#so that should be fun ehehe

[writingwolverina]

2 anthologies, 2 short stories, 2 drastically different moodboards.

Can't talk about either of these in detail atm but yo... I'm having a great time over here. Announcements to come 👀

[aroninshonour]

The boys went out for a little rainy day chat (They forced Jay to come and he's upset his underwear is wet) they tried to get Zane to go with but he was busy(I didn't wanna take him from his action packed get away scene)

Also some Lava moments because uhm, yes <3 (they totally kissed in the second one)

[lysosome-chan]

I'm so so SOOOO happy I finally got him 😭😭😭

I don't know much about AK lore (it could have a whole thesis at this point), but I did like Phantom & Crimson Solitaire A LOT, it was one of the reasons I kept playing

Shalem now has his trauma buddy onboard and I'm going to unleash all my building resources on him

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

some doodles from @sneeblbop's magma-mostly just gitm stuff and my truman show au brainrot

sandman belongs to @/venomous-qwille

[cloudcountry]

im restless and bored so i put./ my favs and i into a height comparison thingy!!

tbh i thought v was WAY taller?? maybe its because his arms are so long (more to hug with!!!!!)

ALSO LEVI AND SATAN DONT HAVE CANON HEIGHTS?? SO I JUST USED THE HEIGHTS OF A RANDOM COMMENTER ON THE WIKI LMAO

[linagram]

the wildest thing to say as a prisoner who literally has hunger as her theme

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[mirrortouchedsea]

A kiss as a "yes"

I'm not sure if you have strong character preferences but... Maybe pick two from Eden?

Ask game

25. …as a ‘yes’.

I had to think about the exact scenario for this one but I was very instantly drawn to it being NagiHiyo. I really should read more Eden stories eventually....

The two children were laying on Hiyori's bed, looking through the most recent idol magazine together. Nagisa always thought that the two of them would make a good duo some day, jealous of the idols on the cover that so easily drew Hiyori's attention.

"We should become idols someday," he thought aloud. Hiyori turned to look at him.

"That would be fun, wouldn't it." Hiyori chuckled, flipping through the idol magazine for something. "Let's see...here we go. 'What it takes to be an idol!' Hmm...Nagisa-kun, do you think you could do all of this?"

Nagisa skimmed the interview Hiyori had found and nodded along. "Hmm...I don't see why we couldn't."

"With your mysteriousness and my charm, I'm sure we could become the best idols ever!" The two of them chuckled at the image of them singing and dancing together on stage. It was a lovely dream to Nagisa.

"Then...will you promise me that we'll become idols someday?" Nagisa asked, turning back to Hiyori.

Hiyori leaned in and pecked his cheek, a light blush dusting both of their cheeks. "I promise."

[serpentinespider]

been sketching earth-6198 character refs / redesigns for artfight... its impressive how little any of these people resemble ANY canon anymore. where am i

[eternallyfatedjadedspaded]

don't you dare put that thing back where it came from, or so help me! *Demonic seductress dance version of the monsters inc. musical number ensues*

i feel like i should be covering my eyes. put it away like my god save some for the rest of us t-boys *eyeroll*

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + asking to ride him

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, heavy pet/master dynamic, use of Master and Sir, toxic relationship (alastor is mean!), overstimulation, dacryphilia, use of pet as a term of endearment and degradation, minimal prep words: 3.4k

notes: whew!!! this ended up being waaay longer than intended ehehe but!! once again exploring riding alastor and all of the fun that comes along with it. pls enjoy and as always heed the warnings!

It’s late when you appear in the threshold of his bedroom door, lip caught unsurely between your teeth and gaze veiled by thick lashes. Sock-clad toes overlap, toes wiggling unsurely as your fingers twist into a knot in front of your body. 

He sits across the room in one of his plush armchairs, legs crossed and attention focused on the book in his hands, casting you a single, second long disinterested glance as he asks, what is it, sweetheart?

“Can I—Can I ride your cock?” 

