#to all the artists out there: just use a shape. next time

[jjwolves]

Merci who gets jealous mayhaps? X reader?

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚 Just Run Away 𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

What: 5 Jealous Merci X Reader Headcanons

Who: Merci, from ENA by Joel G

Images: Top -> ChobiLuck (Her VA!)

Warnings: Profanity, Very Softly Implied Sexual Content (if you squint)

Genre: Romance

Merci can be a bit rough around the edges, but she’s always watching over the people she cares about, often appearing in dangerous locations to warn them off or remind them not to get into trouble. Doubly so with someone she loves. It’s no surprise, then, that her mildly protective tendencies amp up when she’s watching over you. That would probably explain why she runs over and yells at people you’re talking with through the body language of the gods until they run away. She knows more about this place than you, right? Merci probably knows that they’re bad news. It’s not something so petty as jealousy. Probably.

Merci isn’t someone who is very talented at hiding her feelings. Generally, she likes to pretend that she’s cool and mysterious around you, a mask which slips almost immediately as her more negative feelings inevitably rise to the surface like candy in a newly-broken underwater pinata. She does her best to be tolerant of other people but she can’t stand it when they take your attention away from her. Friends and strangers visiting you pale when the strange masked woman behind you mimes a throat-slashing at them when you’re not looking. (Or, more accurately, a throat biting.) “Merci? You alright? You’ve been seeming a little… off, today.” “Ugh… That girl we talked to… She just pisses me off!” “Whoa.”

Merci’s an artist, so she eventually invites you to her performance of the “Sacred Contortion Art” (her words). She gives you little tickets that you’re pretty sure she made herself. “Feed me the ticket whenever you want to view an incredible spectacle!” Once, another strange friend you’d made told you that they wanted to see something grand before they went to the Saccharine Door and moved away to another world. You remembered Merci’s tickets in your pocket and decided that it’d be a good time to put them to use and cross a point off of your friend’s bucket list. You brought your friend to Merci and got out the tickets. “Merci, this is a pal of mine. I can pay for both of us, right?” “What? No. What are you talking about? Those are for you, not this prick.” “Huh?” Your friend had no idea what she was saying, and the next thing they knew they were being pushed out the door by Merci as she called them a “fucking pervert.” She never elaborated on this.

She subtly competes with others for your affection after you’re done visiting them, especially if they displayed some sort of artistic talent that you were enchanted by. You visited a friend whose painting skill impressed you, even if the painting was of dancing watermelons and you were pretty sure the paint was whispering to you. The next time you find Merci, she’s sitting at an easel and trying to cover up what she’s working on. “No! It’s not done yet! No peeking or I’ll kick your ass!” You went on to visit someone who stretched into various shapes like rubber and you were amazed. When you and Merci watch a scary movie together the following night, you look over to see her impressively contorting into various unnatural shapes on the couch. “I’m just getting comfortable.” You and Merci passed through a restaurant and observed a lamp-headed chef gracefully tossing cooked rocks around and back into the pan. “He’s really good at that,” you said. Big mistake. You had dinner later, Merci soundlessly indicating that she’d be the one to cook, pantomiming the chef’s motions. Before you could say anything, she turned the oven on full and flames erupted forth, nearly burning her. She jumped back and turned it off, and then did it all over again. You had no choice but to usher her out of the kitchen and take over for her. “Sorry, I usually don’t cook… I just have to pretend to eat and I’m fine.”

Merci is someone who offers you a lot of compliments even if you don’t deserve them, and she’s great at supplying them in a tone that’s very matter-of-fact. “You have excellent taste, and I’d know.” “Those guys are clearly lucky to have you.” “You’re beautiful, obviously. I didn’t invent that idea myself.” The truth is that it goes both ways. A lot of the insecurities that bring this behaviour out of her can be vanquished with some honest affirmation, the way a dream-eater is vanquished with a ghoul-swatter (which you’re thankful Merci taught you). “Merci, you’re getting worked up for nothing. You’re the one I love! You’re smart, you’re funny… I probably wouldn’t be alive, even, without you. And you’re a true artist, too. So please… Don’t stress out over this.” Merci stroked your cheek before planting a hand-kiss there. Her voice was unusually tender. “Oh, love… You have no idea how much… your words do for me. How much you do for me.” Merci tried to reign it in from then on, but it was an uphill battle. Her love ran deep. But you loved her just as much.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sundew: Chapter 1 (Tom Hiddleston x Mia)

AN: Better late than never, eh? Welcome to Sundew, the long awaited sequel to Sunflower! This series will include adult content, infidelity, the rocky road that is marriage and international relationships, abusive behavior, custody issues and international travel.

Just a thanks to my beta @nyx-umbrakinesis who's been so kind as to cross fandoms to make sure my American ass doesn't look a fool while writing scenes on the other side of the universe from me. Summary: With Mia and Tom settling into the reality of marriage comes untold new obstacles. Between Tom's busy career and Mia's insistence on being financially independent, something has to give. In the chaos of travel, in-laws, potential moves- stress fractures abound. Will the pressure of custody questions or an unexpected memory hiding in the shadows be what fractures their new marriage or can they weather the storms? And if they can't, can they heal? Or will all their hopes and dreams be devoured by the darkness?

The only thing for certain is the way the sun sparkles on the morning dew on a crisp English morning. CW: None

“What’s that?” Sally asked as Mia opened the envelope and dumped the contents onto the counter in the bright, sunlit kitchen. 

“A surprise,” Mia answered, leaning down as if she was sharing a secret with her young daughter, “for Tom. Little books that will let us travel really far away.” 

“Like to where Tommy’s from?” 

“Yep!” Mia nodded, the motion exaggerated for the child, shifting the waves of brown hair over her shoulder. “Go pick up your blocks and we can pack this up for Tom.” 

Sally ran off to do as she was told, leaving Mia with the task of checking their flight information and hotel reservations for the hundredth time that day alone. Travel wasn’t something Mia was well versed in, let alone traveling with a small child. But Sally wasn’t all that small anymore- she started school and was very much a big girl, seemingly growing bigger by the day. 

The stress would be worth it too, for the chance to do something for Tom. To Mia, it felt like there were so few ways for her to show her trust in the relationship or her devotion to Tom. She’d spent what felt like months resisting him, and now she felt the need to undo that. 

“All done?” Mia asked, setting out the small cardboard box she snagged from the resort she worked at. While Sally put the last of her blocks away, Mia set out an assortment of tissue paper, ribbon, wrapping paper, and markers. 

“All done!” Sally clapped her hands once, as if the sharp sound would banish any lingering blocks. 

“Good!” Mia cheered. “Now get on up here and help me pick the papers!” 

Sally was a whirlwind of excitement, drawing on the tissue papers, littering them with hearts, stars, and who knows what other shapes–Mia certainly didn’t know- that bleed through the thin tissue onto the thicker newspaper below. While the tiny artistic terror put the final touches on the papers, Mia wrapped the little blue books in clean tissue paper to protect them from any marker bleed through after covering the exterior of the box and lid with wrapping paper. 

“All done!” Sally declared when she finished her masterpiece, complete with stick figure drawings of a family of three. 

Together, they stuffed the box with layers of tissue, both as a bed for the books and as a blanket to cover them. 

“What next?” Mia booped her daughter’s nose.

“Glitter!” Sally cheered, slipping off the stool and running to the unapproved craft closet holding hell’s sparkle dust. 

“Okay,” Mia couldn’t help but laugh as sally grabbed the too big bottle of green glitter. Sparkling in the bottle were black shiny circles and bright golden stars, making a green cosmic mix that floated on a sea of fine, dark green glitter. “Just a little.” 

‘Just a little’ ended up being quite a lot of glitter dumped into the box. Mia made a mental note to double or triple bag the box before putting it in her carry on. The last thing she wanted was to have the sea of hell sparkles spilling onto what little clothes she was bringing. 

Tom’s picture flashed across Mia’s screen, a smiling man framed in a circle with his name displayed, followed by a little heart. It still boggled her mind that a man like Tom somehow belonged to her. 

“Tom’s calling!” Sally cheered.

“Remember,” Mia said as she leaned into Sally’s space, only to see glitter somehow in her hair. It would be there for at least a week, Mia was sure. “Tom doesn’t know we’re going to visit him. It’s a…?” 

“Secret!” Sally finished. 

“Good girl,” Mia patted her daughter on the head and directed her to hurry and go get changed for bed before she turned her attention to answering the phone.

“Hey,” Tom’s voice gave away how tired he was. For him, it was a long day, starting with early morning meetings to go over promotion plans before running to filming. It was all worth it to be done in just another week or so. 

This was one of the silly things that Tom insisted on doing a few times a week when he was able. He would call and have at least a short goodnight conversation, a check in with Sally and, when possible, reading her a bedtime story. It was so important to Mia that he and Sally have a good relationship. 

“How’s it going?” Mia always felt so unsure how to open conversations without feeling awkward. “How’s New York?” 

“It’s good. Hustle and bustle of the large city. You know how it is.” On the other side of the country, Tom pinched his phone between his shoulder and ear as he worked the buttons of his shirt free. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to just be done with the day. “What are my girls up to?” 

His girls. Mia wondered when it would feel less surreal to hear someone say that, for someone to want her and Sally. Could she get used to being Tom’s to the point where it was just normal?

“We’re good.” Mia ran her hand through her hair, pushing the wavey brown strands back from her face. “Just finished some crafts.” 

“What did you make?” Tom’s question was cut off by sally’s eager reentry into the room, now clad in a fuzzy nightgown and big puffy slippers. Most importantly, she had the blue New York City bear Tom gave her wrapped in her arms and brought a distraction with her. 

“Teeth, missy!” Mia called.

“I’m just in time for bedtime.” Tom’s voice drew Mia back to the phone call as the water ran in the bathroom. She knew better than to trust the small child with the task unsupervised. That was asking for the job to be half done with at least twice as much toothpaste as needed. Somehow, the bathroom would also get flooded in the process. 

“You are.” Mia leaned against the doorway and watched her daughter see to the task of cleaning her teeth, feeling so much less alone than she would have a year ago. 

Tom came into their lives and changed everything. To this day, it still scared her. 

 “I’m going to have to order more books,” Tom said as he picked through the ones he had stacked on his desk, all for children and all matching ones on a shelf on Sally’s little bookshelf dedicated to bedtime stories with Tom. “We’ve almost gone through them all.” 

“Kids do reread books,” Mia teased. She always tried to provide a plethora of reading material for Sally, but historically, money prevented any large collections. Now? Sometimes, a box would just show up with a few more books to be added to the remote bedtime story collections.

“We reread,” Tom protested, earning him that musical laugh that was so unique to Mia. It was one of his favorite sounds. 

He was right; they did reread books. The stack wasn’t tall enough to even give a fresh book every night for the month at the frequency of his calls. That didn’t change how good it felt to tease him. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Mia made a show of rolling her eyes, not that Tom could see it before turning her attention back to Sally. “If you want Tommy to read to you, you better go hurry and pick out a book. He’s going to fall asleep if we keep him waiting much longer!” 

“Yep,” Tom yawned on the other side of the country. For Mia and Sally, it was just about bedtime, but for Tom, it was getting late and his morning run was getting closer and closer. It was worth it to him, though. These moments where he could bond with his stepdaughter and wife came far and few between, at least in his opinion. 

“This one!” Sally picked out a rhyming book for Mia to tell Tom the name of. 

In a few moments, the little girl was tucked into bed, leaning into Mia’s side as Tom read the book to them through the phone. Mia traced the path of the words with her nail, smiling down at the child at her side, sagging more and more as sleep pulled her under.

Before the book was finished, Mia was closing the book and working herself out from under Sally as Tom’s voice carried on reading a world away. She clicked off the lights as Tom’s reading came to a close. 

“Good Night, Sally,” he said softly in closing. “I love you.” 

“She’s asleep,” Mia whispered into the phone, stepping out of the darkened bedroom and softly closing the door behind her. 

“I’m glad.” Tom tossed the book onto the desk in his hotel room, redirecting his attention back to the task of changing for bed. “What are you up to for the rest of the night?” 

‘Packing’, Mia almost said before catching herself. “Just relaxing. It’ll be an early night- I’m working an early double shift tomorrow.” 

“Shit,” Tom mumbled as he stepped on the belt buckle, failing to navigate changing into shorts to sleep in with any grace. “That sucks, darling.” 

“It does.” Mia almost felt bad for lying to him.

“You don’t have to keep working,” Tom reminded her. “I can get it all.” 

“Tom,” Mia sighed. She knew it was coming. It was an argument they would always have when she was tired or work was wearing down on her. 

“I know, I know.” Tom sighed into the phone as he discarded the idea of sleep shorts, instead climbing into the lonely bed in just his boxers. “You don’t want to depend on me that much.” 

“It’s not that,” Mia said, knowing full well that was exactly what her issue was. “I just- baby steps, okay? I’m trying.” 

“I know,” Tom sighed again as he laid back in the bed, enjoying the embrace of the bedding.

