#ok but like the side view sketch is so good

[ratigan-in-the-wall]

Zinc again :)

[xoxochb]

can u do jason with a reader who has an entire sketchbook dedicated to him with drawings of him and everything and he stumbles upon it accidentally? its ok if not!

⋆·˚ ༘ * love at first sketch!

warnings: none

pairing: jason grace x artistic fem! reader

jason knocks on your cabin’s door four times, a designated knock for the two of you, and the two of you only, but to his dismay one your siblings answers instead of you

“she’s not here, however if you would like to wait that would be fine. she’ll be back any minute”

the son of jupiter nods and walks to your sketchbook covered bed. he begins to move them to the side so he can take a seat at the end of your bed (he loved to sit beside you and watch as you draw) but he comes across an un-named book, nothing saying what had been drawn in it- unlike your other sketchbooks which would have been titled ‘plants’ ‘lakes/oceans’ or ‘miscellaneous’. this one had no categorization to it, perhaps he would name it for you, he was sure you wouldn’t mind

he begins to briefly flip through the pages but when his eye catches a colored drawing he stops- a picture of him, and not only was this one of your best drawings, you had made him look incredibly good too. he looks through the book some more, coming across many sketches of him, the book was filled with them

“what are you doing?”

jason quickly drops the book on your bed and turns to the voice- your voice

“waiting for you” he looks down to avoid your gaze

you take a peek at the book he had dropped- oh no, what that book out of them all! your face grows hot when you realize he had saw the drawings

you bite your lip “did you see all of them?”

“just about”

now it was your turn to defy eye contact

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see that. you probably think I’m a total creep- I’ll throw them out if you’d like? or burn them maybe? whatever you want will be fine with me”

jason begins to laugh. seriously? he finds your completely embarrassed nature funny? from his point of view though, you being worried about him stumbling across your works of art was appealing, it reminds him why he fell in love with you- one of your best qualities, always worrying about him

“they’re terrific, don’t burn them! do you think you could draw me again? maybe with me there this time?” he suggests

an evening with jason by your side? you wish you could decline. unfortunate for you it was not in your nature to push away the boy you loved

“I guess I could do just a small sketch”

you nearly fall back due to the force of the bone-crushing hug he pulls you into. is he aware you have a rib cage that needs to function properly?

you suppose you could forget about your ribs for just a minute

[sseniita]

"what if you regret it when you're older?"

“Ok go.” Although the rough hand on her right shoulder kept her grounded, the tattoo gun vibrating dangerously close to the left side of her collarbone sent a shock through her system. The slightest prick was more than enough to sober her up immediately. “Wait. Wait! No!” The hero squirmed away, losing her balance and promptly falling off the kitchen barstool and onto the cold tiled floor. 

“Coward.” The villain started down at her. The gloved hands that had hurt her so many times, gripping onto a tattoo gun. “Get your ass back up and on the chair.”

The hero could taste the bile rising in her mouth. Her excessive drinking paired with being inside the villain’s house was not a good combo. Add to that her tiny tank top she unveiled to give the villain access to her desired area of her very first tattoo. The villain drank as much as the hero did, but his steady hands suggested he was stable. Definitely not sober considering he invited her into his apartment and situated her in his kitchen, regardless he remained stoic if a little determined as he helped her back onto the stool. 

“You said you liked the mock up. What now?” The villain’s voice was harsh as it always was, but perhaps the buzz of a few too many softened it into something the hero shivered at. Perhaps the hero really did drink too much. She took another look at the sketch book on the kitchen island, crowded between masterful doodles and absentminded pen strokes, was a clean lined and minimalist illustration of a sun. The hero had totally lost her mind.

“You said it’ll hurt.” the hero confessed. 

“Getting a tattoo close to your collarbone probably doesn’t compare to being stabbed.” He traced a finger down a thin scar on her bare bicep. His hand lingered there like it did when he plunged the knife in oh so long ago. The stab back then was slow and deliberate, just like his touch was now. “I promise you can handle it, Sunshine.” 

The hero burned red at the familiar nickname, a reminder and confession about the meaning behind her tattoo. They had coincidently been at the same bar, alone at that, and the villain hadn't mentioned it, but the way the edge of his lips quirked up at the bar when the hero brought the idea up meant he knew. He immediately seduced the hero by saying he dabbled in tattoos and had a kit at home. Extremely sketchy, but the hero had drank enough courage and recognized this would be her only chance.

“Why am I doing this?” she asked herself but the villain responded. 

“Because you’ve never done a stupid thing in your life.” 

“I got drunk and followed my greatest enemy home, that sounds worse than this.” 

“In that case this should be nothing.” The tattoo gun started buzzing again. “Stand still.” 

And the hero did. She definitely wasn’t drunk, if anyone ever asked she’ll say she blacked out and woke up in a tattoo shop. The villain’s gloved hands were cold on her collarbones, a shiver made its way through her body when the villain leaned in close and whispered in her ear. 

“This'll hurt. Just hang on, Sunshine.”

The hero closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. The pain came sharp, and the villain found the hem of his shirt being gripped in the hero’s hands. He chuckled at her display and made sure to finish as soon as possible. When he finally stepped away the hero’s face was red and her eyes wide with excitement. It was a simple tattoo, a variation of which he'd done a million times but the villain had never been as proud and blown away by his work on someone before. They both looked at her tattoo through the bathroom mirror for a very long while, the hero relished in the sting, the villain taking in the view.

Years later, when the hero finally got back at the villain for the scar he left on her with a knife, she noticed a small crescent moon tattooed on his own left collarbone, right above where her knife plunged into him.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Off Limits

