#messy sketches right now. very messy

[etherealvoidechoes]

Can either of you learn how to let go?

Sad-ish future scene of that VoidWalker AU.

[coern-art-very-cool-and-nice]

encore nnks

[foxaoxarts]

BEE KISS TOMORR- *dead* /j

If anyone wants to watch me drawing this like a little victorian child then the timelapse is below the cut 🤣

(FLICKER WARNING. It's all through out so be careful!👍 )

[unalive-drawer]

You guys are in for a huge treat when I finish this

[cepheusart]

Ops got sidetracked into another drawing

[itsamarlfox]

I hate only being a consumer of creation. Reading other people's writing, seeing other people's artwork, watching other people's videos, movies, TV. Wishing so badly to create myself. I am a slave to the doom scroll sitting hours on my phone hoping anything on this tiny screen will make me feel something again. I want to create. But I am tired. And overworked. And burnt out. And it's been so long that the creator in me has shriveled up to a husk, any attempts at reviving it are painful and slow. I know I have it in me but I don't know how to get it out anymore. I'm afraid it's too late.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Crushing On The Nerdy Guy At Work

Masterlist

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Synopsis: You can't stop thinking about the adorably awkward tech genius with messy hair and a slight smile that had made your heart flutter more than you'd like to admit. Too bad he barely knows you exist.

Tags: NSFW, characters are in their twenties, coworkers to lovers, oposites attract, nerd/popular, she fell first, virgin hero, first time, one-sided pining (reader has a massive crush on Tim), Angst, betrayal,

Tim Drake was brilliant, and there was no other way to put it. When he wasn’t glued to his computer, he was sketching complex symbols into his notepad, his messy dark hair falling into his eyes as he worked. You’d caught yourself watching him once or twice. Sharp cheekbones, full lips, and those piercing blue eyes behind thick glasses that seemed to analyze everything around him. He was the opposite of the jock type you usually went for. But something about him just made you catch your breath. You decided you were being punished for overlooking guys like him in high school and college...

As Gotham PD's PR associate, you got to see the detectives at work, especially if you had to take pictures for press releases.

Tim’s skinny frame was deceiving. He must have had some sort of training growing up. You'd seen him take down guys twice his size when he trained. Unlike the other detectives who had burly builds, Tim was lean but strong. His shoulders were broader than you would expect for a "tech nerd," and his arms and chest toned - visible when his shirt sleeves pulled tight on those rare days when he wasn't drowning in his oversized hoodies.

You always dressed to impress. After a long year of figuring your shit out, you left you bougie corporate job and replaced it with the gotham police department. You didn't know exactly what would lead to it, but you knew you wanted to serve the public rather than exploit it. That meant that all the high-end fashion you wore would fit right in at your old brand, but in the PD, you stood out. Tweet blazers, skirts, clean button ups, and knee-high boots. Your clothes are highly contrasted from the sports shoes, jackets, and practical clothes you saw worn each day.

But the attention you got for it was good.

After catching his eyes lingering on you in the office, you tried flirting with him. It didn't go well.

A couple of days ago, he sat at the kitchen table, alone, scribbling on his notepad. His hands, calloused but delicate, were mesmerizing you while you sat and ate your lunch surrounded by chatty co-workers. You noted small scars on his knuckles and fingers, always raising questions that you didn't have the guts to ask.

You got up from your own table and walked up to him, your heels clicking with each step.

"Hey," you began, clearing your throat to steady your voice. "How’s the Phantom investigation going?"

Tim looked up, his glasses slipping down his nose. His blue eyes flicked over you, quick but observant. "Slow. Phantom’s code isn’t cracking anytime soon." He tilted his head. "What about you?"

"Oh, you know." You waved your hand. "Same old, same old. Just got off the phone with the mayor. No big deal." You winced at how obnoxious that sounded, but Tim offered a faint smile.

"Uhmm..." You hesitated, taking a seat next to him. His scent was a mix of coffee and old spice. "You know, Tim, I think you're really nice, and..."

He tilted his head, waiting for you to go on.

Only, you didn't know what to say.

This hasnt happened since middle school...

You were always confident around men. You knew what to say to have them in the palm of your hand.

And now, with Tim, you choked. Like you were back in middle school or something.

"What I mean is," you continued. "You’re kind of the cutest guy in the office - " your eyes widened. You didn't mean to reveal that.

Tim spared you a small smile before turning back to his notes. "Ha. Very funny, y/n." He pushed up his glasses, then stood and walked away, wishing you a good day.

You frowned, not knowing whether you should be relieved or disappointed. He thought you were joking.

"I don't get you." Jake bit into his bagel as he leaned against Tim’s desk. "The hottest girl on our team wants you and you just... walk away?"

Tim turned away from his screen to look at his friend, shrugging his confusion.

"Y/n," Jake clarified. "She was flirting with you at lunch -"

Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. "She was joking, Jake. Come on, you really think someone like her would go for... me?"

"She called you the cutest guy in the office!"

Tim pushed his glasses up. "Girls like her don’t go for awkward computer nerds." Not to mention, virgins, he thought.

"By girls like her, you mean...?" Jake pressed.

Tim chuckled. "You know exactly what I mean. Beautiful, sweet, charming. She could get anyone she wants."

"Bro, she wants YOU though!"

"She does not. Trust me." He shook his head. "Now, go away, please. I need to focus." Tim looked back at the screen, the code looking back at him in patterns.

The Phantom’s latest message was a cipher. A complex one. He’d spotted a recurring theme, though. The symbols seemed to resemble constellations.

Jake groaned before muttering. "Youre the dumbest smart person I know," then, taking another bite of his bagel, he walked back to his desk.

The day Tim rejected you, you came home sulking. When your roommate saw your face, she raised a brow.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

You let out a groan, flopping down onto the couch and reaching for the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. "Tim," you muttered.

"'Hot Nerd' Tim?” Your roommate asked. She knew how much you’d been into him.

"Yeah. I tried flirting with him, but he ignored me." You grabbed the wine glass, pouring a generous amount into it.

"Wait... would this be like... the first time a guy has ever rejected you?" Your roommate asked, laughing.

You ignored her because yes, it was. "There’s this intensity about him, Jess." You sighed, looking at her. "Like, he’s always so capable, so... smart. And he's so humble about it, you know? Not like those guys at forensics, that man-splain everything. And that makes him so... damn attractive. Even if he doesn’t see it." You took another sip of wine and set the glass down, glaring at it.

Your roommate stared at you for a long moment. "Yeah, you need to get laid."

"I know." You groaned.

"Well, lucky for you," she said with a raised brow, "I need a wingwoman tonight. Get dressed."

You weren’t in the mood to go out, but maybe a distraction was what you needed. The guy you ended up coming home with was the type you usually went out with. A finance bro named Jared with perfectly styled hair and an expensive suit. He was charming and a good kisser

It didn’t take long for you to realize everything about Jared was wrong. He wore a designer suit when you preferred a wrinkled button-down, with rolled up sleeves and dark jeans. His loafers were clean and new, but you would have liked dirty sneakers. And he was missing something essential: a pair of smudged, square-rimmed glasses.

Despite all that, you went along with it, kissing him back, but your mind wandered back to a certain awkward tech genius with messy hair and shy smile that had made your heart flutter more than you'd like to admit. You found yourself imagining Jared was Tim, and every touch, every kiss became more interesting.

Suddenly, Jared broke the kiss, looking down at you with a frown. "Who's Tim?" His voice felt like a cold splash to your face.

