#trying out a new lining style it's easier

[coolertheworm]

that coat looks familiar, spoon boy

[theevilicecreamsoda]

Drawing of Fairy

[scented-morker]

Wearing Enhypen’s clothes

Enha x implied fem reader, established relationship, 945 words (AGAIN), fluffff, jungwons is longer than everyone else’s😬

Heeseung

He is the perpetrator.

Like as soon as you walk in the door he shoves his hoodie onto you

It’s not cute either— your arms get stuck and your hair is messed up and staticky everywhere

But as soon as it’s on he pulls the hood down and looks at you with such a lovesick look even though you look like a gremlin

Every time you stay over he makes you wear his clothes because he just thinks you look so cute

And since his shirts/hoodies are too big on you it makes it easier to sneak his hands up them to hold your bare waist which is his favorite way to cuddle 😔

Jay

At first you were just so impressed with his style that you wanted to be like him 🥺

He though it was so cute when you walked out in one of the outfits he had posted a picture in one day and been like “how do you manage to make this look good 😭”

���Well for starters, the clothes actually fit me” he laughs and ruffles your hair

He likes to get matching outfits so you don’t always have to steal much of his stuff since you probably have a match

But you always end up stealing his accessories

The amount of times he’s complimented your necklace only to realize it was his 😐

You’re lucky he loves you

Likes when you slide his rings onto your fingers while you’re playing with his hands 🥰

Jake

THE KING OF SHARING CLOTHES

He will give you anything that you want from his closet, no questions asked

He loves trying to sneakily add articles of his clothing to your outfits

Like “hey what if you added- I don’t know- a flannel around your waist? Actually look, I’ve already go one right here. Let me put it on you.”

He loves coming home and seeing you in his hoodies or flannels (especially when they’re so long it looks like you aren’t wearing pants 😭)

Refers to his new purchases as “our new jacket” or will text you and ask “do you like this?”

And when you tell him it’s a mens shirt so you wouldn’t wear it he goes “actually, it’s a jake shirt, which means it’s a yn shirt.”

Sunghoon

He’s one to act like he doesn’t like it

But one time when you told him you were cold and he said “sounds like a you problem” you threatened to go get one of the other boys’ hoodie and he got so pouty and mad 😭

Now he always brings an extra one of HIS hoodies whenever you hang out because he doesn’t want you to get it from someone else

Also the type to show up at your house, see your collection of his clothes and tease you about it but then not take them back

And if you EVER tell him you need another one bc the ones you have don’t smell like him anymore—

He’s gonna need three to four business days to recover from that

Sunoo

Another one to refer to his closet as “our closet”

He always asks you to wear his stuff

Like you text him to ask what you should wear for your date and he tells you to just wear anything over and he’d give you something of his to wear

Sharing sweaters 🥺

Like little grandpa sweaters that you thrift somewhere and you guys share them like it’s the sisterhood of the traveling pants or something and send each other little pictures of where you were wearing it

“Today I wore our sweater to the ice cream shop! The guy in front of me in line ordered mint choco and it made me think of you” 🫶

Jungwon

Listen, he’s seen the romcoms— you’ve made him watch enough of them during movie nights to know that people like wearing their boyfriends clothes

He just had no idea how to offer it

Does he just walk up to you one day and say “here, wear this”? Does he take you to the cold section of the grocery store until you shiver and then give it to you?

HE DOESNT KNOW!!!

But one day you two come home from one of your dates and decide to just chill in his bed

Which is cool, except you had dressed a little nicer for the date and your outfit wasn’t exactly made for comfort

“Hey won, do you think I could borrow something to change into? My outfit isn’t very comfy.”

He scolds you at first for not wearing something you’re comfortable in because he’s gonna think you look beautiful no matter what you wear, but eventually gives you a tshirt and pair of shorts to change into

Laughs because you look like Adam Sandler

“I thought this was going to be cute but you look really funny”

Riki

Listen, he loves napping

And napping on you is one of his favorite places

So when your stupid pretty shirt was scratching against his face, Riki was very upset

He lets out a big dramatic groan, grabbing one of his hoodies from the floor next to his bed and shoving it onto you so that he can sleep in peace

You’re still wearing it when he wakes up, and earlier he was too tired to be embarassed but now he realizes what he did and gets a little red

“Thanks for the hoodie ki,” you tease him, but still refuse to give it back when he asks

“Well if you hate it that much you can take it off.”