Ok so there was a rlly cute ask in my inbox that was about introducing Gavi to Ramadan or taking him to iftar but it's gone now!!! I literally cannot see it anymore. But dear anon who requested a Ramadan-inspired Gavi fic, this is for you!!! So reader is Arab/ Desi/ North African/ a similar culture.

~~~

"Pablo, as God is my witness, I will break up with you if you don't get away from me."

Was it harsh? A little. But it was the only way you could get your clingy partner to leave you alone. For the past hour, he continuously tried to hold your hands or cuddle you, and you had to push him away in a panic every time. Ramadan was finally upon you, and you could not be more excited. It was a month of great food and company, and jut general peace. It was a time for you to really embrace your culture: long dresses and dangly jewelry, coffee cups painted in gold calligraphy, and lanterns decorating every possible surface.

There were several traditions in your family that took place every Ramadan, a main one being that you and your female relatives would all go and get henna done on your arms and legs, your skin remaining tinted with elaborate patterns all month long. However, since moving to Barcelona (and moving in with your long-term boyfriend), this tradition has become harder and harder for you to maintain. This led to an Amazon overtight order of about 20 henna cones, and two hours of you bent over yourself trying to pipe out the tiniest of designs onto your hands and feet. It was unfortunately during this time that Gavi came home from training, plopping onto your couch as he tried to grab your hand, smudging one of the flowers you had gone cross-eyed drawing. After letting out a yell that probably scared the dogs in Madrid, you calmed enough to explain what you were doing and why he couldn't touch it.

"So it's like a tattoo? I don't really like tattoos ya know." He said, rolling over onto his side and pouting, touch starved and desperate to touch you. You continued drawing as you responded.

"Yeah but they're temporary. And they're brown instead of black. And tattoos are hot. You would look hot with tattoos Pablo."

This elicited a laugh from the boy, his eyes creasing and his teeth dazzling. He loved watching you focused on your sketches. Your teeth was between your lips, tension evident in your features. There was nothing that you did that wasn't entertaining to him. Gavi loved looking at you, studying you, catching every minor change in your expressions or body language and storing them deep in his memory.

Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he tried to imagine what he would look like with a tattoo.

"Maybe Spanish men aren't meant to have tattoos, amor. We just don't look good in them."

"Pablo how can you say this when Ramos literally exists?"

"Your answer to everything cannot be 'It's hot because Sergio Ramos does it'!"

"Why not? Long hair? Hot on Ramos. Tattoos? Hot on Ramos. Being a father-"

"Please stop. I am begging."

You broke out into fits of giggles, the banter flowing naturally between the two of you. When you finally finished your hands, you beckoned Gavi over. Instructing him to place his arm in your lap, you began drawing on his tanned skin.

"Ay, what are you doing?"

"Proving you would look good with a tattoo. Sit still!! You're gonna make me mess up."

"But-"

"No buts. I had to redo half my hand because of you. And besides, you're always in long shirts, no one will see."

This silenced the whines from the boy looming over you as you bent closer to his arm. Despite a flinch every so often from the cool sensation on his skin, Pablo stayed perfectly still. He brought his free hand up to move the hair from your eyes, giving him a better view of your face.

"There. All done."

A loud laugh resonated throughout the room. On Gavi's forearm sat a small angry face with bushy eyebrows.

"Is that supposed to be me?"

"Yeah. I think it's pretty accurate."

Trying to pull you in, he reached for your arm and you pulled away in a hurry.

"Pablo my hands are still wet!! No touching!"

"Are your feet still wet, too?" You nodded, afraid of why he wanted this piece of information. He moved closer to you on the couch, clean arm wrapping around you, his head resting on your shoulder.

"That means you can't run away from me." He smiled, and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Cheeks heating up, you snuggled into his chest, hiding your embarrassment at the affection. You two stayed like this for a while, just watching TV and enjoying the shared body heat. Once your hands had dried, you went to peel off the top layer, revealing the stained pattern beneath it. After some lotion, you returned to Gavi, peeling off his design as well, the two of you once again in fits of laughter at the angry face on his arm. You settled back into him, and he looked down at you.

"Can I hold your hand now? Or are you off-limits until the end of Ramadan?"

You interlocked your hand with his, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles. Bringing your entwined hands up to his face, he admired your hard work.

"It looks gorgeous, mi amor. You did so well." He kissed the back of your hand, straight over the delicate patterns.

"Want to see something cool?" You asked. "Look in the center there. See if you can read anything."

He brought your hands up once again, refusing to release you from his grip for even a second. He looked through the swirls, until the found a dainty "PG6" hidden in the design. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest, and nuzzling against your neck.

"I can't believe you're all mine."

A/N - I literally was writing this as my henna was drying and then I tried to open a Barbican with wet henna and I stopped for a minute and was like wow this is the most Arab experience I'll ever have. Anyways, short and sweet, hope y'all enjoy.

[rattys-prinxiety-countdown]

HE'S FINALLY DONE! This would have been posted hours ago but the day got away from me and I needed to catch up. Presenting the one, the only, Intruality fusion Cox! (Thank you to @frogsandsquids for the name recommendation, I hope you like it!)

Intruality is admittedly not a ship I know a lot about, or initially one I liked very much. At the start of creating this fusion, I had no idea how to mesh a character I adore (Remus) with one I don't really care for (Patton). I gave it my all to figure out what worked, and what didnt 😩. I started with trying to do a something that leaned into a creepy/cute aesthetic (Sort of like Melanie Martinez if you know her vibe??) but then my friends thought I should try to lean more into a "Sexy Dad" aesthetic, so it got scrapped, and I restarted. Two more times. (HUGE thanks to my friend Miles, who let me bounce ideas off them for hours before I settled on what became the final product.)

Beyond the designing nightmare, this took way longer than it should have (9 hours) but I have a good excuse. I was testing new skills and trying new things during this process. This was the first time I tried giving my art a thicker outline to make it pop. Also, this was the first time I made a piece where I had to add "layers of clothing" to the base layer. Click more to see what I mean

BOOM! Hes a jester!

This is Cox (He/They). This fusion has a love for jokes, pranks, and above all, baking (who cares if only 10 percent of the time the recipe goes according to plan, we're measuring with our HEARTS, and NOT with the recipe cards!)

Thanks again to my friend Miles, I got some ideas for how this fusion behaves. One may think the fusion would be a little sexual or even flirtatious, but anything Cox comes up with goes through the Patton-Pending Dad™ filter. He's very affectionate, and unfortunately, can be little overbearing/annoying without realizing it. He constantly deflects with humor, and is a little self deprecating, but they're working on it and doing a hell of a job.

Lets talk about the mask. (This gets a little heavy and I do apologize for that)

It was initially going to stay bunny ears until Miles+CO. talked me out of it. The mask is literal. Cox uses it to mask himself, and put out a very bubbly "Patton-like" persona. He choses to keep the "less happy, family friendly" part of himself away from view while Patton and Remus work on it from the inside. They enjoy the quiet time they get while baking, and it gives the Remus inside Cox to experiment with some less than ideal recipes.

There's so much I still want to say I'm just forgetting. I will point out that Miles hasn't even seen Sanders Sides, all the information they got (and by extension, the ideas they passed onto me) were given from the Sanders Sides Wikis 😭 he took the time out of his day to research Sanders Sides lore and I'm so appreciative of it. They also sketched an idea for their own Intruality fusion, but admittedly its got an incredibly angsty, dark theme and I dunno if he's ok with me sharing it.

I'll be working on the analogical fusion next! It will be here soon-ish!

Ps: I went digging for some intruality fusions to gain ANY sort of inspiration for this, and instead found tons and tons of fanart. I came out of this understanding the appeal of the ship a lot more and *dramatic sigh* woe is me,,,, i ship them now 🤭

[thecampmeister]

Had a funny idea so i wrote a rough draft for a scene idea I had in the future "THE TALK" episode.

Not professional formatted cause I did it on my phone on Google docs

Prettt suggestive warning! Gwenvid obviously

The scene opens INT. MESS HALL

DAVID is writing intently on a white board, coming up with the most accurate yet “david” ways to explain the birds and the bees

GWEN appears to be intently “Writing” on the opposite side of the room from him

DAVID: (nervous murmuring)

GWEN: (never looking up) you good?

DAVID: (voice strained) huh? Oh, yeah yeah, I'm just. Uh. Problem solving. (turns to gwen) thank you. For helping me on this, we're gonna need all hands on deck for today ….

(Pause)

So, what are you drawing?

GWEN: (finally looking up) What? how did you-

David is reminiscing now

DAVID: Oh! you were sketching all the time when you still worked here. I recognize the Intent look of putting lines…and connecting them to…other…lines.

(Pause)

Sorry I'm not much of a visual artist

GWEN: (rolls eyes)

they stand (and sit) in silence

DAVID: (leading on) (to gwen) sooo?...

GWEN: (nervous) oh! Um. Right. It's uh.

The shot reveals GWEN'S point of view. An innocent, well shaded, and accurate drawing of DAVID

GWEN looks up

GWEN: porn.

DAVID is bewildered, which quickly leads to confusion

DAVID: Oh! Um. What? I. Uh. OK.

GWEN nervously laughs, and lies

GWEN: oh yeah! (Laugh) it's some uh. Hard-core, nasty stuff, you wouldn't wanna see it

The shot on gwen WIDENS to reveal CJ behind her. He evidently, just came in.

His sudden appearance greatly startles GWEN.

GWEN: Fucking christ!

CJ: Sorry I'm late for the “Giving the talk, talk.” [was] Gathering the kids for this morning. (Shaking head) they do not like mondays. (To himself, laughing) little Garfields

(Pause)

CJ, almost loudly, points to GWEN’s notepad. Much to her dismay.

CJ: Hey! Nice drawings!

GWEN is very nervous, and angry right now

CJ CONT’d: you really captured David's petite form.

Things have gotten Disgustingly awkward

CJ: I especially like the incredibly graphic detail and shading. Didn't miss a single body part.

Uncomfortable looks all around. Except for CJ

CJ: Little lady. You are going places.

CJ walks over to DAVID's Side.

CJ: OK so what’s the plan

GWEN and DAVID share awkward glances In total silence.

END

Lolololol

[violettduchess]

Heya Violet! I'm going to request an ikevamp fic for the first time, so how about either of the Day 4 prompts for Leonardo? I'm excited to see what you come up with 👍

A/N: Hi @scorchieart 💜 Thank you for your request! This is for the Different Universe Same Love CCC hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

This combines scorchie's request with an anon request for Soulmates AU with Leonardo 💜

Leonardo x f reader

WC: 5254

"There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." -Vincent Van Gogh 

“I hate this,” you grumble as you check your phone for the hundredth time. Where the hell is this place? It feels like it's been hours of California coastline rolling past your window. Beautiful, yes. But also so inconvenient. You lean forward towards the front of the town car.

“Abel, how much longer?”

Your driver glances at you in the rear-view mirror, smiling good-naturedly. 

“Another 15 minutes, chérie.”