“What are you up to?” Mia tried to redirect the conversation.

“Just getting into bed.” Tom shifted, looking at the wide empty space next to him where his wife should have been. “I wish you were here with me.” 

It was bait. Mia knew it and failed to take it, just like he expected. Baby steps, that’s what they were needing to take. Eventually, one of these nights, he hoped she would take the chance to make their phone calls a little more flirty.

“What’s tomorrow’s plan?” Mia felt bad, leaving his invitation hanging. He was always reaching out to her, offering her some thread of connection and intimacy. She was just not ready to make herself vulnerable in that way yet, not when he wasn’t physically there with her. 

“Morning run,” Tom let the m sound drag out, sounding more like a sinful mix between a moan and simply an exhausted man. Mia didn’t know if he knew the way her heart beat faster when he would do things like that. She didn’t know if she’d ever tell him. “After that, we’re going over the promotional schedule some more before costume and makeup. We’ll probably be filming for the rest of the day, but I should finish earlier for the rest of the week.” 

“Good,” Mia said absently, checking the open bag on her floor one last time to make sure she had everything. Of course, she would check again in the morning, but her anxiety had her checking, anyway. “I’ll let you get to sleep then. We’ve both got big days.” 

“Right.” Tom didn’t want to hang up, but knew she was right. They both needed their rest. “Good night, Mia. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Mia always felt weird saying it. She did love Tom, but it felt far too soon still. “Good night, Tom.” 

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom  @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia  @princess-ofthe-pages, @tom-hlover Get on the tag list of follow #sundew for updates!

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

hiiiiii!! if it isnt too much, would you mind writing a platonic oneshot for shadow?

maybe after shadow lost his memory after sa2, the reader found him somehow. shadow is injured or smth (idk something that causes him to have to be dependent on someone, you can decide what the reason why he is dependent on the reader is) so the reader takes him in, despite shadow insisting that he's fine on his own. the reader takes care of shadow, and they have a sort of sibling banter-y relationship. am i making sense? pls tell me if im making sense.

for the readers personality, id like her to be sassy, assertive (maybe a tiny bit neurodivergent if youre comfortable with writing that) artistic, playful, and a bit closed off but still cares. a bit like rouge, maybe. also id like her to be fem, if thats alright. you have full creative freedom with what actually happens. sorry if this is weird and long and awdsdbjebiwebf i just wanna adopt shadow ;-;

You’ll Always Have a Friend”

Pairing: (Platonic) Shadow the Hedgehog x Female Human Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: After finding an injured hedgehog on your doorstep, you never expected to get close to him. But fate is always a strange thing, isn’t it?

Notes: Aghhh I didn’t mean for these requests to take so long, I’ve just been semi-stressed from school, I hope it was worth the wait though!

(Reader will use She/They pronouns.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

The day was normal at first.

You had a normal morning, eating breakfast, getting your morning jog in, catching up on your favorite TV show, reading a new book…

It was nice.

At least, until you started hearing noises outside.

Thunder, to be more specific.

Well, there goes your plans for the rest of the day.

You let out a sigh, double-checking where you keep the candles and getting them out in case the power decides to go out, along with a flashlight and batteries.

After doing so, you notice a figure outside, which isn’t unusual, considering how many people near your town love walking in the rain.

But this one is strange.

They seem…smaller, around the size of a kid, and they seem to be hunched over in pain.

You open your door, looking outside, only to see a strange sight.

The figure turns out to be a three-foot tall anthropomorphic hedgehog with black and red quills, red eyes, rocket shoes, golden ring-shaped bracelets on, one on each of his limbs, and many injuries adorning his body. He appears to be limping.

Before you can call out to him, he barely takes a step forward before collapsing, going unconscious.

You rush over to him, panic written all over your face, checking for a pulse, which you luckily find, causing you to let out a sigh of relief.

Well, you can’t just leave him out here…

Making your decision, you pick up the hedgehog bridal-style, being mindful of his sharp quills, bringing him inside, kicking the door closed behind you with one of your feet.

You set him down on your couch, rushing to get your first-aid kit from your bathroom, coming back out to the living room once you have it, along with a towel.

You begin treating his injuries after drying him off, first disinfecting each of them, with the hedgehog letting off a quiet hiss each time you pour it on a wound.

“I know, bud…I’m almost done,” you say.

It’s a miracle he hasn’t woken up yet.

You bandage the last injury, that being one on his forehead, letting off another sigh.

“Well…guess I have a roommate now,” you say. “Get better soon, alright?”

Odd how he had green blood, was this guy an alien?

Well, of course he is, he’s a giant anthropomorphic hedgehog.

Duh.

The next day, when you awake, you notice him finally awake, trying to get up, hissing in pain.

“Woah woah woah, calm down a bit, bud,” you start. “You’re still healing.”

“Who are you,” he spats. “And where am I.”

“Okay, um. I’m [Name], and this is my house,” you say. “What about you? Do you have a name?”

The hedgehog goes silent, avoiding your gaze.

“Not one that I remember,” he states.

“Hm. Well, I’ll call you “Shadow,” that cool?” you ask.

“Hmph. Whatever,” he says.

You quickly got used to Shadow. It was like having an annoying younger brother, in a way.

Well, sort of, anyway.

He quickly became interested in a lot of stuff you liked, like your many, many books.

His favorite was The Tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, surprisingly.

Eventually, his injuries fully healed, and you expected him to leave.

And he did, but…

He always came back.

No matter how many times he would leave, he would always come back to your house for a safe place.

It was nice having the company.

In return for him staying, you would ask him to be a model for your paintings, and you two would bicker about it like siblings.

In the end, well…

You never regretted meeting him.

[lenzoli]

phishychedelia

[finelinefae]

rose [tattooH x innocenty/n]

synopsis: Harry's a tattoo artist who can't figure out the best way to say how in love he is with the flower shop owner next door

word count: 10.5k

content warnings: smut (first time oral f recieving, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N), brief mentions of violence

read part 1 here

this is a lot !! like a lot happens !! also everyone smiles a lot,, i can't help it they're happy

. . .

Harry had come to the conclusion that of all the things he had had to do in his twenty-six years of life - all the things he had to do and say to get where he was today - saying I love you to his girlfriend was proving to be one of the most intricate tasks he had encountered.

And it wasn't because he didn't love her. From the moment she stepped into his tattoo shop with determination and fear all intertwined into one expression right up until now, he was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.

He had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks that she didn't think he ever noticed.

Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry, they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.

She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."

She loved physical touch from him and him only. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching TV, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hands whenever he held her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.

There were so many things Harry had come to adore about his favourite girl in the entire world. From the way she'd look at him with big rounded eyes as though he hung up the moon and stars in the sky or knew the answer to everything she asked, to the way she'd melt under his touch whenever they'd do something even slightly intimate. He was so in love... He just didn't know how to tell her that.

Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one-night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what romantic love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all until he met his favourite flower. 

Moments would crop up where he could feel the first syllable spike the tip of his tongue but invisible hands wrapped themself around his neck as he tried to let the words out. Y/N would sit patiently, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he'd just end up kissing her, hoping he could communicate his words without saying them.

He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting when it came to saying those three simple words, words that carried so much weight between them. Maybe it was because he wanted the moment to be special and memorable for her, so he waited for the perfect opportunity to confess. But the anticipation was driving him a bit crazy.

It was very early Wednesday morning. Y/N was cutting up sheets of tissue paper since it was nearing winter and people would be out buying gifts soon for their loved ones. She had ordered a bunch of new seed packets and planned to make little gift sets to sell.

Harry was sitting at the workshop table in the middle of the shop. He was wearing his shorts and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head. He wore his worn-out, white Vans as if they were slippers, with the left shoe dangling precariously from his toes, threatening to slide off at any moment. His tired eyes tried to remain focused on counting the coins for Y/N's till since she always miscalculated and would have to go visit him for more money even though his shop was cashless which he reminded her every time as he slipped her a five-pound note from his own back pocket.

The shop was silent in the early hours of the morning as the two worked separately. Y/N enjoyed that she didn't constantly have to make conversation with her boyfriend for him to be interested. They were happy to just be in each other's company for as long as possible.

"Baby," Harry's raspy voice broke the comfortable silence between them. Y/N's head lifted naturally in response, "C'mere." He opened his arm out but his eyes were still trained on counting the coins.

Y/N smiled tiredly and walked over to him, tucking herself into his side and holding onto the arm that wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head, "Didn't get to hold y' this morning, left me cold." He murmured against her.

"M sorry, H. It's always stressful when the season changes." She sighed, thinking about all the work she still had yet to do before autumn passed.

"S okay, just missed you is all." He hummed. Y/N turned herself so she was pressed against the worktop and looking up at him. She loved every version of Harry at all times of day but something about Harry in the morning made her swoon. He was so soft and cuddly, needy and grabby, she'd always have to pry his hands off of her in the morning so she could get to work on time.

Y/N grinned and leaned her head forward, past the hood of his sweatshirt, to kiss him. "Wanted to ask you if y’ would come on a date with me this Saturday.” He whispered, eyes still closed from kissing her.

Every eight weeks, Y/N’s shop would close for the entire weekend. Since her shop was open most days, she wanted to give herself at least some time off to look forward to. Harry knew that particular weekend was coming up because of how much she was looking forward to it so he made sure to free up his weekend too so he could take her out for the day. 

They had been on dinner dates and done a few other things here and there but there was only so much they could do in their small town. So as soon as he thought of the idea, he booked train tickets to take Y/N to the coast for the day. 

“Hmmm,” Y/N sighed, reaching into his hood to wrap her arms around his neck, his skin warm against her touch. “Where would we go?”

“S a surprise,” He whispered into her ear, his breath warm. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you Harry,” She replied, voice soft. 

“Yeah? It’ll be cold so you’ll need to wear a sweater.” He told her. 

"I only own sweaters," She rolled her eyes, pushing away from him so she could get back to work.

"Yeah, my sweaters." Harry teased.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, "Get back to counting those coins or you'll be fired."

"Yes ma'am," He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he carried on counting each penny.

. . .

The small train was busy on the way to the coast on Saturday morning but luckily they had managed to grab two seats next to each other by the window. Y/N insisted that they listened to one of the very many playlists she had curated for them both to listen to. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Harry had come to realise that music was one of Y/N’s love languages. 

He remembered when he first moved in and heard her music through the walls of her apartment as he bought his food shopping up the stairs his first night. The music played well into the night and he had planned to knock on her door and ask her to turn it down like she had done to him the day they had first met, but his ears caught onto her singing. He pressed his ear up against the door and listened as she sang to herself whilst dishes clinked together. She wasn’t the best singer he had ever heard but something about her soft voice soothed him, so he turned around and went about his night with the girl singing next door. 

Y/N pulled out her wired earbuds not long after they’d sat down and gave one of them to Harry. After Hours by The Velvet Underground started playing and Harry smiled to himself as he watched Y/N gaze out the window of the train. He reached for her hand which was covered by her fingerless gloves she had crocheted herself and intertwined their fingers together. 

The train pulled into the final station an hour later. Harry held tightly onto Y/N as people bustled to get on and off the train at the same time. The weather wasn’t perfect when they had arrived - slightly overcast and grey - but it didn’t stop Y/N from gasping at the sight of the ocean in front of her. 

“Harry look!” She pointed as the waves rolled into the shore. She looked adorable in her white hat and earmuffs, her white puffer coat made her look like a giant marshmallow. She was almost matching Harry, in his black puffer coat and green bobble hat. 

“Y/N! Slow down baby,” He called for her as he ran to catch up with her. 

They walked down the steps and onto the beach which was practically void of any people other than a few dog walkers. He was thankful he had told her to wear a thick coat since the wind was bitter and cold. Harry’s smile was so wide, that his dimples pierced each one of his cheeks as he watched her run around in her UGG boots and leggings. 

“Beautiful,” Harry whispered, hoping the words would get caught in the wind and blow straight to her so she could hear them. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea,” She closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh sea air. Harry came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

They walked side by side with each other. Harry held Y/N’s hand inside the pocket of his coat and every once in a while, she would stop to pick up a shell which she would pass to him to put in his other coat pocket. At some point, it started to drizzle down with rain but they carried on walking and talking along the beach. 

Harry would watch as Y/N ran up to the sea to pick up bits of sea glass and try to not get caught by the water. She looked adorable as she ran up the beach looking back at him with her woolly hat and giant coat swamping her. Strands of hair stuck to her damp, rosy cheeks as rain dripped from her coat since they had been out so long. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her as she crouched down to look at something she’d found in the sand. He made a mental note to share it on everything he possibly could so everyone in his life would know how much he loved her, even if she didn’t know just yet. 

Harry swore he was going to tell her he was in love with her right there and then but his heart fell out of his chest when he watched her trip and stumble back onto the sand. “Y/N,” He rushed over, immediately wanting to check if she was okay, only to be met with her giggling and laying back on the sand like a starfish on land. 