“Never!! This is mine now!”

Cue him chasing you around to try and get it back

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks x Y/N | Doggy Style

Just pictured Hawks fucking me doggy style and I straight up drooled...so here's a little head cannon about it. A18+ MDNI

When Hawks lines himself up behind you, you're dripping wet with anticipation. He starts like he always does, gently spreading your legs and slipping his hands up and down your hips to appreciate your curves.

You shiver when you feel the head of his cock brush against your sensitive pussy. He grins and slides his dick back and forth against you slowly. His cockhead glides against your clit and you see stars at the contact.

"Please, Keigo." You groan out, face planted firmly in a pillow, your ass up in the air beneath his capable hands. "Can't wait any longer."

You hear him chuckle to himself from behind you, and then feel him gently pushing inside. That's the thing about Keigo - he's always so, so gentle when he fucks you.

It's funny...you're not even together. Not really. Just two friends who's careers prevent them from dating and settling down. Instead of trying your hands at the dating market, you fuck each other. It's easier this way. Less complicated. You each know what the other likes in bed, and there's no time to sleep around so you don't need to waste time with condoms.

He fucks into you slowly, like you're something precious. Strong, calloused hero hands grip the sides of your ass as he buries himself inside of you, inch by inch. When he bottoms out, he lets out a strangled gasp. "No matter how many times we do this, I never get used to the feel of you. So goddamn good." He practically growls, throwing his head back as he starts to move inside of you.

Each stroke is measured - he finds the perfect rhythm and tempo as he glides in and out of your soaked pussy. Your hazy brain's pleasure receptors sparkle at the way he bucks his hips to hit that special spot deep inside of you.

You feel your orgasm building as he slides a hand down your hips, up your stomach and smooths rough fingertips across your nipples. You vaguely wonder at when this turned from a friends with benefits situation to love. When he fucks you like this - all sweet and thoughtful - you swear you're in love with him. This has got to be love, right?

He keeps his pace steady and scoots closer to you so he can kiss at the planes of your back. He presses soft, open mouthed kisses to all the skin within his reach. You back up into him, feeling his balls bounce against you as he keeps his rhythm steady.

"Yes, baby. Just like that. Take it. Take everything I've got." He practically moans, singing your praises as you help him fuck you. That's new - since when did he call you baby!?

"Keigo!" You cry out as he brings his fingertips down to play with your clit. He rubs slow, lazy circles around you, encouraging you to cum whenever your ready. "Keigo fuckkk. Cum inside me? Please. Please cum inside me oh fuck."

He doesn't need telling twice - he lets himself get comfortable inside of you, enjoying the warm squeeze and stretch of your tiny cunt as he fucks you.

You cum around his cock within minutes, crying out his name as he fucks you into oblivion. A creamy ring forms around his dick as you throw it back and fuck him senseless - riding out your orgasm as he rolls his hips steadily. The fluttering of your pussy around his dick sends him over the edge as well. Thick, warm ropes of cum fill you up quickly. Your pussy milks him, taking every bit of cum his cock is willing to give you.

When he's finally finished inside of you, he slowly pulls out. You know he likes to watch the creampie drip out of you slowly, so you hold your position to give him a good view. When he's had his fill of looking, he slips off the mattress and grabs a warm washcloth from the bathroom to indulge in some after care. He wipes gently between your legs, avoiding your gaze as does so.

"So..." He says, somewhat awkwardly as he wipes up his baby batter between your thighs. "I don't know that I can do this casually with you anymore. Y/N. I'm, like, down bad for you."

You snap your legs shut and look up at him, surprised.

"I want us to be more than fuck buddies. I think we should go on a date." He says earnestly, handing over the washcloth so you can continue the job on your own. "I mean...of course I want to continue fucking. Fucking you is literally my favorite thing. I just want it to mean something more."

"Keigo, you're babbling." You say. The face you're making is absolutely priceless - you definitely weren't expecting this conversation to happen tonight.

"Cumming makes me emotionally intelligent." He jokes, throwing you a cheeky fan service wink. "Think about it. The date, I mean."