You flop back into the cushioned leather, sighing. If you had known this would be a part of it, you would not have taken the role. 

Maybe. 

Ok, fine. You probably would have taken it anyway. 

The story of a woman who breaks all tradition to become a famous 19th century painter? You can practically hear Theo’s words in your ear all over again: “You want to be stuck in rom-coms forever or do you want to be taken seriously? Make art that matters?” The Dutchman is a tough agent, too direct for most actors’ fragile egos to handle but that’s why you like him. He is always honest with you.

Outside the town car window, the ocean continues to roll by, a blur of slate-gray and white. Picking up your phone for the hundredth time, you type in the name of the artist you’re on your way to see. 

Just like every time you’ve done it before, all you get is his Instagram page which is entirely too sparse and full of only half-finished paintings, close ups of brushes, a few small, charcoal sketches. Nothing about the man himself. 

You swipe Instagram away and tap on Spotify, closing your eyes and allowing a podcast about the Golden Age of Hollywood to help pass the remaining time.

“Love the vibe,” you murmur as you step out of the Mercedes, pushing up your tortoise-shell sunglasses in order to better take in the picturesque brown and white wooden house. It really does seem like something out of a Kinkade painting. It's perched on the edge of a plateau, facing a slope of green hillside that disappears into a smattering of gray rock. The rocks give way to a stretch of dark brown sand which leads you right to the blue-gray beauty of the Pacific Ocean. It's here the warm vibes end though. This beach is nothing like the sandy beaches of Southern California. This is something wilder, something sharper. There is no manicured, processed beach feeling here. This is nature allowing you into her world, the crashing of the waves onto the shore not an invitation but a reminder. You’re here with her permission.

Abel comes around, carrying your luggage and pauses, taking in the house. “It’s lovely,” he murmurs. 

You shoot him a Look. “It’s miles from just about anything. I hope Vlad knows what he’s doing.”

Vlad is the director of the film you are going to star in. The one who said you needed to spend some time with a real-life artist in order to understand the lifestyle, the thought process, the way of viewing the world. And he knew just the person. A friend of a friend, an artist of some small renown, who made money on the side by working as a consultant for various productions. He had invited you to stay with him for a few days, to teach you basic painting and drawing techniques so it would look realistic on film, and to answer any questions you had. Vlad vouched for him, claiming he was a good man, one he would trust his star with. 

You turn to Abel. “Only leave if I give you the sign.”

He smiles indulgently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be fine. But I will wait until I see it.”

Steeling yourself, you gather your bags and make your way down the short driveway and up the dark wooden steps. There’s no doorbell so you knock loudly.

You aren’t sure what you expected. A man named Leonardo made you think he would be older with flowing white locks and a long wizard-like beard. What you did not expect was the door to be opened by a golden-eyed Adonis with ombre hair and one of the friendliest, most open smiles you’ve ever seen. 

“Benvenuta, cara mia. Welcome.”

That voice. Your heart is doing tiny backflips inside your chest as a horde of butterflies excitedly flutter their wings inside your stomach. It takes you a moment before you figure out the way words work again.

“Thank you.”

Behind your back, you wiggle two fingers at Abel furiously. 

The driver covers his grin with the back of his hand, nodding once to Leonardo in greeting before sliding back into the vehicle. He watches through the car window as Leo takes your bags and you follow him inside, the white wooden door closing behind you.

“Good luck, chérie,” he chuckles softly. Somehow, he is certain you will be just fine.

You are utterly charmed. The main house is small, and the guest house just behind it even smaller, but they are both unique, beautiful in their own ways. Everything is simple, clean. Wide windows keep the ocean in view at all times. In every room there is something to look at. A miniature painting of sunset over the water on the living room table. An antique nautical map hanging on the wall of the dining room. An oversized forest green couch that looks like it's just waiting for you to snuggle into it.

Leonardo has just brought your bags to the guest house, a one room structure with a brass bed, rustic homemade dresser, a small desk and a tiny en-suite bathroom.

“I know you are probably used to more luxurious accommodations.”

“No, this is lovely. Really.” You glance down at your phone, considering whether to post a picture to your socials and hear him laugh softly at the expression on your face. The sound settles itself into your bones, warm and welcoming.

“Reception is a bit shoddy out here. You have the best chance when you go to the living room.”

Tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, you flash him a smile. “Thanks for the tip.”

He holds your gaze a moment and you feel like sand, being pulled towards an irresistible ocean. 

“You must be starving. Let’s eat before I show you my studio.”

With a pleasantly full stomach and a glass of red wine in hand, you step inside the studio and gasp. Gone are the clean lines, the simplistic beauty of the rest of the house. Here is a world of color and chaos, paint and pandemonium, art and anarchy. Canvases are everywhere, paint pots and brushes, charcoal and sketchbooks. And while it may look like mayhem, there is a truth about it that stirs something inside you. This is the man behind the easy-going smile. This is his heart and soul made tangible, made material. 

He notices the way you’re looking around, sees the look in your bright eyes and he knows that you see it, the love he has for his craft. You're not some Hollywood actress looking down her nose at a mess. You're one artist taking in another artist’s medium and appreciating it. His heart unexpectedly shifts, sliding closer to some unseen edge. 

“This is…incredible.” You walk slowly through the space, stopping in front of whatever catches your eye. A half-finished sketch of a whale breaching the surface of the water. An anatomically correct drawing of the underside of a starfish. A canvas of yellows and oranges and reds, a practice in blending.

“How come I’ve never seen you post a finished painting on your social media?” You stop when you come to a whole row of them, leaning casually against the back wall of his studio. Crouching down, you inspect a painting of a man from behind, his arms spread out wide towards a turbulent, white-capped ocean, daring it maybe. Or welcoming it.

He shrugs, running his hand through his hair, a tick you’ll come to recognize as something he does when he is uncomfortable.

“I sell a few here and there. Not enough to earn a living but that’s what jobs like this are for, yeah?”

You rise slowly back to full height, taking a sip of the rich wine.

“Have you ever showcased your work?”

He scoffs as he lifts a paint-stained rag from one corner of his supply table and toys with it before tossing it right back.

“To what end? I paint for me. That is enough.”

That sounds like someone who is too scared to try. But you keep the words locked in your mind, aware enough to know that might be reaching a bit too deeply into his psyche for comfort.

“So….when do we begin?”

He smiles slowly and it burns through your body, warming you more than the alcohol.

“Tomorrow. Sunrise.”

All those hours you could still be sleeping. Instead of being warm and snug in your very cozy guesthouse, you are shivering on a beach, sitting on a blanket next to Leonardo as he flips open the sketchbook in front of you. He’s in an oversized brown knit sweater and jeans, looking like a model for some outdoor clothing company whereas you, trying to pull your fitted sweater down over your exposed lower back, look like some Hollywood wanna-be who wasn’t prepared for the cold California morning.

He places several small gray pebbles in front of you on the blanket.

“Sketch these.”

You tilt your head. “They’re rocks.”

“There is challenge in even the simplest of forms. Please try.”

You’re skeptical as you yank down once more on your sweater, sitting cross-legged and staring down at the pebbles. It can’t be that hard. Picking up the pencil, you begin trying to capture their form. 

It proves to be much harder than it looks. 

Your brow furrows as you look from your sketch, which is doing a fantastic job of being horrible, to the smooth stones in front of you.

“You must relax,” he murmurs as he scoots closer. “You’re gripping that poor pencil like you wish to strangle it.” He reaches over, covering your hand with his. You’re immediately hit with the faint smell of tobacco. Does he smoke? And something else….something earthy and rich and entirely too appealing for this early in the morning. His fingers, graceful and strong, carefully manipulate yours, sliding over your skin and leaving small ripples of heat in their wake. He touches your wrist, over the place where your heart is beating so quickly, tilting it just so. 

He holds you there, moving your hand like a puppeteer might the wooden cross of marionette. You watch as the pebbles slowly come to life, flowing from the tip of your pencil.

“Let go,” his voice, gentle as the morning breeze, deep as the sea, whispers in your ear. “You must let go and allow the pencil to do its job.”

Slowly he removes his hand and the sudden lack of contact spurs a tiny whimper from your throat. Luckily, he mistakes it for dismay at his lack of coaching and chuckles.

“You continue on your own, cara mia.”

You’ve been called many things: The Girl Next Door, America’s Sweetheart but somehow, that nickname rolling so casually off his tongue suddenly means more than any of that. You’re smiling despite the cold, despite the wind, despite your stupid, impractical sweater.

Inhaling, you try again, the pencil less a tool in your hand as an extension of it. And while your pebbles don’t look amazing, they do look much closer to what you are trying to accomplish. 

“Well done,” he says, looking over your shoulder. “You're a quick learner.”

You smile at him, his words washing over you, warm as sunshine.

“Can I try something else? Maybe try the sand and the ocean?”

He nods, reaching for the hem of his sweater. The next thing you know he’s removed it and wrapped it around your shoulders, leaving you surrounded by soft wool that smells like Leonardo. Your heart stumbles.

“Si. Let’s try.”

My life has never been this disconnected from work and yet, so full, you think as you wrap the beige blanket tighter around your body, watching Leonardo paint. You’re sitting outside on the large porch, the breathtaking view of the sand dunes, the boulders, the sand and the endless sea stretched out before you like a slice of paradise.

You’ve been here almost a week and the world has changed. The bright lights of Hollywood seem so far away. Now you’re concerned with daylight and sunrises, the way light falls across an object or a person, how to capture its essence with charcoal and acrylics, watercolor and wax. You haven't even touched your phone other than to reassure Theo you are fine, doing well and learning a lot, soaking in the experience of being an artist so that you can find it again when the cameras are on you. You’ve abandoned your socials, only leaving a message saying something about the life of an actor and secret prep work that you can’t talk about. It’s technically not a lie.

You watch as Leonardo dips his brush into a red that looks far too bright and finds a way to make it exactly the right shade of sunset, adding an element to his painted sky that you didn’t even know was missing until he put it there. He’s relaxed, his body loose, movements like flowing water as he almost lovingly drags the brush along the canvas. He showed you how, a few mornings ago. You’ve been haunted ever since by the feel of his larger body behind you, the way he reached around, gently taking hold of your wrist, and showed you how to hold yourself, teaching your body the dance of a painter. He is patient, always answering any question of yours the best he can. And so intelligent. The other night you curled up on his overstuffed green couch to look through several of his notebooks, filled with sketches and half-finished designs for contraptions that looked more sci-fi than present day. One entire page was devoted entirely to drawing various animal wings. The next was an excruciatingly detailed drawing of his own hand.