You froze, blinking up at him. “Huh?"

"You were moaning 'Tim,'" he said, his tone accusatory.

Your face turned red. "Oh my god," you muttered, avoiding his gaze. You didn't even realize you were whispering Tim’s name. "I’m sorry," you said. "I shouldn’t have - there's this guy at work - ugh. I'm sorry, Jared."

You expected him to be rightfully upset. What you didn't expect was the reassuring hand placed on your shoulder.

"I get it." He said, sitting up. "I'm kind of on the same boat actually."

You looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. There’s this girl on our data team. No matter what I do, I can’t get her out of my head." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid fuckin nerd."

You chuckled at that. "Tell me about it.

The next day, Tim came to the office with hollowed out cheeks and bags under his eyes. It was clear last night was another sleepless night of work for him.

He marched into the captain's office, closing the door behind him.

Halfway through your meeting in the conference room, the door swung open, and Tim walked in, Jim Gordon at his side. Both men were dressed in gear. Bulletproof vests with "GPD" printed boldly across the front. Tim held a handgun, meticulously checking the bullets in the chamber. His movements were calm and precise, but his eyes burned with intensity.

The room stilled. Gordon nnounced, "We’ve got a lead on the Phantom. Squad One, you’re with me. Squad Two, you’ll follow Drake."

The nervous tech genius you were used to seemed to vanish. Tim's usual fidgeting hands gripped his weapon with precision, and his hunched posture straightened into one of authority.

As he broke down the plan of action, even the detectives who usually brushed him off as “the kid prodigy” were silent. And you felt it too. This side of Tim was undeniably captivating.

In under an hour, the squads was deployed, and both Tim and Gordon led their teams out into the field.

Three hours later, the Phantom was caught. Tim’s code-breaking that led them to the hideout. As the criminal was hauled into the precinct in cuffs, Tim stood quietly to the side, his shoulders finally relaxing. Exhaustion lingered in his features, but there was satisfaction in his eyes. All the while, you stood on the sidelines and looked on in awe.

The team celebrated at a local pub. At the captain's insistence, Tim joined despite his usual aversion to social gatherings.

When you stepped onto the small stage to read the press release you’d written about the case, Tim couldn’t help but watch. You looked stunning in a frilly top tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged your waist.

As you spoke, his lips moved silently along with yours, already having memorized every word when you’d sent the draft to the team earlier. You made him sound like a hero. It was… nice.

Tim looked adorable, sitting beside Jake, his hair falling over his forehead in a way that made it seem like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Rose, a paralegal who worked closely with you, cleared her throat. "You’re staring."

You blinked, startled. "No, I’m not."

"Oh, come on, Rose," Karl chimed in, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n's allowed to admire Gotham’s best boy."

"Ignore them," Maria from forensics said, sliding into a seat beside you.

Your table had grown larger as the night progressed, but despite the lively company, your eyes kept drifting back to Tim. You wanted to invite him over. If only you could have him alone.

"So, Y/N, what song are you gonna sing?" someone asked, nodding toward the karaoke session currently underway on the mini stage of the bar.

You laughed. "Not sure yet. Any suggestions?" You looked around the table, and in a moment, you received about ten shouts of song ideas.

Rose teased, leaning closer. "I have one. It's not a suggestion, but it is a challenge."

"Go on?" You raised a brow, waiting for her to continue.

"I dare you to get a kiss from the genius boy tonight."

The rest of the table broke out into one collective. "Ooooh,"

You eyed Rose. She knew exactly how to get under your skin.

Grinning, you tossed a French fry into your mouth and rose from your seat. You sauntered over to put in your song request, then returned to your table, excitement buzzing as you waited for your turn.

You smiled sweetly as you sang a song Tim didn’t recognize.

Apparently, everyone else knew it, though. His coworkers sang along enthusiastically.

What the hell did "bed chem" even mean? That wasn't a word, right?

The ones who weren’t singing were ogling you outright, and Tim could hardly blame them. The way you flipped your hair and batted your eyelashes sent his face burning.

Tim swallowed, shifting awkwardly on his chair and clutching his beer. Every glance you sent his way made his chest tighten, though he tried to convince himself it was all in his head.

Still, the idea that you might be looking at him made his thoughts spiral. He cleared his throat and cast his gaze down, pretending to focus on the contrnt of his bottle.

Cheers erupted around him as you finished the song, offering a playful bow. You handed the mic back to the DJ and stepped down from the small stage, making your way to him

Tim tensed. By the time you stopped in front of him, his mind had gone blank. You bit your lip - an innocent gesture, but the shiny pink of your lipstick made his vision go hazy.

"Can we step outside for a moment?" you asked in a sweet tone.

Tim blinked, not registering the words, too stuck on the fact that you were so close, your perfume smelled like roses.

"Uh… sure?" he mumbled, unsure if he’d heard you right but unwilling to make you repeat yourself.

You tilted your head toward the exit. Tim stood, feeling strange, and followed you, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Outside, you turned back to face him, the night air crisp against your skin. "Hi."

Tim shifted nervously, his back pressing against the cool brick wall behind him. "H-hey."

"I have a confession to make," you said, stepping closer, your gaze lingering on his lips. You noticed the way his eyes darted to yours.

He swallowed hard. "O-okay -"

Without another word, you rose onto your tiptoes, closing the small distance between you, and kissed him.

Tim froze, clearly caught off guard, but then his lips began to move against yours, tentative but eager, and his hands hovered awkwardly before finally wrapping around your waist. His grip was firm yet cautious, pulling you closer.

When you pulled back, you smiled, breathless. "Do you want to come back to my place?"

Tim blinked at you, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. He stammered, "U-uh... can we just... pause for a moment?"

You stepped back slightly, hugging yourself against the cool breeze. "Sure,"

Tim shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You opened your mouth to thank him, but he began to speak.

"Y/n," he said hesitantly, his voice low and unsure. "I sometimes have trouble knowing when people are joking or being serious. Like... right now."

You tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Tim, I’m serious. I want to take you home."

His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "I-I mean, that sounds... amazing. But..." He hesitated, his eyes darting away before meeting yours again. "I wouldn’t even know what to do with you."

The vulnerability in his voice made you pause. You stepped closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his palm. "Do you mean…?"

Tim’s face burned brighter as he nodded. "Yeah."

Instead of laughing or teasing like hed expected, you laced your fingers with his, squeezing gently. There was something about his confession that made your pulse quicken. "Would you like me to show you?"

His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he gave a small, nervous nod.

The dim light of your bedroom cast a warmth across your tidy place and the only sounds were coming from the heater and the city outside your window.

Tim was fidgety, avoiding eye contact as you planted kisses along his jaw while gently undoing the buttons of his shirt. His breath hitched when you kissed his neck, his hips rolling under you.

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, bringing it to your own top, hinting him on what to do.

His movements were tentative as he began undoing the buttons of your blazer and removing it, leaving you in your bra. His eyes studied the patterns on your undergarment, pretty flowers, and subconsciously, his hand brushed your arm up to your collarbone, enjoying the softness of your skin, making you shiver. He liked that.

Your own work had resulted in removing his shirt, showcasing his impressive bare chest and torso, riddled with valleys of muscle and scars that you eagerly ran your hands over. You leaned down to plant kisses down his chest. With every lick and nip of his skin, he let out quiet gasps that he could barely contain.

You reached the train of hair from his belly button leading down to his pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them and his boxers. You couldn't help the pang of triumph at seeing him hard. You looked back at him through your lashes. "You like what I'm doing to you?"

