#not the most amount of drawings but whatever

[sinsinewave]

i think i posted about it before but this kid is going places if those art skills are allowed and encouraged to develop

like, the reason that looks so good is largely because of composition and colour

the background colours are such that they don't draw attention to themselves, not unnecessarily standing out, just kind of fading into the... background

the specific colours also neatly contrast the meowlk's clean white without being oversaturated and forceful, and the light, warm tones imply the idea of a safe and cozy environment; like a family home

---

as for compositing, the meowlk itself is positioned off-centre and off the focal point, which enhances the feel of mundanity and makes it feel more like just a normal object

that in turn sort of lets it speak on its own terms; the meowlk doesn't demand your attention like a screaming child, it exists there, letting the viewer's attention more naturally focus on it

---

i can also tell that a lot of that is most likely intuition, which is why i think this kid has potential to grow up a really damn good artist

basically, a subconscious, internalised understanding of composition and/or colours, making it so that you compose a scene in a certain way or choose certain colours because it just feels right, rather than by actively applying theory

that tends to lead to more genuine-feeling results than raw theory; letting the artist focus on expressing themselves rather than the framework on which to express themselves

the same intuition can be seen in a variety of fields; for example i have great spatial awareness and due to that do well at 3D modeling, while my mother (a painter and portrait artist) seems to have an intuition for contrasts and shades, at least from what i can see, and musicians often have it for harmonious sounds and melodies

and this kid seems to have it for colours and composition, along with a good imagination, as i said

---

and before anyone says anything about talent, this is the closest there is; and that intuition can be learned

some have it more naturally without much practice, but like, if you genuinely want to do art, you'll develop it over time; while it's developing things just won't be nearly as effortless, and a lot of people give up from that

for example, if while learning art skills you have to figure out colours regularly, your brain will slowly rewire itself to do that automatically

---

to get into a bit of psychological speculation there, because my view on the nature/nurture debate tends to lean towards nurture, i'd imagine having that intuition naturally is a result of what the subconscious mind pays attention to during development for whatever reason, be it genetic or something else

using my own intuition for 3D awareness as an example, i know for basically a fact that my (or, well, former host's) mind focused a lot on spatial thinking; partly as a result of being really into lego, but also just kinda naturally; and the memories i've recovered of that time include remarkable amounts of spatial data specifically

and then years later i end up being good at modeling because my brain is already pre-wired to handle spatial thinking

in this kid's case, i'd imagine for whatever reason their subconscious mind has focused on layouts and colours, which translates to the composition of that genuinely really goddess damned good artwork

[mur-art]

Oh my goodness regarding my last ask I’m having more thoughts! Yes hi it’s the inbox gremlin again

I personally love Nevada with mafia ties and California being an absolute diva being shipped together. Like Nevada’s sitting in a wooden chair with red velvet cushioning and his right hand on one of the arms with a gun pointed at whoever’s coming into the door and with California in a pretty tight and fold dress in Nev’s other hand. Nev’a hand on Cal’s ass maybe- lmao- but he’s sitting on the arm of the chair with his legs hanging off the side.

Nev either has long or short hair, it’s either tied up into one of those sleek man buns or whatever, or it’s just slicked back. Or it’s being played with by Cal, short or long, it doesn’t matter, Cal’s playing with Nev’s hair.

guh, then in this little scene I’ve built up, there’s like an ungodly amount of treasures behind them in the dark on a red carpet that matches the chair I described. I’m imagining this in your art style and I’m going a little feral, I’m not asking you to draw this but if you want to then go for it but I’m just describing the hell out of what I see in my head

maybe Cal has one of those feather boa cloaks or whatever they’re called, and it 100% looks like it belongs to Nev. California one hundred fucking percent stole that cloak from Nev but Nev isn’t complaining because Cal looks good in that sparkly dress and in his cloak

And Nev looking all fancy too? Absolutely, y’know you got the shirt that’s open, it’s not showing nips but it’s showing some of Nev’s chest off and maybe a tattoo is peaking out because we all know Nev has a tattoo or two. And Nev having hints of red to match the room.

