your body stiffens. “An ocean view and now this?” Santiago jokes cautiously as he approaches behind you, clearly faced with a perfect view of your ass as you fold over the counter. “Pretty sweet deal. You should get Tom in on this real estate action. He might actually sell something.” 

Despite everything, all of it, you can’t help but laugh at that. You appreciate the dig at Tom a hell of a lot more than you should, actually. 

“Listen. Are you… alright?” Santiago asks next, much more softly. You hate the way his voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck; but also, you don’t hate it at all, of course. 

You inhale and stand, pushing your torso up from the counter. You look up to the top of the cabinets, not blinking until the would-be tears have dried, and only then do you turn towards him. 

Santiago. 

Only then do you face your sun, praying that you will not be singed.  

All day, you have had a buffer in between the two of you. Clouds, to dim his brightness. But now, it is just you and him, alone in the kitchen of the beach house. 

This bland domesticity sure is a far cry from the field, yes. From your original shared domain. But, it also serves as an all too painful reminder of the last time you saw him. Of the last time his lips moved against yours. Of the last time, in that kitchen, that he’d had you. Taken you, bunched up naked against the fridge as he filled your slick heat with his fingers. As he kissed you and tongued you and claimed you back, as if he ever intended to keep you. 

It is a reminder of the time he had told you he loved you, and with finality, you had both realised that it still might not be enough.

You turn towards him, finally, and you brace. 

Brace like you’re about to collide. 

Like there will be an impact when your eyes meet.

Your brace like you’re expecting hot tempers, hot feelings, hot words. Wounds splitting and salt being rubbed in. 

Still, that’s not at all what you get. 

Instead, Santiago’s eyes are as wet as your own. All of his boldness and bluster is gone, and he’s standing on the very perimeter of the room as though he is the one who dares to venture no further. As though you might burn him if he gets too close. 

“I missed you,” he rasps, and despite the softness and the sincerity of the words, they feel like a rough struck match against your skin. 

You try desperately. Try desperately to fling this offered spark away before it catches, but it is futile. 

He missed you, and his admission already has you blazing for him. 

He’s standing mere feet from you.

And, despite everything, all you can think about is closing this oh so petty distance. 

[quibbs126]

“Perhaps now, a new dawn can finally approach…”

Here, have some of your dosage of Cookie Run art by me

The idea was basically of Dark Choco getting that Lava Sword, and then heading out to find a new lease on life

I want his Ovenbreak redemption really badly, or at least an update following him and that sort of story, as unlikely as that is. I mean, he seems to be pretty friendly at the Sun Tournament, so he’s not entirely unsaveable. But I also sort of see why he doesn’t get one, namely that he has one in Kingdom (sort of), and reappearing Ovenbreak characters generally get boiled down to their tropes, and a redemption would mean that they have to change his tropes

But yeah, at least in AUs/fanfiction

His shoulder pads are missing because the idea in my head was that he’s getting rid of his old outfit, to symbolize him starting anew, but then I also wanted the cape but was too lazy to add the shoulder pads back in, so now they’re the only thing missing from his design. I still don’t feel like putting them in though

Background’s still not great, but at least there’s an actual setting this time? I don’t really know how to improve on that front

I put the clouds in to sort of symbolize him leaving the control of the sword, as the clouds are now supposed to be dissipating. But I also don’t really know how to draw clouds, so they don’t look as great as I’d hoped

…All right, I’m gonna be honest, this drawing was cynically conceived. I made it because I was upset that this week’s drawings haven’t been doing so well, particularly last night’s drawing. I can acknowledge most haven’t been great, but I put a lot of effort into that last one and I think it turned out a bit better than usual, but it’s barely gotten any attention, outside of some mutuals and followers that’ll like my non-Cookie Run stuff as well. And it’s gotten nothing on Twitter, despite not having the tag excuse tumblr might have as to who sees it

This was made because I’m convinced that it’ll do better than yesterday’s drawing, as well as the art I’m posting on Sunday which I busted my ass over and have been waiting to post, just because it’s Cookie Run, Dark Choco, and what most of you signed up for

The above art isn’t horrible, and I do feel kind of bad for tying it into my own personal bitterness over what was probably inevitable, but this also is not my best work. I made it in 45 minutes while in class, it’s sort of just fine. But I guarantee you it’s going to do better than those other two pieces, things I put real passion and effort into (the latter piece more than the former though), just because of what it is

I would like to be proven wrong, and for that Sunday picture to actually do good and get the attention I want it to (which isn’t much, it’s mostly just double digit likes and at least one or two reblogs with someone’s thoughts), but I feel like that won’t be what happens, and that I’ll see more of this in my activity instead

[itsnotmourn]

Not ship chart related but I think your art is so pretty!! Do you have any tips? Especially with coloring if it’s okay <] (/nf)

waah thank you very much! i'll try and explain but here’s my colouring-specific tips, or at least how i choose my colours !! <3

unless for stylistic reasons (e.g. greyscale drawing), i personally avoid pure black, greys and white for colouring. go and choose off-colours instead! for lineart, black is okay but i always go for an actual colour anyways heheh. for the background colour of your canvas, sometimes an actual colour (rather than white or grey) may help you pick your palette to be more harmonised!