"Alright. Let's start now. Wanna go grab some food?" You say, your stomach growling loudly in agreement. Hawks looks at you with hearts in his eyes and nods excitedly.

"A woman after my own heart." He slides off the bed to gather up your clothes and passes them your way. "It's a date."

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[p0orbaby]

It Doesn’t Get Any Easier

summary: you’re the new physio, tasked to help leah one on one with her recovery; but lines start to blur the longer you spend with one another

warnings: none

a/n: i enjoyed this one. also trying out a slightly different style so let me know what you think

word count: 2.8k

-

Leah comes in every morning just after 7:30, always a little earlier than the rest of the team—well, what’s left of the team—who roll in around 8, give or take. You start noticing her patterns by the second week. It’s not intentional. It’s just that she’s hard not to notice. The way she slips into the room quietly, moving like a shadow, like she’s trying not to be seen even though she’s Leah Williamson and there’s something impossible about Leah Williamson going unnoticed. You’re not sure she’s aware of it, or maybe she is, maybe it’s part of the act, something people like her learn over time—how to balance being seen and unseen simultaneously. Either way, she always acknowledges you. It’s a brief nod or a soft “Morning” that comes out like a sigh. But it’s there. And you nod back because it’s professional, it’s polite.

You’re the new physio, brought in because someone higher up decided that ACLs are the new pandemic, and Arsenal’s hit hard by it. One by one, players dropping like flies—tears, rips, stretches that aren’t supposed to stretch. Someone needed to focus on rehab, on these slow and tedious one-on-one sessions. So, here you are. Your life has become a revolving door of knee braces, resistance bands, ultrasound machines, and cold compression therapy. A strange, repetitive kind of intimacy.

Leah is assigned to you. "Take care of her," they say. She’s a captain. She’s the face. There’s an unsaid urgency that comes with her, an invisible asterisk by her name. You feel it in every briefing, every passing mention of her progress. Everyone’s waiting for her return. Waiting for her to be fixed.

Your first session with her is awkward. Stilted. You’re overly conscious of how she sits, her knee elevated, her eyes on the ceiling, like she’s counting the tiles instead of looking at you. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and that weird plastic-y scent that medical equipment always has. You ask her the standard questions: pain level, range of motion, any stiffness. She answers with one-word responses, tight-lipped. There’s a distance between you that you can’t quite figure out if it’s professional or personal. Maybe both.

-

Weeks pass, and the routine becomes muscle memory. You know when to push and when to pull back. How to make her laugh, how to coax her into stretching just a little more without her getting defensive. You start to notice the little things about her. Like how she always wipes her hands on her shorts after you adjust the brace on her leg, or how she clicks her tongue when she’s frustrated, a soft noise that barely registers unless you’re paying attention, which you are. You’re always paying attention to Leah.

It’s in the middle of a session that things shift. You’re guiding her through a series of exercises—balance work, stuff that’s boring but essential—and she’s sweating, biting her lip as she focuses on not wobbling. You’re right there, hands out, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She doesn’t, but the proximity is there. Too close, maybe. Your fingers brush her waist as you correct her form, and she inhales sharply. You freeze, but she doesn’t move. Neither do you.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice lower than usual, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the weight of her stare, those sharp blue eyes locking onto yours.

"Yeah," she says, but her voice sounds strained, like she’s not sure it’s the right answer. She’s not looking at you anymore, her focus now on the floor, her hands gripping the sides of the bench like she needs to anchor herself. The room feels smaller, the air thick.

You pull back, step away, putting space between you, but it doesn’t feel like enough. You can still feel the echo of her skin under your fingers, the heat of her proximity. You clear your throat, force a smile. "Let’s take five”

She nods, doesn’t say anything, just grabs her water bottle and takes a long drink, her throat working, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck. You turn away, pretend to be adjusting something on the ultrasound machine even though it’s perfectly fine, just to give yourself something to do, something that isn’t thinking about how her skin felt under your hands.

-

The next time around is more tense. There’s an unspoken tension now, like a line has been crossed, or maybe it hasn’t, but it’s close. You’re hyper-aware of every movement, every brush of skin. Leah doesn’t mention it, but there’s a change in her too. She flirts, subtly at first—offhand comments, jokes that land just a little too close to something more. You laugh, play along, because it’s harmless. It’s nothing. Except it’s not.