“Lay here with me,” She patted the spot next to her. 

The last thing Harry wanted to do was get his new black trousers wet and dirty from the sand but he would do anything and everything she asked him to do so he fell onto the sand and laid right next to her. 

His pinky finger hooked with hers as they both looked up at the sky, “Are you happy flower?” He asked.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” She confesses and the words make Harry’s heart grow ten times the size. “I think spending time with you is when I’m the happiest Harry.”

When it reached past midday, Harry took Y/N to grab something to eat before they had to take the train home again. Their coats were dripping when they stepped inside the small cafe Harry had picked out for them. The kind owner had even offered to dry them both for them before they had to leave again. 

“Harry,” She gasped, “They do blueberry pancakes!” 

Harry smirked, not wanting to tell her that he had picked this cafe specifically because they made one of Y/N’s favourite foods, “Really? Tha’s your favourite right baby?”

She nods, “I’m gonna get that- ooo it even comes with the option of honey or syrup!” Y/N beams. 

By the time their food had arrived, they were well invested in conversation, “Was thinking of getting my ear pierced next weekend. One of my mates has free space and thought it would be fun to get a hoop or something.” Harry tells her. 

Y/N paused on chewing her pancake as she pictured her boyfriend with a hoop earring. She swallowed down her food before getting out, “That would be hot.”

Harry laughs at her bluntness, “Yeah?” He smirked, “You think so?” Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinged pink. 

Although they kissed and made out at any spare moment they could, they hadn’t really branched out from the time Harry had touched her for the first time. Y/N knew Harry was trying to be patient about it - he was a gentleman like that - but she was going crazy not having his ring-clad hands touching her skin, providing that ecstasy he had given her a glimpse of for the first time.  

“Y alright there flower?” Harry crooned, “Anything on your mind you’d care to share.”

Y/N shook her head, ridding them of her dirty thoughts, “M okay, H.” 

“Alright,” His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her, “You look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Her eyes softened, “And thank you for bringing me here today, I’ve loved being here with you.”

Harry parted his lips as if to respond, but found himself speechless, the words trapped somewhere in his throat. Y/N looked at him expectantly, her eyes silently urging him to express whatever was on his mind. With a sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he finally spoke, "I've loved being here with you too. I love every moment I get to be with you." Y/N beamed as Harry inwardly cursed himself for being unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. Yet, as he saw the radiant smile spread across Y/N's face, he couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment wash over him, knowing that his words were enough to reach her for now. 

After the train journey home, which took slightly longer than anticipated, Harry carried Y/N up to her apartment and into her bedroom where he slumped her down on her bed. Y/N hummed at the feeling of her warm, cosy sheets beneath her. “Comfy m’love?” He grinned, tugging the sleeves of his coat off so he was just in his white t-shirt and black trousers. 

“I’m so sleepy,” Y/N sighed, eyes closed whilst Harry tugged her shoes off as her feet dangled over the edge of the bed.

“Cause you’ve been running around all day huh? Could barely keep up with you half the time.” Harry briefly massages the souls of her feet after taking both her shoes off, knowing they were probably aching from running on the beach all day.

“But it was sooo much fun,” Y/N whined, her tired eyes peering down at Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that lovie. Need to get y’ out of these clothes so I can put them in the wash.” He tugs on her leggings.

“Can you do it?” Y/N asks, “M too tired.”

Harry pauses, “Y’ sure baby? Don’t want y’ to be uncomfortable.” 

“M sure Harry, I trust you.” She tells him.

He smiles to himself as her words settle in the space between them. A smile curves his lips almost involuntarily, reflecting the quiet gratitude he feels towards her trust.  “Alright, lift y’ hips for me, flower.” He instructs and Y/N does as she’s told, lifting her hips so he can pull down her leggings leaving her in her pink lacey panties. 

Harry swallows as he sees the apex of her thighs. He hadn’t seen this much of her before and he could already feel himself harden in his jeans at the sight of her. “Think y’ can sit up for me flower? Jus’ so I can’t take your sweater off?” He tries to stop staring at her bare legs but he can’t seem to take his eyes away.

Y/N groans but does as she’s told, sitting up and putting her arms up so Harry can remove the sweater from her torso. Her eyes are still shut and Harry gently pulls the soft sweater over her head. 

When her eyes open, the first thing Y/N sees is Harry standing above her with his gaze fixed on her figure and she realizes this is the most he's ever seen of her yet. She had nothing but a vest and underwear to cover her body. Y/N was pretty sure he could see the curve of her breasts and the outline of her nipples through the thin, white material. 

“Harry…” she whispers, suddenly realising what was happening, how the temperature in the room had suddenly shifted.

Y/N shivered as Harry cupped her cheek and bent forward to kiss her. She leaned backwards onto the bed, resting on her elbows as Harry kept his hold on her cheek, using his other hand to place on her hip as he crawled on top of her. His hand was warm and big and his fingertips pressed into her skin sending a joint of electricity down through her body. 

They kissed and Harry groaned as Y/N uncontrollably rolled her hips into him, “Harry,” Y/N repeated, placing her hands on his chest.

“What baby?” He asks.

“I-I feel strange,” She confesses, not really knowing how to go about telling him what was on her mind.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, “N-no nothing’s wrong. It’s just… Remember last time? When you…” she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, too embarrassed to describe what Harry had done when he taught her how to touch herself.

“What about it?” He wonders, patience and curiosity on his face.

“I-I want to do it again but different.” She cringed at her words, “I mean, I want to try something new. L-like I want you to show me something new I mean.” 

Harry’s features softened, “Yeah? You want me to take care of you huh?”

Y/N nodded, relieved he understood what she was hinting at without her having to admit it herself, “Yes.”

“What do you want me to do baby?” He kisses down the side of her neck, Y/N’s head rolling to the side to give him more room to explore her skin.

“I-I don’t know,” 

“Oh I think you do flower otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for something new to try would you?” He sucks on the skin of her neck and she whines at the feeling. His green eyes meet hers as he lifts his head up, “C’mon sweet girl, tell daddy what you want from him.” 

Her mouth fell open and her heart beat erratically in her chest, “I-I need you down there daddy.” 

“Yeah? You want daddy to touch you down there baby?” 

“Y-yes daddy please.”

“Still so polite.” Y/N seemed to melt as he crawled down her placid form, he could do anything to her and she wouldn't mind as long as he was touching her in some way.

She suddenly gasped when she felt him blow warm air onto her nipple beneath her vest. “Can I lift your vest baby? Can you let daddy see these cute tits?” 

“Mhm,” She hummed, her body vibrating with excitement and nerves. Harry’s fingertips brushed the skin of her tummy as he pulled her vest up to reveal her breasts. 

“Fuck baby,” Harry groaned. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Your shirt too!” Y/N insisted, feeling a little insecure as Harry was still in his white shirt.

Harry was quick to pull off his shirt to reveal his tattooed torso that Y/N had traced and slept on almost every night since they had met. Her hands were immediately on his warm skin as he kissed down the swell of her breasts. Y/N gasped as Harry gently pressed a kiss to her left nipple, sliding his other hand up to cup her other one, “See that? Y’ were made for daddy.” He said as her breast fit perfectly in his hand. 

“Daddy I need you,” Y/N whispered.

“Such a greedy girl.” He tuts, “Trying to worship you ‘n you’re just begging me to make you cum.” 

“N-no-” Y/N wanted to argue but Harry quickly kissed her lips before moving down her body. 

“Look at these pretty panties. Can already see you’re all soaked through them.” Y/N could practically hear the smile on his face. “Can I see baby?” 

“Y-Yes, daddy.” She swallowed back her nerves, even though Harry had already seen her down there, it was her first time experiencing someone be so up close. Y/N felt his fingers hook around the waistband of her panties until they were halfway down her thighs and waited for him to react.

“Fuck me,” Harry hisses. “Won’t ever get over the sight of this pretty pussy. Always manage to live up to y’ nickname, don’t y’ flower?” 

Y/N’s cheeks heat but before she has time to protest Harry leans forward and presses a kiss to her throbbing pussy. She snaps her thighs shut tightly and gasps, “W-what-“

“Shhh flower,” Harry kisses her knee and then gently hooks both her legs over either of his shoulders so she can’t close her thighs to hide away from him, “Daddy’s gonna take the ache away okay? Know you’ve been feeling all needy for daddy. Gonna do something that’ll help and put you right to sleep m’kay?”

Y/N swallows harshly and fists the fabric of the blanket beneath her. Her heart was racing and her belly was swirling with need and desire as she waited for Harry to do something.

He kissed the inside of her thighs, “You trust me?” He asked, waiting for her approval, “Because I’ll stop as soon as you say so, promise y’ that.” 

“Yes, daddy.” She said because she did trust him, wholeheartedly, “I trust you.”

“That’s m’ girl.” Y/N waited until she felt his warm breath blow over her pussy. His mouth pressed another kiss to her before she felt his tongue swipe across her slit. Y/N gasped at the unfamiliarity of it as he flicked his tongue softly over her to get her accustomed to it. His eyes looked up to see Y/N’s reaction at the first touch of his mouth. He smirked to himself as her breasts heaved cutely and her cheeks were flushed pink. 

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“S not my name flower.” He murmured against her. 

She tried to close her thighs but Harry’s head lay buried between them, licking and stroking his tongue against her. He wrapped both his tattooed hands around her thighs to keep them open, pressing his fingertips into her plushy skin. “Daddy,” she whined.

He licks up her wet cunt once more until he finds her clit. Y/N jolts at the sudden attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves. His lips pucker against her tiny, pink clit glistening with arousal, a whimper eliciting from Y/N’s lip. He moves his tongue in circles around it before gently sucking on the small bud.

Y/N’s a writhing, whimpering mess beneath him as he licks and sucks on her clit, her wetness coating his chin. She bucks her hips against his mouth and quickly removes one hand from the bed to weave into his hair. Harry groans as she tugs on his curls, his cock leaking precum in his trousers, the vibrations going straight to Y/N’s clit. 

“Daddy, f-feels so good,” She mewls, continuing to tug on his hair. Harry ruts his hips against the mattress, in hopes he could get some relief as he continues his assault on her pussy. 

“Y' so fucking sexy Y/N.” He grumbled, unable to stop his attention from her weeping, little cunt.

Her thighs began to tremble as she felt the coil tighten in her belly. Harry’s hand removed itself from her thigh and slid up the bed to reach for her hand that wasn’t already in his hair. He intertwined their fingers as if comforting her without saying anything. 

He paused his assault on her clit, Y/N whimpering at the sudden loss. Instead, he flattened his tongue against her once more before dipping his tongue into her hole a little as if testing the waters to see whether she’d like it. Y/N’s back arched and Harry’s hand left hers to place itself flat against her tummy to hold her still, the cool metal of his rings made her shiver as they touched her skin. His tongue delved in and out of her, using his other hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, her head fell back and her legs turned to jelly. “Y close angel girl?” Harry murmured, peeking up at her to see her blissfully zoned out from his touch. 

“Feels s’ good daddy, s-so so so good,” She babbled her head lolling from side to side. 

“Wanna cum baby? Wanna make a mess on daddy?” He urged her, feeling her core clench. 

She jerkily nodded, “Mhmmm,” She hummed. 

“Lemme have it, baby, daddy worked so hard, lemme taste y’ cum.” He hastened his movements on her clit and continued to lick and suck at her pussy, “Cum f’ me baby.” He coaxed. "Can't wait to feel y' round my cock someday, practically begging to feel y' tight, little hole. 'm gonna be the first and only one to fill y' up, isn't that right? Gonna let daddy stretch you out and fill y' up. You're all mine, 'm favourite flower."

His filthy words set Y/N alight. She felt the coil snap as pleasure rushed through her entire body and filled all of her senses. Harry groaned, continuing to press himself up against the bed until he felt his own orgasm building too, his lips staying on Y/N as she came. He lapped up her juices, riding her through her orgasm and tasting all she had to offer for the first time. “That’s my girl baby, so good.” He cooed. 

Harry’s eyes rolled back as his cock released inside of his boxers, his head falling to the side and resting on the inside of her thigh as he breathed heavily, “Fuck,” He groaned, eyes rolling to the ceiling. 

The room was quiet other than the sounds of them trying to catch their breath. Harry kissed the inside of Y/N’s thigh and worked his way up her body, placing soft, spongy kisses on her bare skin until he was face-to-face with her. 

Harry grinned lazily, his eyes tired as he brushed the hair off her face. His heart stuttered; he felt himself losing his breath all over again despite having just come down from the high of his release as he looked down at his girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glowing from the afterglow, tendrils of baby hairs framed her face and her eyes were hazy and soft as she looked into his own. 

“Thank you daddy,” She whispered to him. 

Harry pressed a kiss to her lips. Her legs hooked around his waist as he circled his arms around her to pull her in tighter, “You okay? Was that good? Not too much?” He wanted to make sure she was okay before anything else. He’d hate himself if he did something she didn’t like or didn’t want to do. 