He talks about art the way you talk about acting: a way to conduct emotion, to spark a connection between people. You feel like he understands when you explain how acting is a form of devotion to humanity, an expression of love. Most people roll their eyes when an actor begins talking about their craft. His smile tells you all you need to know about how well he truly does understand. 

He shakes you from your reverie when he joins you on the bench, wiping his hands on a towel and reaching for his glass of wine.

“And? What do you think?”

You tilt your head, pretending to study the easel with its beautiful interpretation of the actual sunset that is happening behind it. He has not replicated it exactly, but captured the symphony of colors, the dramatic brass of the oranges and romantic woodwinds of the pinks, the clouds with their warmly colored underbellies and of course, the ever present sea, gilded in gold.

“It’s beautiful, Leo.” 

“You like it, which means I’m pleased.” He takes another sip. “Consider it a gift, yeah?. It is, after all, our last weekend together.”

Those words carve themself into the moment, slicing away the peace you’ve been feeling. Dismay bleeds from your heart. You were going to have to face it, the fact that your time with him, magical as it has been, is coming to an end. But you had hoped, irrationally, that maybe if no one said it, you could just stay here, in this beautiful house with this beautiful man as long as you wanted.

Your face, the tool of your trade that you can usually control so well, betrays your thoughts.

“Cara mia.” He reaches out, his fingers curling inwards for a moment, hesitant. The man who never has a problem touching you when correcting your hand or positioning your arm now needs a moment of courage. Because this isn’t a teaching moment. Maybe none of them ever really were. He only knows that from the second he opened the front door and you were there, with your smile like sunshine and eyes bright with intelligence and excitement, he felt drawn to you like he's never been toward anyone before.

You turn your face into his touch, reaching up to cup your hand over his. You press a kiss into his palm. The lull of the waves is drowned out by the roaring of your heartbeat. And then he leans towards you, taking your face in his beautiful hands, and he kisses you. 

Your heart cracks open and oceans of desire and want and something else, something nameless underneath those wild waves of emotion flood you. He feels so good. This feels so right.

You kiss with the exhilaration of new lovers, wildly and without a care for anything else in the world. The sunset and her majestic colors be damned. There is nothing as beautiful as the wildfire of gold in his eyes, the melody of his breathing. You’re on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressed as closely as you can be and it isn’t enough. He slides his hands under your blouse, pressing the palms of his hands to your bare back. It isn’t enough.

You manage to tear your mouth away from him long enough to get out one word: “Inside.”

He stands up and you wrap your legs around him, his strong arms supporting your weight as he carries you inside the wooden house on the plateau, impatiently stealing every kiss he can before laying you down on the oversized green couch, covering your body with his. He softly growls your name in a way that sends fire cascading through your veins.

The sky outside darkens as the last rays of sunset disappear. Her show is over. You both belong now to the night.

Heart, say good-bye because you are no longer mine. You lay on your side, facing the open window of Leonardo’s bedroom. The ocean breeze, cool with night’s kiss, waves the pale curtains and skims over your skin, raising goosebumps along your bare arm and shoulder. 

You close your eyes, reveling in the heavy feeling of your body, tempest-tossed and satisfied, peppered with the light marks of your lovemaking. You're a goner. You’ve fallen overboard, heading further and further down into the churning depths of your feelings for Leonardo. And you’re not sinking. Not at all. You’re kicking your legs and diving, excited to explore the deep and all its mysteries.

He stirs in his sleep and you roll back to face him, watching as he slowly surfaces from whatever dream he was lost in. His warm eyes, framed by such dark lashes, flutter open. When he sees you, laying on your side, facing him, he smiles slowly and reaches out a hand.

“Come here, cara mia.”

The thought of resisting doesn’t even cross your mind. You slide over into his arms, marveling at the feel of his body against yours, strong muscles, long legs. He presses a kiss to your temple, then nuzzles your neck affectionately.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You smile, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. Now may not be the right time to tell him everything you’re thinking. You don’t want to scare him away.

“No thoughts. Just....” You slide your hand over his chest, over the lean muscles of his abdomen, and then lower. His golden eyes flare bright with immediate hunger. His lips part as he exhales.

With a groan he pulls you to him and you close your eyes, letting his greedy mouth and wandering hands take you away.

This is only the beginning after all. You have plenty of time to figure out what's next. 

A Year Later

“Now that’s just one review! The rest are all like it!”

You listen to Theo’s exuberant voice as he names all the various publications that are writing rave reviews about the film. Funny, everything you thought you ever wanted is coming true. You made a movie that is earning positive reviews across the board, with your performance hailed as a stand out, a tour de force unlike anything you’ve ever done. There’s already talk about awards and other dramatic parts and are you interested in endorsements?

And yet, you’re miserable.

Leaning back into the plush seat of the town car, you stop Theo’s voice message and tap on Instagram and, like a lemming drawn to a cliff, go to his page.

All comments are turned off and there is only one picture posted: a short message thanking people for their interest but he is on hiatus.

The post is six months old.

How did it all go so wrong? You had been so happy.

Your eyes fall closed and memories play themselves out in front of you, like a flickering movie reel from yesteryear.

You and Leonardo on his porch, cuddled together under a blanket as you watch the sunrise. He can’t stop touching you and you him.

Driving with him back to Southern California, his eyes widening when you pull into the driveway of your home, modest by Hollywood standards, a palace compared to his small wooden dwelling.

Your pool. Cold water. Hot mouths. His hand pressed against your lips, stifling your sounds even as he continues moving.

The paparazzi finding you after a few days of blissful privacy, snapping a shot of you two leaving Starbucks, his hand casually resting on your hip, thumb stroking the stripe of bare skin between your jeans and the hem of your shirt.

Your names splashed across gossip sites and social media. He gains thousands of followers in a matter of hours, people hoping he’ll post an image of the two of you together. An older picture of him from several years ago at an art gallery opening in SoHo is all they have and it is everywhere. And it is not enough. They want more.

They follow you home. They follow you to work. They follow you when you go out to eat. They follow you to appointments, to meetings, across town and back. They yell your name, they ask about him. They are relentless.

And then they start to follow him. To your home. To the restaurant where you’re meeting. To his home. They wait by the wooden house on the plateau, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and him. They yell your name, they ask about rumors, they demand to know when the wedding is.

They swarm you both like locusts blocking out the sun, sucking up all your air.

And then his paintings begin to sell. Never has there been such a demand. He can’t keep up. And he isn’t happy.

Because he says he did nothing to deserve it aside from being with you. No one cared before. He has not earned this success. It’s the side-effect of loving you. Side-effect, you repeat one night, staring at him across your marble kitchen island, that makes it sound like loving me is some kind of disease.

He cures himself by leaving. You wake up one morning and all his things are gone. He is a ghost who has vanished back into the nether of sea-spray and morning fog from whence he came.

All he leaves you with is a note, the paper torn from one of his notepads, in his messy, slanted writing: “I’m sorry.”

A note, and all the splinters of your broken heart.

And now you’re almost at your destination. The tiny bed-and-breakfast tucked away in a remote corner of the California coast. Your refuge from the rest of the world. The place you come to heal.

You’ve been here a few times since he left. The owners, Wolf and Jean, are like family. They took care of you before you became successful, when you were a starving artist looking for your big break, and have continued to do so even now, when you could easily stay at any five-star hotel across the globe but always come back here, to warmth and comfort.

The first time you came here after he left, they filled your room with macaroons, your favorite dessert. They must have heard the news from some entertainment program or maybe some celebrity news ticker. You could have killed the Starbucks barista who spoke to the press, saying how you suddenly were coming alone to pick up your coffee and how pale you were, your eyes red from crying.

Another time they subtly laid a newspaper on your bed. At first you weren’t sure why but then you saw the tiny article about Leonardo having a small but successful showing in Denmark, worlds away from the bright lights of Hollywood. Like a 1950’s schoolgirl, you had cut out the small black and white picture of him and folded it, hiding it in your wallet. Doing so felt both pathetic and comforting at the same time.

Another winding road, dipping between tree and rocky coast and then one final turn. The familiar blue and white building comes into sight and you can feel yourself breathing easier already.  The car slows to a stop and a moment later, Abel opens the door for you.

“We’re here, chérie.” His champagne-colored eyes have a twinkle to them which leaves you wondering if he knows something you don't.

Forever ago, this place used to scare you with its pointed roof and close proximity to the edge of a very steep cliff. But it’s become your home away from home and you’re soothed by the sight of it.

“I’ll just get my—” Your weekend bag is already on the ground next to you and the town car is halfway down the drive. You frown slightly before hoisting up your bag. Well, he was sure in a hurry.

You bound up the familiar steps, opening the friendly blue door and step into the foyer.

“Jean? Wolf?”

Odd, they would normally be here to meet you, food and drink in hand.

You glance around, taking out your phone to make sure that you had sent them the correct date and time when you spot something hanging on the wall. Your fingers go numb and your phone falls, landing with a harmless thud on the thick carpeting.

Hanging on the wall is a new painting. It’s a woman, sitting on a beach at sunrise, wrapped up in an oversized, cozy brown sweater. Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, a serene expression on her face. It’s soft and romantic. Not a brushstroke wasted nor a color excessive. 

The sea is a deep gray-blue. 

The sky is a garden of pinks and lavenders and orange. 

The woman is you.

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

How....

“Cara mia.”

Like an apparition he is suddenly standing there, in the doorway. Not some memory or picture or dream, but Leonardo, flesh and blood, right there in the same room as you. The sight of him hits you like the full force of a typhoon, draining all the color from your face and sending you back a step.

As you recover from your shock, you notice now how nervous he is. His hands, normally so strong and steady, whether creating art or touching you, are shaking. He has dark circles under his golden eyes, shadows of what has been haunting him.