Nev has mostly black with hints of red to match the dark colors of the chair and the carpet while Cal has the bright pretty gold to match the sparkly shit in the background and whatever other sparkly stuff that could be in the foreground

i think that’s it for that thought

goodnight, it be late

@and-the-flame-burns This is by far the most detailed drawing request I’ve ever gotten so I tried to bring it to life! I see your vision and I 1000% agree.

The Proceate glitter brush was made for these two.

Theres a few things I couldn’t get to look right, including the tattoos. 😭 Just picture them with matching Joshua tree tattoos, okay? Plus…a million other ones that I can never draw consistently even tho I have so many headcanons about it. Have some scar HCs instead as consolation?

Anywaaaaayssss…to my fellow Calivada fans, Happy Thanksgiving and hopefully this helps you eat well 😘

[dindjarindiaries]

Risk & Reward

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompts: "Are you asking me out on a date?" / "I'm not drunk enough for this." / "I think you should kiss me."

warnings: alcohol/drunkenness

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You couldn't understand why you had ever resisted coming here. For once, the boys had actually been right; 79's was the place to be between missions. And no, it definitely wasn't the alcohol talking.

How much had you had, anyway? Most of your glasses had already been taken away, and those that hadn't were starting to blur together...

You were mindlessly giggling at Wrecker jostling a disgruntled Crosshair around when a familiar, low voice cut through the noise in your isolated corner. "Alright, we've had our fun. Time to go."

You let out a long gasp and turned towards Hunter. His brow wrinkled with concern as his stare met yours, and your foggy brain could still process him checking you for signs of distress before you stumbled off your stool to approach him.

"Hunter!" You laughed and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace that, in this state, felt totally natural, despite the fact you had never, ever greeted him like this before. "Hi!"

"Uh..." Hunter politely tapped your back with both his hands, "hey."

"We missed you." You stepped back and patted his tattooed cheek twice. Hunter's brow shot up in response to the gesture. "Where've ya' been?"

Hunter's gaze flickered between you and the rest of the squad who stood behind you. "I've just been doing the rounds, keeping our relationship with some of the regs... amicable enough."

Doing sergeant duties on a night off? Yeah, that was classic Hunter behavior.

"Of course." You huffed and gave his shoulder a playful punch, but it barely made contact with your current lack of depth perception. "Do you ever just relax, Sarge?"

"That's a good point," Wrecker chimed in from behind you.

You whipped your head around to nod and point at him. "Exactly, Wreck, thank you!"

Hunter let out a heavy sigh, drawing your attention back to him—though his stare was on another one of his brothers. "Tech?"

All Hunter had to do was hold out his hand, and his brother provided him with his datapad. Tech pushed his goggles up his nose to hide his smile as Hunter read whatever was written on the vidscreen. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. His free hand pinched the bridge of his nose as he handed the datapad back to Tech.

"And all of you let this happen?" Hunter reopened his eyes to stare vibroblades at his brothers.

"Who am I to set someone else's limit?" Crosshair sounded completely unaffected by his alcohol intake, even if the sly smile he wore was evident in his tone.

"That's another good point!" Wrecker added.

"I was too preoccupied with making note of everyone's intake," Tech responded. "It's fascinating, isn't it?"

A muscle in Hunter's jaw flexed. "Yeah, that's one word for it." He glanced at you and nodded. "We're gonna head back to the ship."

Hunter reached inside a pocket on his belt and set a hearty amount of credits inside Tech's outstretched palm.

"Pay the tab and meet us there when you're done." His brow furrowed at the three of them. "For your sake, make sure I don't have to come drag the rest of you outta' here."

Wrecker saluted. "You got it, boss!"

Hunter let his glare linger on them even as he set a hand on your back to guide you to his side. He then eased you forward, keeping his hand where it was until you were steady enough.

That moment never came.

Hunter's sigh was quieter than before as he slung one of your arms over his shoulders and wrapped the arm he had closest to you around your waist.

"I knew this was a bad idea," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, I used to say that too." You nudged him the best you could in your current position, which saw you practically resting all your bodyweight upon him. "But I'm glad I let 'em finally convince me, because I had fun! Do you know what that is, Hunt? Fun?"