“M okay,” She smiled, her voice tired. He kissed her once more knowing she could probably taste herself on his lips. “It felt good.” 

“Y’ made me cum,” He admits, feeling the discomfort of his own release in his boxers. 

“I did?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. 

“Yeah, flower. That was so fucking sexy.” Y/N whined and tried to hide herself behind her hands. Harry chuckled at her reaction, grabbing her wrists to move her hand away and kissing her forehead before lifting himself from her. “Let’s get y’cleaned up.” 

Harry walked over to Y/N’s dresser to grab himself some clean boxers from the drawer he had curated from the nights he had spent with her. He also grabbed her some clean underwear and one of his shirts to wear to bed. 

In the bathroom, he got himself cleaned up and grabbed a cloth dampening it under the running water in the sink for his love who was waiting for him in bed. Harry paused at the door when he entered her room after he was met with a sight he longed to treasure in his mind forever. Y/N was lying completely bare on her bed. Her eyes were shut, her chest moving up and down and her hair was sprawled out around her. He didn’t know how he got so lucky with her, she was a living angel.

“C’mere flower,” He murmured, spreading her legs apart slightly and trying not to react to the sticky, glistening mess between her thighs. He placed the dampened cloth against her and calmed her down as she jolted beneath his touch from how sensitive she was. 

Once they were all cleaned up, Harry climbed under the blankets with Y/N half asleep against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ran a finger up and down the length of her spine beneath her shirt.  "Sleep now, flower," he whispered his voice a gentle caress in the quiet of the night. The warmth of his presence soothed Y/N to fall asleep. 

In the hazy blur of her consciousness, she murmured, words slipping from her lips without thought. "Love you," she breathed, the three words escaping her lips as effortlessly as a sigh, yet she remained unaware of what they meant. 

Harry stilled, his breath catching in his throat, “W-what?” But Y/N didn’t reply, instead, soft snores left her lips as she fell asleep beside him. 

. . .

It was the Friday after Harry had taken Y/N to the beach. Fridays were always busy at the tattoo shop so Harry was working away until the late hours of the evening. Y/N sat on a chair, her legs swinging backwards and forward as she played a game on Harry's phone. The sound of the tattoo gun hummed in the air whilst a bossa nova played over the Bluetooth speaker. Harry was still working despite the fact it was nearly time for Y/N to go to bed (She had a strict regime before bed which gave her exactly eight hours of sleep each night). He had promised her this would be his last customer as she waltzed into his tattoo shop, ready to go to his apartment together.

Harry hadn't mentioned to Y/N what she had unknowingly said in her sleep. When they woke up the next morning, he gently broached the subject, asking, "Hey, do you remember anything you said last night while you were asleep?"

Y/N, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, just shrugged in response. "Not really," she mumbled, her voice heavy with drowsiness. "Did I say something strange?"

"No, not at all," Harry assured her, though inwardly, he couldn't shake off the weight of her words. "Just thought you might've had a dream or something." But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake off the lingering memory of her whispered confession, playing over and over in his mind like a sweet melody. 

"Y' holding up okay there m'love?" Harry checked in, working on the final few finishing touches of the tattoo he had been working on.

"Mhm," She smiled but Harry could tell she was getting sleepy from the way he'd caught her eyes fluttering shut when he glanced over at her.

"Can go sleep on the couch out front if you're feeling sleepy." He offered, wanting to make sure his girl was okay before he finished off the tattoo for his customer. He knew first-hand how grouchy she got when she didn't get her sleep.

"M okay here Harry," She insisted, thinking she was lying to him well enough over how tired she was. "Can I watch?" She strained her neck to get a better look at what Harry was doing.

"Course flower, c'mere," Harry pushed his chair forward to give Y/N space to stand behind him so she could watch over his shoulder. He pushed down on the peddle and continued the tattoo as Y/N watched over him.

"Does it hurt?" She wondered, watching the needle press ink into the customer's skin.

"Jus' a little sting but when you've had so many it's not so bad," Harry replied.

Y/N watched in fascination. She was not only impressed by the design Harry had drawn out and tattooed to the customer so effortlessly but also how brave people must be to have such a permanent mark on their skin. She tilted her head to the side, "I want one," She mumbled.

Harry paused, "What?"

"Nothing," She replied, quickly.

Harry had heard what she said but decided he'd bring it up when there wasn't another person in the room, knowing how shy she got around people she didn't know.

After completing the tattoo, he wrapped it up and chatted with the customer for a little bit. Meanwhile, Y/N browsed through his tattoo design sketchbook with a furrowed brow. Once the conversation was done, he shut the door behind the customer and turned the sign to 'closed.'

He walked over to his seemingly overthinking flower and kissed the top of her head, "Wha's wrong m'love?" He smiled softly, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into his chest.

"Jus' looking H," She tilted her head back to look up at him, kissing his chin in the process.

"Didn't know we were telling fibs tonight flower," He teased, spinning her around in his embrace.

"M not lying," She hid her face in his chest because he always knew when she was lying and she was most definitely lying.

"Can you look up f'me baby just f' a sec," He murmured and looked down to see the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, round and sparkling under the blue lights of his shop. "Woah," He whispered to himself.

"What's wrong?" A crease appeared in between her brows.

"Nothin' just...you're so pretty," She whined, nuzzling her face into his neck to hide her very red face. Even though it was hard to tell under the blue lights, he knew she was blushing. "Hey, no, can I have a kiss please?" He cupped the back of her head and pulled her away from the comfortable spot in his neck.

Y/N stood on her toes to kiss him, tasting the tinge of eucalyptus lip balm she had given him when he had complained of having sore lips from kissing her too much in the colder weather. "So y' want a tattoo?" He murmured against her lips.

Y/N pulled away, "I-I was just thinking but-"

"You're not sure?" She nods. "Don't have to get a tattoo today m'love, especially if you're not sure." Harry comforted her, seeing the uncertainty on her face. He kissed the crease between her eyebrows but her eyes were fixed on a tattoo on his upper arm.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, her fingers skimming over the small design. It was a fine line drawing of a pair of angel wings with a flower in the centre between each wing. Harry had designed it not long after meeting Y/N and had only tattooed the design onto himself a few days ago.

"Jus' a little something I drew 's all." He shrugged, "Reminded me of you."

Y/N's lips parted like she couldn't believe what he had just said, "For me?"

He nods, "Wanted to have you somewhere on me at all times."

Y/N goes quiet and Harry gives her the time to think as he packs away his things to head upstairs. By the time he's finished, Y/N's tugging on his sleeve and looking up at him with rounded eyes, "I think I'd like a tattoo, Harry."

Harry bit back a smile, "You do?"

"Mhm," She nodded, seeming sure of herself, "But I want you to do it."

"Wouldn't let anyone else do it anyways flower." He pulled out the kit he had just put away, not feeling annoyed in the slightest because he loved this girl and would set up his equipment all over again even if she decided she no longer wanted the tattoo anymore.

Y/N shimmied up onto the chair and glanced over at him, "What are you wanting on you baby?" He asked.

"I want the same one as you please Harry," She says, referring to the tattoo of the angel wings.

He smiles, "Wanna match with me, sweet girl?" He kisses her lips quickly.

Y/N nods, beaming up at him, "Yes please."

"So polite," He taps her cheek before going to his worktop and drawing out a stencil with a careful hand.  Y/N sat in the chair with her feet hovering above the ground. She was fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she glanced around at the designs she had admired many times before when she'd sit and wait for Harry whilst he worked.

"M'kay lovie, where'd you want it?" Harry asked.

"Oh," She pursed her lips, "I didn't think that far."

"Didn't think that far?" Harry chortled, "How about on your arm?” He squeezed her arm softly above the crease of her elbow, "Won't hurt too bad if we do it here."

"Okay Harry," She nodded, trusting him implicitly. Harry wanted to smother her in kisses with the way she was looking at him like she would do anything he said without even questioning it.

Harry prepped everything, making sure he had all he needed to start the tattoo. He went a little slower than he normally would, wanting to give her enough time to make sure she was certain about getting the tattoo. He mixed up the ink and switched on the tattoo gun as Y/N lay back against the leather chair.

"Y' okay flower?" Harry checked again, expecting to get the same answer he had already gotten only for her to chew on her lip and scrunch up the fabric of the skirt she was wearing.

"M a little nervous," She admitted, blushing.

"Hey it's okay to be nervous," He cooed, dropping the equipment and rolling over to her on his chair. He leaned against the seat she was lying in so his face was up close to hers, he brushed a few strands of hair from her face and the feeling of his hands calmed the nerves Y/N was feeling. "It'll hurt a little bit. Some people say it feels like a little like a tiny scratch but you get used to the feeling."

"But what if you start and then I don't want it anymore because it hurts?" She realises she should have asked these questions before they had gotten this far.

"Tha's why you need to be sure you want it sweet girl. Don't wanna see you in pain either but it's a small tattoo so won't take long and it's on your arm which means it hurts a little bit less." Harry explained.

"Okay," She nodded, "B-but can you distract me a little? It'll help if you distract me."

Harry smiled, kissing her lips, "Can distract you any way you want, baby. Here," He removed the dog tag necklace he wore all the time without failure and handed it to her, "Can fiddle with this while I draw on you."

Y/N felt her shoulders relax a little as she felt the cool metal in her hands, "Okay Harry." His lips pressed against her forehead, "Okay Y/N." He grinned.

Harry pulled on some gloves and got the tattoo gun running. Y/N went stiff as the humming sound filled the room but she reminded herself of Harry's words and continued to play with his necklace. "Okay, ready baby?" He gave her one last kiss for comfort and then, when she nodded her head, the needle made contact with her skin.

She gasped as the tiny needle pricked at her skin. It wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be but it wasn't comfortable either. She tried to relax but her muscles were all tensed up.

Harry tried to comfort her as best as she could. Whispering words of encouragement, "So good baby, y' so brave." He'd say and tell her it would be over in a moment even though a moment felt like an eternity in her mind.

"Is it over yet?" She was starting to feel the discomfort and was already waiting for it to finish.

"Almost angel," He cooed and finished up the final lines of the drawing. "There we go, all finished."

Y/N let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding and immediately her eyes flickered down to the tattoo Harry had drawn on her. She was in awe of how beautiful and intricate the design was and how quickly Harry had managed to draw it so perfectly. It was a perfect size on her arm, the angel wings matched exactly the same as the ones Harry had done on himself. She almost squealed with how happy she was with her first ever tattoo and how it was a permanent reminder of her sweet and loving boyfriend.

Harry grinned as he watched her face light up when she saw the tattoo, "'Y like it?" He asked, preparing the cream and wrap to put on it before she did something that would get it infected - they both knew she would do that if he wasn't careful.

"I love it, Harry!" She grinned, her smile lighting up the whole room.

Harry laughed at her happiness, "You're welcome baby." He applied the cream and wrapped it up before she could move anywhere. Instead of leaping out of the chair, she wrapped her arms around Harry and pressed her lips to his. He hummed, "Best tip I've ever gotten." He murmured.

"I kinda want another one," She couldn't stop looking down at her tattoo and taking in how pretty it was.

"Woah, slow down there flower, think you should wait a while until the next one." He repressed a smile. "But I'll happily draw up another one f'you."

"Okay Harry," She said, not really paying much attention to him.

"Alright c'mon, le's go upstairs. Wanna kiss you in bed if tha's okay." He quickly put all of his equipment away as Y/N gawked at her tattoo.

"I think I'd love that more than the tattoo," She sighed. Harry decided not to pull her up on the fact she was probably telling another fib. 

. . .

"Y/N is that a tattoo!" One of her friends, Shakira, spoke out.

It had been two weeks since Y/N had gotten her first tattoo and she still wasn't over how pretty it was. Every morning she'd wake up and look at her arm and tell Harry how good of a job he did.

"No wonder you're a tattoo artist Harry!" She'd say, to which he'd just smile and sit patiently as she rambled about how much she loved her tattoo and how she wanted him to draw her another one.

"Oh yes!" Y/N rolled up the sleeve of her pyjama shirt so her friends could get a better look, "Harry did it. Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, thinking of her boyfriend who she hadn't seen since this morning.

Y/N had planned a slumber party at her place a few weeks ago since she hadn't seen her two friends, Shakira and Layla, in forever. She'd known them since high school and were the only two friends she really had other than Harry who was also her best friend. 

Harry had promised he'd stay away and give her some much needed girly time. Although Y/N didn't like the idea of being away from Harry, she knew it was needed. He had some things he needed to do anyway and she wanted to give him space to do that too.

"Do you think he could do one for me?" Layla asked, her arm already littered with small tattoos.

"I can ask him for you if you'd like," Y/N offered, receiving a nod from Layla.

"What's it like being in a relationship?" Shakira asked, "I mean Harry seems the complete opposite of you, I'd never have pictured you together."