following this, i also don't like using pure/neon for colours (aka the top right corner), unless it's for a certain aesthetic or artstyle (e.g. the character has a "toxic/radioactive" aesthetic; the character is a scenedog (or similiar); or highlights). see below for examples! they may be subtle but sometimes the subtly can make the difference you are looking for, especially if you're looking for a natural look. if you're aiming for the bright/old 2000's artstyle, then pure/neons may be your friend!

when i'm casually drawing characters (oc or not), i rarely colour-pick from the reference image. i find that when you're "forced to make the palette", it can come out more pleasing to your style/atmosphere of the drawing! it’s more personalised that way... like yea, that’s my favourite versions of those colours! i'm not saying that my colours are better though, only that "hey that's me! in those colours!!" you can have the reference image on the side or go by memory. here’s me doing this with pride flags:

nowadays, when drawing the spooky month characters—who have simple designs god bless—i can just imagine their reference and adjust the colours in my head lol example: if i know that Lila's colour palette is purple, and that her winter sweater is coloured lighter than her hair, then i can just go ahead and pick whatever shade i want following that rule!

(of course, always double check with the actual reference for physical design inaccuracies and skin tone if it applies. my advice above is just for general hair/clothing colours! …because yknow you don't want to accidentally whitewash a character's skin in the name of aesthetics lol. if you’re unsure and want to be on the careful side, please do colour pick the skin at least !!)

moving on... gradient maps and certain blending modes (like exclusion, luminosity and darken) can be a game changer too. for normal drawings (e.g. drawings with no environment), i use darken the most because it changes a few colours rather than the entire piece... (the percentages are opacity levels!)

oh and as a really basic shading tip without using blending modes: sometimes, you just gotta go for grey. shading a warmer colour? use grey to make a cool tone. shading a cool colour? use grey to make a warm tone. not all the time (because you don’t wanna make your shading seem muddy), just sometimes…

and that's that! there's always exceptions to rules and often times, your headshot doodle ends up as one big experimental mess (in a fun way, hopefully)!

this is how i choose my colours though most of the time, it is just me going “good enough”

i think we're pretty similar on how we like warm colours! i enjoy going the simple/lazy route and avoid blend modes but then again, shading is a whole different thing…

hope this helps in any way !! <:3 !!! <3

[skintyfiia]

How did/do you practice to get to this point in drawing skills? With details, please. I love the texture and lighting in your drawings and how you draw people in your own style while they still look similar ❤️❤️

one thing about me is that i’m stubborn as a mule and if it is humanly possible to do something then i will, in fact, attempt it with a firm belief that I am capable of success no matter my skill level lol

warning: this is going to be a long post ;___;

a little about my background: I’m a 22yo self-taught hobbyist. I didn’t go to art school, I never took any proper drawing classes. All I had since I was like a toddler barely holding a pencil was my drive to always be Better, shitty school art clubs and probably something undiagnosed too

I started digital art when I was around 13-14. My traditional skills were pretty solid (for a kid) at the time but stepping into digital really did feel like learning how to draw from scratch again. This is what some of my earliest work looked like, around one month after I had started… oh god

just a few months after that I switched to semi-realism stylistically as it was pretty close to what I was used to with traditional art. This is what we were dealing with around 1-2 years after those first pieces

I hate to say this because it’s such a useless piece of advice but most of my learning process was just me throwing random shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. Most of the time I was just picking up things from my favorite artists or experimenting. I just barely scratched the surface of fundamentals, only enough to grasp the super basic proportions for everything, some color theory and I would pretty much wing the rest (don’t do that, put in some actual effort, these things are important). I am lucky in the sense that a lot of those things do come to me intuitively, like I don’t know, color theory is very logical to me so I never felt the need to study it properly??

A lot of people mention my use of color and texture and I am going to be 100% real with you, that was born purely out of my laziness, I just sat down one evening, discovered what layer modes and curves do and how with some tweaks they make my art look like I put 12 hours more into it and my heart sang. And as for my bold strokes idk where that came from honestly. My primary school art teacher once told me I have a ‘confident hand’ and my confused 11yo ass sat there with my frozen elsa fanart like thanks??

However this approach only got me so far as I did hit a wall around 2023-2024 which is when I decided to you know… start doing actual Studies™ and learn the fundamentals properly (at least try to). Since Cillian Murphy was my main muse at the time, I sort of used him as a training ground for all kinds of techniques and stylistic choices, I even sat down one day to properly study his face in detail (for science obviously). I went to museums, I stared at actual paintings (AND sculptures!!!), picking them apart and deconstructing them in my head, noticing each brush stroke, really trying to find what makes the whole piece click. I tried master studies for the first time in my life which was mind-blowing, would 100% recommend it. The time I read about Leyendecker’s technique genuinely changed my life and I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days omg. And don’t get me wrong, I’m still winging the shit out of everything but I guess I’m doing it more mindfully now??