“Leonardo.” His name is twisted upon itself, hollow and aching when it passes your lips. 

“May I speak? I have something to say to you. Please."

You nod, your breath held prisoner in your lungs, your wounded heart limps in circles in your chest, aching at the sight of him.

He draws a deep breath.

“I was a fool. I pushed you away because I was afraid. Your world is so much bigger than mine and instead of joining you, proud to be by your side, learning how to navigate new waters, I ran.” He pushes a hand through his hair, an inhale needed to steady his nerves. “That was wrong. I hurt you. I’m so sorry, cara mia. So deeply sorry for how stupid I was. I…I regretted it immediately but it was too late...Dio, sono un idiota.” 

He shakes his head, defeated. The failure of words in the face of what he did is stark and he finds himself unable to go on. Nothing can begin to explain the festering regret he's lived with from the moment he walked out your door. He isn't good enough with words to explain how the minute he was heading away from you all he wanted to do was to turn back. How without you the world was drained of its vivacity, its color. He trapped himself in a gray existence of his own making and now his escape lies solely in your hands.

You breathe in and out, taking a moment before you respond.

"You did hurt me. Badly. But…." You take a second, searching for the right words. "I could have helped prepare you for what it means to be with someone like me. It was so much to ask of you to just be ok with your life suddenly being turned upside down. For that, I'm sorry."

Silence grows between you, thick as brambles and just as thorny.  Neither of you can meet the other's gaze. It hurts, every second that ticks by without a word. Neither of you knows what to say, neither wants to leave. It is Leonardo who finally clears his throat, a throat where so many words are bottlenecking in their fury to get out.

"I'll leave you in peace then." 

The words are clipped, his accent thick as emotion chokes him. The final, tenuous connection between you is close to crumbling. He's about to turn away when one word shoots straight from your heart like a rocket.

"Wait!!"

He freezes, his sunrise gaze locking with yours. Dare he have hope…..

The minute you start towards him he rushes to meet you.

And then you're in his arms and your cheeks are wet and he's holding you so tightly your ribs feel crushed but it doesn't matter because he's turning and turning, the world is spinning, your heart is rising light as a feather, and then your feet touch the ground again and he's showering your face with kisses, painting you in his love, holding the back of your head, whispering your name breathlessly over and over and over, a song, a declaration, a prayer.

You hold on to his neck, your laughter as bright as sunlight across the waves, returning his kisses with ones of your own, all over his beautiful face, kisses pulsing with hope, with desire, with promise.

He leans back, lowering his mouth to your ear and whispers. His words engrave themselves onto your heart and you pull away to answer him the only way you can answer something like that: with a kiss deep as the sea, tender as the night.

You've found each other again. And you'll never again be parted.

(What did he whisper? This fic is acrostic so check out the first bold word of every section) 💜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

[rendy-a]

I’d like to request Jade, forest, romantic 

I love your writing, I'm so glad I found your blog. I hope you're having a great day!

Thank you for the kind words!  I have only been writing for a few months and had worried my blog wouldn’t gain any traction.  So, to hear from people who are finding it and enjoying it is so wonderful.  My readers really make my day! So, thank you all!

You are cute as a button, Valentine.

You stared at the Valentine card, feeling a bit confused.  Jade watches you closely, observing your reaction with an interested smile.  “Is there a problem, Prefect?”  You jump slightly and look up.  “Oh, no.  I was just wondering why you drew mushrooms on the card.  It doesn’t match the poem at all.”  Jade puts one gloved hand to his chin, “Why, what do you mean?  These are clearly button mushrooms.  What a shame, Prefect, how will you pass your botany test without being able to identify the local flora?”

You feel a grimace set onto your lips.  You worriedly ask, “Do you think this will be on the test?”  Jade chuckles, “I do believe that was within the scope given to us, Prefect.  Do you find yourself unprepared for this?  Perhaps I can assist such a poor unfortunate soul and remedy this situation.”  Your grimace deepens.  At first, your intimidating classmate had made you rather apprehensive.  Over time, you’d gotten to know him better and recognize that he is, in fact, rather benevolent.  Only not for free.

“Ok, I give in.  What is this help going to cost me?” you ask him with a rueful smile.  “Why Prefect, you wound me to suggest,” Jade begins before you cut him off.  “I know, I know.  You are the soul of charity.  But if I was so moved by your compassion as to want to do something for you in return, what would that be?” you ask waving aside his crocodile tears.  Jade chuckles at how well you’ve managed to cut through his act and get to the point.  “Well I was planning to take a hike later this afternoon.  Alas, the Mountain Lovers Club has but one member.  How lonely it is hiking always by myself.”  At this, he puts his hand to his chin and lets his sharp-toothed grin show.

“Alright,” you begin, “It’s not like I was planning any romantic Valentine’s Day activities.  I’ll change into something suitable for hiking and meet you on Main Street after classes.”  You hadn’t intended to spend the day with Jade but honestly, it wasn’t sounding half-bad.  Nothing was worse than spending Valentine’s Day alone, so spending it on a fun activity with a friend had its own appeal.  Plus, there was something just so interesting about Jade; he was so knowledgeable about everything and, more importantly, he was never boring.

The climb was tiring but worth the effort.  Jade was an excellent guide, showing you various plants to sketch for your notes and telling you facts and details about them.  You felt like you were in good hands with him by your side, both on the trail and as a tutor.  As the elevation rose, the views became more and more breathtaking.  You were often stopped by the sight of the nearby town and forest as seen from high above.  Jade never hassled you to move faster but instead appears to enjoy watching you take in the sights; as though he gets more enjoyment from your awe than the scenery itself. 

You reach a bend in the trail and see that above you the greenery is thinning out.  After this point, there are probably no more forests and plants.  Jade sees you pause and asks, “Would you like to see some more interesting specimens instead of moving on?”  You smile back at him, pleased that he was able to read you so well.  Jade leads you off the trail and into the forest until you came upon an old decaying log, in the shadow of which a colony of mushrooms had grown.  You gasp and rush forward, “Look Jade, button mushrooms!”  You climb on the log and do a little pose, “What do you think, am I still cute as a button?”  You laugh at your own joke while Jade looks on amused at your lively antics.

Only, the rotten log wasn’t meant to hold the weight of human anymore.  As you stand happily upon your stage, a sudden Crack! sounds.  In a split second, your merry joy becomes a frantic flailing; your arms windmilling as you fall.  Jade moves suddenly, with all the speed of a striking eel and manages to catch you before you land on the ground and hurt yourself.  You cling to his chest as you pant, the adrenaline making your heart pound.

As you catch your breath, you gaze down and notice and unfortunate sight.  “Jade, the mushrooms…”  In the rush to catch you, Jade had trampled over the mushrooms he so loved.  “I’m so sorry.  If only I hadn’t been so reckless.”  Jade turns to you sharply and asks roughly, “Do you really think I don’t care for you more than some mushrooms?” 

When you had climbed the trail, you had felt a sense of altered perspective when seeing the familiar town from above.  What before had been glimpsed before only a piece at a time was made suddenly whole as it was laid out before your eyes.  You felt that same sense of perspective now, looking at Jade.  He had made no moves to resume his gentlemanly mask, instead leaving his expression unguarded, as you’ve never seen him before.  Suddenly, the paths and trails of his love were no longer glimpsed though small gestures but laid out before your eyes as clear as a map to his heart. 

“Jade.”  You speak his name softly, feeling as though you are saying it for the first time.  “I never knew.  How did I miss it?  All this time we could have been together, wasted.”  Jade carefully sets your feet back on the ground, “It was never wasted when we were together.  You must know that.”  You gaze into his eyes, “So where do we go from here?”  He smiles at you gently, “Well, you never did answer me about being my Valentine.”  You smile a beaming grin and throw your arms around his neck, “Jade Leech, will you be my Valentine?”  He never did reply but, from the way his lips captured yours, you assumed the answer was yes.

[nanistar]

do you have any tips on story writing / comic making? ive got something all plotted out but i just dont know where to start with executing it

hmmm this one is tough because i have a long history of starting and giving up on comics, even if i have a full script written out. i'm personally really bad at the whole planning-stuff-out thing. i tend to work in short bursts and write stuff maybe two or three scenes in advance.

i think my best advice would be: if you have something planned out, and you're excited to start working on it, just start working on it.

don't wait to find the perfect beginning, because in my experience, you'll eventually lose confidence or motivation if you wait too long. the worst thing that will happen is you might come up with a cooler idea later, but the good thing about webcomics is you can always start over, especially if it's early on. my "main" comic- something ive been working on since 2014- i have started and stopped about 6 times, and i have changed the plot/settings completely about as many times. i even wrote it out as a 100+ page novel for a creative writing class in high school. i actually started SBC with the intention of doing a short 1-2 year comic to kinda "warm up"

share some of your process online and with friends for feedback as you go with pre-planning. when i was building up the mojave clan concept, briskwater was intended to be the main character, with vulturepaw, a sunclan cat, having an unrelated but major side story but when i shared my first character sketches with my friend server, they all went bonkers over Saltburn so i changed my plan to focus on her. you don't have to share everything, but just having people initially interested in your story is a HUUUGE motivation boost. if you're having troubles scripting a start, don't script. think about openings to shows/series that you like and just start sketching stuff. i really like the foreboding prose-like openings of Fellowship of the ring and Avatar the last airbender, that tells you everything you need to know about the world itself, and mayhaps foreshadows a bit, but is still opened-ended enough that it can go anywhere. you can also start in media res; AKA start where the action all ready happened/is happening, and do a "teaser" of sorts, and then go back, sometimes called a Cold Open (tho that one is used mainly in TV, and some argue it's different but they're both functionally the same thing). think about how procedural investigation shows will often show you an obscured view of how the episode's victim gets murdered/kidnapped/whatever, and then it launches into the shows opening credits.

also finally, and i mean this so, so genuinely, it does not have to be perfect, and it wont be. you are going to be drawing SO many characters so many times, so many BGs ect, things are going to slip through the cracks that that's OK. you can take shortcuts, you can be lazy, you can have continuity errors. also give characters in the BG funny stupid faces instead of worrying about details because its fun to do