Y/N smiles, thinking back to their first interaction and how intimidated she was by him. Now she couldn't get enough of him, wanting to be with him and touch him whenever she could. "I know but Harry's... I don't know, he's not like how people assume. He's kind, caring and lovable. We have a lot more in common than most people think and even the things we don't have in common, Harry always listens to the things I have to say even when he doesn't completely understand."

"Awwww!" Y/N blushed when she realised she had been rambling too much again.

"You're so cute Y/N," Layla grinned. "And we're so happy for you. Harry seems like a great guy."

"He is," Y/N agreed, shyly.

"Have you said I love you yet?" Shakira smirked.

Y/N's smile faltered, "N-not yet..." She looked away from their gazes, "But I think I'm just waiting for the right time. Harry always has these moments where I think he's going to say it but he never does and part of me thinks he's still questioning it." Y/N admits.

Layla offers her a sympathetic gaze, "I'm sure he's just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you Y/N. Saying I love you can be a pretty big deal for some people."

"I know," Y/N nods in agreement, "And I'll wait for him, however long it takes."

Y/N spent the remainder of the evening gossiping and watching movies with her two best friends. Now and then, she would look down at her phone just in case Harry had sent her anything but nothing appeared other than a blank screen. She couldn't help but feel a little bit deflated that he hadn't checked in on her like he usually would but she quickly pushed the feeling away. Harry had other things he was doing, she'd see him later.

"Thank you for having us Y/N! It was so good to see you, we need to do it again sometime," Y/N stood at the door to say goodbye to her friends. It was nearing midnight and she wondered if Harry was in his apartment waiting for her.

"Thank you for coming! I missed you guys," Y/N chirped, she really did miss having her girlfriends around. She was so busy with work and spending time with Harry, that she rarely had time outside of those things. But after today, she was going to make it a priority to see her friends again.

"See you later Y/N!" Her friends waved as they walked down the steps from her apartment. Y/N smiled and waved until they were out of sight. She planned on calling Harry to check in on him and see if he was alright but a crash from his apartment halted her steps.

She paused, stilling herself so she could hear a little better. Another thud came from his apartment followed by a string of curses and something that sounded like a clutter of things falling on the floor.

"Harry?" Y/N called through the door but received no response. "Harry, are you okay? It's me, it's Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry's voice murmured through the door. Y/N relaxed a little at the sound of his voice but she was still worried about him. It wasn't normal for him to keep his distance from her like this.

"Harry, are you okay?" She rested her hand on the doorknob, preparing to open it so she could see him with her own eyes.

"I-I'm fine baby. Go t' sleep m'love. I'll be there in a little while," Y/N frowned when she heard him wheezing a little as he breathed between words. He spoke much too slowly compared to his usual drawl as though it was too much work for him to speak.

"Harry please, jus' wanna see you." She tries again, hoping he'll open the door.

"Promise I'll be there t' give you your kisses baby but I jus' need... a moment," Y/N's face fell.

"H-Harry you're scaring me," She said, quietly.

Harry was on the other side of the door, clutching onto his side. He was already hurting but hearing his angel begging to come in was killing him. He couldn't leave her out there. She looked the perfect remedy to his currently aching body when he looked through the peephole of his door and saw her already in her pyjamas, looking all snuggly and cute.

"Not tryin' t' scare you, dove. Please I'll be out in a minute." He hoped she would listen like she normally would. He needed enough time to clean up as best as he could so he could return to her- looking like the Harry she knew- but she wasn't having it, reminding him of just how stubborn she could be when she wanted to. 

"Harry, I-I'm gonna open the d-door. I have to see if you're okay," She spoke, clearly and carefully.

Harry looked down as the doorknob twisted. He wanted to twist the key and lock it to keep her out but he lost control of his own mind as he stepped back and allowed her to push the front door open.

He stood under the dim light of his living room. He had been meaning to get the lightbulb fixed but he'd been spending too much time at Y/N's apartment to remember.

Her eyes went from his feet all the way up to meet his face. Her lips parted and her eyes started to water, his heart ached at the sight. "No baby," He stepped forward, pulling her into him and holding her to his chest even though it ached to do so.

"H-Harry," She whispered, her voice cracking, "What happened?"

She pulled back and cupped one of his cheeks in her small hand. Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, he could have sworn every ounce of pain lifted from her touch alone. "Was out with a friend, you know, the one who deals," He explained, referring to Mike who Y/N had met. He didn't want to hide from her and she already knew he smoked weed regularly so it was no surprise to her when he told her he'd been smoking, "We pulled over so he could drop something off but I guess the customer got a little aggressive. He was probably on something but he was refusing to pay I think Mike said. I was in the car and all I saw was this guy trying to swing at him. I ran out to help him and we managed to get away before he had the chance to do anything worse but he obviously managed to get a good few hits in before."

Harry hadn’t remembered the last time he had gotten into a fight other than when he was a teenager just after his parents got divorced. He had managed to get a few punches in, making his knuckles all red and cut up, but he'd also been the victim of a few hits too. He had a black eye, a busted lip and a pounding headache from the impact of the punch he had received.

"Harry," Y/N choked on a sob, "Y-you could have been seriously h-hurt,"

"I know baby, I know." He cradled her head in his arms as she wrapped her arms around him, not squeezing too tight because she knew he was in pain. "But 'm here now."

Her eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at him, "You were helping Mike?" She asked.

"'s all I was doing baby, promise." He hated how worried she looked so he was willing to do anything to comfort her until she knew he was okay.

She pulled away, "W-where are you hurting?" She looks down as if checking him for any more bruising. He could see her visibly starting to panic, her hands shaking and her chest moving up and down rapidly.

"Hey, c'mere, c'mon now." He picked her up and brought her over to the couch, "M okay sweet girl, nothing to worry about anymore. Calm down f' me, please. Hate seeing you in a panic." He uttered to her, rocking her back and forth with her face buried in his neck. 

"You're all b-bruised," She whimpered, "Y-you must be in so much pain."

"Not anymore my love. Hmmm, my flower is here, takin' all m' pain away aren't you dove?" He kissed her shoulder.

"C-can I help you?" She whispered, eyes blotchy and red from crying a little.

"Wanna patch up m' bruises love?" She nods as if there was nothing else she'd rather do than be there for him. "Alright, le's go to the bathroom and y' can help me." He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the counter near the sink. He grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink and handed it to her. "Didn't know m' girlfriend was a little nurse." He smirked, a blush covering her cheeks.

Harry stood between her legs with his hands on the counter on either side of her. He watched her as she cleaned the cuts and treated the bruise covering his eye. He smiled when the tip of her tongue stuck out between her lips, "Be careful, I'll bite that tongue." He teased.

Y/N squeaked hiding her tongue away, but quickly composed herself, "You're not getting anywhere near my tongue mister." She sasses and Harry grins so wide, his cheeks hurt.

"No? You don't think I deserve a kiss baby? M in so much pain." He hides his face in her neck and presses spongy kisses on her soft skin.

Y/N giggles at the ticklish sensation, trying to push him away, "No, you can't, not until I patch you up and you stop getting into fights."

"Actin' like I get into fights every other weekend baby," He smirks, "Only f' you."

Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to figure out what to say in such a flustered state from his words. He takes the opportunity to kiss her, their lips pressing together under the low light of the bathroom. He hadn't seen her since this morning and had been missing her all day but knew she needed some time with her girlfriends without him smothering her. It didn't stop him from glancing at his phone now and then to see if she'd called him, just like she had done.

The small time they spent away from each other during the day made him all the more desperate to kiss her. He cradled both her cheeks in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the baby strands of hair on the nape of his neck. "Missed you," She murmured when their lips parted.

"Missed y' too flower." He hummed, "Don't know what's wrong w' me to want you this bad." His hands travelled down her arms, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he slid past it before he intertwined their fingers together. “Think m just a teeny bit in love with y’ to be honest.” He confessed. 

And suddenly they were both existing outside of their own bodies.

"W-what?" Y/N's eyes glazed over.

“Oh shit.” Harry cusses, squeezing his eyes shut, his face scrunching in frustration, “Wasn’t meant to be this way flower.” 

“Y-you love me?” Her bottom lip quivered, her brain not quite believing what she was hearing. 

Harry's heart was racing as he looked her in the eyes, "I love you." The words left his mouth and had never felt so right or so freeing. He couldn't understand why now of all moments was the time to finally say it but a piece of himself felt whole and all the pain from his body had left as he told her the three words that had been trapped in his throat for so long.

Y/N's mind whirred as she processed Harry's words. The air seemed to thicken around them, and for a moment, time hung suspended. She searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all she found was sincerity and vulnerability. "You do?" She whimpered.

"Oh no flower, don't cry. Hate seeing tears in those pretty eyes," He began to wipe them away as soon as they fell from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," She blubbered, "I never imagined... I never imagined someone could feel this way about me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Never thought I'd be in love either but here we are," He chuckled, "Love you so much, m'favourite flower." He rubbed their noses together.

Y/N's pouty lips sprouted into a beautiful smile, "I love you too Harry, more than anyone in the whole world."

"Y’ already told me that once before." He smiled, a mixture of adoration and a touch of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“I did?” She frowned. 

“Mhm,” Harry nodded, “Before you fell asleep, you mumbled it and told me you loved me and when you woke up y’ didn’t remember.” 

“Really?” She couldn’t help but feel embarrassed knowing she admitted something so big in her sleep.

“Honestly,” Harry told her, “Think y’ were probably dreaming or something.”

“Is this a dream? Feels like it,” Y/N whispers. 

“S most certainly not a dream m’love.” Harry kissed her quickly, “Gonna love you forever I think.” 

She leant forward, running her fingers through his hair as his head fell back. He hummed at the feeling, biting on his lip to stop himself from smiling so much before burying his face in the crook of her neck - in the place he loved so much. "Promise." He whispered, lips ghosting her skin.

Their fingers traced lazy patterns on each other's skin, a silent communication between them. The room was filled with the hushed whispers of their love, as if time had slowed down so they could savour the sweetness of this very moment.

Y/N yawned which made the corner of Harry's lips turn upwards, "Y' done fixing me up now? Wanna go t' bed love?" She nodded, wrapping herself around him. He reminded himself to clean away the first aid kit in the morning, his priority was getting his girl some much-needed sleep.

She curled into him when they lay in his small bed, her head resting on his chest right where her heart was. She played with his hair and he ran a hand up and down her bare back underneath her pyjama shirt, "I love you," She murmured into the quiet.

He hoped she could hear his heart beat a little faster at her words, "I love you s' much, flower. With everything in me, gonna be mine forever y'are." He mumbled the words into her ear. 

Harry cupped the side of her face as her tired, glossy eyes looked at him with so much love and adoration, that he didn’t know what to do with it all. In the dimly lit room, they leaned in close, their breath mingling as their lips met in a gentle, passionate kiss. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangled in his hair. They explored each other's mouths, lost in the heat of the moment, their bodies pressed together. Each kiss was filled with longing and desire, igniting a fire between them that burned brighter with every touch.

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” Y/N whispered to him. 

“Really?” Harry smiled. 

“You’re my first love.” Y/N has to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling so wildly but Harry tugs her lip with his thumb and suddenly her smile is so wide her cheeks turn pink.

“You’re my first and only love.” He murmured. 

She liked that and she loved him. 

This was exactly where they were both meant to be —with the person who had become not only their first love but their forever love too. 

A flower tattooed to his heart.