Crimson eyes flick up from the pages, interest piqued, steadily holding your stare over the edge of the novel. Your features twist in a cute little wince, eyes squinting against the intensity of his gaze, but you don’t dare to look away, baring yourself to him.

His scrutiny burns, tears your skin from your bones and gouges your eyes from your skull, pries apart your ribs one by one and rips into muscle, ravenous to reach your core. 

And all the while you let him, quivering form standing vulnerable and raw in front of him, offering to him, as his unblinking stare combs over your entire body—from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, unhurried and invasive, climbing back up to reach your face, eyes lidded with indifference.

Finally, he shrugs a shoulder, muttering out a nonchalant, “Hm. I suppose so,” through a contradicting slimy smile.

But when you scamper over to him, so cute, so eager, so fucking pathetic, ready to straddle his lap, he informs you that you’ll have to do all of the work on your own. 

You’re the one who wants it, after all. Why should he have to put in any of the effort?

You suppose he has a point. Either way, it makes no difference to you, dropping to your knees the very instant he informs you, body wedged between his spread legs as dainty fingers creep up his thighs, muscles tensing with the ghost of a shiver as your touch skims over them.

They don’t undo his pants—they don’t even make it to the fucking zipper, opting to cup his soft cock in one palm and his balls in the other, rolling and rubbing in a gentle circular motion.

And his legs spread infinitesimally wider. 

An invitation, a silent urge to keep going.

So you do, like the obedient little pet girlfriend you are, watching with glazed eyes and gaping pupils as his cock fills with blood beneath your teasing touch, twitching to life, hot and hard in your little hands. 

Grinding the heel of your hand into it, it jerks in response, a playful little giggle dripping from your lips, two fingers stroking the shaft, then pressing slow, hard circles into the head. 

And, oh, aren’t you just fucking precious, nuzzling your cheek into it adoringly, breathing out a devoted oh, Master, so airy and melting on your tongue, dense and hot and soaking through his trousers.

“Fuck,” he pants out, the curse nothing more than a wispy murmur. 

Looking up at him, you run your tongue over the head in hard, slow laves, dragging the slick muscle along his straining cock, the flames from the fireplace flickering in your bleary eyes, licking at desirous pupils. 

The cotton is rough against your tongue, abrading your sensitive tastebuds and leaving tingles in their place, but you don’t care, administering heavy rhythmic licks along his shaft, long and languid.

His cock throbs under your lapping, another one of those silent persuasions, and you nestle into it again, your own nonverbal response, rubbing the tip of your nose into the slit and smearing a dewy drop of pre-cum across your skin. Another dollop oozes through his trousers, pearly and glittering, eager to replace what’s been lost. 

The garnish incentivizes you, entices you, and you press an open-mouthed kiss to the yearning head, lips curling around it in a warm, damp embrace, and then sucking slightly, siphoning another drop of that sticky salt to seep onto the slick muscle.

It’s delicious, his essence, so acrid it stings your sensitive skin, copper and decay painting over your tastebuds in thick streaks, each rub depositing another ropy line.

A moan vibrates around the head, and your tongue glides over it firm and fast, desperate to encourage more of the bitter substance, eager for another taste of his seed. Your lips pucker as the force of your suction increases, slicked and glittering with your own sick drool, viscous and pooling at the corners of your mouth to trickle down your chin, tinted slightly milky. 

“Hungry, are we?” 

Another sound of obscenity gurgles past your lips, head nodding in messy strokes, as if you’re drunk off merely a few drops of pre-cum. 

“Maybe you don’t need to ride Master after all.”

Your motions freeze, the haze his taste had cast over your brain instantly eradicated, tongue mid-lick as your lidded gaze drifts back to his, wide and terrified. 

An eyebrow quirks, the smug arrogance smeared across his face stretching, daring you to retaliate. 

“N-No,” you mumble against him, body starting to tremble between his knees, fingers scrabbling against his thighs. “No, Sir, please, I—I want it—”

A heavy palm smooths over your hair, thumb caressing the crown of your head in a manner that feels almost condescending before thin fingers tangle in your strands, hard, yanking and pulling your face up, dense strings of saliva slapping against your chin.