sooo yah. that's all i got TLDR: look at intros to media you like, and steal their style. don't worry about getting it perfect. if you have even a slim idea of what you want, just go for it and it will come to you. if you don't know what you want.... also just go for it.

also. my style of writing/comics works for me, but it might not work for you so take any advice i give with a grain of salt. ask other comic folk, like @razmerry and uh. ive been sitting here for 15 minutes but i literally forgot every other comic person ever. so sorry. but anyone who knows things feel free to add on.

[yorshie]

Hey so like did you happen to drop a tutorial for how you draw the turtles and I somehow missed it???? Cuz.... if not.... and you're willing........ please *gets down all fours* just the tip please drop some tips-

Hello Nonnie 👋! I uh.... I can't really do a video of how my process goes from start to finish (I don't know how to link it without my irl name popping up), but I can talk about the tools i use and how I problem solve. I’m afraid my tips aren’t especially good because I’m flying by the seat of my pants and how I learned was to just —> do the thing and watch others.

Ok. So, I'm sure by now you've skipped to the image below, and you've probably hurt either your eyes or your brain with the amount of shit there. I'm sorry. Yes, there is a butt. We all got em. (if for some reason you find yourself buttless, i am sorry.) But I'm not hiding the butt, because well. It's just a butt *shrug*

Alrighty Now I'll break down what that God Awful image above is. Starting in the Top Middle with Raph, that's me trying to draw with a perspective rectangle. To the right of that, we got arms and hands. Right below that, we got the basic shapes I use for a male torso (bigger) and a female torso (smaller) Below that, the infamous buttocks and hips. Basically a front and back shot of how that fits together. Then to the left of that we have the base sketch and final lines of my last Leo drawing. Right above that is a side view on how I'm trying to decide on how the shell works, and then little headshots of how I handle each turtle's face. Donnie is who I struggle most with, he has such a soft cute face but it's hidden under all his tech. In the middle you can see a sketch I did of Donnie in a hoodie, since I'm determined to put them all in clothes. Eventually.

[Dusts off glasses, squints, clicks projector button to move to next slide] Okedokie, I guess we start with anatomy, and understanding it. If you wanna draw anything, ya gotta know anatomy. Your "style" comes secondary to anatomy. If your anatomy is wack, no amount of dusting will fix it. And the more you draw/better you get at anatomy, the more "cheat" codes you unlock. So first thing you gotta do is draw ALOT and always be thinking about anatomy. It can be something as simple as looking at how people stand on the train, how they walk, big shapes and how they connect together. Or it can be detailed as what muscles connect and how they interact with each other to make the body move. You can also look at how other people handle anatomy, what they emphasize and what they put aside. I, for example, look at a lot of Frank Franzetta, Jeff Watts, and Patrick J. Jones. When in doubt however, break things down to the most simplest shapes and build from there.

Life long journey with anatomy aside, the thing I ended up focusing on when I draw the turtles is how I want them to appear. I deviate a lot from the way they are depicted in the films, and I think that's the most important part. Find a way to make them your own, in a way that's second nature to you, whether or not you take influence from others. For me, I wanted to soften them a little more, and get rid of that friggin flying saucer of a shell, even though I haven’t completely decided how I want to depict the carapace. There's a balance between making them recognizable and putting your own twist on it. You may not care about that though. I would just say find what works for you, and run with it.

You can also see that I am not neat At All. I like to feel around for lines and shapes a lot until I’m happy with how things look. I’ve been told my approach is very sculptural and “weighty”, and that works for me. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t care how other people do things, I like how I do things. And I think that’s very important for all artists. I think of things as three dimensional, and for some reason one day bayverse just clicked.

If I had one piece of advice, it would be to start light and don’t get overly committed to your sketches. I use photoshop and I knock the opacity of my brush down a bit while working, but I start with basic shapes and lines. Limbs are sticks and circles on where I think the elbow/knee “might” be, but if when I’m working on muscles or toning I find I’m off a little, I move the “joint” to where it makes sense. A lot of times I draw the head too big, and I have to size it back down, or the arms to short for some reason, and I have to drag the hand down. Idk. Practice makes you better. It’s not always a step forward, but it’s always a step in the right direction as long as you’re thinking while you draw.

If this spawned more questions, feel free to ask them- I don’t mind answering at all, even if it’s expounding on something touched here. Might drop some more of my messy sketch work if there’s interest

[chris-continues]

I have an idea. College au setting of course, but how about going on a butterfly biosphere date with vash, getting to watch all the butterflies land on him and it making him look more beautiful than he already is. Its been swimming in my head so I had to let it out :)

IM SCREAMING IM SCREAMING ANAHSJSBSJSBSKSHSKSHSJSJSJS i was on vc reading this and resisting the urge to like scream and stuff because I love vash anyway osbsjsbsbsbs ok

ALSO no pressure but @macncherries if u were open to doing a sketch of this for college au I think it would be cool :D

Your footsteps falter at the door of the enclosure, Vash stopping alongside you with his hand holding your sleeve.

“Hm?” He sent you a questioning look, “What’s wrong?”

“Woah.. it’s a lot..” you shift your weight, peeking around the biosphere and viewing the butterflies and other people- the clear view giving you a good idea on the sheer amount. Children are guided to not touch them by parents who guide them away, couples admire the sight and families take no-flash photos- as instructed by the staff, of course.

“Do you not wanna go in?” Worry laces itself into his tone as he turns his shoulders to face you more, chest now almost parallel to your side, “We can leave, if you want.”

With a shake of your head, you dismiss the idea. He’d been excited for this, and after a long week he’d thoughtfully planned a trip for the two of you here- Vash was sweet like that, and who were you to ruin your plans? All because you got a little nervous?

His lips purse in concern but nevertheless, you tug him along gently.

Butterflies don’t flock to you two at first, hesitant steps on your end and tense shoulders leaving you a bit stiff as Vash now leads the two of you further in, coaxing you with a gentle hand to your back.

“You didn’t have to-“ he giggles mid sentence, a pair of wings brushing his cheek and alongside his mole. It’s melodious, echoing sweetly. You can’t help but gaze upon him in awe as giggles erupt from your own lips, the butterfly bringing along another companion- then another, and another,

Until the sun peeking through the net over your heads allows their wings to cast a multitude of colorful glows over Vash, love adamant in both your gazes. Cascading hues of multiple colors brush over the two of you, and it’s in such a simple moment you relish in the love (and peace) you two have.

[scarlettjade420]

It's a world where many people have powers. while it may not be the majority, it's certainly not uncommon. about 40% of the population has some kind of ability around the entirety of the world. One would think life to be easier for these individuals, however that's not at all the case for most. These people are viewed as dangerous by the majority of the population. often separated from the rest. however, the government has (kind of) worked on making this separation equal. they may go to a separate school, but it's required to be equally funded or else shut down. they can go to the same food places, but are usually only allowed on on side that may be slower run. you get the idea. However no amount of laws or regulations will stop people with powers or abilities from having a harder life. who don't. especially for those born into a family who does not hove these powers. ~~~~~~~~~ bam! bam! bam! "Onyx! get out here or you'll be late for freak school!" i hear my mom scream from outside the door. unknowingly to her, I'd been up for an hour already. "'freak school?' how childish of an insult..what ever" i mutter to myself. i pull myself up, already haven gotten dressed, and i start to brush my hair and finish getting ready for a day of hell. i mean school. hm..my dark roots are coming in..i need to redye my hair. making my way out to the kitchen, i grab my mug and pour myself a cup of coffee. as i stand in the kitchen for a moment, leaning over the counter, i hear my sibling come in. They jump up to sit on the counter facing towards me. something i would have been metaphorically murdered for doing. They help their sketch book and pencil in their hand, and already i knew what it was they needed. "Onyx, what does a flame look like? Boogle sucks at giving me good reference images!" i chuckle slightly and think a moment, trying to listen for the nearest and loudest sound at the moment. i focus on the sound of the old coffee pot struggling, going 'i think i can i think i can i think i can' to try and make the last cup of coffee for this pot. that of course will be drunk up within minutes. i focus on the sound and begin to bend it to create an image in the air in front of me and my Sibling. as a flickering unstable image dances in front of them, Kai's face grows and smiles. their face soon changes to concentration as they start sketches on their paper, looking at my flickering illusion for reference. "sorry it's not more stable. the howling coffee pot isn't usually the most ideal sound to use" i state as they erase a few lines. "it's ok!" they look around to check who of the family is in earshot. "i still think it's so cool that you're able to do that at all..even with dad's dyeing coffee pot" they say with a little above a wispier, knowing they'd be scolded by our parents if they heard them say that. i smile and nod a thank you, and wait for them to finish their drawing before i wipe away the image from in front of us. Soon i must finish getting ready. i grab my backpack and go down a mental check list to make sure i have everything. books, laptop, pens, pencils, paper, notebooks, chargers, ect. once I've got everything i grab my lanyard with my keys and ID card on it, and grab my phone before making my way out the front door. "don't forget to step in front of a buss on your way back!" i hear from my older brother as i close the door. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ defiantly gonna continue writing this, maybe even get to a full story. but for now, here is this. pt.1?

[hanayori89]

Boundless

*Lake Hylia*

"Link, tell me about the Lakebed Temple." You watched the crackling of the flames as Link kindled them with more firewood. He had managed to turn the most disastrous day into such an unforgettable one. You sat cozily nestled in Lake Hylia Cavern. Link had first taken you to a whimsical looking place known as "Falbi's."

It had drawn your attention when you first entered. But with Aryn at your side, you didn't feel comfortable enough to explore. You couldn't contain your excitement when Link mentioned it being the first stop on your Lake Hylia tour.

It was a kaleidoscope of absurdly bright colors. You never saw such a decoupage of ridiculousness. At the same time, it held your eyes captive. It made you want to walk toward it. With the serene backdrop of Lake Hylia's azure waters, Falbi's was a vista of peculiarity. The owner was just as obscene.

"Link." You whispered with an apparent start in your voice. "He's missing half his shirt."

You could hear Link inhale beside you. You glanced sideways to see he was holding back a laugh. Once he composed himself, he responded," Falbi is a good person. He used to work in a circus. Now he and his partner Fyer manage the Water Top Land of Fantastication." Link caught the confusion sketched upon your features. He quickly added," A circus is a type of entertainment venue. You can see all kinds of animals. Clowns, such as Falbi, as well as other performances. " 