[puptrefied]

cw : somno ⋆ no dialogue | 1k words .ᐟ

ellie has your face everywhere—most of her journal pages, random papers and literal paintings—so it's no surprise she uses any moment of quietness to draw you again.

you're on the couch reading? she's already sitting on the other end of the room, journal in hand, focused on getting the proportions right.

you took a cute polaroid? well, she has it handmade on paper, right on the cork board above her bed. she tried to be fancier and draw it with a pen instead of her usual pencil.

you're outside, paying attention to some plants ? ellie's on the window, sketchbook resting against her knee, trying to capture the way the sunlight hits your face.

and now, while you're asleep—soft breaths, limbs relaxed, the thin straps of your nightgown slipping just slightly off your shoulder. ellie’s at the edge of her bed, journal balanced in her lap, pencil gliding over paper in slow, careful strokes.

she wants to get it perfect. the shape of your lashes against your cheek, the slightly parted lips, the tousled hair, the way your fingers curl slightly around the blanket. her eyes drifted lower as she observed every feature she was about to practice with.

hm, the blanket’s in the way.

ellie bit her lip, shifting in place. you wouldn’t mind if she just…moved it a little, right? just to capture the shape of your hips, the smoothness of your thighs—purely for artistic purposes, obviously.

god. you’re barely wearing anything.

the nightgown’s ridden up, exposing soft skin and the faintest trace of lace beneath. ellie swallows hard, heat prickling at the back of her neck. this is fine—fine—she’s just drawing, after all. she can be normal about this.

but the moonlight catches on the curve of your chest, the delicate rise and fall with each breath, and suddenly her hands feel clumsy, shaky even, like she’s trying too hard to keep it together.

okay ellie, just focus on the drawing. yeah, you can do that. just…anatomy lesson!

working on sketching the full view of your ass shouldn't make her stomach feel this way. she's seen it a hundred times already. but the way you're there, completely unaware of the fact you're the muse of her rather intimate drawing gives her a tingly feeling.

man, drawing soft nipples is kinda complicated. it would be easier if they were hard.

thankfully ellie knows how to solve a problem, especially this one.

as carefully as she could she got up, trying to avoid moving the bed and waking you up. slowly going to stand next to your side of the mattress—hand sliding the straps of your nightwear down to get even easier access. now it's better, she can fully see your boobs and draw then correctly… but yeah, maybe hard nipples would be more convenient. just saying!

she kneeled beside the bed, heart thudding a little too fast, and reaches out—just barely grazing the curve of your breast with the back of her knuckle. the touch is feather-light, almost not there, but even that makes heat curl low in her stomach.

nothing.

no reaction.

you’re still lost in sleep, lashes fluttering faintly against your cheeks.

okay, just a little more.

her thumb brushed over your nipple—gentle, desperately hoping you're deeply asleep—until she felt it harden beneath her touch. a quiet exhale escaped her lips, half in triumph, half because the sight of you like this makes her head spin and her belly tingle even more.

that's better.

she told herself it’s all for the sake of the sketch as she retraces the lines in her mind, committing every detail to memory before she pulls her hand away. but she hesitates—because how could she not? the skin under her fingertips is so warm, so soft, and there’s a sweetness in the air that makes her crave more.

god, she shouldn’t. she should sit back down, finish the drawing like a normal person would, and stop being a complete perv about it.

but instead, her thumb drags across the sensitive peak again—slower this time. watching the way your body shifts under her touch sends a sharp pulse of heat through her. she bit her lip hard enough to hurt, like it’ll ground her, stop her from taking things further.

that's obviously not working because her thumb keeps moving and her lips are slightly parted now, so focused on your body and the subtle reactions it has.

she's just making sure she’s getting every detail right in the sketch. that’s all. no big deal.

but her pulse is hammering so hard, heat coiling low in her belly as she watched the way your body reacts, the way your chest rises just a little sharper when her thumb flicks over your nipple again. she swallowed hard. It’s barely anything, just a subconscious response, but it makes something tighten inside her. maybe you like it, maybe you're dreaming about it, maybe—

her breathing got heavier but barely audible over the quiet rustle of sheets as you shift in your sleep. Her eyes flick to your face, searching for any sign of wakefulness.

just one more touch wouldn’t hurt, right?

her fingers ghosted down your ribs, following the shape of you like she’s still sketching—just without the pencil this time. when she reached your hip, her grip firmed slightly, just to feel the give of soft skin beneath her palm.

her thighs automatically pressed together, making her feel the wetness in between them soaking the fabric of her underwear.

this is bad. so, so bad.

but you’re right there, pliant and warm under her hands, and the temptation is overwhelming.

ellie’s breath hitched as she lets her hand dip lower, tracing the delicate lace of your underwear. the fabric so thin, and she wonders—shit, ellie, stop.

but then you shift again, a sleepy, barely-there hum escaping your lips as your thighs part just slightly, and she’s gone.

she needs to go to the bathroom and take care of it… sigh.

masterlist

[ckret2]

I might tweak some details later (jewelry? take the ribbon off the bow?) but I've about got a Scalene design I like. The lipstick is really the centerpiece of the design. Now let's infodump! With more art!

🔺 Notice her lines are a a little curvy. It's not for artistic effect. She's got a Fictional Polygon Physical Disorder that makes her bendier than she should be—meaning, among other things, sides that curve and flex.

🔺 It's also the kind of condition with symptoms that are romanticized by people who don't grok that it's a debilitating medical condition. Sides that curve and flex? How exotic! This went to her head in the wrong ways.

🔺 Bill was born with the same condition. You know how squishy and blobby he was as a baby? Thaaat's genetic! He was a lot squishier than most babies! And, consequently, more adorable.

🔺Scalene dreamed of being a famous super model. Was actually a teen beauty queen at mid-tier beauty pageants. She thinks it's always somebody else's fault she wasn't more successful.

🔺 She took Bill to his first baby beauty pageant the day he was born. He did, in fact, have a Best Baby Ever award presented to him by the mayor, but to be fair he was only competing against like 6 other babies and who's going to withhold a trophy from a newborn on his birthday? Anyway the 6-12 month group and 12-24 month groups also each had a Best Baby Ever award.

🔺 This was an absolutely bonkers thing for Scalene to do.

🔺 What's that small scrunkly thing doing at a pageant, he can't even see color yet.

🔺 Their fictional squishy medical condition doesn't just accidentally make shapes cute. It's the kind of condition that affects just about all parts of the body: sides won't stay straight, poor muscle tone resulting in instability & weakness, poor motor coordination & clumsiness, back aches & pains (well, triangles don't have "backs." side aches?), easily dislocated joints, and increasingly skewed sides with age. Just about everyone in Scalene's family is born equilateral and ends up extremely scalene after young adulthood. The rest of her family have normal relationships with their condition, she's the only one who's weird about it

🔺 She was very rough on her body in pursuit of pageantry success, but her physical symptoms & associated chronic pain got a lot worse due to having a kid; she had to retire from pageantry for good. She doesn't blame Bill for this at all. Out loud, to his face. (If she hadn't been so rough on herself in pageants, having a kid probably wouldn't have impacted her health this much. She doesn't consider this.)

🔺 She's weirdly intent on seeing Bill become the success she wasn't. He's her little golden child, he deserves to be seen as the greatest! He'll show them how great he is for mommy, won't he? He won't let mommy down, will he? When he's very young, she takes him to child pageants—he'll appreciate the lessons they taught him when he's older—and this lasts until he finds out he can get out of it by pyrokinetically setting the stage on fire.

🔺 She jokes ("jokes") that she didn't realize that when she was having a kid, she was firing herself from the pageant circuit so she could hire & train her own replacement. These jokes had no long-term impact on Bill at all!!!

(Compare/contrast: how we're told Stan's "You watch the movie, you scare the girl, the girl snuggles up next to you, next thing you know you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart" is repeating something he heard his dad say.)

🔺 Did you know that squeaky baby shoes are sometimes medical devices? Squeakers help children with poor muscle tone and delayed motor skills learn how to walk correctly: it makes them want to walk on their heels instead of their toes so they can hear the squeak. Did you know sometimes oversized squeaky baby shoes are worn by young kids who need ankle braces? Did you know that kids with poor motor coordination can take a longer time to learn complicated motor skills like tying shoelaces rather than using shoes with velcro straps? It sure is interesting that baby Bill's most defining visual feature is oversized squeaky sneakers with velcro straps and that he kept wearing velcro shoes until he was 16!

🔺 As a baby, Bill's angles were technically supposed to be equilateral,* but thanks to his inherited condition, his angles were so loose his top corner practically formed a right angle. Not good: the closer a triangle creeps to being obtuse, the more likely he'll have muscle strain and medical issues from his organs being squished out of place by his own exoskeleton.

(*supposed to be equilateral: but after receiving treatment, they discovered his angles were still 60º, 60º, and 60.1º, which is mathematically impossible for a triangle... on a euclidean plane. But on a non-euclidean 3D plane, such as in spherical geometry, a triangle's angles can add up to more than 180º... and it's this slight 3D flex to Bill's body that lets him see up into the third dimension.)

🔺 For his first few years of life he actually had a hypotenuse, until physical therapy and side braces helped him improve his muscle tone. Sometimes he still reflexively refers to his base as his hypotenuse. It's fine, sweetie, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, mommy had a hypotenuse too. Don't tell anyone.

🔺 Scalene took baby Billy to a lot of doctors as a kid, just like how she was taken to a lot of doctors! Doctor for his side braces, doctor for his physical therapy, doctor for his shoes... doctor for his eye when he started talking about seeing white glitter at the edge of his vision. Scalene didn't have that symptom, but the eye doc said their condition does occasionally come with visual problems—blurred vision, lazy eye, visual field defects... It sounds like Bill's main field of vision is unobstructed, but if the visual snow he's getting in his peripheral vision is distracting him and confusing his little toddler mind into thinking it's something real, they can give him a medication that'll narrow his field of view. From the sound of it, he's not seeing anything important at the edge of his vision, anyway.

And she only wants what's best for her golden child.

🔺 Scalene's "bow" is actually a medical device: sort of like a medical corset, it helps tug and press her anatomy into place to reduce pain. Bill started wearing one preventatively—if he can keep everything in place when he's young, it'll take longer for his angles to skew when he's older. Like wearing a retainer when you get your braces out.

🔺 He has a cane for the same reason—he doesn't need it NOW when he's young, but he might as well keep it on hand, by age 35 he'll probably want to stand more often than float and when he's standing he'll probably want the extra support! Even if he doesn't need it by 35, he will eventually!!

🔺 Bill doesn't medically need a bow tie in the third dimension either; but he adapted it to help tie his 3D exoskeleton on.

🔺 A trillion years later, Bill suspects that his mutation to see the third dimension came, at least in part, from his mom's medical condition. Except, she didn't have that vision. Nobody else with the condition on her side of the family had that vision. It's not a known symptom of the condition. His dad had stuff going on with his eye too, did he get it from his dad's side? A mix of both? Just a standalone random mutation? He doesn't know; and with the rest of his species dead, there's no way for him to find out.

But back to Scalene!

🔺 She's not quite red, she's rose gold. However she doesn't like it. She thinks it's a sort of pinkish brown and very dull. She uses makeup to make herself look redder. Note how bright red her sides are: in a species where only your edges are visible, body paint is the most common form of makeup+fashion. She's pleased her baby came out gold-gold, it's much cuter. Bill knows she's rose gold, but he only saw her with her makeup off when she was tired or sick; he remembers her painted red.

🔺 She adores her Billy; but she somewhat sees him as an extension of her will. She thinks he's just perfect and will tell anyone who asks; but she also demands he be perfect and is furious when he isn't. She'll protect him from ANY perceived external threat; but she'll tough love him into being the kind of success she thinks he should be. He learns early that when he screws up, he can often redirect his mother's anger by pointing his finger and saying it's someone else's fault, and she'll bring the wrath of heaven down on them. Woe to the teacher who gives Bill an F on a test.

🔺 I'm on a quest to write Bill as a foil to the entire cast of Gravity Falls, and that extends to writing his family as a foil to the entire cast's families. Scalene's a blend of Pacifica's mom and Caryn: beautiful, proud of her beauty, afraid of losing her youth, self-aggrandizing, quick to lie about her & her family's (false/exaggerated) accomplishments—and very aware of the fact that you can say anything about woo-woo mystical matters and nobody can prove you wrong.

🔺 So she takes it great when they figure out Bill is, like, legit psychic. And by "takes it great" I mean "starts a cult."

There's what I've got on Scalene. Fortunately, I got to keep all my pre-TBOB headcanons about Bill's mom, I only had to change her shape & color. I already had medical trauma baked right into the family!

(Preemptive disclaimer before I get any "but she doesn't look 2D" comments: we all understand that the baby Bill picture we see in the book is a psychically-generated 3D approximation of Bill's 2D Euclidean form, right? And that drawing a 3D baby Bill design alongside rigidly 2D parent designs would make it look like even in the second dimension Bill already had a 3D body, right? So, if we're drawing a 3D baby Bill and want to convey that they looked similar to him, we have to draw his parents in a similar art style, right? Okay, great.)

[tmbgareok]

I have a very esoteric question for JF - I remember hearing you did the artwork or photography for the Miscellaneous T album cover. Were the letters cut out of foam? Using a heated wire cutter? The blocky flintstone-ey letters in an interesting hallway is still very cool. Thank you in advance for answering if you answer and thanks for always being great.

The cover of Miscellaneous T

First I designed the typeface on graph paper (which was actually a bigger project than the cover). This was the very end of the pre-computer era, and the word "font" went from being a shibboleth of design people to being common parlance. While computers were shaking up the world of graphic design the limitations were immediate. While the general public marveled at the 25 typefaces available, designers were sorely missing the other 2000.

(At this time I imported my very crude work into a computer-based font design program, and that file named Conant was even uploaded on to a free font site. I have no notion of how long it played out there or if it was ever used elsewhere, but I like to think there is a restaurant menu somewhere using Conant.)

The idea of my design was drawn from the hand lettering of artist Ben Shahn (although I did not have a lot of direct source material!) The big features of this kind of design is the squared-off letter shapes and the modulating upper and lower case forms. His letter changes from poster to poster but in general it looks like this...

I was also thinking about the woodcut letter shapes on the cover of Edward Albees famous paperback books (a book that was everywhere) I suspect the design was also Ben Shahn-influenced.

So regarding the cover of Misc. T-

The letters on the cover were made with an X-Acto knife, 1/4" foam-core, tape, Elmers glue, paper and acrylic paint. They are not solid at all. I made them very quickly, and in a fashion that I had done many other projects.