He nodded shyly.

You licked up to his tip, making sure to give it extra attention. "I can't hear you, genius boy," you teased.

"Yeah -" he sucked in a breath. "I like it,"

You smiled to yourself, working him with your hands and mouth. You went slow, then accelerated speed, then went slow again. You kept up this pattern for a while, basking in the glow of his responsive body and enjoying his taste. As Tim got comfortable, he grew more assertive, reaching for your hair with his hand and coming wrapping his fingers in your hair. Really wanting his first time to be enjoyable, you hoped his moans and gasps were an indication that you were doing well. You looked up, seeing him squeeze his eyes shut and roll his head back against your wall as he gasped your name. You couldn't believe it. Your unreachable crush was moaning your name. Go you!

You felt his hips tense and knew what was coming, so you sped up your movement, helping him reach his climax, never taking your mouth or hands off him.

Gasping against the wall, Tim looked down at you, his hroad chest moving up and down as he came down from his hogh.

Parted lips, pink cheeks, sweat glistening skin, and hazy eyes all made for a really hot visual, and you couldn't help but bite your lip. He’d clearly enjoyed that, even if he was shy about showing it.

Before you could say anything, he grasped you by your arm and lifted you to sit on his lap in a matter of seconds. Wrapping a firm hand around your nape, he pulled you into a kiss, deep and desperate.

He pulled apart for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. "Teach me how to make you feel good." He rasped against your mouth.

"O-okay," you stammered, turned on by his eagerness. "Get on your knees in front of me."

He did so with impressive speed, also managing to remove your pants and panties in the process and pulling you to the edge of the bed, holding your legs open for him.

"Wait -" you giggled, cupping his cheeks and bringing his face closer to yours. "Start slow."

Obediently, he began to kiss you. God, you liked kissing him. And he was a good kisser, too. He's definitely had practice doing that. Leaving your lips glistened, he planted a trail down your throat, biting at your collarbones, before soothing the marks with his tongue. The mix of pain and pleasure had you arching against him, and his fingers pulled down the straps of your bra, lowering the garment and baring your breasts to him.

There was hardly any blue left in his eyes as his pupils grew at the sight of your breasts, and he leaned down to kiss your nipple. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the sparks of pleasure he produced with every kiss on your sensitive nub. He did the same with your other nipple, sending pleasure through your whole body, leaving you whimpering and biting back moans so as not to wake your roommate.

Tim watched you with hooded eyes. "Does this feel good?" His focus is on making the experience enjoyable for you.

Your breath hitched. "Yes!"

Tim kept kissing down your breasts to your lower belly, essentially mimicking your earlier movements on him.

When he reached your core, you knew you had already been wet. You didn't know how much it would amaze him. He murmured your name in awe as he closed in on your cunt. His hands grasped at your thighs as he brought his lips to your folds, carefully exploring you with his tongue. Your fingers grasped the bedsheets as your head rolled back. He was eager in his exploration - messily messaging your sensitive muscles with his tongue, mixing his saliva with your juices.

He tightened his grip, not letting you move from his grasp as he ate you out. That heat that situated in your sex spread through your whole body like fire.

"Tim -" You grasped at his messy locks. "Wait,"

He froze, eyes searching yours. "Whats wrong?"

He huffed out a chuckle of relief, running his hand through his hair. "Of course."

"Nothing," you swallowed. "I'd like to come with you inside me. It just feels better. If that's okay?"

"I'll talk you through it." You promised. "It's going to feel good. For both of us." You moved to sit on his lap, reaching for him and aligning him with your entrance. "Do you trust me?"

Like this, you were facing each other, and you could clearly read all of the signs on his facial expression.

"I do." He said.

After rolling on the condom, you slowly lowered yourself on him, letting his stretch you out and adjusting yourself to his size. Your hand shot up to your mouth to smother a desperate moan, and your eyes closed. When they opened, it was to a view of a desperate Tim. His brows were furrowed as he watched you with pleading eyes, his hands gripping your hips.

"Good?" You asked.

"Fuck yes," he brushed his lips against your. "You?"

"Yes," you said, slowly moving up then down, increasing the friction he cause within you. Slowly, Tim began to match your pace, lifting his hips to meet you, brushing deliciously against your nerves with his thrust.

On particular movement had you squealing before you could stop yourself.

"Here?" He asked.

"Uh, huh," you panted. "Please, I'm close -"

He kept thrusting at the same angle, hitting your spot each time. You grabbed on to his shoulders, feeling them flex each time his lifted and lowered you.

"Oh my god," Tim moaned against you. You were squeezing around him tightly. "Kiss me," he pleaded.

You lowered your mouth to his as the two of you continued moving in unison.

"Tim-" before you could say more, your body seized and shook. He continued to thrust into you, his iron grip keeping you in place even when the sensation became too much.

"Tim!" You grasped at his attention and pulling his focus away from you. "S-sensitive!"

Understanding, he backed away from your poor, overstimulated sex, muttering. "Sorry,"

His reaction made you giggle. "Not bad for your first time." You said quietly.

He grinned. "That was... incredible."

You nodded, still out of breath. "You're incredible."

"Thanks," he said, his tone one of disbelief.

You felt the need to clarify. "No, not at sex-"

His brow rose, and he looked like a kicked puppy. "Oh,"

"No!" You rushed to explain. "You're good at that, too! I just meant - " you sighed, closing your eyes. "God, I always get tongue tied around you." You laughed, then took a deep breath and faced him again.

Tim smiled, waiting patiently.

"I meant to say that you - Tim Drake - are incredible. Not just tonight, but the person you are." You said.

Those eyes gazed into you intensely, and now it was your turn to shily look away.

Tim had other ideas. He brought his lips down on yours in a slow, meticulous kiss.

"Thank you," he wispered, smiling against your mouth as the two of you exchanged more soft kisses

On Monday, Tim was sipping his coffee at his desk when he overheard Rose’s unmistakable voice drifting from the break room.

"They’re so cute, oh my god!" she squealed.

Tim couldn’t help but smile, his mind immediately conjuring up images of you.

"I better get invited to their wedding!" Rose continued, laughing. "I’m honestly not sure she would’ve ever kissed him if I didn’t dare her to."

The grin on Tim’s face froze. What?

Rose dared you to kiss him? Is that why you did it?

He tried to rationalize it. Was the rest of the night also part of the dare? Was anything you said or did genuine, or had he just been a pawn in some game between you and your coworkers?

His grip on his coffee mug tightened involuntarily, his thoughts spiraling into shame. That night had meant so much to him. His first! It was nothing more than a casual challenge between friends?

The sharp sound of shattering ceramic brought him back to reality. Tim stared down at his hand, now dotted with small cuts from the broken shards of the mug. Hot coffee dripped onto his desk and the floor.

His chest felt heavy, and his head fillee with thoughts of betrayal. Without another word, he rose from his seat, grabbing a few tissues to wipe his hand. He needed air. He needed space.

You stood alone in the office balcony sipping coffee when Tim stepped out to join you.

"Good morning!" You smiled at him.

He didn't reciprocate your smile. Closing the door, he turned to face you. "Did you get with me because of a dare?"

You nearly choked on your coffee. "What? No!" You blinked up at him, alarmed. "Well, I mean, Rose did dare me - "

Tim’s jaw clenched, and he took a sharp inhale. "That’s all I needed to hear." His voice was tight. The hurt was unmistakable.

