#soooo yeah

[writingpun-art]

um. so here's my post-canon farcille confession comic

[ghostbeam]

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

[kruk-art]

Creator vs Creation

@plushchimera tagged me, thank you! 💜

-> pixiv <-

That was fun, it's been a while since I play with picrew. Over half of my characters has now black eyes, I have no idea why, but I kinda think it's neat ^^ tagging @mihqorio @griever-receiver and @snarkspawn if you want of course, no pressure 💜

[teddybearty]

Just some boys 🍱💕⚾️

[samssims]

[harveymooon]

*stares at the requests in my inbox* yeah i think designing moonpaw is more important actually

[mochamoth]

Hi here are some cringey ooc headcanons of Samarie because she's my favorite character.

(Ever. Like out of every franchise to exist.)

-She's autistic and has BPD.

-Her voice is very quiet and deep. She often speaks too softly to be heard unless the person is fully paying attention.

-She's picky with food because growing up she mostly ate the same food every day. That being said she is more opened to try sweet food, she likes sweet flavors.

-She's surprisingly decent at makeup, she just doesn't like wearing it (besides her lipstick). It's mostly because she's insecure about her face, plus she fears it'll draw attention.

-Very sweaty and clammy. It's her constant state of being it can't be helped unfortunately.

-She has a special interest in bugs, specifically moths.

-Despite hc she has a deep, creepy voice I think it'd be funny to make her sneezes overly loud for no reason.

-She likes reading, art, and collecting weird shit. She has a collection of (humane) taxidermy insects, bones, stuff Marina left lying around in the open, gifts from Marina (she cherishes those), and TONS of books about moths.

-This mf can't smile to save her life. They always either looked way too force or downright creepy.

-She didn't fully speak until she turned around 14 maybe 15. She knew how to speak she just didn't see a reason to do so outside of spells. She only started speaking because she planned on greeting Marina properly (never happened, she freaked out last minute and couldn't go through with the plan).

-She enjoys doing seemingly immature activities. Like making friendship bracelets or playing field games. She didn't have much of a childhood (if at all) so she's grown fond of the idea of doing all those fun, childhood related things.

-I see her and Abella being friends. This is mostly related to OC stuff I don't feel like yapping about, but basically I think Abella helps Samarie get more confident in herself.. Or at least give her the nerve to speak up (and actually say hi to people instead of oh idk following them around cough COUGH).

-She sleeps a lot. That's all.

-Rip Samarie you would've loved Monster High 😔🙏.

-I doubt this is a hc becuase pretty sure its canon, but she has an asymmetrical face. Which I love.

-She enjoys singing. It's not a hobby or passion of her's, more just something she does whenever she's painting or showering, even writing.

-Oh yeah speaking of she has a diary. She's been writing in it since she was very little and it one of the few things she managed to keep after (eventually) getting out the Ninth Circle.

-Best case scenario she gets the help she needs and slowly heals. Ik she is dying and that canonly she WILL be dead soon no matter what. This is MY out of character headcanon list, let me be cringe and stupid in peace 😔‼️

-She's a light weight. Just a feeling.

-She can be extremely paranoid alone in public places, she's either worried she'll get taken or worried people are judging and staring her down. Either way not a good time.

That's it for now, I'll make more if I come up with more and if I feel confident enough to post them 🙏

[bottomgun-maverick]

TG:M Kid Photos 🫶

[thesafireartist]

So yeah I redid my commission sheet! My family’s fridge broke and I do want to put some money towards getting a new one because as an Asian my brother is in despair over the food we lost and he’s annoying because I care for my family so much

But fr, anything would be much appreciated. If you have any questions feel free to DM me!

You can find more examples of my art here

Extra info below!

I do not allow my work to be used in NFTs, AI training, or sold for individual profit. Doing so will result in blacklisting from me and possibly other artists.

You can repost my art, just make sure you post the watermarked version and you credit me

You have the option to add a felt texture on your piece or not (gaussian blur + noise effect) for free

Be as descriptive as you can! Lore dump on me! Include as many images and blurbs as you want!

Refunds are not allowed after the sketch is approved and I send the second update. You can talk to me if something came up and we’ll work something out!

If I no longer wish to/ cannot work on your commission anymore, you will receive a full refund. I’ll probably give a reason, but I don’t have to

I have the right to turn down any commission

[adharastarlight]

Tis The Season

Four: Mail

Jegulus, where Regulus lives with Sirius and Sirius is... alluded to being the boss of some shady shit and James is a bodyguard. Idk it was late and I was sleep deprived

Regulus never got letters, which is why it was so odd that for the past few days he’d practically run to the letter box and retreat into his room. It was even odder that Sirius could hear him giggling from his office. He’d never actually seen what happened, he’d only heard it from the first room next to the front door. But today? Today, he stood in their kitchen and stared at the door, trying to figure out what magic it now possessed.

At exactly ten twenty five, Sirius heard Regulus’ alarm go off. At exactly ten thirty, Reg walked out of his room, stifling a yawn and went over to the door. At exactly ten thirty two a letter fell through the slot into his waiting hands. It had been the same for almost a week.

“Reggie?”

The younger brother froze where he stood for a second before turning to face him. Sirius usually had a meeting at ten fifteen which lasted until eleven. “Good morning, don’t you have a meeting?”