“You have it,” he says, a gleeful malice glinting in his irises, smile spreading wider to reveal razored teeth. “You just want more.” 

Shifting his hips up in a small jerking thrust, he nudges your chin with his clothed cock, cotton soaked all the way through with your spit, a smudge of pre-cum shimmering at the tip. 

“Do you think you could get off on just this? Sucking me off through my pants like some desperate little bitch?”

You could, you’re nodding, nose twitching as you swallow the sob clawing at your throat. You could, but you really don’t want to. 

“Yes, but—I want to ride it so bad, Master—Need to feel it inside of me, Master, need your thick cock fill—filling me up!” you hiccup on a sob, pleading. “Please, let me ride it, Master. I need—need—” 

“Need, huh? Is that so?” he hums. “I’m not entirely convinced. You seem quite content with simply suckling on it through my pants, swallowing mere drops of pre-cum,” he tilts his head in mock thought, eyes glittering, “but I guess it doesn’t take too much to satisfy a whore like you.” 

And it’s true, you do seem content with such scant amounts, keenly siphoning another dewy drop of precursory pleasure onto your tongue, rolling the drenched muscle over his cockhead slow and purposeful, a soft moan vibrating in your throat as it pulses beneath your mouth again, dribbling more syrup. 

“No, no, Sir—Master—please, let me ride it!” 

Oh, how pathetically precious you are, gazing up at him with glazed eyes, tears perilously balancing along your lash line, fat droplets of crystal clinging stubbornly to pretty black wisps—one single blink would send them cascading down.

Alastor’s brows raise. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t be content with just this?” 

Sharp glints of sadism flare in his eyes, impossibly wide smile twitching as it tugs up at the edges. 

“My, my, what a greedy little pet I’ve got myself.” 

“No!” you cough, spitting out the denial so fast it tangles on your tongue. “No, no, not at all, sir.” 

“No?” 

“No,” you repeat, head shaking with vehemence. “I will be satisfied with whatever Master will give me.” 

You recite the statement dutifully, but the painful sincerity ringing in your voice clear and high indicates that it’s authentic nonetheless. 

“And?”

“And I will be thankful for it,” you breathe out, blinking up at him obediently, the words an oath on your tongue, twin streams of salt shimmering on your cheeks attesting to their veracity. 

Crimson beams down on you, smile smeared across his face wide but close-lipped, indifference lidding his unrelenting gaze, contradicted by the sheer power glowing brightly in his irises. 

He holds your eyes for a bit—stretches the moment, lets it linger, lets the desperation grow, lets you marinate in it—before he finally murmurs out good girl, the praise packaged with a patronizing but much-appreciated pat to the head. 

You don’t dare move, though, your stare staying entrapped in his own, body rigid and motionless as it awaits a direct order, pliable putty in his palms.

“Now,” he says in a calm breath. “Get on my cock.” 

Finally, permission. 

It has your body bolting like a flash of lightning, set alight by a handful of such simple words, snapped into action by his demand.

Then you’re clambering into his lap, avid fingers popping the button and tugging the zipper and pulling his cock free from its confines, massive and heavy in your soft palms. 

A tender noise sounds in your throat, something caught between awe and desire, and you can’t help but grind on it a little, head gliding over your swollen clit easily. Your juices glaze his shaft, leaving a pretty glimmering film coating his veiny skin. 

Your cunt isn’t properly prepped, but that doesn’t really matter (it’s your own fault, anyway, for spending too much time worshipping his cock), slit already slicked and dripping with arousal—so fucking easy, you are for him; so fucking wet you are, all from barely touching his cock—that he slides in fluidly enough, one of your hands wrapped around the base steadying him as you sink down on his cock. 

A grunt stutters in his throat, half-stifled by his wide, closed-lipped smile, harmonizing with your low whine of pain as your cute little hole stretches, splits, struggles to swallow him whole in one slow gulp.