"Tim wait," You stepped forward, grabbing his hand. "There's been a misunderstanding, I liked you - "

Tim closed the distance between you, crowding you, his broad shoulders stiff with frustration. His blue eyes flickered with emotion. “How much of Friday night was real, y/n?"

Desperate, your voice strained. "All of it! Please, you have to believe me - "

Tim shook his head bitterly, cutting you off. "God. I’m such an idiot." He turned away from you, his hands running through his hair, face flushed with embarrassment.

"Dont say that!" You rushed forward, but he took another step back, his face hardened. "Tim, please, you don’t understand - "

He turned his back on you completely, his breath heavy with the weight of unspoken words. "Save it."

You stood frozen in the cold silence that followed, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone on the balcony.

[thefandomsfervent]

Personal Pigments Viktor x Reader (Part 1) - Cadmium Yellow Deep Hue

Heimerdinger forgets to warn the science bros that an artist is coming in to visualize them and Hextech, a collaborative program between a Piltover art school and the academy for some new hall meant to be unveiled at an upcoming progress day. Large paintings can take years to do, with Hextech’s promising growth they are to be started in a preemptive manner. Reader is from Zaun, not sure what I’m going to do with this yet. Takes place in the coming months after they first get council approval, hexgates aren't complete. Wrote an imagine (here) and now I’m needing to see it through, would y’all want more?

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Viktor should be focusing. He is, but not on the right thing. His hands still fiddle with cogs as he looks to you for the umpteenth time this hour. Your brows were furrowed together as you compared pastels and pencils together.  Your lips pursed to the side as if you were biting your cheek in concentration. He would have been worried about being caught starting but your focus was elsewhere.

You had papers clipped to a drawing board in front of you.  The stool you usually sat on abandoned by the small table next to you.  He watched as your hands turned colored sticks over, looking for something. He didn't know what, but he appreciated the view regardless. 

In this summer heat the lab was humid, Jayce had gone out for water and Viktor himself had forgone his vest. You were starting to sketch something in wide yellow strokes, the smooth scrape of pressed pigment to paper filling the heavy air. You hummed a sound of affirmation, as if finally approving your choice before grabbing another stick in blue. As you continued your efforts, he took in all of you. A loose button up over a tank top, well fitting trousers, simple boots. The same attire you'd worn for weeks, but today something was different. The tank-top was a lower,  looser cut. Likely chosen for the heat plaguing Piltover this summer. Your warming up sketches facing a daylit window. 

“Composition, speed, and colour work.” The words you had said months ago lingering in the back of his mind. “You can never practice too much.”

He sees you from the side, the strap had been half way off your shoulder all morning. Innocent enough. Not truly your fault in any way.  

The white over shirt unbuttoned. Also loosely caught by your elbows, draping over your work surface. Picking up colors and dust. He follows the sleeves up to your hands, to your arms. He should be working. Reading a section in another overdue library book. Not watching you. Not following the gentle way you pick up and set down your pastels, certainly not the way today’s heat has exposed your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones and how they lead to the hollow of your neck. He looks away for a moment. Steeling himself. 

Surely he is not ogling you. That would be inappropriate. Yes, it has been a long time since he has been able to indulge in thoughts of that manner. But he shouldn't start down that kind of path here.

A clattering sound pulls his gaze back to you, a soft curse leaving your lips as you have to bend down to grab a pencil that rolled off your desk. His breath catches in his throat, your tanktop drooping lower when you lean down. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your bra revealing itself in a sinful second. The moment was very quick, and to his luck you didn't notice. The lab door opens as Jayce walks in. Ice cold water in a pitcher, three glasses on a tray. 

He sets one down on your desk looking over your shoulder. "The window today?"

"Just something quick, the sun is hitting the glass just right." You punctuate your sentence with the wave of a pencil towards the shaft of light illuminating a stack of books.

"I see," he says as he walks over to one of the many messy tables near you to set down the tray. He brings another glass to viktor. If he notices the red flushing his partner's face he doesn't say.  Maybe he assumed it was this wretched heat. In a way, it was the fault of the weather. 

"Thank you," Viktor says, just before he downs the whole glass. 

He gets an acknowledging pat on his shoulder before Jayce settles in his own station.  Each of you returning to your own work. The silent hum of drawing and tinkering becomes a soothing balm on the room, and on the tension in his shoulders. He fiddles with his engraver, marking runes onto various metal bits. He wonders to himself how he even got into this position. How he finds his thoughts, and apparently his eyes, wandering to you. 

He remembers that first day, how many months has it been since you’ve come here? 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

-------------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 2.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .---------------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[chamiryokuroi]

Gonna take a moment to talk about one of the things I have noticed artist sometimes do not take into consideration when doing illustrations.

Values.

Because it is something I too had issues with at first but I am slowly getting better at and I feel like sharing this knowledge with you all.

Let’s take this WIP I am currently working on. This is the very first sketch, is messy, is nowhere the final product, but it is the final composition of the piece so I started thinking about the colors.

Very basic idea, Green/Red opposite colors on the color wheel make a very visually appealing color palette, and yet it doesn’t look right to me.

So I screen shot it, and edited it to mono colors, aka black and white, since it allows you to see values easily. FYI Value is nothing more than how light or dark a color appears.

And I can immediately see the issue. Tim and Bernard are in the foreground, yet their values are too similar to the background, so they get lost. And even tho Darla is the main focal point of the piece, I do not want Tim and Bern to just be lost, how do we fix it? Simple, we can either darken them or the background to ensure the difference between both is obvious.

So in this next pass I have darken them considerably, and it does looks better, but we can push it a bit further to ensure nothing get lost anywhere.

Ah rim light, my favorite tool to ensure something pops against the background. Now this? This looks great. Darla is still the center, being the lighter part of the composition, but Tim and Bernard are still visible and do not get lost in the background. Your eyes will first fall on Darla and then move into the other part of the illust, as I want it to do.

If we compare it side to side you can see how with just a few changes it looks way better, and it takes just a few minutes and some screen shots for you to achieve better values for your pieces.

This was a very short art advice from me to you, I am in no way a professional artist but hey any help is good right? 🫡

[actuallyvalerie]

Hey ♥ AU SUKUNA (in my world) where he is college guy~ Will draw girl I ship him with later on

In this drawing, I tried to draw from a spot or from a color, not from a sketch or draft, just visually imagining where everything should be. I must say, this method is very suitable for a sloppy and messy person like me :D Right now I'm focusing on faces + this new method for now. I'll do a couple more works like this. Will share with you as usual whole my process. For those who's interested in timelaps, here it is (trust the process moment):

[sundrop-writes]

Hi! I love your works! I saw your request are open, so I was wondering if I could ask how would Spencer react to the reader fainting into his arms?

I love this request so much. As a POTSie, this is really close to my heart - and idk if this was your intention or not, but I decided to make it that the reader has POTS.

Requests are OPEN

How would Spencer Reid react to you fainting around him?

Warnings: Reader's gender is not described - reader is gender neutral; the reader's looks are not really described either; the reader faints due to a pre-existing medical condition; the reader is mentioned to have POTS; this is Spencer during his Professor era; the reader is also a Professor at the University that Spencer teaches at; this fic uses Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); the reader loses consciousness completely and Spencer attends to them to make sure they are okay; some light fluff/romance; I think that's it? Not really proofread. This could be described as hurt/comfort (I found it very comforting to write) - even if you aren't chronically ill, I encourage you to read and enjoy!!!

...

Spencer didn’t really know you.

