#moreid sketch

[artcake]

I would love any kind of art expressing pure love and respect between our mutual babes--Ralvez, Hotchreid, Moreid, whoever--because you are an incredible artist and this forum is woefully bereft of talent due to censorship. <3 Make them fuck and make everyone else watch and want more cuz they can't see it all. <3

Im sorry it's not very fancy but I am still moreid trash

i love you I'm so happy we are friends

[cyn-00]

remember when I answered that anon saying I wouldn’t post anymore “art” because it’s time consuming? yeah, uhm. sike. it’s not time consuming if u pretend u shouldn’t be doing 4 school assignments instead of drawing 🤓

[corvusartchronicles]

little thing I made based on my TW/CM crossover fic

[owlpip]

*throws sketches at you* street smarts!!

[ssa-lesbian]

jemily and moreid but in the four sweaters of the apocalypse

[owlpipscribbles]

date night spence 🍓🌿✨

[blvvewolf]

[swordofglory]

oh oh oh fluff prompt: 1 for moreid but, like, Not established relationship 🥺

moreid + “I really want to kiss you right now.” 

Reid is beautiful in the evening, Derek decides.

Derek has no idea how he ended up here, sipping some fancy overpriced drink from a gourmet food truck and feeling out of place at this pseudo farmer’s market art festival mash-up with a side of antiques.

Well. That’s a lie. 

Reid had bribed him with a promise of good food and the knowledge that a seller of vintage Brough Superiors would be attending. The flash of his signature puppy dog eyes were an unnecessary, unconvincing attempt at persuasion that had absolutely no effect on Derek’s decision.

The two of them walk past stalls, Reid talking excitedly of oil paints and garlic bread and pointing out every novelty they pass; Derek watches him the whole time, marveling at the way the setting sun catches in his hair.

“Bone black paint is a mix of carbon, calcium phosphate, and calcium carbonate made from bone or ivory” Spencer says, talking a mile a minute. “It’s actually quite common, Rembrandt used it in his initial wash-like sketches for his paintings and in his portrait of Phillips Lucasz used unmixed bone pigment to paint the darkest parts of the clothing.”

Morgan switches his drink to his other hand in hopes of keeping it safe from Reid’s gesticulating hands, letting the sounds of his ramblings of burnt bones wash over him.

They round a corner and Spencer’s chatter stops as he beelines it to a tent stacked to the brim with antique and collectible books. Derek has half a mind to tease Spencer for the way his eyes light up at the sight. Frankly, it’s so annoyingly charming that Derek can’t decide if he wants to knock him upside the head or kiss him senseless.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph when had he become such a sap?

Excitedly, Spencer shoves his wildly sugary drink (Salted caramel mocha? Really Reid?) into Derek’s free hand and picks up a book twice the size of his head and thicker than Derek’s forearm.

Spencer’s long, spindly fingers — punctuated by thick knuckles — cradle the book like they were made to hold leather bound books weighted with the kind of words that would make an average person’s head spin. They’re rough, well used hands; his calluses come from gripping a pen too hard for too long and there’s ink stains under his nails and a papercut on his thumb. There’s a freckle on the top knuckle of his pointer finger that Derek can’t keep his eyes off of as Spencer traces the gold detailing on the cover with a fingertip before lifting his head to ask the seller something in Russian. The seller taps two different books in front of her and scurries off to the back of the stall to grab another, much older looking, book before handing it to Spencer.

The two of them continue their back and forth until Spencer counts out a wad of cash and finally stacks all four books in his arms and hefts them over to where Derek is waiting. The scabs maring the back of his hands from the woods they had to trek through for their last case stretch and crack under the weight.

“You got enough books there, scout?”

Spencer flicks the hair out of his eyes with a huff. 

“They’re the reason I wanted to come here. Svetlana said she wouldn’t get them in until this festival.” 

Spencer adjusts his hold on the books and opens his mouth again like he’s about to go on another ramble about the history of earl grey tea or the Frauchiger-Renner Paradox and Derek doesn’t think his brain can handle that. “Aw. And here I thought ya wanted to spend time with lil’ ole me. Turns out you’ve only got eyes for bookish Russian grannies.”

Derek tosses his cup away and starts walking towards the tent promising fresh fruit. Maybe he’ll get some of the hand dyed yarn to bride Penny into making him that blackberry pie again.

There’s a pattering of footsteps as Spencer scurries to catch up with him. He steps in front of Derek, books and big eyes in tow, and looks up at him. The tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes giving him the distinct look of a confused puppy.

“I always like spending time with you, Derek.”

He says it softly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he didn’t just stop Derek’s mind in its tracks.

Derek wants to say something stupid like ‘I really want to kiss you right now’ or ‘I spent last night thinking about the way your pinky curls under the handle of your coffee mug whenever you take a sip.’ 

Instead, he says, “I like spending time with you too.”. It comes out softer than intended but he doesn’t care because Spencer’s eyes get incredibly, beautifully bigger and he flushes so prettily that Derek wants to spend his time mapping out everything that makes him flush that way.

Spencer shakes his head again in an attempt to get the hair out of his eyes. 

Derek tucks the stray lock behind his ear, tracing the line of Spencer’s jaw and deliberately trying not to think about the pink of Spencer’s tongue as it peeks out to lick his lips. 

Both their phones ding simultaneously and Derek jerks away. Shit. 

“Hotch?” Spencer asks after Derek looks at his phone. 

Derek sighs.

“Duty calls, pretty boy.”

send me a number and a ship for a mini fic! [closed for this prompt list]

[cyn-00]

so...

U guys probably don't know this cause...well, cause I never said it, but I'm actually more of a painter/sketcher/illustrator than a "writer", cause I went to art school so that's like my true "talent", the one that defines me when I get asked "what are u good at" (u know what I mean?) so yeah I was doing some university drawings and...well...this happened

[cyn-00]

omg INSANE IDEA

popped into my mind...insane because it's time consuming but it would be so cute and I would have so much fun

the idea is that I could do a lil sketch to accompany each of my fics...illustrating like the "main" scene...it would be so useful to help u picture it while reading

[owlpip]

decided to throw some colors onto a few spencer warm up sketches :)

[owlpip]

today, i offer you a spencer wip...tomorrow? probably the same; i’m predictable.

[owlpip]

tumblr pls let hickey covered spencer and soft derek have rights i’m begging

[owlpip]

some previews to a slightly not sfw moreid sketch page :3 the full page is on my not sfw twitter (owlpwp) but please do not look go looking for it if you’re under 18

[owlpip]

Omg I love your criminal minds fanart so much fkkglekfmrj I love the way you draw spencer like. Your artstyle is amazing 💞💓💖💕💞💖❤💓💗💗💖💓💖💕💗💓

thank you so much!! you’re too sweet ;-; have a sneak peek of a (another) sketch page i’ll be posting soon for your troubles

[owlpipscribbles]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ full version and some subpar nsfw sketches on my twitter