"We have something similar in the twilight."

Link gave you a cautious glance. You couldn't help but light up with a wide grin. "We have people dress up in costume like Zant, and then we perform his demise. And yes, someone dresses up as you."

Link started to laugh. "I think that's not quite the same as a circus. Though knowing your realm, it's probably more of a circus than we have here. Just out of curiosity, who's the actor that plays me?"

"Her name is Fisa. She has your build and hair. Minus the red eyes and pale skin."

Link stopped abruptly. "She?"

You linked your arm around his and tugged him along. "I think you need to come see it sometime to understand." Link looked at your arm intertwined with his. You immediately realized your proximity and freed your arm from his. You tried to contain the threatening onslaught of heat about to hit your cheeks. "I'm sorry." You said coolly.

What had come over you? And why had you said Link should come to your realm? As if he could. "I feel I am being very touchy today. Forgive me. This is all so new to me."

Link gave your back a supportive rub. "It was a hard day for you. It's ok. If I could come to your realm, I would." He seemed to take notice of something on your back, wincing as he observed it. "Your dress was ripped. I know someone in Kakariko who can fix it."

The mood between you both quickly grew somber. The realization that you both weren't just divided by something as simple as an ocean. No, you were both divided by realms. You thought of Midna's lamentable voice echoing in the back of your mind. "We can never belong in their realm."

I seem to be doing a good job of assimilating.

Link gleefully chirped. "This is going to lift your spirits. I promise. Not to mention you won't get a better view of Lake Hylia than Falbi's."

"Partner! What brings you to Falbi's today?" A raucous voice greeted you as you made your way inside the whacky building.

Link took out 20 rupees and placed them in Falbi's palm. "This young lady is visiting Lake Hylia for the first time. Can we count on you to give us the grand flight-by-fowl?"

"Awwwwright! I'll lead the way! May I say, you snagged a beauty, partner!" Falbi gave a curtsy in your direction before nudging you to follow along.

He even had a peculiar gait to match his incomplete outfit. Link seemed to regard you carefully. His stare made you slightly uneasy, coaxing you to speak up. "What?"

"Y/N... you draw a lot of attention wherever you go. I don't want to impede your freedom. But I would feel better if you tried not to travel alone." Link shuffled beside you, looking at his feet. He was clearly uncomfortable by the conversation you were having.

"I'm not saying you have to just stay with me. Though I'd prefer to be the one by your side. But someone like Fado or Rusl. I can count on them. You can too."

You wanted to counter with some sort of defense. You realized that Link was right. Look at what the whole Aryn debacle caused. You also wondered how today's incident would impact Link and Ilia's relationship. Why would she be friends with someone so squalid? As you arrived at the summit of Falbi's, you walked toward the edge to take in the view. Instead of gasping at the scenic view of Lake Hylia's waters encompassing you, you gasped at something else.

Had Ilia sent Aryn? Had Ilia planned this whole horrid event? How could you even broach something so reproachful?

The altitude at which you stood made the cold air sting your lungs. Though it didn't sting as much as the undesirable thoughts looming over you.

"Y/N?"

You stared ahead, brushing Link off. Did he know who he was marrying? You did not come to the light for this. Do not focus anymore on this. You inhaled and followed it with a calming exhale. Link must have heard the staggered, deep breath that spilled out of you.  He snuck up behind you.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Link questioned you sweetly. His voice always dripped out like the syrup he drenched your bread and apples in. This is the Hero of Twilight. He would never be part of such a devious farce. You thought of the way his eyes always regarded you with tenderness. Your intuitive radar told you without a shadow of a doubt that Link was not part of Ilia's plan.

Without a shadow of a doubt. The answers are always hiding in the shadows. You thought of Midna's question. You wondered if someone in the light could make sense of the answer better than you could.

"Link." You kept your gaze cast upon the sparkling ripples in the lake. "Did you know before I left, Midna gave me a homework assignment?"

Link snickered in amusement. "Sounds like Midna. What was the assignment?"

"Where does the truth lie? Within the shadows of the dark or the illumination of the light?" You surreptitiously looked Link's way to read his expression. His face was pensive as he looked out at Lake Hylia.

Instead of formulating an answer, he posed a question. "You've been in the light a few days now. Some part of me thinks you know the answer to Midna's assignment." He raised an eyebrow in your direction quizzically.

You took a moment before you proceeded with a response. " When the sun is out, I can faintly make out your Triforce. But under the light of the moon..." you paused, meeting Link's eyes. " Only under the light of the moon am I able to see it clearly."

A subtle smile lifted from the corners of Link's lips. "Not everything is as it appears in the light. We may be able to feel, but as you have witnessed, many of us don't show those feelings. They lie guarded within." Link used his hand to thud against where his heart would anatomically be located.

"Especially yours." You don't know what made you say it. Whenever you were near Link, it was like your lips had a mind of their own.

The beauty of Lake Hylia was long lost between you both. For the first time, you were becoming attuned to the beauty of something grander.

The beauty of being vulnerable.

*

Link could feel the warmth of the embers from the freshly kindled fire. Now that he had stoked the fire to his content, he took a seat across from Y/N. He was worried by Y/N's demeanor when they were at the top of Falbi's. He couldn't shake the way she had looked at him. The way in which she masterfully blurted, "Especially yours," in response to his guarded feelings. For someone who wasn't familiar with emotions, nobody had ever been so in tune with his.

After a moment of speculation in regard to Midna's assignment, it was time to take the plunge. He walked Y/N through what the flight-by-fowl really was. Her eyes shot open with panic. "We are flying with the cuccos?"

Link delivered her the most trustworthy smile he could. "Y/N... trust me. I would never let anything happen to you."

Her shoulders slumped as she became more subdued. Link grabbed a cucco by the feet, demonstrating what to do. As she selected a cucco worthy of the task, she gripped its' feet. "The important thing is to hold on securely but not crush the cucco's feet. On the count of three, we jump."

Link slightly bent his knees, the cucco flapping wildly above his head. He began to countdown. "One...Two..."

Y/N yelled, "Three!" Eagerly leaping off the ledge with her cucco.

"Y/N!" Link screamed. He plummeted below with his cucco. The endless lapping waves threatened to absorb them into its blue oblivion. The first part of the fall was always the scariest. Link couldn't lie; he was quite afraid his first time doing the flight-by-fowl. As the wind crushed against the weight of his body, he slammed his eyes shut so that he couldn't see his impending doom.

But doom never came. Instead, the cucco's ferocious flapping paid off. Before long, he began to soar. The cruel hand of the wind that was slapping against his body became the same hand that would carry him gracefully to his landing. Link opened his eyes to see Y/N. Her hair whipped savagely around her face. Finally, the wind permitted him to take a peek at her. She was laughing. Like he'd never seen her laugh. Engrossed in the way the blue of the sky bled into the blue of the lake. This is the light he wished for her to witness. The sheer feeling of anything being possible. Being boundless. Not burdened by the heaviness of emotions.

It was in the sky that Link realized he'd also lost sight of what the light was about. In fact, he never even knew. That was until he became a hero. When he began to explore and see the world. As he descended, his thoughts crashed back to reality along with his feet. He thought of Rusl.

He thought about the choice. The answer was always right there. He couldn't marry Ilia. He couldn't settle down in Ordon. He wasn't sure what the rest of his destiny entailed. But whatever it was, he felt he was closer to it when he roamed the expansive fields of Hyrule. He made a silent pact with himself then. He'd find a way to remove himself from this situation. He would find a solution that was just for everyone.

Y/N's bright e/c eyes peered at him through the crackling flames. "Link, tell me about the lakebed temple."

Now, as he sat, telling tales of his journey by the fire, it only confirmed what he already knew.

He vowed he would help Y/N find her place in this realm. For he too was looking for his own place to belong.

Was it wrong that he hoped the place they belonged to be the same?

That maybe they belonged together.

A/N: Edited 12/08/22

The water has a way of reflecting one's deepest emotions. As you wonder about the light and its' populace, someone else is doing some wondering of his own. Will both of your separate missions lead to the same ending?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[ennaku-sirri-da]

JUST ANOTHER DAY IN THE TOWER ( S4M COMIC )

PART 1

PS: the punching glove isn't involved I just forgot to remove it!

PPS: This has a lot of my personal HCs LMAO don't worry about it but if it confuses you just see my talk under the cut! Actually I HIGHLY recommend you read it PLS

[ ID: Fanart done in traditional medium, uncolored, with pencil and slightly rough sketching. It's a comic of the game Smile For Me featuring Putunia Mollar, Kamal Bora and Dr.Habit living together. The panels alternate colors between cool blue, warmer red and orange tones and gray because of how they were photographed.

The designs have canon style but the changes in the artists interpretation are as follows. Kamal has a lot of acne, eyebags and thick brows. For this comic his hair is in a ponytail and he casually wears sleeveless top with sweatpants. Putunias hair is more scruffy. Habit has the most change- Here he has a muppet-like appearance with fur, longer hair, cheek patches with a splash of freckles, stitches and scars on hands plus an X shaped one near his mouth. His teeth are uneven with a bigger snaggletooth too. His long coat is made of some soft, scratchy material and it's collar is bush-like with feathery parts holding flowers.

The comic starts with Kamal massaging Putunia's shoulders. He smirks, "Alright, kiddo, we're gonna fucking get that asshole today." Putunia bravely kisses her muscles for good luck.

We see she is standing on a high rise stool to reach his height. She yells in unbridled excitement, " GIMME FIVE BRO!!! " and smacks her non-punching glove palm into Kamal's, who sheepishly replies, "kk..." with a grin.

Their plan comes into action as they sneak up behind Habit. He is standing at the window admiring the beautiful morning, singing the lyrics to Tomorrow from Annie, " The sun will come out to-morrow....bet your bottom dollar...". His back faces them. There are slightly visible odd shapes in his hair. Kamal's cheeks puff and his eyes go wide as he presses a hand to his lips, gesturing to Putunia, "SHHH. I see he's singing the same song again....like a total CHUMP..." he whispers. The little girl can barely hold in her glee. She bites her fingers and squeals, " eeeEEE!"

A side view is shown as they get closer to Habit, about to scare him. Kamal can't resist chuckling while he holds up Putunia. She takes aim at the target, circling her fingers around her single open eye and sticking out her tongue in intense concentration. Habit's upper face is in shadow but he has a slight, characteristically crooked smile. He continues singing, "clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow....till there's none..."