Since he had started teaching at the university, he had seen you around many times, and a face like yours - someone as gorgeous as you definitely stuck out in his mind. But he had never formally introduced himself. He could have used the excuse that he was busy preparing his lectures, and racing back and forth to the BAU between those lectures. But even if he hadn't spoken to you, he had been admiring you from afar for a long time. 

That was why, when he found a notebook that belonged to you sitting on one of the benches on the quad, he didn’t hesitate to bring it to your office. It needed to be returned to its rightful owner, and that owner was someone he had been secretly admiring for some time now. It was the perfect excuse to introduce himself to you. He thought that sitting on the notebook when he went outside to take his morning coffee break could be considered fate. Especially when he flipped open the cover, looking for some sign of who it belonged to, and he saw your name written on it. 

(Did he also flip through the rest of the pages, seeing the poems you had written, along with some beautiful sketches of birds and stills of flowers, and felt his stomach stir even more, realizing that he was falling for you before even talking to you? Maybe. He would have denied it, though.) 

He knocked on your door late, on his way out for the day, hoping that you were still there, and he was surprised to find the hinge creaking open underneath his fist. 

“Hello?” He called out. “Professor L/N?” 

“Oh, come in!” You called back. 

Spencer walked in and found the room to be a mess of papers - many open file boxes scattered about the room, with papers scattered everywhere in an utter hurricane of paper. 

You were focused on the file box in front of you, a frown knit across your brows as you flipped through them one by one, clearly intently looking for something. 

“I’m sorry.” Spencer apologized. “Is this a bad time?” 

“Oh, uh-” You finally looked up from your searching, and when you locked eyes with Spencer, you were surprised to find a doe-eyed, curly-haired, incredibly attractive man standing in the middle of your messy office. “I’m sorry. I- you’re that FBI guy, right? Reid?” 

You ignored his question in favor of being introduced to him properly - you had heard his name from the mouths of other people; gossip from your colleagues about how a real FBI profiler would be teaching a class about the psychology of serial killers and profiling. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded. “I’m Doctor Spencer Reid. But you can call me Spencer, if you prefer.” 

“Spencer.” You repeated back, grinning at him. “I’m Professor L/N, as you said. But you can call me Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I just came to return this.” Spencer explained, reaching into his bag and pulling out your notebook. 

Your eyes instantly lit up at the sight of it. 

“Oh my gosh.” You gasped quietly. “Thank you so much.” You took it back, giving him a grateful smile. “I don’t even know where my head is today, I-” 

Spencer gave a small grin as he followed your gaze around the mess you had created in your office. 

“I know this looks chaotic, but…” You looked for an excuse. “A student asked me for a copy of an essay they wrote a few years ago as a reference for their thesis. And I thought I had everything well organized. But - apparently my head is just not on very straight.” 

The forgetfulness, and your inability to go through the files in an efficient way - the lack of focus, it was only compounded by your pre-existing condition. Which was only made worse by the fact that you had forgotten to eat lunch, and it was well past dinner time now. 

“Oh, that’s completely understandable.” Spencer chuckled. “I can help you look through some of these if you want?” 

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the notebook and as Spencer became blurry in your vision - you thought about going to sit down in your office chair for a break after it was too late. 

“Y/N?” 

He became worried when you didn’t respond, when the expression on your face became more distant and he noticed your lips paling from a healthy color. 

In the next moment, you were falling. 

Spencer rushed to catch you, his instincts kicking in - everything in his body screaming that he needed to keep you from hitting the floor, that he needed to keep you safe. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, and the other arm wrapped around the middle of your back - he was surprised by how heavy your body felt when you were purely dead weight, your body entirely limp as you went completely unconscious, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in a scary way. 

He knelt down slowly, taking you down to the floor in the most gentle way possible, not wanting to drop you accidentally and have you hit your head because of his incompetence. The more the seconds ticked on and your eyelids stayed limp, your lips almost purple and your mouth gaped - the more his own heart thumped in his chest with intense fear. 

“Hey, hey, come on.” He continued to cradle your head with one hand, but now that you were mostly resting on the floor, he moved his other arm from your back to gently rub across your cheek - hoping to rouse you back to consciousness. “Come on, stay with me. Y/N. Wake up. Please?” 

He gently tapped your cheek, no where close to slapping you - but hoping to stimulate your nervous system with touch in some way. 

A huge breath of relief sucked through his chest when your eyelids started flickering and your eyes began moving around, clearly searching for something in the room as you regained consciousness. You let out a moan, trying to form words, and Spencer put a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. Just relax.” He told you, trying to keep his voice calm - trying not to betray any of the anxiety that he was truly feeling. 

His first instinct was to call an ambulance - obviously you needed medical attention. What had happened to you? What if it was something serious? 

And while he was patting down his pockets for his phone, you let out another moan and lifted one of your limp arms, drawing his attention to the jingle of a medical alert bracelet on your arm. 

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and moved to grab the pendant on the bracelet, reading it carefully. 

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome 

There was an emergency number listed, but it wasn’t 9-1-1 - Spencer had to guess that it was a family member of yours, or a doctor. So he had to guess that calling an ambulance wasn’t the thing to do. The condition sounded familiar to him - he read medical journals on occasion because he found them to be mentally engaging, and - because of occasions like this; if he could use the information to help someone. 

He remembered that it was a condition in which the autonomic nervous system fails to regulate blood flow, resulting in fainting when too much blood pools in the legs. So elevating the legs can help a person with the condition regain consciousness easier. 

Spencer hated to rest your head on the hardness of the floor, but he rushed to take off his blazer, and folded it up to put it underneath your head as a makeshift pillow, and then he looked around frantically - and the only good thing he could find were the file boxes. He stacked a few of them and brought them closer, and then situated your legs so they were elevated up on top of the boxes, above your prone body. 

He took your hand and held it - again, simply out of instinct. Wanting you to know that he was there with you while you lingered on the edge of consciousness. But with his helpful first aid, it wasn’t long then - only a minute or two - before your eyes blinked open more confidently and you tried to sit up. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Spencer implored, pushing you gently to lay back down. “Just rest for a few minutes, okay?” 

Usually - you would have rushed to become upright again, even if it was against medical advice. But something about Spencer’s presence was gentle and soothing, and you found yourself actually listening to him. 

“Sorry,” You muttered out, the word practically turning into a slur on your lips - your face tingling and numb as the blood slowly migrated back to your head. “I - I didn’t mean to s-scare you.” 

“You did scare me a little bit.” Spencer chuckled. “Hopefully next time I see you, you don’t end up on the floor.” 

“Well, my condition gets b-better when I eat s-salty foods.” You remarked, telling him the truth about the medical advice you had been given, feeling bold to let this roll into a flirty opportunity. “Maybe you could t-take me to dinner-r next time?” 

Spencer grinned down at you, and let out a light laugh. 

“Sounds like a date.” 

...

A/N: I have to say that this was so comforting for me to write. The amount of times in my life that I have fainted and been terrified, or I have been berated by the people around me for ‘faking’ it when I was feeling incredibly ill and barely conscious. If I fainted and I woke up to Spencer holding my hand and treating me so well like this - I would feel so relaxed and comforted. This was so amazing for me to write, and did help to heal a small fraction in the huge lifetime of medical trauma that I have.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

[homiesexuallaj]

Request: Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård version) introverted loner, meets Shelly who helps bring him out of his shell. Its love at first sight for Eric😍🖤

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Warnings/Genre: heavy au, fluff, rehab, troublemaker Shelly, Shelly makes you into a troublemaker, you and Shelly are like besties, shy Eric, reader flirts with Eric a tad, drug mention, mention of cigarettes

A/N: Okay yes I did read the ask wrong but in my defense I was blinded by the god of “x reader’s” and somehow my brain added that shelly introduced the reader to Eric, but hopefully you still enjoy it!