Sirius held up his phone, the screen showing he was indeed on a call, but muted. He tapped his ear where he had his headphone and smiled, “I’ll know if they need me, it’s the same boring drivel.”

“You’re the boss, why do you even need to be in all of the meetings?”

“I’m a hands-on boss. What’s the letter?”

“It’s nothing.” He shifted the weight of the paper between his hands slightly and forced a convincing smile, “do you want to order in tonight?”

“You never get mail.”

Regulus shrugged, “well I wouldn’t know what it was unless I’d opened it, hm?”

“Oh, right of course. But our mailman does his deliveries at eight and no one else has access to the foyer. Unless you’ve given them the code?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sirius, besides, plenty of people have the code.”

“People who work for me.”

“You are indeed the boss.” He shifted his weight again and rubbed at his eyes, feigning more exhaustion than he was experiencing. “Can I go back to bed now?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at him, “is there a security breach, Reggie?”

“What? No!”

“You can’t trust everyone, you know?”

The younger scoffed and moved to walk past him but he was stopped in his tracks by his brother stepping practically into him. He glowered at him, “move.”

“This is serious.”

Reg rolled his eyes, “no, that’s you. Now budge.”

“You might like them, Reggie, but it’s not safe for anyone to have that code other than the people I directly give it to.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I know all about the bloody business. No need to remind me. I’m perfectly safe. I don’t even open the bloody door.”

The older brother straightened up, “Regulus.”

He groaned and lifted his tee slightly to show the gun resting in the elastic of his shorts, “happy?”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, “where did you-”

“Oh please. Did you think I thought you were the CEO of a tech company? I’m twenty-three, Siri, I’m not naive. You could keep me locked in this apartment forever and all it would show me was the ways out.”

“I told you not to… it’s not safe, Regulus!”

“Well, I’ve not died yet. You might as well train me, I’ll be joining the others anyway.”

“Don’t be absurd, and don’t change the subject. Who did you give the code to?”

Regulus just smiled, “I didn’t.”

“Then-”

“You did. They’re on your payroll.”

“Everyone on my payroll is in the meetin-” he broke off and stared at the letter, then at his brother’s face, at the door, back at his phone. He hung up without a word and called a different number. “My baby brother? Are you kidding me, James?”

“Hello to you too.”

Sirius cursed under his breath and Reg was mildly worried he’d snap his phone in half, “did you tell him?”

“No, of course I didn’t. He’s not an idiot. He’s known for years.”

“He’s- you’ve known for years?!”

Regulus shrugged and smiled again, “most of your plans would have failed.”

“You messed with my plans?”

“I fixed them.”

He glared at him somehow more but turned his attention back to James, “I told you to guard the fucking perimeter not drop off love letters.”

“You can’t assign me as the bodyguard to someone so beautiful and expect me to just be fine.”

“I will kill you.”

James scoffed and the brother’s heard the door to the foyer open. Reg felt his cheeks heat and he quickly ducked into his bedroom to change, “no, you won’t. I’ve kept him safe for years.”

“Whilst what? Flirting with him?!”

“Sure… flirting… yep. Anyway, I'm almost there, one second.” He hung up the phone and there was a very smug sounding knock on the door. You might be wondering how someone could make a knock sound smug but if anyone could, it would be James Fucking Potter.

Sirius typed in the code to unlock the door and flung it open with a dramatic huff, “you’re dead, Potter.”

“You’ve said. Where is he?”

“I hate you. I’m the bloody boss and-”

Regulus walked out of his room in a hoodie Sirius distinctly remembers not buying, “hey, mon amour. Sirius, breathe. I mean, this is really your own fault. If you’re going to lock me in here and the only man I’d have access to is this fucking hot? Your own fault.”

“I-”

“Careful, mate, you’ll catch flies if you keep gaping like that. Hi, sweetheart, c’mere.”

He smiled and walked over just slow enough that it could be considered walking before jumping up and giggling when he was caught by the brunette. He wrapped his legs around his waist and knocked their foreheads together, “hi.”

Sirius was staring at them again, his mouth still agape, “you- he- you’re… you’re dating?”

“What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know! A secret admirer thing! How did you two even-”

James smiled, “when you go out on business, I mean, really he’s far safer with me in the apartment than me just strolling around outside.”

“And I’m much safer going out with him than sneaking out alone.”

The older brother threw his hands up in defeat and walked back into his office, holding out a gun to Reg, “come on then, we better get started on that training. And get rid of that piece of shit, you need a proper gun now.”

[gt-daboss]

GT Writing/Reading Question

Ive been writing GT stories for some time now, and reading them for much much longer, so I'm curious what the consensus of this topic is (my opinion and reasons in the tags if you're curious)

[markersandcrackers]

COD is making my posts blow up god😭

If only I could draw them tho.. (I literally can’t draw any of them😕), if I could I would draw them with, plushies ig

anyways hi again COD tumblr

(Pic above isn’t my art/picture! I found it on Pinterest)

[omgeto]

people im going away from tumblr for a hot minute (a while. )kinktober is cancelled (shocker) and you guys are mean. peace out.

[teddybearty]

I did it.

I’ve reached…

100 ART FIGHT ATTACKS!!!

🎉🎉🎉

[bluuuuuuuunuuuuuuu]

uhhhhhhh yeah

[spirallingstarcases]

k i’m back from the store what did i m—

.

.

i was gone for like. five days.