Suddenly! A very loud BOO is splashed onto the page. Below is the building reaction to it, a shrill scream going AAAA-

And we cut to a very distraught and crying Kamal, his arms jumped up in sheer fear, continuing it with, "AAALLAHU AKBAR-"

Before Putunia stops him on the spot via a finger to the mouth, " BABA. ...shut the up." He is in so much shock. His eyes get huge.

We see her now wrapped inside Habit's arms, looking up at Kamal apologetically with a thin smile, twiddling her fingers, " Sowwy..." He manages to stammer out, "Y-Y-You....you....Y..."

He catches his breath! In a burst of energy Kamal points a damning finger to Habit, saying at the top of his voice, "YOU! STOP THAT. RIGHT N-NOW." Habit is too amused by patting a wonderstruck Putunia who's going "Oooo.." at him, and having bent his head all the way from front to back( looks like an upside down head) to really be intimidated by that. He puts his fluffy tongue out, and his glass eyes appear to be missing as well- leaving just two dots on the face. " Hee hee... hoo hoo.." end ID]

Talk under the cut!!

OK let's get some basics out of the way first! In this AU, which I've named Roseverse( after its Flower Kid named Rose lel), Habit is a muppy. A mubbit. A man or a muppet? Mupman.

And I've since dropped the HC but I've headcanoned Kamal as Muslim for a REALLY LONG time because I am projecting so that's why you're seeing that here !

Here they all live as a family in the 6-floored Tower( the black rings we see on it in-game that lead up to the top office are seperate rooms) though Putunia's a Community Child and only comes in for routine visits but yeah.

Onto the comic proper now!! I'll explain headcanons panelwise :) (smile emote)

Panel 1: Kamal's like

[ GIF ID: Captain America from the MCU mutters "Language." sternly. End ID]

Around Putunia when HABITS THERE but He is the Cause‼️‼️( thick red exclamation emotes)

As for Habit on that subject, really he doesn't swear much on the regular but SOMETIMES he'll whisper things like MOTHERFUCKER or CUNT into Kamal's ear just to watch him jump ( BTW if someone knows what this is referencing YOU ARE COOL )

Panel 2: 'Tunia's picking up speech patterns!! Kamal was that one guy in college dropping "dudeman" 's and he NEVER expected to see his brospeak come back in this Tiny Powerhouse but 'tis welcome

Panel 3: Habit's singing Tomorrow from the original Annie! Such a sweet and lively song. It is infact my voice claim for Kid Habit.

Speaking of, fun fact I started at NIGHT drawing this powered by freaking. Heart Broken 💔( broken heart emoji) Hindi Songs and I DIDNT STOP BABEEEYYYYYYYY

Panel 7: In my old school bus someone used to say why don't we say shut sideways 🥸 (silly disguise emoji with huge mustache and glasses, showing amusement in this context)

BUT OFC THE SUPERIOR ONE IS PIN DROP SILENCE IN THIS FISHMARKET CHILDRENS!!!!!!!!

[ Plaintext: But of course the superior one is " Pin drop silence in the fishmarket childrens!!!" ]

Panel 8&9 AKA The last ones: Oh Habit practices his contorting sometimes!

so anYWAY if it's confusing to see the pose just like imagine him bending backwards from his midsection and stuff. And the dot eyes will be explained more laterrr but basically they show that his proper eyes have been detached ( they're a beautiful blorange made of glass) ;-) (winky emote)

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 PWESS🥺

[Plain text: Stay tuned for part 2 please (pleading emote)]

[shadowbright7]

Montreal..

Montreal..

June...

The summer that France played Brazil in The World Cup..

The game was on the radio in the cab that took us to the youth hostel near McGill..

As it turned out, staying in the hostel to save money was a  miscalculation on my part..

There was plenty of money left over at the end of the trip and we could have stayed in a nice hotel from the beginning.   

Montreal in June is cool in the evening..

Leila and I put on sweaters and walked  to Rue St. Denis to get something to eat..

I snuck a look to see how she was doing..

Her ex had gone south with the kids to Disneyworld in Orlando and I knew she missed them..

But she seemed excited to be in a romantic city where people spoke a different language..

Looking at her pretty face I felt lucky..

I pointed out the the lighted cross on top of Mount Royal, the beacon of Montreal..

"Let's go to the top when we get back from Quebec City," she said.

I nodded.  

After dinner it was back to the hostel,  we said our good nights, she to the women's section, I to the men's..

We woke up early and took a taxi to the train station for our Quebec trip..

On the way to the train, we had to make our way through a group of kids who all had little wheels on their suitcases, and the clattering sounds of the wheels and the children chattering excitedly in French had Leila elbowing me in the ribs and chuckling.  

It was 3 hours to Quebec City by train and the ride was uneventful..

We took a taxi to our hotel, the Manoir Victoria..

The hotel staff were very pleasant and we had a nice room with a view..

We took a quick nap and walked to the city centre..

Quebec City is small and you can sight-see  without a car or a bus. We saw the Hotel Frontenac and then went to the Cliffs of Abraham and looked down at the Saint Lawrence..

I was enjoying myself but Leila looked pre-occupied..

  After lunch, we wandered through the little side streets..

I saw a sidewalk artist and asked Leila if she wanted her portrait done.

"OK", she said, although I could tell her heart wasn't really in it.

The artist was a handsome man with a moustache, straight out of central casting, the wordly Frenchman, wise in affairs of the heart. Halfway through the sketching, he said to Leila, with a bemused smile, "You are here, I'm drawing you, but your spirit is far away. Why are you so sad?"  

The trip wasn't the same for me after that..

Later that evening she called her mother from our room..

Then we had a little tiff..

We went out into the Quebec night separately..

The city was beautiful and luminous, and I went to the cliffs again and looked at the river and the lights reflecting off the water..

I wished Leila and I could have taken a boat ride but I knew it wouldn't happen..

Feeling sad and guilty, I went back to the hotel..

Leila was lying on the bed but awake.

"Where'd you go?" she asked in a soft voice.  

"Just walked around, but I can't believe I didn't run into you in this small town," I said.  

She laughed and just like that the black clouds were gone.  

 "Let's go out and get some dinner," she said, bounding up from the bed."I'm hungry."

And so we did.  

After dinner, we took a ride in a caleche, a horse and buggy Quebec tradition.. .

Our horse was an old horse called Mercediaz..

Leila fell in love with that horse, talking to her more than she did me!

That was our last night in Quebec City..

The next day we took the train back to Montreal and then further south.

[promenadewithme]

365 days of you

Ok, so tomorrow is my birthday so I decided to write a birthday themed fic with my favourite Bridgerton <3

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Warnings: Teeth-rotting fluff, marriage, gift receiving, birthday fic, kissing, i think that’s it.

Word count: 909

(y/n/n) = your nickname  

(y/f/c/f) = your favourite cake flavour 

Benedict had always loved parties and celebrations, which is why he had been excited for your birthday for a while now. The two of you had just completed a year of marriage and during that time Benedict noticed some of your likes and dislikes. One of the most important dislikes was, ironically, parties. More specifically, big crowds and social gatherings. 

The Bridgerton wanted to celebrate your life, but in a way you would enjoy. It was your birthday after all. With that in mind, he planned the day and sneaked around with the staff so you wouldn’t suspect a thing.

You slept peacefully as he entered your shared room. Though it was customary to have separate rooms for the couple, the two of you loved each other too much to sleep apart. He smiled at the memory of him telling you he was no longer able to sleep without you by his side. Benedict quietly laid down beside you and took you in his arms. You leaned towards his body in your sleep, seaking his warmth, and he smiled again at you. 

“Wake up, my love.” Benedict whispered against your cheek before giving it a soft kiss.

You only grumbled, which made him chuckle.

“(y/n/n),” he kissed your nose and you scrunched it.

“(y/n/n),” he kissed your other cheek, but your eyes were still closed.

“(y/n/n).” he kissed your lips and you kissed back, sighing into the kiss.

You opened your eyes and he couldn’t help but smile at his view. 

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday.” he whispered before kissing you again.

“Good morning.” you smiled and hugged his lying figure. 

“We have to get out of bed, love.” he whispered in your ear.

“Just a few more minutes.” 

He stands up and you groan.

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to eat that (y/f/c/f) cake by myself then!”

You perked up with a smile.

“Cake?”

“Baked it myself.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“You?! A Bridgerton? Baked? I don’t believe it!”

“Well, I did have the cook’s help and it took a few times to make it perfect, but this time it was all me.”

Your heart swelled in your chest as you looked at your husband. This man, who had never set foot in a kitchen a day of his life, learned to bake a cake just for you.

You walked towards Benedict and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss. 

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my dear.”

“Impossible.”

You smiled at each other before he grabbed you by the hand and led you down the stairs of your house in the country. Looking outside, you noticed a blue sky and a few scattered white clouds. 

A grin made its way onto your face when Benedict led you into your garden, where you had a small gazebo just for you and him. The two of you usually came here to enjoy good weather, Benedict sketching away while you read.

When the round structure came into view, you saw there was a small cake in the centre surrounded by your favourite sweets, fruits and snacks.

“You did all this?” you asked, tears brimming your eyes.

“Just for you, darling.” he answered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead.

“Thank you, Benedict.” 

“You’re most welcome. Now, I have a gift for you.” 

Benedict led you to your chair and, while you sat down, pulled a wrapped gift from his.

“What’s that?”

“My gift to you. Well, not a gift, just a little something I made you.”

‘This man could not be more perfect.’ you thought smiling at him.

You opened the wrapping to revealing his leather notebook.

“You’re giving me your notebook?” you grin at him and he nods shyly.

“Open it.”

You did as you were told and flipped to the first page. It was a sketch of you eating a slice of chocolate cake with a smile on your face.

“That was a year ago, on your birthday. You looked so happy eating the cake that I decided to draw you. After that, I never stopped...”

You looked at sketch after sketch of you eating, sleeping, bathing, reading, smiling. Some were full body, others just your face, one more beautiful that the next. 

“Benedict, these are incredible! There are so many.” you were too mesmerized to see a smile of relief on his face. It was no secret that Benedict was insecure about his skills, but he had opened up to you in every way, trusted you with everything, including his insecurities. You, however, had always loved his art and never noticed the small details he didn’t like. This was the perfect gift.

“365 in total. One for each day of the year. 365 days of you making me the happiest man alive, 365 days of love and companionship, 365 days of you.”

You finally looked up and directed your grin at your husband. 

“Thank you, Benedict. Not just for the gift, but for loving me and for being such an amazing husband.” 

He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss.

“Loving you was the easiest thing I have ever done.”

“How are you so romantic? I never know what to answer!”

He laughs and lifts a flute of champagne.

“To a year of you and so many more to come.”

You clinked your glass with his and took a sip. 

“Happy birthday, my love.”

General tag list: @crazy-beautiful @elenapatricia99 @axeannwyn

Bridgerton tag list: @for-bebbanburg @dancingwith-sunflowers​

Benedict Bridgerton tag list: @elishi03

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