--- --- ---

You'd been in rehab awhile now. At least a couple months. You didn't have many friends, or any really. You had a few acquaintances that you got along with but no one that you had a true bond with.

Every day became the same for you. Shower, get dressed, breakfast, group therapy, afternoon outside time, lunch, one-on-one therapy, evening outside time, dinner, sleep, and repeat. It was tiring with no change. Until a certain duo started to cause some ruckus.

You didn't know who they were. The noticeable things were that they both were severely tatted up and that there seemed to be a whole foot of height difference between the two. The girl of the duo seemed to cause the trouble and disruption, dragging the poor, tall boy into her shenanigans. After getting in trouble for the umpteenth time, the boy disappeared and you came into view.

The girl, who's name was Shelly, popped herself right down at your table during lunch time. She had such a wide smile that her usual wide eyes turned to crescents. She twirled her hair as you two talked.

You two seemed to click almost instantly and Shelly quickly brought you out of your shell, dragging you into mischief. Mischief like sitting with boys Shelly thought were attractive, causing food fights, sneaking around after hours, escaping through the narrow windows in the laundry room, and giving each other stick-and-poke tattoos.

Shelly really did bring the troublemaker out of you.

Three weeks went by before Shelly's male companion was released from solitary confinement.

Shelly quickly flew back into his arms, dragging you by your hands. And here, you finally got a good close-up look at the man.

Compared to before solitary confinement, the man has black, crow-colored hair. Throughout the weeks here, his mullet had grown out, the tips of his hair curling up and peaking out from behind his neck. His eyes were a muddy green, brown flecks turning golden in the sunlight. His black tattoos were a stark contrast against his pale skin. And up close now, the man really was tall. So tall that you were face-to-face with his chest, his very broad chest.

Over the next few weeks of troublemaking, you learned that Shelly's male companion's name was Eric Draven and that Shelly often took the lead in troublemaking (with you being announced as second-in-command). Eric was rather shy and was often dragging in your's and Shelly's troublemaking. And he wasn't lookout, oh no, Eric was dragged down right into the middle. He often hoisted you girls up into places where your heights wouldn't allow you to reach.

At the moment, it was just you prancing through the halls. Shelly was off playing with one of her boy toys. You weren't looking for anyone in particular but when you came upon an open door on the second floor you couldn't help but peer in.

The room was messy. The mattress was overturned and the sheets torn off. There were papers everywhere, practically covering the tile floor, and a couple sheets of paper were thrown out into the hallway. In the middle of the room, picking up some of the papers, was Eric. He seemed irritated, probably because the care staff had ransacked his room. You shrugged, picking up the papers that led from the hallway and into his room.

"Well well well," You started, leaning against the doorframe. "What do we have here?"

"Oh um," Eric seemed to jump a bit at your presence. "Just some sketches."

You hummed, "You mind if I take a peak?"

"Not at all," Eric responded, swiping aside a couple papers so he could out his mattress right side up.

You flipped through your hand full of papers. Eric's drawings were good. Many were of the outside forest that surrounded the rehab building, others were of people around the common areas, and a few more caught your eye. There were some drawings of Shelly, mostly closeups like poses or while she was doing something nearby. The rest were of... you. Most from afar, drawn from across rooms or from different floors (as the angle suggested). The drawings were innocent enough, but one or two were you drawn in your undershirt and sweats with a hint of your nipples poking through the thin material. You blushed and cleared your throat.

"You like women with tight clothes, don't you?" You teased, watching as Eric put the sheets back on his bed.

Eric stood and looked down at your hand, seeing the slightly provocative drawings. He blushed heavy, spreading out across is cheeks and down his neck.

"Sometimes," He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

You only hummed in response and nodded, setting the papers down on a nearby table. You sauntered over to the taller man, causing him to drop his sheets that he was attempting to wrap around his mattress. You stood as tall as you could and wrapped your arms around Eric's shoulders, pulling him down to you a bit.

"What do you like to do for fun, Eric?" You practically purred, standing close but yet not close enough.

Eric looked between your eyes, nervous but there was obviously something else ticking in his mind. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his hands twitching. It was like he was itching to touch you but wasn't sure if he was allowed.

"I'll-I'll show you," Eric told you and made a motion to stand at his full height.

You pulled away from Eric and watched his movement.

Eric moved around you and peaked out the doorway of his room, looking for wandering staff. Once the coast was deemed clear, Eric grabbed your hand (almost on instinct) and lead you down and around the hallways.

The white walls twisted and turned. Wherever Eric was leading you, it got dimmer and dimmer. After another look around, Eric opened a door that he lead you two to. It squeaked loudly and you both cringed. Before you could have a look around, Eric pulled you into the dark room. The door shut behind you and you were befallen into pure darkness.

Eric let go of your hand and you could hear him shuffling around. He knocked into a couple things, cursing under his breath. A metallic creak and a groan were heard and the room was lit up from the ceiling. A ladder came down from the square opening. You stared at it, wondering what Eric had gotten you into.

"I'll go first," Eric muttered, already climbing up the ladder.

You followed a few steps behind.

Eric disappeared into the light. You followed and peaked your head up into the open air.

You were on top of the rehab building, rocks covered the entire roof. It was all flat, save for the three-foot-tall border around the roof to keep people from falling off. There were a few machines up here, like for air conditioning and stuff. It was all white up here, with the texture of gray from the rocks.

A tattooed hand interrupted your looking around. You followed the arm up to the face of the person. Eric was giving you an amused look. You rolled your eyes and grabbed Eric's hand, allowing him to help you the rest of the way up.

"So how did you learn to come up here?" You asked once your feet hit the rocks.

"The staff only come up here during certain times of the day," Eric answered, leading you to some metal duct-work that laid down on the roof. "If you watch it's not hard to learn their routines."

"Ah," You responded, now realizing how much Eric really watched his surroundings. "So this.. is what you do for fun?"

"Kinda boring, right?" Eric chuckled, sitting down on the duct-work and fishing a couple thin, white objects and an orange lighter from between the rocks.

"Why this?" You asked, avoiding Eric's question.

"It's just nice to get away from people sometimes," Eric lit the thin object, a cigarette, and took a hit. "It's loud down there. Out here is quiet."

Eric blew the smoke away from you and offered you the cigarette.

"No thanks," You held a hand up. "I don't smoke."

Eric nodded, keeping the cigarette to himself now.

It was quiet now. You couldn't help but side-eye Eric, admiring his smoking form. His long fingers kept the cigarette held in place, you noticed a slight tremor in them.

You could help but scoot a bit closer to the tall man, still eyeing him to see his reaction to you testing the waters. You saw him side-eyeing you back. You switched your eyes to the forest ahead, watching the swaying trees. Slowly, you leaned over towards Eric and laid your head atop his shoulder.

He tensed for a moment but relaxed, taking another hit from his cigarette.

"You're right," You muttered. "It is quiet up here."

--- --- ---

A/N: My askbox is open for Eric Draven! Feel free to drop one in!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tattoos

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You have pens

"Sorry," Mumma says as she bounces you on her hip," She's in a grumpy mood today."

You grunt, angling your head away as Tia Patri tries to rub at your cheek.