You catch yourself watching her more. The way her muscles ripple under her skin as she moves, the way her lips part when she’s concentrating, how her eyes flick to you when she thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if she notices you doing the same. You wonder if she feels it too—this thing simmering between you that’s becoming harder to ignore.

One day, after a session, she lingers. The rest of the team has filtered out of the gym, and it’s just the two of you, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound.

"Thanks for today," she says, her voice soft. She’s sitting on the edge of the bench, her knee still wrapped in the brace, but she looks more relaxed than she has in weeks. There’s something in her eyes, something you can’t quite read, and it makes your chest tighten.

"It’s my job," you say, but the words feel hollow. You’ve been telling yourself that for weeks now, trying to convince yourself that this is just work, that this is just another injured player, another knee to fix. But it’s not. You’re not sure when it stopped being just that, but it has.

"Is it, though?" she asks, and her voice is lighter now, teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A challenge.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "What do you mean?"

She stands, slowly, her movements careful, deliberate. She’s close to you now, too close again, and you don’t step back this time. "I think you know what I mean," she says, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You don’t have an answer, or maybe you do but you don’t trust yourself to say it out loud. The air between you crackles with something electric, something that feels inevitable.

She leans in, just a fraction, and you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You could close the distance. You could kiss her, right here, right now, and no one would know. It would be easy. Too easy.

But you don’t.

Instead, you step back. You force a smile. "We should stick to the plan. Don’t want to push the knee too hard too soon”

It’s a cop-out, and you both know it. The shift in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she masks it with a shrug.

"Right. The knee," she says, her tone casual, but the tension is still there, hanging between you like a thin thread ready to snap. She doesn’t push it, though. Instead, she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads for the door. But just before she leaves, she glances back at you, her eyes sharp, like she’s trying to figure you out, trying to decide if this is a game or something else entirely.

You stand there for a long time after she’s gone, the gym feeling too big, too empty. You can still feel the weight of her gaze, the heat of her body close to yours. You tell yourself it’s just work, just rehab. But deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

It’s never that simple.

-

The sessions after that are different. There’s a push and pull now, a tension that neither of you acknowledges but is impossible to ignore. Flirting turns into something sharper, more pointed, like you’re both testing the limits, seeing how far you can go before something breaks. But nothing breaks, not really. Not yet.

Then one night, you cross the line. It’s late, the training ground is empty, and Leah’s the last one in the gym. You’re both exhausted, worn down by weeks of slow progress, of frustrations mounting. The conversation starts off innocuous—something about her recovery timeline, how she’s feeling. But it shifts quickly. There’s an edge to her voice, a sharpness that cuts through the usual banter.

"Why do you keep pulling back?" she asks, and there’s nothing light in her tone now. It’s serious. She’s serious.

You blink, thrown off. It’s late, the harsh fluorescent lights above cast everything in this sterile, washed-out glow that makes you feel like you’re in a hospital, or some kind of waiting room where nothing feels real, nothing matters. Leah’s standing in front of you, close but not too close, not like before, but close enough that you feel it—the weight of her presence, the space she occupies, the air between you vibrating, charged with something neither of you is willing to name but it’s there. It’s been there for weeks. Maybe longer.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You’re tired, too tired to come up with something convincing, and it’s the way she’s looking at you now, like she’s seeing through every excuse you’ve built up, every wall you’ve thrown up between you because you know you have to, because you’re the physio, you’re supposed to be the professional, the one who stays detached, clinical, objective. You’re supposed to care about her body, her knee, not the rest of her. Not this.

But the truth is, you do care, too much, and it’s bleeding into everything. Into the way you touch her during sessions, the way your fingers linger just a little too long on her skin when you’re adjusting the brace, or the way your pulse speeds up when she leans back on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her neck, and you wonder what it would feel like to brush them away. You know you shouldn’t, that it’s a line you can’t cross, but the line’s blurred now, so faint you can barely see it anymore.