I can’t stress enough how much art is about not just seeing but OBSERVING and NOTICING reality, not just copying but interpreting it, capturing the essence, feeeeeeeling it. Who cares if you fucked up a single stroke 500 times, who cares if your base sketch looks disgusting? It really is about trusting the flow, trusting the process and focusing on the bigger picture. And if you flop you dust yourself off and try again, all there is to it. Practiceeeee practice practice and have fun, it’s never that deep

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Flooded ASMR - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien’s 2024 CN Birthday Event (Golden Love Ratio)✧ Birthday Story | Birthday Prologue + Birthday Date | ASMR (You're here)

⚠️ This ASMR is NSFW and NOT suitable for individuals under the age of 18 due to its sexual nature. It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

Twitter link [click here]

Transcript under the cut~

[Transcript]

[soft creak of a door opening, followed by a gentle click as it closes]

I'm home

[his footsteps drawing closer]

Mmh

Today is indeed a little more tiring than usual.

Hm?

You want to help me relax a bit?

Of course I have no reason to refuse

[squelching noises]

[chuckles]

Are you using essential oil and wood chips for massage?

Hmm, this feels very novel

I can really smell the fragrance of the wood and the essential oil

very relaxing

[chuckles]

I need to take my clothes off?

Hmm...

[light creak of the bed as he sits down]

[whispers] But I'm feeling a bit lazy, can you help me?

[rustling of fabric as his clothes got taken off + faint zipper unzipping if you listen closely🤪]

[contented exhale] Hah...

I've laid down obediently like a good boy now

Next,

you can do whatever you want—

I’ll go along with everything.

[chuckles] Sit a little closer,

it'll be easier for you that way

[sound of liquid being poured]

[some sus squelching noises + his comfortable soft moan]

Maybe it's because your hands are so warm

but I already feel much more relaxed.

Mm

I was indeed feeling a bit irritable earlier because of work.

It wasn't that I didn't want to tell you...

maybe it was more like...

I purposely wanted you to pick up on it.

[sus noises linger, followed by his delicious gasp]

[hoarsely] Your technique is really good

[gasps] I just don't know—

when did you learn all of this?

Hm?

Is this a surprise you've prepared for my birthday?

[chuckles] But,

you’ve already given me so many gifts.

[sound of his soft, breathy moan accompanied with the sus noise in the background]

Hmh

Okay

I'll behave

[comfortably exhales]

Go on

No matter what you do

I won't resist

[His breathy moan continues

but then a surprised gasp escapes as she touches... a certain place]

Here too?

[chuckle] Of course you can

However

I’m afraid that because it feels too good,

I'll become even greedier.

[the sus wet sounds and his comfortable moan leave no doubt where her hand is exploring right now🤪]

Hmh

feels so good....

Can you...

come a little closer?

[oh GOD the slippery sounds mixed with his desperate and breathless gasps... (๑/////๑ " )]

[he rolls over, and with a thud, now he's on top]

…This gift is so special,

I don't want to be the only one to enjoy it

The way you helping me relax— so serious,

so adorable,

It makes me uncontrollably

want you to experience it too.

Let me help you relax as well,

Okay?

[chuckles + rustling noises of her fabric, only god knows where he's touching]

Can't I?

I'm just purely

want the person I like

to feel the same joy as I do

Since I’m the birthday boy

I naturally have the right to share this 'joy'

Don't turn me down

teach me how to do it

[rustling of fabric as he takes off her clothes]

[the sounds of wet and sus noises as he's simply... returning the favor]

Is it like

this?

It seems like there's not enough oil.

I'll add a little more.

[sounds of the oil being poured then something chaotic happens and now the oil spilled]

Sorry,

I'm clumsy

It’s all spilled—

so much oil all over

Looks like it’ll need a thorough cleaning later.

But,

I'm no different.

[sus squelching noises continues again]

It seems like this

is a bit more relaxed than before.

What do you think?

[wet kisses join the mix, but I'm 69% convinced it is NOT on her lips 🤪]

There's no need to hide any emotions,

whether it's joy

or what you desire

just tell me everything

After all

I'm starting to become less patient

[Is he maybe... going in? HIS MOANS IS NOT FOOLING ANYONE]

Research has kept me busy these past few days

I’ve been missing you all the time.

I want to be with you just like this...

always stay together

and doing some interesting things

[HIS KISSES AND PANTS, he's really going at it—aren't these wet noises a bit too fast for a simple massage?]]

H-hah...

Just like now

gazing at you like this,

sinking into your warmth and softness

without thinking about...

anything at all

Do you know

the you right now

look very tempting

and very beautiful.

[the way his kisses became more and more DESPERATE, with the sus noises still playing in the background🫣]

Making a greedy man like me

unable to help

but want to devour you whole

[something... unstated happens and he gradually calms down]

...Thank you

I really like this gift

[chuckles and kiss]

Give me a little more time,

Allow me, bit by bit,

to share it all with you.

[the bed creaks, followed by kisses as he continues into the second round]