"Very grumpy," Tia Patri notes before smiling at you anyway and waving you goodbye.

"Okay," Mumma says, readjusting her grip on you so you can tuck your head into the crook of her neck," There we go. I think someone needs a little nap."

"No," You whine," No nap...jus'...jus' you. Jus' Mumma."

"Okay," Mumma agrees," Just Mumma."

You've been out of whack ever since the flight over for the semifinal Champion's League match. Mapi's still returning from her knee injury so she's been dropped to the bench and continues her rehab even though she's on the squad list so Ingrid's kind of been solo parenting for a bit.

It's not that Mapi won't help but she very much can't do things like play rough with you like you enjoy or bounce you on her knee to calm you down.

Ingrid hasn't done that a lot since she started dating Mapi, who dived head-first into things like that in an attempt to win you over.

"Mamí too," You insist as you whine out a low note.

"Are you having big feelings?" Ingrid asks as she fishes out her phone to ask where Mapi is.

You nod tiredly against her, practically limp but still with enough energy to kick and snap your displeasure.

Ingrid wonders if it's a lack of stimulation. The plane ride had been long and you didn't have any of your usual things to keep you occupied.

Your story books had all been packed in the big suitcase (the last time Ingrid will ever trust Mapi to pack your bags) and your colouring book and felt tip pens had been deemed too messy for you to use on the flight. That coupled with your inability to stay asleep for more than twenty minutes, means that you're exhausted and bored.

It's a dangerous combination.

Ingrid shoots off a text to Mapi about the situation and walks the length of the hallway, quietly hushing you and allowing you to suck at her collar even though she knows that it's going to feel bad against her skin later on.

Mapi replies quickly, saying that she's in the canteen with Alexia.

"Mumma," You whine as Ingrid makes for the elevator," No go out! No want!"

"We're not going out," Ingrid assures you but the damage is already done because the exhaustion and the boredom finally catch up with you and you burst into a round of frustrated tears.

Ingrid bounces you more firmly as you babble and sob and whine all the way down. The staff sends her sympathetic looks, some of them having children themselves, and the rest of the team look equally distraught as you clearly feel when Ingrid (frazzled and stressed) bursts into the canteen.

Mapi's at the table in the corner, a packet of temporary tattoo pens by her side as she transfers a sketch from her book onto Alexia's arms.

Alexia's been talking about getting another tattoo and Mapi had drawn up designs easily.

She's animatedly talking about the one she's transferring to Alexia's arms interspersed with flicking through the book to show alternative ideas.

She stops immediately though as your cries echo through the room and Ingrid approaches.

"What happened?" She asks," What's wrong? Is she hurt? Sick? She had that tummy bug a few weeks ago. Is it back?"

"She's having some big feelings," Ingrid replies, sitting down next to Mapi," I think she just wants some company while working through them. Look, she's already calming down."

She's right.

Your gasping breaths are evening out again and the tears roll down your face mostly silently. With your Mumma and Mamí now together, you're happy to just sag against Mumma and allow Mamí's conversation with Tia Ale to wash over you.

You slowly reach out for the pink pen that's resting on the table. You pick it up. Mamí doesn't use the pink a lot, especially when she's drawing ideas on people like she's doing with your Tia.

Mumma leans with you as you angle yourself towards Mamí's arms where some of her tattoos are on show.

"Open," You tell Mumma, your voice a little scratchy from all your crying and general unease. Mumma takes the lid off for you.

You press the tip against Mamí's arm, taking a lot of care to colour in the lines of the pictures she's got there.

She stops drawing on your Tia when she first feels the press of the nib against her skin.

You give her a little teary eyed smile when she catches your eye.

"Following in your footsteps," Mumma says fondly, finally able to plait your hair into a neat braid," Little tattoo artist."

"Yeah," Mamí agrees, moving to uncap all the pens on the table," Make sure to get in as many colours as possible, alright?"

You nod.

Mamí continues to draw on Tia Ale as you continue to colour in her tattoos.

The repetitive action soothes you and you make pretty swirls in her arm pictures even after she's finished showing Tia Ale her designs.

"Finished?" She asks.

You nod. "Finished."

"Ingrid," Mamí says," Take a picture of this." She flexes her arm. "I want to brag to everyone about how much more exciting she's made my arm."

[hulloitsdani]

In today's episode of cleaning out the wip backlog, we got an attempt to reimagine the Alfonse brave alt that got totally derailed by the Elden Ring DLC soundtrack! I have been chipping away at this for MONTHS now, and will probably continue to do so, but I think it's at a stage where I am willing to share it.

But uh, to say that I only drew this would be a big fat lie. So if you would be so kind, come with a journey under the cut as I show you some of the methods to my madness.

With me? Awesome. Let's get a little weird.

So I initially intended this to be a one and done drawing. Similar to the outfit prompts. I had an idea and only intended to make one illustration of it. Since it was on the brain at the time, I wanted to reference the Miquella and Radahn shot from Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree. That resulted in this sketch:

Fun! I had a good time with this one.

So during the time of Alfonse's Brave alt release, there was conversation about how, despite how pretty the art was, it was not quite fitting for Alfonse's character. And I was inclined to agree. Alfonse had a loaded relationship with his dad, and giving him an alt that was strictly him in his outfit didn't work in the same way it did for a character like Ike. So I was playing with how to solve for that here, went through a few options that aren't visible anymore, and came to the conclusion to keep the silhouette but change the details. Alfonse, a not very tall or buff guy, didn't really look right in Gustav's chest plate. So I threw on the dragon scales back on and things started falling into place. Neat!

Problem: I didn't really want to be working on this sketch anymore. Happens. Sometimes you reach the maximum amount of fun you're going to have with a piece and it's healthier to just leave it where it is. But I was still having fun with the idea of a Miquella and Radahn power dynamic with Kiran and Alfonse. Maybe not as fundamentally and delightfully fucked, but running with the idea of how bad it might be for everyone involved if Kiran was able to put their friends under contract.

So here is when I opened up a new file and started brainstorming.

So is the premise for this au(?). I guess this is an au! Cool! Idk I was just having a little bit of fun. This is also as clean as these sketches are gonna get. If messy doodles and thumbnails are your thing, you've come to the right place.

So something I wanted to explore right away was how, unlike Miquella and Radahn, both parties are still somewhat mentally present in this new state they're in. It gets a little weird, as Kiran is in Alfonse's head so often that it starts to become unclear where one starts and the other ends. But they're in this predicament because their loneliness issues got the better of them. Overriding the other's thoughts and presence would defeat the point. So they'll have moments where you can see them... separate, for lack of a better way of putting it. Where Kiran will pop up from their apparent malaise and check if Alfonse is (physically) alright.

Next up is spectral arm time. I imagine that Kiran has a jack pot of different powerful abilities, but they're not a fan of using them. Got this visual in my head of them summoning these hands to cover more weapon types, but doing so makes them physically recoil. The force of it tries to push them away, but it can't, so they come back to rest, more winded than before.

These marketable plushies are often bought together please do not separate!!! Idea here being that if enough damage is dealt to Alfonse to knock him down, Kiran will get PISSED, grab the axe, and go nuts. A little spooky considering that it wasn't clear that they could leave Alfonse's side up until that point. Is definitely the most emotion we've seen on them so far too. But while in their frenzy, Alfonse, upon realizing the god on his shoulder is gone, will grab the bonds connecting them and pull them back. Very desperate moves from the both of them. Rational thought has left the building.