But it strains around his girth ardently, delicate skin tearing into tiny stinging fissures as your sweet cunt gorges on him, salivating and voracious.

You always manage, every single time, no matter how much it burns, because then he’s bottoming out, head of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. Your hips shift in little experimental ruts, grinding the tip into the sensitive mound of tissue and whimpering. 

A hiss slithers through clenched teeth, your whole face screwing up in pain as your cute cunt flutters around him. A dull ache begins to simmer deep in the pit of your belly, a small palm instinctively pressing to your gut, whining a bit when you feel him, burrowing into the tissues from the inside out. 

“Does that hurt?” 

“Uh—Uh-huh,” you gasp out, eyes still scrunched shut tightly, head nodding in tight, tense little motions. 

“Tell me.” 

“It hurts, Alastor,” you mewl, lids lifting to stare at him, to show him the agony simmering in your irises, fresh tears beading your lashes, teetering precariously on the points.

Arrogance softens his features—that smug satisfaction dimming the glint in his eye and the edges of his smile—and his gazes falls from yours, refocusing on the worn novel he had been reading before you so rudely interrupted with your neediness.

That’s your cue to begin. 

You’ve become fairly proficient at using him as a toy, fingers curling around the plush top of the armchair, palms planted on either side of his head for leverage and stability as your hips begin to rock—slow, almost shyly at first; hesitant, cautious, testing. 

But you can never keep that up for long, far too eager to allow the build-up of that delicious tension, far too greedy to not chase after the immediate high, vying and ravenous and entirely addicted, unable to grant yourself more than a handful of moments to savour it, desperate to fuck him like some sort of wild, primal animal.

It’s what he loves most about you—your fervour. 

Your fervour to obey, your fervour to cum all over him, your fervour for whatever part of him he will so graciously gift you—his cock, his cum, his attention, his discipline; it doesn’t matter which it is, it’s all the same to you. Him. Any part of him, every part of him.

And even though he always makes you do all of the work, riding him is your favourite.

Because the best part about riding Alastor isn’t even getting to cum—it’s getting to watch him cum; clear and sharp and so, so beautiful. 

No blurry tears to obstruct your vision, no hair curtaining his face as he folds you in on yourself and pounds you into oblivion, no involuntary scrunches of your lids snapping shut in excruciating pain, just his face, open and accessible, expression entirely unadulterated. 

Pure. 

The pleasure smashes through his facades, through all of his pretences and carefully crafted masks, leaving him wholly unfiltered, raw, real. 

It’s the closest to authentic that you ever get. That you’ll ever get. 

But the fact that he allows you to orchestrate it, the fact that he allows you to witness him in such a vulnerable and personal state? Well, that’s something special to you. That’s what makes this position the best. 

It’s a difficult feat to get him there, to have his cock throbbing and filling you, hot and sticky and so, so much, without the use of violence or sadism, but you manage.

Because there’s just one other thing that works: Power.

Angling your hips just right, you fuck yourself with his cock, rolling the head over that plush spot, fleshy and engorged deep within you, assaulting it harsh and fast, just like he usually does. 

“Sir, Sir, Sir,” you’re chanting out in time with the gyrations of your hips, eyes glassy and shining with devotion. 

“Hm?” An eyebrow raises, disinterested, gaze refusing to leave the pages in front of his face. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you gush, words flowing in an appreciative stream. “Th-Thank you for allowing me to ride you.” 

His eyes flick up for a moment, clear and sharp, holding your own, a question imbued in the subtle motion. 

“It—It’s so good, Master,” you answer in a whine, staring at him with such stark sincerity it almost hurts, irises twinkling. “Your cock feels so g-good!” 

Pomposity polishes his features, lidding his eyes and curling his smile. 

“Yes,” he hums out, stare returning to his book. “You are quite a privileged little girl.” 

“I am, I am,” you agree with vehemence, voice tapering into a whine. “I’m so lucky, Master.” 

“And yet, you are still a greedy little brat.” 

“Can’t help it,” you moan. “I jus—I jus’ can’t get enough of it, Master; of you, Master.” 