Hunter huffed. "You're asking me that question?"

You shrugged. "I just really wish you'd been with us tonight." Your voice was low in your sudden embarrassment, which was dulled more than it should have been thanks to the haze that clung at the edges of your senses.

Hunter looked over at you before he let out a softer breath. "I'm sorry." His voice also lowered as he went on. "That's not the reason why you had so much, is it?"

You didn't say anything. Hunter took your silence as your answer, judging by the way he tightened his grasp on your waist.

After a few heartbeats, you spoke up again. "It's okay. You can make it up to me later by letting me take you back here. Just us."

Hunter's steps slowed beside you, but you didn't take much notice in your drunkenness. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

You bobbed your head. "Semantics." You spared a glance over at him and smiled. "Unless you have no problem with it, in which case, yes. Yes I am."

Hunter's gaze glittered with amusement and something else you couldn't catch in your haze, but his tone was dry. "I'm not drunk enough for this."

"Hmm. Shame." You giggled and swayed into him. "Could've fixed that if you actually stuck with us tonight."

Hunter at least chuckled at that. His hand on your waist gave it a pat as he nodded. "Next time."

You looked at him with wide, excited eyes. "So there will be a next time?"

Hunter raised an eyebrow at you. "Don't push it."

It wasn't much longer until Hunter was easing you up the steps of the Marauder. The drunken haze was beginning to morph into one of slumber, making your eyelids flutter as you leaned more and more into Hunter. He, of course, was unaffected by the additional weight.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to comment on it. "Hey, you can't go to sleep yet."

You groaned dramatically and pressed your face against his armored shoulder. "Why?"

Hunter set you down in one of the chairs and headed towards the supplies. "Because." He reached into one of the crates and grabbed a canteen. "You need to drink a whole one of these first."

You wrinkled your brow as you took it from him. "Or else what?"

Hunter crossed his arms and stayed where he was, unshaken. "There isn't another option." He nodded at the canteen. "Drink it."

You narrowed your eyes even as you took your first big swig from the canteen. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and leaned back in the chair. "Can I at least get a reward for it?"

Hunter's brow rose. "For keeping yourself healthy?"

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever you wanna call this."

The corners of Hunter's lips started to rise as he humored you. "What did you have in mind?"

You stared at him, racking your mind for something as you drew another long sip from the canteen. But staring wasn't giving you an idea—at least, not an idea other than the deepest, darkest secret you weren't sure you wanted to confess right now. That was the thing about letting yourself loose, though. Those secrets were also going loose, too.

So, as you stared up at Hunter and studied the parts of him that had taken up permanent residence in your mind, you let that secret slip as if it was nothing more than an innocent suggestion.

"I think you should kiss me."

Hunter looked as if he was experiencing every single stage of shock all at once. His head whipped over his shoulder towards the open hatch of the Marauder, his senses no doubt reaching out to make sure you were still alone for the time being.

All the while, you continued drinking the water nonchalantly. He hadn't said no to your suggestion yet, so... if you kept drinking it...

"That's not a good idea."

You frowned as you returned Hunter's gaze. He was harder to read, now, his expression steeled the same way it was whenever he was trying to make a hard decision on or about a mission. It meant he was purposefully cloaking something from you, and seriously contemplating something.

But that didn't make the sting of his words any easier to take.

You deflated, and because everything was still running loose, you knew Hunter could tell. The canteen lowered in your grasp as your arm fell towards the floor.

Hunter knelt in front of you. "Not right now."

He was gentle as he took the canteen from you and brought it back to your lips himself. You followed his direction without much effort, tilting your head back to let him provide you with more hydration. Hunter continued his thought as he did so.

"Not like this."

You blinked innocently at him after you swallowed. "Like what?"

Hunter gave you a pitiful once-over. You winced in embarrassment.

His hand rose to your shoulder. "How about this. When you can actually walk on your own again, you can have the reward that you want." He mumbled the next part under his breath. "If you still want it then."

You perked up at that. "Really?"

Hunter nodded. "Really." He held up the canteen between the two of you. "But you have to finish this."