Last but not least, hey this looks familiar! Found the sketch for initial illustration. Neat! Genuinely forgot that I initially sketched it here, and then copied it elsewhere to make a full illustration. But that's her!!! That's the bones!!! Kinda crazy looking at it now considering how long I've been tinkering with this one.

Also I couldn't fit this anywhere, but before I forget, Kiran can't really see? They're having an Everything Everywhere All At Once moment where, if not grounding themself via Alfonse, they will be blinded by the infinite amount of everything their divine domain now ties them to. So they look out of it a lot of the time because... well they are. Alfonse is seeing for the both of them.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! This was rotating this in my head for a while and I'm glad to have it finally out there :D

[bilolli]

HEYYYYYYYY @xitsensunmoon

It's a work in progress, still untranslated, unedited, unfinished and full of errors but it's there. I finished raw writing the first 3 chapters and the courrier only just met the bots, LOL. I don't know if I'll ever finish writing it because I'm no writer and I find it really hard to be constant with both style and formatting but I'm at least pretty proud of my current word count! I never wrote something this long, my usual word count goes around 2k/3k words haha. As for posting it...dunno. It depends on how far I get with it because I don't want to hype people up and then not finishing the project, BUT (EVERYONE) FEEL FREE TO ASK ME ANYTHING ABOUT THIS!

Also if you search for "nsjac au" I already have posted some very basic info about "Not Stupid Just a Courier"

btw Thank youu!! I have more! I love to messy sketch them when I have time :DD Sorry for the quality, I don't have my scanner at hand right now :')

and a gift for a treat

[blueninjablade3]

For Once I’ll Thank the Croc.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” A shrill, girlish scream echoed throughout the entire ship. The scream so loud as to jolt your once peaceful sleep out of you. You’d recognize that scream from anywhere. You glanced over at Smee, who was already on his feet, racing to the deck. You sighed, knowing exactly what had happened.

You groaned as you slid yourself out of your old rag-tag hammock. Your feet hit the wooden floor as you sketched out your back. You slid on slippers before heading to the Captain’s quarters.

You had been working with Captain James Hook for around 5 months. Peter Pan had brought you here thinking you would be a “Great mother to the lost boys!” What he hadn’t thought of was that, one he kidnapped you, two you didn’t want to mother those little kids, and three you were a grown-up. For some reason, this was seen as a negative thing? You had no way home, no friends, and you didn’t exactly have a welcoming visit from either mermaids or the cannibal tribe. So, seeing no other choice, you chose to join up with Captain James Hook.

Hook had a terrible hate for that little devil. Which honestly? You understood. Hook had his hand cut off, fed to a bloodthirsty croc (who annoyingly followed everywhere), and was taunted daily by Pan. You saw no point. Peter was old enough to understand the pain he caused Hook. So why he didn’t leave Hook alone was beyond you.

Yet, you must admit Hook was undeniably lovely. He would make sure to be a more refined man and gallant man around you. Often opening doors for you, making sure you were full, and as an added bonus Hook taught you how to play a few notes on his piano.

A soft blush spread across your face as you thought of Hook. His handsome face, that charming little grin, his habit of running to walls accidentally-

You quickly snapped out of your trance as you arrived at his door. You heard heavy, shaking breathing as you arrived at the large brown door. You knocked three times out of respect. All you got was a shaky response.

“No…no…no…no it’s too early… you can’t take me!” The captain cried fearfully behind the door.

You couldn’t help but sigh. Poor Cap’n Hook. Honestly. The poor man couldn’t even get a decent night's sleep. You opened up the door to find Hook under a couch.

His long black hair was unkept, sloppy, and messy. He had the worst bedhead you’d ever seen.

His body shook violently as a gentle noise was heard outside.

Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok.

You could see his Hazel eyes scanning the room like a panicked deer. Even under his night clothes, you could see his muscles tensed up. He was as tense as a snake ready to lunge. Sweat dripped down his face in beads and he looked like an asylum patient.

You imperturbably sat next to the couch on the floor. The Captain’s eyes landed on you. His guard dropped for a moment. But just a moment, he relaxed. As if your very presence was calming to him. You let out a soft and mild sigh.

“Cap? You wanna come from under the couch? I promise Smee is dealing with the crocodile right now. Tic-Tok can’t get or hurt you right now.” You explained in the softest voice you can manage. This does nothing to calm the captain down as instead, he began thundering.

“NO! STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY!” Hook shrieked at the top of his lungs. You winced at the loud words coming from the man. His hook came dangerously close to your thigh. Only missing by a centimeter.

Your eyes exploded in size. In the 5 months you’ve known the Captain he’s never raised his hands to you. He’d even get mad if someone suggested raising a hand to you. He claimed it to be “Rude” and “Savage” to raise hands to someone who wasn’t looking for a fight.

You scrambled away as Hook climbed out from under the couch looking like an angry bull in a bullfight. The fear was still in those hazel eyes though. This wasn’t actual anger. It was his fear response.

In your attempt to get away, you unknowingly pinned yourself against a wall. Hook was on you in seconds. His hook glitters in the moonlight above you. About to crash into your head and possibly end your life. Is this the end? Are you going to die at the hands of Captain James Barthomelow Hook because of his angry outburst?

You close your eyes and wait… and wait… and wait…

But the cold steel never came down. Your eye cracked open. You gazed upon the glittering hook. Right above your head. It was almost like it was frozen in place. You shifted your sight to the weary captain's face. The ticking was gone. A heavy silence consumed the room. You took a look into Hooks's eyes and he broke down. He collapsed to his knees sobbing.

You didn’t believe it. You’d never see Hook cry and it only be about the crocodile. You gingerly reached out and embraced him. You expected a lot. To be shoved off, be yelled at, or maybe have your life like he was about to moments ago. But never in the seven seas did you think he’d hug you. He wrapped himself around her tightly and cried into your shoulder. He whimpered out apologies while soaking your shirt with his wet tears.

You gently guided him to bed.

“Let’s lay down big guy… are you okay?”

“I killed you… I almost killed you… (Y/N) I’m so sorry!” Hook sobbed into your shoulder. He was in hysterics trying desperately to apologize.

“Captain it’s okay-“

“NO ITS NOT OKAY! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER ATTACKED IN THE FIRST PLACE… what if I was the reason you passed away tonight… I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt me dear…”

You had to ask him. You couldn’t deal with not knowing why he acted like he acted with you. Why he didn’t finish the job.

“Captain. Why do you treat me differently from the others in your crew? Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m saying. You make sure I’m fed, you get upset when people try to hurt me, you’ve taught me a bit of piano and you’re one of the most gallant men I’ve ever met so cut the bullshit.”

You spoke authoritatively and without a tremble in your voice. You wouldn’t back down from getting answers. You felt you deserved them. Hook's eyes widened. He heaved a sigh.

“Aye. I won’t lie. I like you. I have since a few months back. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner I just… couldn’t find it in me to confess poppet.”

Hook was beet red from blushing so hard. He was nervous the whole time and did his best to keep his sentences short length to avoid stumbling and embarrassing himself more.

“I like you too darling. Let’s have a first date sometime James. But for now, rest. Rest, knowing you are safe in my arms.”

Hook didn’t have to say a thing. He just held you tighter. His eyes closed as you ran your finger through his hair gently brushing out the tangles. For once you could thank the croc.

WOOOO! Finally done with this little project. I hope you enjoyed reading it and the ending wasn’t too rushed. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and as always master is right below. Thanks for reading and I wish you a great new year!

Masterlist