His hips jerk slightly—a barely-there motion, something you’d never notice if you didn’t know to look for it—and you whimper loudly, bouncing accelerating, his little movement a non-verbal demand to ride him harder, to fuck him faster, to give him more.

And you happily oblige. Even when his orders are silent, written inconspicuously in the shift of his pelvis, you still instantly obey. 

God, he’s got you trained so well. 

You can see it engulfing him, this potent power he holds over you, ultimate and absolute. Authority cloaks his shoulders, the glow in his eyes glaring bright, his chest puffing out just a touch as his spine straightens. 

“I know you can’t, pet,” he says, arrogance wispy in his tone, brimming with a type of hedonistic pride. “It will never be enough for my selfish little girl, will it?”

No, no, no, your head is shaking, compliments pouring from your mouth, encased in thick strings of drool.

“I—I love it s’much, Master,” you’re babbling, half-delirious, hips gaining speed with each rock forward. “Love your cock so much!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” your head nods, loose and slack, words slurring a little. “Feels so good, Sir; feels the best, Sir.” 

“The best, huh?” 

“The best, the best, the absolute best—Better than any cock I’ve ever ridden in this life and every other.” 

“F-Fuck,” he breathes out, static eradicated from his voice, leaving it raw, naked. “Even without Master doing anything, it’s still the best.”

“Still the best,” you confirm. “Still my favourite.” 

A half-stifled groan sounds in his throat, something he tries to swallow down, something that refuses to be silenced, pleasure clawing at the back of his tongue.

The burn in your thighs intensifies as your pace increases, muscles flexing and gliding beneath your skin, your lungs stinging with each ragged inhale, chest heaving with your uneven gulps.

“Fills me up so perfectly,” you continue, words fading into an airy mewl, high and needy. “Better than anyone else ever could, ever can, ever will.” 

“You’re goddamn fuckin’ right,” he growls out, and even though his eyes are framed by heavy lids, his irises are incandescent, power staining them a radiant blood red, deeper and darker than normal, gaping and starved. “No one but your Owner could ever make you feel like this.”

Your head moves in frantic motions—yes, yes, yes!—fingers curling over the top of his armchair, nails scraping against the upholstery and leaving shredded little gouges in their wake.

“No one compares, Alastor—No one could ever, ever compare!”

“Christ,” he nearly whines, the curse shattering at the end as his hips stutter up—involuntary, instinctive. 

Three more grinds over that plush spot, hard and fast and rough, and then you’re convulsing in his lap, cute little cunt clenching almost violently around his cock—a desperate plead of sorts, begging him for his cum; please, Master, give it to me, please, Master, I want it so bad! 

The words fall from your mouth in a tangled stream, fucked sloppily from your throat as your hips continue to buck, each swipe of your clit over his slick pubic bone forcing another vicious ripple of chills to shudder through your form. 

It hurts, body shocked with erratic jolts of overstimulation, but you don’t dare stop, drops of sweat sprouting across your skin, tiny jewels strung along your hairline and adorning your temples, jagged little yelps slipping past your gritted teeth.

And it’s your dedication that finally sends him tumbling over the edge, your borderline religious commitment to ensuring his pleasure even at the expense of your own, book falling from his palms and fingers digging into your flesh as his hips jackhammer up. 

Two merciless pumps of his cock before he’s spilling into you, giving you exactly what you’re sobbing for, stuffing your little cunt full of his seed until it can’t take anymore, until it’s too much, until it’s seeping past the tight seal of his shaft to dribble down his balls in thick dollops of cream—and more, Alastor, more, more, gimme more!, your thighs tensing on either side of him as your little hole constricts purposefully, desperate to milk him for every last drop, the rolling of your hips turned ravenous, ruthless. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he’s hissing, claws piercing your hips as he forces you to stop, little trickles of crimson oozing from the tiny punctures. “S’enough.” 

“S’never enough,” you whine dreamily as your body slumps forward, head buried in his shoulder, little tongue lapping up droplets of dewy sweat in kittenish licks.