You snatched the canteen from him and chugged the rest of its contents. When you finished, Hunter's eyes were widened, and he released an impressed chuckle. You held out your arms to him.

"Help me walk to my bunk?"

Hunter huffed and nodded. The rest was a blur after that, but the memories of it all danced across your mind through the night until you woke again with your usual clarity—and a surprising lack of a hangover, thanks to the sergeant's insistence.

You swung your legs out of the bunk and stood. Only one other bunk was empty, making you smile as you easily walked your own way towards the cockpit.

Hunter swiveled in the pilot's chair to face you, hardly concealing a smile as he watched you close the distance over to him. You stood over his chair, crossing your arms as you gestured back towards the bunks.

"I walked here on my own."

Hunter rose an eyebrow. "You did." He sheathed the knife he'd been playing with before you walked in.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. "Can I have my reward?"

Hunter hummed thoughtfully and turned back to the controls. He lowered his hand over a button that caused the cockpit's door to close behind you, making you smile even before he stood to meet you where you were.

"It was well-earned."

And then his hands were on your face, his lips were on yours, and you were experiencing a whole different kind of drunkenness—one that was a million times better than any other.

[sweet-treat]

hehehe hohoho

um. was thinking of a turbo and turbo mashup (mostly wir turbo.... obviously) and idk aufhdkfhdkfhdkfhlgs he's kinda silly

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

i will ignore all the tordedd and tomtord requests in my askbox and instead draw tordmatt for. some reason

Content warning: suggestive

[chiyune]

first impressions :3

[ask-jiro-kirisaki]

It was a shocking revelation. Whatever granted this power made this fragile doll sturdy enough to withstand most things a normal flesh-and-bone body can. Then there was the separation. It stood to reason there would be more strain to return from greater distances, but he had never heard of a case like this. Usually spirits would possess what they could and that was that. Izumi's spirit was actually attached to this doll - drawn to it from wherever he was at sunrise. "That's a tough call. On one hand, the experience of being pulled into the doll from such a great distance causes a tremendous amount of strain on your spirit. On the other, you're almost guaranteed to arrive safely in Darkwick no matter where you were. If getting around campus is difficult, I can't imagine trying to navigate the busy city streets - especially without drawing too much attention to yourself."

After midnight, Izumi finds his way to Mortkranken, inspecting his phone carefully and knocking on the door. Jiro is still working, fortunately, and he'd passed by the doctor in the hall, cursing up a storm about the...pharmacy?

He's a far cry from his doll form, almost as tall as Jiro, dark hair brushed to the side and back, barely tickling his shoulders and almond brown eyes lighting gently on the other ghoul's form. "Hey, Jiro." He waves casually; he missed this voice. Not quite deep, not quite high; back in the day this form and tone lured in any woman he wanted...and the occasional man but for his purposes-....well.

"I'm Izumi Yoshioka, we met the other day?" He gestures to the doll tucked under one arm; technically he supposes he could have left the doll at home but just in case he doesn't make it back to the dorm before sunrise he doesn't want to leave his phone stranded somewhere. He barely understands it himself, but it has all the most relevant information and he knows he can't lose it. "This is one of the only times I can come in for a checkup as myself. Hope this isn't too inconvenient for you."

@ask-jiro-kirisaki

[sappho-rose]

sae is not amused (supposedly)

Bonus: rin lol

merch art used for inspo under cut:

[avatoh]

Drew these while watching stream

[goldiipond]

unmmmnm my phone doesnt have the flame emoji for some reason but. Give me yuor Emma takes <3

YAAAAY EEMA MY FRIEND lets see um. well honestly i dont think nearly enough people making postcanon designs acknowledge that emma is absolutely gnc in some form.

yes she really doesn't dress super masc and i know how annoying the trend of 'oh shes so butch <3<3<3' n its literally just Girl With Pants can be but i think in the context of tpn specifically its like. different. i simply think that demizu taking a character who was required to wear skirts 'because shes a girl' for the first 11 years of her life and making the conscious decision to literally never draw her in a skirt outside gracefield probably has some significance to it yknow.

and like all the girls are shown wearing both skirts and pants at some point once they are given the freedom to choose, but emma is the only girl besides violet and paula who makes the conscious decision to never wear skirts. basicaly agender masc lesbian emma is the realest ever to me <3

[thethingything]

ended up doing sketches for both drawings but the slightly more self-indulgent version (literally just them kissing lmao) doesn't look right so idk I'll maybe come back to it later.