Leah narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing an old Arsenal training kit, the fabric worn and soft, the logo faded from too many washes, and you notice that she tugs at the hem of her shirt when she’s frustrated, twisting it around her fingers like she’s trying to keep her hands busy, like she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something vulnerable, like she’s exposing a part of herself she doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. “You know exactly what I mean”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. You’re not stupid. You know why you’ve been pulling back. Why you’ve been keeping your distance. It’s because this—whatever this is—is dangerous. It’s complicated. It’s wrong in a way that’s hard to define but easy to feel, like a low hum in the back of your mind that you can’t shake. And yet, the more you try to stay away, the more you find yourself drawn to her. Like gravity. Like something you can’t control, no matter how hard you try.

“It’s not that simple,” you say, and your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You’re aware of how this looks—two people alone in a gym, the air thick with unspoken tension, the kind of tension that feels like it’s been building for a long time and is about to spill over. You glance at the clock on the wall—it’s almost 10 a.m.—and you wonder how it got so late, how time seems to bend around her, how hours slip by when you’re with her but still, its never enough. There’s always more, always something unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Leah uncrosses her arms, taking a step closer. You can see the faint scar on her knee, the way the skin’s still a little pink, a little raw, and it’s a reminder of why you’re here, what your job is, but all you can think about is the way her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching. “I’m not asking for simple,” she says quietly, and there’s an intensity in her voice that catches you off guard. “I’m asking for honest”

The word hangs in the air, heavy, and you feel something in your chest tighten. Honest. You think about what that would look like. What it would feel like to stop pretending, to stop playing this game where you act like you don’t notice the way she looks at you, the way your body reacts to hers. You think about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to what’s been building between you. The consequences. The fallout. The way it would shift everything irreparably, and yet, the thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should.

You take a breath, slow, steady, trying to collect yourself, trying to find the right words, but they’re all tangled up in your head, a mess of things you can’t say, shouldn’t say. “Leah,” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence, because there’s no good way to say what you’re thinking, no good way to explain the way your heart speeds up when she’s near, the way your skin prickles under her eyes, the way your mind drifts to her at night when you’re lying in bed, staring into the darkness, replaying moments in your head that shouldn’t matter but do.

She’s watching you, waiting, and you can feel the weight of her expectation, the way she’s daring you to say something real, something that matters. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re tired of pretending, tired of holding back, but something inside you cracks, just a little, just enough.

“I’ve been trying to keep this professional,” you say, and the words come out in a rush, tumbling over themselves like they’ve been waiting to escape. “Because I have to. Because I don’t know how else to do this without—” You stop, shaking your head, because it sounds ridiculous, it sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is. “It’s not just about your knee,” you say finally, and it feels like a confession, like something you’ve been holding onto for too long. “It’s about everything else”

Leah’s eyes widen, just for a moment, and you see something flicker across her face—surprise, maybe, or relief, or something else entirely. She doesn’t say anything right away, but she steps even closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her sweat mixed with the scent of her shampoo, something clean and floral, and it hits you like a wave, overwhelming in its simplicity. You feel the pull again, stronger now, undeniable.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, and her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the haze in your mind. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

The words hang between you, suspended in the air, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the gym, the team, the world outside this room. It’s just you and her, and the weight of everything you haven’t said, everything you’ve been too scared to admit.

Leah reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, and the contact sends a jolt through you, a spark that ignites something deep inside, something you’ve been trying to suppress for weeks, months. You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you disappears, and her lips are on yours, and it’s like everything snaps into focus all at once.

The kiss is rough, urgent, like it’s been building for too long and now there’s no stopping it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of her body against yours, the way her breath mingles with yours in the small, stolen space between kisses. It’s messy, frantic, like neither of you can get enough, like you’ve been starving for this and now you’re finally letting yourself have it.

You don’t think about the consequences, about what happens when this moment ends. You don’t think about the power imbalance, the lines you’re crossing, the mess you’re making. All you can think about is the way she feels against you, the way her fingers dig into your skin like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go.

[adorkastock]

So I don't know who to ask about this, and since it's your profession, I figured you'd know most! I like to use Magic Poser to help me draw my characters' poses, but I feel like I always wind up altering the proportions to fit the models rather than my style without meaning to just because I'm drawing what I'm looking at. It feels less like looking at a reference and more copying a picture, and it makes me feel really bad, like I'm cheating at art. Do you have any thoughts or word of advice on this? I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!