“You really are such a spoiled little pet,” he says, but his voice is gentle, a palm petting the back of your head.

A hum vibrates on the back of your tongue and you nuzzle your face further into his damp neck, tongue flattening against his skin and following the curve down to his sharp collarbone, lips latching over one of the protruding knobs and sucking.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh out, muffled, the words humid and slick on his skin. “It really is my favourite thing in the whole world, Sir. I adore you.” 

The tender confession beads along his neck, your hot breath turned to tiny droplets of condensation, and he sighs, the tension coiled in his muscles beginning to ebb. His limbs unwittingly melt into your own as he rests his chin on the crown of your head, quivering hands retrieving his book and finding his previous page. 

When he speaks again, his voice is soft, so quiet you nearly miss it—would’ve missed it, had you not felt the words rumble in his throat. 

“I adore you, too.” 

More than he wants to. More than he should. More than he could ever adequately express. 

[angelwishess]

SSR — Kyra Lovelace || Moonlight Attire

Event by @sunnysidesevenup !! Congrats on 300 <3!! You soo deserve it!

Groovy: [LOCKED]

Summon: Hahaha! This is gonna be so much fun! Prepare to lose!

more voicelines under the cut!

Groovification: Hell yeah, lets get this party started!

Set to Home Screen: Hey, hey!~ good choice, even you can see how cool I look, riiight?? Hehehe!

Home idle — Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home idle I: It was kinda weird trying to get used to this tail— but I got the hang of it no problem! Look! Wanna see how fast I can swim??

Home idle II: Hahaha, even the fish love music! You should try dancing with them, too! Its super fun~.

Home idle III: Hey, hey! I found a shipwreck nearby while roamin’ around, wanna check it out? ..No? Pfft. Boring. Suit yourself, then!

Home tap — Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home tap I: Hmm? What? You want me to help you get ready for the competition. Hah! No way! Why would I ever help an opponent? …Buut, you know, there is this one vocal warm up I might be able to teach you.

Home tap II: Hehe! I got a bunch of cool stuff while exploring! Look at this stuff, isn’t it neat? I can’t believe all of this was just hiding down here! ..What? Of course I don’t have ‘enough stuff already’! My collection is never complete!

Home tap III: Elena doesn’t look too happy about being here. Hey, wanna go hang out with her? I know just the way to get her in a festive mood! You just gotta trust me, ‘kay?

Home tap V: Honestly… I kinda forgot about the whole competiton after drinking the potion. I meaan, its just soo much more fun exploring the ocean! Who caares about a silly competiton, yeah? Hahaha!

Home tap IV: Ooh~, its a full moon tonight. Isn’t it beautiful? Cmon, sit with me for awhile! Lets chat!

DUO MAGIC: Elena

“Cmon, Ellie! This is childsplay for a siren like you!”

“Ugh, do you ever shut up?”

Extra:

(2nd one is without the overlay!!)

Concept art!~ Elena might be coming soon ehehe 🤭

^^ Elena’s

[ssahotchnerr]

Thinking about reader always sharing her water with Hotch to remind him to hydrate ehehe. She sets reminders to make sure he actually does hydrate and makes sure to tell the others to do the same as well

gentle reminders

here's everyone's reminder to hydrate!!! cw; established relationship, bau!reader, fluff!

if it weren't for you, the only liquid aaron would mainly consume would be coffee. in such a demanding occupation, especially at his high authority, it made sense.

had trouble sleeping or didn't get enough? coffee. dreading a meeting and needed to be rejuvenated? coffee. had no other choice but to stay up into the early hours of the morning doing paperwork? coffee. the list was seemingly endless.

as a result, you've taken it upon yourself to ensure dehydration didn't strike him, especially from all the dilution coffee itself produced. if he's drinking that much of it, he could at least counteract it by drinking equal the amounts of water. and regardless, he should be consuming more water to begin with; making it more of a habit. his usual excuse of 'forgetting', wasn't going to cut it anymore.

and if he's going to listen to anyone, it's going to be you.