I did do a little bit of rendering on the other drawing but only for like 10 minutes because after doing two sketches in a row our eyes were starting to have issues from focusing too hard. at least we managed to draw something though 👍.

anyway here's the sketch and start of the rendering for that 2nd one. we usually don't like posting the sketches and really early stages of portraits we generally don't like how they end up looking, but oh well, enjoy this little glimpse into the weird creepy phase of the drawing I guess

[axellis-archv-2]

i just need to put these on my blog for science . ramram design evolution video is something

[runicsorceress]

💃- For a talent that they like to keep hidden from others

pfft.. why would i do that? if i were tallented id show that shit off at every opportunity. i do with the talking to ghosts thing. does that count as a tallent? ...nah.

Well, how about painting? You never talk about that, bzzt!

thats because not good at painting. shit doesnt count as a tallent if i aint tallented. just a.. hobby or whatever

Sewing, then? You don't talk about that much either, bzzt! Have you even mentioned it at all?

it just. never came up. not a tallent either.. only ever do it when my clothes rip or whatever. and you didnt have to interrupt my post bolt.

Bzzt, I'm just helping you out! I thought you forgot to include them, as I consider them both talents of yours!

[you-are-constance]

top five. mediums of artistic expression

OUGH

instrumental performance. typically doesnt matter much what instrument(s), but nothing beats a full orchestra imo

look the only reason that theatre is below instrumental performance is because theatre without the music is... its not *nothing* but it loses a lot of meaning (even if its not a musical, even a play that doesn't have underscoring is lacking) im not sure if im saying this right but that's how i feel (and also like. even if they have the music but its completely pre-recorded tracks instead of live musicians. like there is a Difference. in energy at least)

this is a huge part of theatre (especially musicals) but i wanted to include it separate. singing and like acting through singing. like yes that is a huge thing in theatre but im talking like. specific to when you listen to a song and you can FEEL how the singer feels while singing it. yeah that.

writing. be it poetry, lyrics, a novel, whatever else. words make me feel things.

traditional 'art' like drawing/painting/etc. (not traditional as in only pencil and paper, but traditional as in what ppl usually think of when they think of 'art') i don't love grouping together all the different forms of this kind of art, but for the sake of making my list easier, that's what I'll do

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[pinkyhaert]

HEY GUYS.

With artfight around the corner, here's a reminder:

ARTFIGHT IS FOR FUN.

Don't feel pressured to make a ton of attacks or revenges or whatever. Nobody can pressure you into drawing what you don't wanna.

If you can't draw everything you want too THATS OKAY!! ITS JUST FOR FUN!! If you want too, you can still draw characters and stuff after the fight as Gift art! Most people still would love to see/receive anything of their beans!

If you feel yourself getting stressed or burnt out: TAKE A BREAK!!! Again: It's for fun and should not cause your strife! We'll all still be here all month. Draw what you wanna draw! And draw only the amount you want too!!

Take your time buddy, remember to pace yourself. There's no rush.

Every. Single. Thing. You. Make. Is. Excellent! We are so happy and honored you picked Our little gremlins to doodle and don't let anyone tell you that your art is "Not good enough." Or "Low quality", Etc. That's super rude and totally a lie. Every art of every kind is a gift because you spent time on it to draw/Make it.

HYDRATE AND EAT YOU FOOLS YOUR BODY NEEDS SUBSTANANCE

Also, on that same note: GO TO BED AT A DECENT TIME YOU INSOMNICS I KNOW YOU WANNA DRAW TILL THE BREAK OF DAWN BUT SWEETHEART YOU NEED YOUR REST!!! IF NOT FOR YOU, DO IT FOR ME & YOUR CHARACTERS PLEASE

We love you artists! please take care of yourselves this Artfight!!!

~ Pinky 💖