Hey Nonnie! Hmmm there's I feel like kind of two questions here. One, using Magic Poser or any other legit reference to make your art is not cheating. It's just using a tool the way it's meant to be used (as a reference). There's nothing at all wrong with that. ♥ However, if you are getting Not The Results You Want from this process that's another issue entirely. So, two: what do I do if the art I'm making from reference doesn't look like *my* art? If you find that working from a reference is changing your style in ways you don't like, I have suggestions: 1) do a sketch from the reference just like you normally would in whatever style comes out naturally using the reference 2) look at the drawing you did and put the reference away 3) draw another drawing from the drawing you did but try to make adjustments towards the stylization you prefer (your first drawing is your reference for your second) OR, if your brain will do this for you: 3b) after sketching from the reference (maybe a few times for good measure) put the reference away completely and try to draw the pose from memory* and see what happens. If you think you're overly reliant on references to the point you think it's holding you back then you can start to wean yourself off of them but doing more and more drawing without them. Maybe start with a 20min warm-up on my Sketch App drawing a bunch of poses really fast from reference, then pull up a new pose, look at it, and try to draw it without checking back in at all. Honestly the best way to get to a style you like is to just draw A LOT. Draw lots of different ways. Mess around with line weight and shapes. Make things swish, make them pointy, make lines that cross over a lot, make a mess, make it neat, keep going. Do a lot of drawing and investigate what feels and looks right to you. And if a tool isn't serving your goals, you can let it go. It might be hard at first but you will find your way. ♥ * Side note: I have aphantasia which means I don't have head pictures. If I look at a reference and walk into the other room, I am not going to be able to replicated it very well from memory. That being said, if I sketch a pose over and over and over a bunch I will retain it somehow, somewhere (I don't know how brains work). The next time I go to draw that pose it will be easier. Just popping this in here in case you have the same trouble.

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[maelancoli]

Writing Explicit Intimacy More Deeply

okay after the kissing post i've wanted to try to write something about actual sexual scenes. it's taken me a while to figure out what approach to take for such a broad subject because this is such a subjective form of writing and everyone has very strong opinions and varying proclivities. the truth is you are not going to please everyone and there will be a chunk of people who will always dislike your choice of words. and so even in writing a post to help others, there's going to be people who strongly disagree or find what i prefer to be cringe or unerotic.

the portrayal of sexual intimacy and the approaches taken are as varied as the sexual preferences, appetites, turn ons and turn offs of every day real people. this can either make you freeze up when writing, or free you to realize there is no 100% right way to approach erotic art and anyone who tells you otherwise is a smartass or trying to sell you something. so with no further ado, this post will be exactly what it sounds like so proceed at your own risk.

i'm going to focus less on style itself and more on approach. the first thing is that you don't need to divorce 'fluffy' non explicit intimacy from sexual writing. the exact same style and techniques you use for non sexual intimacy can often be applied to the sexual scenes too. kissing scenes, the chaste restrained touches filled with deeper desire, the linger looks from across the room, the build up to the first moments of vulnerability, the first few kisses, the first 'almosts' are connected to the sexual scenes themselves. it is all the same emotions and tensions. they're only heightened. and for sex scenes that are produced from these build ups are a simple escalation. you only need to expound upon what you've already built. don't view it as starting new and having to figure out how to write a different topic/moment. it's a continuation and all you need to do is use the tools you've already given yourself.

my second tip is to spend time shaping your character's tastes, kinks, turn ons and icks, their secret fantasies, their red lines they won't cross, their pleasure zones, the places they find attractive on others that they like to focus on and stimulate. if you want your sex scenes to feel real and not like it's just a emulation of generic smut or porn, you have to do what you do for literally anything else to make it not feel bland or contrived: character development.

where does your muse like to be kissed? what parts of their body make them feel stimulated, what parts are the most sensitive? not everything is about genitals. a lot of people like their foreplay to start with groping in varying erogenous zones. some are unconventional, some like their ears licked, they want their wrists kissed and sucked, they just want their partner to hold them close etc. the more you practice and explore what feels right for your character, the easier building on that foundation of tension will become.