you've preemptively set several reminders throughout the day to better aaron's water intake. your ringer was just loud enough - if tucked in your bag or drawer to gain only your awareness - mindful of it's possible obnoxiousness in the bullpen. if it were to go off loudly several times throughout the workday, it would surely be a reason for complaints. while out in the field, like now, you simply set it on vibrate.

the familiar buzz grabbed your attention, your eyes moving downward to your phone. the screen's lit; the notification of the reminder displayed in the middle.

conveniently, aaron happened to be seated at your left, discussing the geographic profile with spencer and the lead officer, narrowing down the unsub's comfort zone. you screwed open the cap of your water bottle, the seal producing a minor snap, and gingerly setting it down afterwards.

not wanting to interrupt, you simply tugged on aaron's sleeve to gain his attention. his eyes darted towards you in question, and slowly, you slid the opened bottle in his direction.

a gentle, amused almost-laugh puffed out of his nose, not surprised as this was routine at this point, and obeyed. once he managed to find a break within the ongoing conversation, did he grab the water and take a hearty swig. his eyes refound yours, flickering with a warm glint.

it caused your heart to flutter; aaron's eyes softening at your gesture. the quick switch between stoic unit chief, to simply aaron, was a near rare occurrence in the weighted atmosphere of cases, specifically while in the attendance of others. so when it did appear, a greater, more-than-usual surge of affection rippled through you.

but just as quickly as you noticed the lightness, it vanished. aaron's usual pensive expression returned, only his gaze pointed was at you this time, a silent push within it. you rolled your eyes in understanding and retook the bottle from him to take a sip yourself, holding back a smile.

aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, shoulders relaxing in satisfaction.

meanwhile across from you, dave was watching the whole exchange, a rather entertained expression on his face. "how romantic." he mouthed silently - when you noticed his stare.

all in fun, your eyes narrowed at him, before they flicked to his water bottle. with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms and held your gaze, practically daring him, 'okay, your turn.'

dave's tongue clicked in disapproval, solely for his flair for the dramatics, and began cranking open his water. and spencer being as observant as he was, noticed too and urgently grabbed his water, knowing you would be grounding onto him next. he tucked it under his arm, planning to drink once he concluded circling locations on the map exhibited on the board in front of him.

and for those who currently weren't at the precinct - derek, emily, jj, and even penelope all the way back home - you seized your phone, firing off a quick text in your shared group chat: hydrate reminder!

aaron peeked at his phone as his text tone went off, lips tugging into a barely-there, adoring smile as he read the message. his hand found your thigh underneath the table, giving it a doting squeeze.

[clowns0up-felix]

Hey! I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your drawings ! It has so much life in it, and I don’t know how you come up with those amazing designs for Link but they’re incredible! I never have enough imagination, lol 🥲😅. Seriously, what you do is so great that I’m at a loss for words… Anyway, I support you wholeheartedly, so keep up the amazing work!

Also, if you don’t mind, I’d love to know how you manage to create such dynamic poses and expressions in your drawings; I always struggle with that, haha.

Aaaaaa,I know I’m talking a lot, but are you still working on “Reversal of Fate”? If so, I’d love a little drawing of Link, if that’s not too much trouble 🥺☺️. But if you’re too busy, that’s totally okay too! 😊

WAAAAHHHHHH!!! Thank you sooo much this really means a lot like actually 🧡🧡🧡🧡 I love your art it’s so nice to look at and I get super excited when it pops up on my feed!!! (I especially LOVE ur sksw Zelda and Link designs ^^)

I also value the reversal of fate link fanart you did so much,,, 😢😢😢 Your support means sooo much

I feel as tho ur art already is so fluid and fun so idk if this is actually gonna help u much :( but if it does in any way then yipeeeee !!