I "blew up" the typeface just by eyeballing the points on the graph paper to the much larger grid I drew on the foam core. I cut out the letters, then cut the pieces that created the depth, and taped them into place on the inside of the letter form. (This next part I am have no memory of but I am pretty sure this is how I did it) Once the letters were complete I took very light paper (like a rice paper or old fashioned Xerox paper) dipped in slightly diluted Elmers glue and draped it over the edges of all the letters to hide the seams. I suspect I then lightly painted them with white paint just to even it all out.

Then I placed them in the hallway of my apartment. To trick the eye for a moment, I actually shot it from above so you see the letter shapes before you place the forms in my dilapidated hallway. Below is un-flipped image.

And here's me and John holding the letters...

[cheriladycl01]

Bags Under our Eyes - Lando Norris x MakeupArtist! Reader

Plot: You work as a makeup artist and hairstylist and end up having to do Lando’s before he goes to the O2

It wasn't like you werent familiar with Lando Norris, you'd actually met him a few times. You were sort of hired, freelance, by McLaren as his stylist for events he went too. You were a makeup-artist primarily but there was a few times where the stylist had cancelled last minute so after that one time they trusted you with it all.

Hair Makeup and Clothes.

You were the pure definition of freelance, you didn't have a set place you worked and just worked purley when work came to you.

You started off, fresh out of sixth form working in the newest Sephora in London. And from there you started to do your own work, wedding makeup, birthday makeup, and just whatever took your fancy.

Then you picked up something last minute for the BBC when they were interviewing Lando. It was pretty last minute and you'd been in France only 12 hours before getting the call but after the last eurostar back to London St Pancreas and no sleep you were with Lando.

Pretty much whenever you saw him you were on lots of caffeine and practically crawling through your day.

But this was the biggest job you think you'd ever had. You were doing Lando's makeup for the F1-75 launch at the o2 and being invited there to watch the whole thing.

You werent reallhy into cars, or racing for that matter and you felt bad accepting the ticket but there was part of you was desperate to see your work up on stage.

But you didny know how it was actually Lando who kept asking Mclaren to ask for you and give you these opportunities as he wanted an excuse to see you!

"Hey!" you smile at the team that was setting up to get both Lando and Oscar ready.

"Hey girl! Are you ready for tonight? Heard there's going to be live music and Jack Whitehall is commentating the whole show!" one of the stylists for Oscar exclaims.

"Y/N!" A voice exclaims and you turn to look at the intrusion to see Lando poking his head round the door Oscar sauntering in next to him, a placid and nonchalant look on his face.

"Long time no see!" you grin at him, showing him into the seat he needed to be sat in. You face him to the mirror away from you with a roll of your eyes as he refused to turn himself around just staring up at you.

"So, excited for tonight?" you as running fingers through his hair to which he closes his eyes.

"Not really, big crowds and events arent really my thing" he offers.

"Mmmmm, well im sure it will be over before you know it" you grin. You start to position his head looking at the curls and the shape they were already and debating if you should wash it.

"When did you last wash you hair" you ask pulling at his curls a little.

"Damn, didn't kow we were like that Y/N" he says and your eyes roll as you face him to the mirror.

"You've used to much gel, were going to have to wash it!" you complain before taking him to the basin to rince and wash his hair. After about half and hour of putting in product and later diffusing to get his natural fluffy curls you send him back to the chair.

Oscar went off with his team to go choose some clothes which left you and Lando alone in the room.

"So, we've known each other for a while when will you let me add you on literally any social media?" he asks looking at you in the mirror trying to catch your eyes that are on your makeup that your placing out next to him.

"Hmmm and why would you want that, I'm just your makeup artist" you chide, coming to the front of him and starting to add a little bit of concealer under the dark circles forming.

"You need more sleep" you say as if it was nothing. Not even glancing at him, just using the brush to cover up his lack off sleep.

"Mmmm been practicing on the sim for the new season. New car and all that" he smiles happy that your noticing these things about him.

"Work life balance is important for an athlete you know!" you tell him as you brush through his eyebrows, pulling tweezer up seeing a few out of place ones.

"Mmmm says you, thats your third coffee! You always tired or is it just on your job?" he laughs and you once again roll your eyes too him.

"Look ill give you my number if the next time im asked to do this," you gesture to his face. "I dont need so much concealer to cover up the bags" you offer and his face lights up in a smile.

"Done! Are you free next week its my cousins, uncles mothers friends neighbours birthday" he grins cheekily and you laugh shaking your head.

"You are impossible Lando" you laugh.

"Mmmmm impossible to resist" he winks and again you laugh. You did find him funny, and handsome, he always made sure you were alright ... what was the issue? You thought to yourself.

Liked by lando and others

y/user: this was by far the best event I’ve done in a while! Thank you so much for @ McLaren for inviting me to the launch and letting me style @ lando for the night!

Tagged 3 People

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lando: Ah always love seeing my biggest fan :)

-> y/user: since when did Carlos and Zac Brown get here?

-> lando: haha, blocked 🚫

-> y/user: but the clout! Jk jk don’t cancel me

fan1: will never skip a Lando/ Y/N post!

-> y/user: neither will I

->lando: neither will i

fan2: they’re so funny I swear to god!

McLaren: We hope to see you at the MTC soon! 🧡🍊🦁

Oscar Piastri: where did you get those flowers? 🌹

-> y/user: shhh 🤫

Instagram Story Caption:

After a Long Day at the o2 🫶🏼

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[local-dragon-haunt]

hey! i’m an artist and i was wondering what about the httyd crossover art made it obviously AI. i’m trying to get better at recognizing AI versus real art and i totally would have just not clocked that.

Hey! This is TOTALLY okay to not have recognized it, because I DIDN'T AT FIRST, EITHER. Unfortunately there’s no real foolproof way to distinguish real art from the fake stuff. However I have noticed a general rule of thumb while browsing these last few months.

So this is the AI generated image I used as inspiration. I will not be tagging the account that posted it because I do not condone bullying of any type, but it’s important to mention that this was part of a set of images:

This is important because one of the BIGGEST things you can use to your advantage is context clues. This is the thing that clued me in: right off the bat we can see that there is NO consistency between these three images. The art style and outfits change with every generated image. They're vaguely related (I.E. characters that resemble the Big Four are on some sort of adventure?) and that's about it. Going to the account in question proved that all they posted were AI generated images. All of which have many red flags, but for clarity's sake we'll stick with the one that I used.

The first thing that caught my eye was this???? Amorphous Blob in the background. Which is obviously supposed to be knights or a dragon or something.

Again, context clues come into play here. Artists will draw everything With A Purpose. And if what they're drawing is fanart, you are going to recognize most of what you see in the image. Even if there are mistakes.

In the context of this image, it looks like the Four are supposed to be running from these people. The thing that drew my attention to it was the fact that I Didn't Recognize The Villains, and this is because there is nothing to recognize. These shapes aren't Drago, or Grimmel, or Pitch, or any other villain we usually associate with ROTBTD. They're just Amorphous Blobs that are vaguely villain shaped.

Which brings me to my second point:

Do you see the way they're standing? There is no purpose to this. It throws the entire image off. Your eye is drawn to the Amorphous Villain Blobs in the background, and these characters are not reacting to them one bit.

Now I'm not saying that all images have to have a story behind them, but if this were created by a person, it clearly would have had one. Our group here is not telling a story, they are posing.

This is because the AI does not see the image as a whole, but as two separate components: the setting, and the description of the characters that the prompter dictates. I.E. "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other"

Now obviously the most pressing part of this prompt are the characters themselves. So the AI prioritizes that and tries to spit out something that WE recognize as "Merida from Brave, Jack Frost from ROTG, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Hiccup from HTTYD standing next to each other".

This, more times than not, is going to end up with this stagnant posing. Because AI cannot create, it can only emulate. And even then, it still can't do it right. Case in point:

This is not Hiccup. The AI totally thinks this is Eugene Fitzherbert. Look at the pose. The facial structure. The goatee. The smirk. The outfits. He's always next to Raps. Why does he have a quiver? Where's Toothless? His braids? His scar??

HE HAS BOTH OF HIS LEGS.

The AI. Cannot even get the most important part of it's prompt correct.

And that's just the beginning. Here:

More amorphous shapes.

So these are obviously supposed to be utility belts, but I mean. Look at them. The perspective is all off. There are useless straps. I don't even know what that cluster behind Jack's left arm is supposed to be.

This is a prime example of AI emulating without understanding structure.

You can see this particularly in Jack, between his hands, the "tassels" of his tunic, and the odd wrinkles of his boots. There's just not any structure here whatsoever.

Lastly, AI CANNOT CREATE PATTERNS.

Here are the side-by-sides of the shit I had to deal with when redesigning their outfits. Please someone acknowledge this. This killed me inside. THIS is most recognizable to me, and usually what I look for first if I'm wary about an art piece. These clusterfuck bunches of color. I hate them. I hate them so. much.

Anyways here's some other miscellaneous things I've noticed:

Danny Phantom Eyes

???? Thumb? (and random sword sheath)

Collarbone Necklace (corset from hell)

No Staff :( No Bow :(

What is that.

So yeah. Truly the best thing to do is to just. study it. A lot of times you aren't gonna notice anything just looking at the big picture, you need to zoom in and focus on the little details. Obviously I'm not like an expert in AI or anything, but I do have a degree in animation practices and I'm. You know. A human being. So.

In conclusion:

(Y'all should totally reblog my redesign of this btw)

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[dduane]

The Bad Armor Drinking Game

In the digital art dep't...

So, having just sorted out the new figure for Queen Eftgan in the Middle Kingdoms books, I spent most of last week (while continuing to recover from the household upper respiratory infection) doing preliminary planning for the visual of a scene from The Door Into Sunset in which all the MCs are out on the battlefield. The big battle (or the final one of a sequence) will be the next day, and last-minute tweaks are being made to strategy and tactics. Which means putting most of the our-side protagonists together in a command tent, bent over a table covered with maps. (The "sketch" for this scene is over here.)

But sweet Goddess in a bucket, the shopping I had to do to make sure I had those guys' armor the way I wanted nearly drove me around the bend. From the digital artist's POV, the main problem with this is realistically arming the female characters. And the reason for this is simple: Almost all of it that's currently available from Daz is crap.

There are a very few notable exceptions. In Eftgan's case, for example: she's wearing the female-fighter version of the male-fighter harness that Herewiss has on. Sickleyield and Moonscape Graphics have done good work here.

But almost all the other female-use armors available at the moment? Argh. It had been ...a few years, I guess? since I last went armor-shopping. Last week I'd hoped there might at least be some new possibilities in the Daz shop. But instead I found so much more useless crap than before that I was tempted to start day drinking. And by evening, there were enough drink-triggers to start my very own drinking game.

I am not going to illustrate the triggers enumerated below, as I don't want to embarrass the artists. But if you look at the items turned up by this search, you'll have little trouble finding the things that would have left me in a drunken stupor within an hour or two.

My baseline: if I'm going to buy digital armor, either for male or female characters, it has to be something that I myself wouldn't be embarrassed to show up wearing at a swordfight. Otherwise, I start hitting the virtual bottle.

So I'd drink when I see:

Armor that fails to cover or at least protect vital vulnerable areas. Not just vital organs, but seriously important places like the insides of thighs and arms, the throat area, etc. (And yeah, I know and enjoy the various webcomics that illustrate, for humor's sake, the idea that the more bare flesh a female warrior displays, the safer they somehow are. But I'm dealing with the "realistic" side of combat here. Yes, some of my characters are magic workers, but the reason they go out and get themselves armor is so they don't have to waste precious magical ability dealing with something that steel will manage perfectly well without them having to think about it.)

Armor that should serve a useful protective purpose but nonetheless doesn't because it's been twisted by the armor maker, for design purposes, into a shape that means it's now essentially useless. Drink, for example, on seeing an example of "Silly Pauldron Syndrome:" i.e., shoulder pieces that will not only not protect you from a shoulder cut, but will direct it toward the space between neck and shoulder. ...Drink again if the pauldron also somehow blocks your view of what's going on around you. Another drink for pauldrons, gorgets or neck pieces that poke your eye out when you turn your head.

Armor covered with decorative doodads that do nothing but get in your way or serve as something for your adversaries' weapons to catch on. The proper purpose of armor is to deflect blows away from vulnerable areas, not to catch and keep them there. No one is going to waste expensive metal (and armourers' labor time) on decorations that are a liability. Anything that would catch a thrusting sword? Drink. Drink twice if spikes are involved.

Poorly thought-out attachments to armor (loincloths, capes, etc), Drink if these would inevitably trip you or otherwise interfere with you if you tried to run in them: or that would make it easier for an attacker—especially from behind—to pull/knock you down and kill you. Two drinks if the attachments are asymmetrical. (Because, what, this is supposed to help somehow?) And drink for loincloths in general, because, FFS, why.