Something I wanna add for improving posing (or anatomy, it really helped me with it) is doing figure drawing! There’s great online websites with models that u can sketch and just get better at doing good posing quick :D Or using reference in general,,,, my art is so messy tho, there’s so many better artists you should look for help to haha IM SO SO SORRY IF THIS DIDNT HELP AT ALLLL

About reversal of fate, yes I am still working on it!!!! I haven’t been posting about it because there are some lore asks I’ve gotten that have been kinda intimidating me so I’ve been quiet about it ehehe

Here’s some rof Link (right one is a sneak peek at a piece I’m working on which I’ll probably post in like so long from now bc there’s so much I have to work on urghhhhhh) ;)

Thanks for the lovely ask 🧡

[o0o0thorn0o0o]

A couple of proper winter-themed pieces to wrap up what I drew before March. Perhaps I’ll get something traditional between now and April—it’s looking pretty unlikely, but who knows. ‘Til then, no more digital stuff.

Inspired, as you can see, by my birthday posts for them last year (well, for Orihime and Ichigo… just ignore the date for Zangetsu’s, pfft). They’re just really good outfits, eheh. I want to draw them (+ others) more; I really should).

But yeah, even though it’s almost been two months now, I still can’t get over the fact it snowed in Florida, in my very own county, so I felt it would definitely be a crime if I didn’t post something snow-related (I mean, it’s already a crime for winter-loving me, but more so I mean, haha). And since those outfits very much inspire warmth, seemed like a good matchup. I was thinking initially to draw and color them the same way I did the birthday pieces ‘cause it’s fun and pretty to me, but then I immediately had the thought of coloring them in my palette, so yee.

Alas, it seems this breaks the tradition of me drawing Zangetsu in that one outfit and then expanding upon it (wasn’t even a tradition, only two posts, but let me be wistful, haha).

Also, pretty please ignore the perspective in his piece, eheh. It was the last one I got done, and I was rushing, and I’m not that good with that kinda posing/foreshortening or whatever rn anyway. Looks decent enough, so I’m fine with it 👍

Not much else to say other than the fact I mentioned I had some Bleach sketches done earlier? These weren’t the ones I was referring to; they feel too incomplete to post rn, so, yeah, saving them for another day.

‘Cept this Hime:

Drew her to try and experiment with shading and highlighting (because when am I ever satisfied for long with the way I do it 🫠). I didn’t get very far and just abandoned it, but I did think she came out rather pretty. So have it regardless. Would feel it’d be waste just for it to collect dust.

[blueepink07]

I'm sure that it is a well-known thing, but I want to talk a little about it anyway!

Trial 1 voice trailers -> future (after murder)

Haruka: "Then what should I have done instead?! Tell me! Tell me so even I can understand!"

Yuno: "Hah... I can't be bothered."

Fuuta: "Everyone else was having fun, weren't they? What about them? Was it just me?"

Muu: "Fufufu... It's your fault... for doing horrible things to me."

Shidou: "(laugh) Not dead... Yeah, she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of..."

Mahiru: "Is this... love? This is love...!"

Kazui: "I'm so dumb... Why did I have to dream?"

Amane: "Ahh! I'm so sorry...! I'm sorry...! I'm sorry for breaking the rules!"

Mikoto: "My life... It wasn't supposed to be this way..."

Kotoko: "...Fufu... This feels so good."

Trial 2 voice trailers -> past (before muder)

Haruka: "I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!!! Making you waste your life on someone like me...!! "

Yuno: "Nice to meet you, my name is Kashiwagi Yuuko! Well then, where shall we go?"

Fuuta: "Hahaha you think just because you’re a brat I’ll forgive you? You’ll pay for this"

Muu: "Hey..why don't you listen to me...? I'm telling you... Hey...HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU"

Shidou: "You're in my way...hurry up and die"

Mahiru: "Ehehe...I love, love, LOVE YOU!! Don't ever let me go, ok!"

Kazui: "Hinako, I love you more than anything."

Amane: "Father is a very praiseworthy person. Once his virtue increases, he'll come back home, right? It's a little lonely, but I'm fine!"

Mikoto: "AAAHHHHHHHHHH!! DESTROY EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!!"

Kotoko: "From the begin I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!"

Meaning that it is very possible to be like this:

Trial 3 voice trailers -> present (during murder)