Boob armor. If you're a woman who's fought with the sword at all, you know that unless you're absolutely dead flat in front, you bind up somehow to get the frontage safely restrained before the action begins. Armor that purports to separate your breasts into two different casings is simply idiotic. All that it does do is signal that you're female. (And you're doing this why, exactly? On a this-world battlefield, this strikes me as nothing but a recipe for trouble.) One drink for boob armor. Another drink for conical boob armor that would make even early!Madonna look askance. Two drinks for boob armor that covers only the tops of the boobs. Honestly, WTF!!

And: Armor that just looks silly. Armor that makes you go "Oh FFS, give me a break now" and look away. Two drinks (or more) for armor that covers hardly any of your character, but for which the designer is possibly charging you even more than for an intricately made and well thought-out piece of work with a lot more protective real estate.

...(sigh) So many drinks. And so little armor worth having. ...Anyway, I got away from that series of shopping sessions with my sobriety intact. Small mercies.

But let me show you something hilarious that came up along the way.

Very, very few of the people making and selling armors on Daz betray any sign of a sense of humor in their marketing images. The rig below, though, popped up suddenly and reduced me to gasps of helpless laughter.

This, I kid you not, will come up in that "armor" search above. Let's be charitable and refer to it for the time being as "fighting gear".

I haven't shown you the best of this, though. These two figures weren't alone. There was another.

This guy should be an example to us all. He's thinking, "They're gonna make me go out there wearing some stick-on leather nipple straps and half a rug from IKEA? Fine. I'm gonna make it work." ...And he not only owns it: he rocks it. This is a badass of some kind or another, and he has my sword, or axe, or whatever.

All I can say is: Good on the product designer for doing something genuinely funny for a change: because at that point, I seriously needed it.

(sigh) And now back to work.

ETA: A quick note per various recommendations of others online doing this kind of analysis: Thanks, but I don't need to go outside the household for more of the same. I'll just yell up the stairs to @petermorwood, who probably has some that's way more acerbic than mine. :)

[revvethasmythh]

listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).

comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.

which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.

so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.

tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave

*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).

[kozachenko]

And now we have the most recent finished piece that I felt like posting today, and it's of Sanae! I would like to form a brief apology to all the short haired Sanae enthusiasts out there because her hair being long just kinda worked better for the piece lol.

Artist's Notes;

I loved working on this piece so much, it's probably my favourite drawing that I posted recently and I feel pretty proud of it.

Usually my comfort zone for lighting scenarios is dark, high contrast scenes with a lot of contrast. Recognizing this, I decided to break out of that comfort zone with something a lot lighter. I did the same technique I did for the previous Marisa piece, just with brighter colours. One thing I do find kinda funny is the fact that both times I have drawn Sanae in a full finished piece, she's always frolicking or being happy lmao. IDK but this kind of vibe just fits her for some reason. I'm really proud of how the hair rendering turned out. Even though I did the same rendering for this as I did with the Marisa drawing, I like how they both have different looks. I had a bit of a hard time with the skirt though, and I do wish that I did some more rendering on the skirt's interior. I am really proud of the hands though, one of them is in a position I don't normally draw, and breaking down my own hand as a reference helped a lot. What I did was take a picture of my hand in the same position, break down the hand into different sections/layers, and then do a replication of it on the side where I would also use different layers for different parts of the hand i.e. making a separate layer for the fingers, a separate layer for the palm and thumb, etc. I do wish I could have made her thighs a bit thicker since they kinda look like sticks though. I also wish I could have done different levels of blurriness on the little water droplets to imply depth a lot better, but hey that's just something for me to keep in mind for the next piece.

Also, I wanted to try doing a reflection thingy here with the water, and to make it more interesting I angled the camera so it looks more dynamic. I'm also really, really proud of the clouds, as I tried rendering them differently this time compared to how I usually do it. I noticed that in clouds, the edges are always kinda tapering out and while their shapes can sometimes look very neat and clean, the silhouette of them is never perfectly even if that makes any sense.

This and the Marisa piece both ended up looking a lot like how I pictured them in my head, and I'm really happy with how my style is looking right now. After this I'm probably gonna go on another hiatus so I can keep drawing for me, and then only post when I feel like I'm ready to. It'll probably be around the time when Touhou 20 comes out, and mainly so I can yap about that game eventually.

[melancholyhigh]

ARTWORK

ft. leon x artist!reader

synopsis. you're an artist, and leon's your muse.

content. 1.5k words. fluff, smut. nude painting, leon's pov, needy leon, praise kink, masturbation, handjob.

note. this was j supposed to be fluff but i got ahead of myself.

masterlist. i love your guy's feedback :3

“Paint me like one of your French girls.”

You laugh at Leon’s statement. He’s perched on the small, green couch in your home art studio, wearing nothing but his pink, fluffy robe as you prepare your oil paints. 

“You’re my first French girl, Leon.”

–-

You had suggested painting him nude while you were both in bed, lazing around. You’re in each other’s hold, Leon’s arms around your waist and face on your chest when he asks about any new projects you had in mind. 

He loves hearing about what art piece you were doing or planned to do. It was how you expressed yourself, whether there was a deeper meaning or none at all. He found it beautiful. Every work you do it had a bit of your personality in it. He could tell your work from thousands by the intricate details they carry. 

When you told Leon you wanted to paint him, he wasn’t too surprised. You mentioned he was your favourite thing to draw or think of when you had art block. The admission had left him sputtering, his face red as he tried to get his words out.

On the third date, you showed him your sketchbook, pages littered with drawings and portraits of him. Some were quick sketches, while other’s looked like you took time to get every detail of him. 

You’re always on my mind, Leon. You had confessed. Was it a little creepy? At that moment, flipping through the drawings of him, the attention to detail they held, he’d say it was romantic.

People have always said he was pretty as a picture, yet you’re the only one that makes his heart beat faster and his tummy fill with butterflies when you say he’s the type of gorgeous you’d find in a painting. 

“A nude painting,” you specify. It was as if you told Leon he was the object of your affection for the first time again. His head buries into your chest, trying to hide his flushed face. You smile at his sudden bashfulness. 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, baby.” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “I want to try something new, but it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, angel. But can’t you use a picture?”

“Where’s the fun in that, pretty boy.”

He groans, muffled by your shirt, and you giggle. 

He loves to please you — in more ways than one — and nothing compares to the smile that graces your face, so he agrees. It’s not like Leon’s uncomfortable with you looking at him bare and vulnerable. There were other problems he was worried would interrupt your craftwork. 

–-

Leon leans back into the couch, doing just as you instructed. His bare back hits the soft cushioning, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

His robe is off, on the floor next to your easel. He rests his chin on his hand, supported on the arm of the couch.

He’s nervous. You said it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but this almost feels more intimate than being intertwined with you in bed.

Maybe it’s the gaze you hold when you’re analysing him, grasping the compositions and layering basic shapes onto the canvas. 

He can’t help but think of when you told him he’s your favourite canvas to mark up. Sucking the reddish marks into his skin which turn the prettiest shade of purple, as you like to put it. Or when you said the colour on his cheek was your favourite shade of pink.

You always did like to rile him up, muttering the filthiest things to him in the most mundane setting, just like right now. 

“Spread your legs wider, Leon.” You mumble in a casual tone as if you don’t know the implications of your own words. You’re so engrossed with getting your work right you probably don’t.

It’s so fucking sexy seeing you in your element. Your brows pinched together, and your face serious with concentration. 

He obediently listens to you, parting his legs wide, and the problem he wishes wouldn’t happen is currently hardening between his thighs. You don’t notice, mixing paints to ensure it's the correct shade. 

You’re probably 30 minutes into painting, and he’s already hard. You said you’d take a while to finish, and he could tap out whenever he wants to, but he doesn’t want to disappoint. 

Finally, you’re looking up from the canvas and towards Leon. Your brows quirked up in surprise when trying to examine his features, studying the curve of his nose and the sharpness of his jawline to imitate on the canvas. His face is pink, the shade you know and adore so much. 

Your eyes trail down his body, his dick fully erect, slapping against his stomach. Your gaze is on his face again with a smirk on your lips.

He knows, you know, he’s rock-hard simply from the glances you take at him and the words you mutter. His lashes flutter, and he moves his hand to cover his face while the other is shamefully obscuring his cock.

“Be a good boy, and don’t move, Leon. I want to make sure everything looks good.” You say, and he thinks you aren’t going to acknowledge his 7-inch problem.  

“Oh, and make sure your pretty dick is hard for me, okay, baby?” You go back to your painting, trying to hide your smug expression.  

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his nerves, but he relents, going into position, not before giving his cock a firm squeeze. 

“Don’t cum too, okay? I want to be the one making you cry.”

A few hours pass, and Leon is on the verge of tears. He listened to what you said, only providing himself with enough stimulation to keep his cock hard but not enough to tip him over the edge into bliss. 

Precum leaks from the head down to the shaft. His dick is red and spent. He wants nothing more than for you to stop painting and make him cum.

“I’m almost done. You’ve been such a good boy for me, baby.” 

Your words are almost enough to make him spill his cum over the expensive fabric of your eccentric couch. 

You’re adding the finishing touches to the painting with each stroke, making sure you get the placement of each mole or freckle correct and each vein of his cock following to the tip right. 

You swear he belongs in a museum. No art can replicate how beautiful he truly is.

“I’m done.” You sigh, moving to get up to rid your skin of paint. 

After rinsing yourself off the paint, you make your way to Leon. You get comfortable in a seat on the couch right next to him. He’s breathing heavily in anticipation, looking up at you through his long lashes. Pretty, pink lips parted as pretty gasps left him. 

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is soft as you move your lips slowly in unison. He breathes out your name when you pull away. One of your hands moves to his throat, softly squeezing. Leon whimpers, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“Good job, baby. You didn’t cum once. I know it hurts, but I'm going to make you feel better,” you whisper, softly kissing his flushed forehead. 

Your hand moves to his pulsing cock, and gives it a soft squeeze, relishing the whine Leon lets out. Your touch sends goosebumps along his skin, and he plants his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hips eagerly buck into your hold. He’s practically sobbing into your neck, his soft hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rest your chin on top of his head, smelling the fragrance of his shampoo. 

You thumb the slit on the tip of his cock, using his precum as a lubricant to start moving your hand back and forth on his shaft. 

You start at a slow pace. You don’t want Leon cumming quickly, wanting to enjoy every cry and whimper. 

The soft shlick noise of you jerking Leon’s cock fills the room with his desperate cries. He pulls back away from the crook of your neck, tears flowing down his blushing face.

“Please, please, please, g– go faster, angel. I’ve been such a good boy for you. Let me cum, please.”  He pleads, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. His hips rutted frantically into your palm. How could you deny your boy?

“Okay, pretty baby. Cum for me.” You say softly, picking up the pace of jerking him off.

He whimpers loudly, thighs quivering lightly as his orgasm crashes and hot spurts of his cum spill onto your hand. He’s panting, dazed with lust and staring at you with what seems like hearts in his eyes. 

“T- thank you, thank you, s’much.” Leon gasps like a broken record, and you think he’s fucked himself dumb with your hand.

You peck his lips, effectively shutting him up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can show you my favourite artwork yet.”

[heartfullofleeches]

[18+, Amab Reader in the latter half]

Brie [Yan 🌽star] with a Reader who makes adult toys for a living. The two meet online with Brie having purchased from their website a handful of times before they began chatting officially - Brie expressing his interest in Reader under a post they made posing with a new item in their shop.

Reader's small business took off overnight with the up and coming streamer endorsing their products. It's a mutually benefiting transaction as with Reader's help Brie warks up to the idea of exploring toys of different shapes and varieties. He started out relatively vanilla when it came to dildos using toys modeled after the human phallus, but when Reader came around things took a turn for the exciting. He'll never forget the twinkle in Reader's eye as they showed him their newest project. Reader is an artist before everything else, and at the time that tentacle was the pinnacle of their work.

Brie's always had plans of venturing into other territories someday, but something about his partner being the one who makes products for him makes him all the more eager. Brie is both the best and worst person for Reader to test their toys on. On plua side he loves everything they create, on the downside - he loves everything they create. Brie feels like the worst boyfriend in the world if he ever finds faults in their toys which is rare to begin with. It's hard for him to give reviews of any kind some days since Reader insists on getting his thoughts minutes after they've fucked his brain empty of anything he might have to say.

It isn't long before Brie has multiple shelf's full of fun items, but his favorite overall by a longshot is the replica of Amab Reader's penis they gift him one year as an anniversary present. The hunk of plastic will never compare to the real thing, but it's the next best thing to it. Every bump and ridge rubbing against his walls the same way Reader's cock does whenever Brie can drag them away from their workstation. Reader has returned home several nights to a sad Brie in bed holding the thing that reminds him of Reader most. Many viewers have asked if that specific toy will ever be in Reader's shop seeing how much of a slut Brie becomes when he fucks himself with his favorite toy like there's no tomorrow.

It takes all of Brie's heart and soul to not be petty and block them. Just the thought of someone else having what's his pisses him off to no end.

"S-sorry, everyone... This one's all mine."