if you feel awkward you can write the characters feeling awkward too because it often is. sex isn't always erotic or super steamy. it can be funny and awkward or just a natural physical thing happening between two people. focus less on if it sounds good in the first draft and focus more on if it makes sense for the characters, focus on how this moment makes them feel, where they feel their arousal and excitement in their body, how they respond to each other, what this means to them or what it doesn't mean etc. after you have gotten that down, then you edit it. add the prose, use the language that either make sit feel less crude to you or more erotic or more poetic etc.

lets take eliza and grabriella from last time so we can expound upon their previous interaction

it wasn't like she had never seen gabriella before. the first time they had seen each other outside of a dorm room or stuffy lecture hall was at dance club which was too crowded and too loud and was less 'dance' and more 'stand around and bob heads and take up too much space on the dance floor.' but she did remember what gabriella wore. she remembered her cropped blouse with ruffled sleeves and how she hadn't worn a bra beneath it. she remembered that she did dance. she remembered how effortless it looked. and the shorts which hugged her thighs and formed that little indentation that first made her wish she could tuck her fingers beneath the hemline and tug her close. she had denied those instincts then, those unrealized desires. but she wasn't denying it now. because now gabriella was on her mattress, sitting on her knees in only her bra and lacy underwear which evoked that same feeling. eliza imagined hooking a finger just at the waistline and tugging. butterflies swirled in her stomach and static radiated through her at the mere thought because this time she could do it. "you okay?" gabriella murmured. she was smiling. that smile made her feel all the warmth of the brightest stars which whispered she was meant to be here, with her. "yeah," eliza breathed out. she leaned closer and feathered her lips along the other woman's. even with a trembling hand she reached forth and brushed her fingertips at the edges of gabriella's panties. "i'm okay," she promised. she allowed herself to smile and in doing so realized she was already grinning. "more than okay." "good," gabriella kissed her back, one of her hands sliding into eliza's hair as the other tenderly began to caress her bare thigh. "have you ever...?"

"no," she admitted. heat gathered in her cheeks which were turning pinker by the second. her ears must have looked sunburnt and she had to resist the urge to cover her face. "not really...not like this." a pause. she bit at the inside of her lower lip and glanced up at gabriella's soft features. when their eyes met, she simultaneously felt all her muscles relax again. but those damn butterflies kept fluttering within her. "have you?" "once," gabriella nodded. then she smiled, a shyness in her expression which only made her features glow all the more. she reached down and gently grasped eliza's hand. she rubbed her thumb over her knuckles. "just follow my lead," she murmured. "we'll make up our own steps." she slowly guided eliza's fingers beneath the lacy waistband. and then further. until she felt the damp warmth between her thighs. eliza's breath hitched and she almost forgot how to control her lungs. "i think i can figure it out," she replied with a small smirk before she tenderly rubbed the pad of her thumb against gabriella's mound. when the other woman breathed in deep, almost moaning, she knew this was a dance she would happily memorize.

i put the rest below the cut to help the post from being too lengthy. but essentially here we see a continuation of eliza feeling uncertain in new territory but finding comfort and reassurance in gabriella. she might be nervous, but she has no doubts about this woman she's attracted to. rather than just describing one action after the other or focusing only on the biological responses happening, we're delving into the continuation of anticipation, we're showing the gentle push and pull between them. eliza has the desire to take control and give pleasure to gabriella. but she finds herself needing gabriella's guidance and that's okay.

because they met dancing, we can use dancing symbolism. deciding the contrasting language and euphemisms you want to use for your ship will help you broaden how you write the intimacy beyond the physical.

eliza wants to be more dominant we see hints of it here, but realistically someone who is new to a situation will not be able to go straight into that. but, say that there is continued scenes of intimacy between them, after the first time, we would start to let her slowly explore that. perhaps gabriella would coax it out of her, maybe eliza will surprise her. she'll tug her close by her belt loops, she let herself bite at her rather than just gentle kisses. it will happen slowly and surely. and that is typically also good advice for if you want to include more kinky content. the first time people have sex they're not gonna jump straight into that. even if they're experienced in kink they still have to get to know one another and get a feel for each other's bodies, what they do and don't like, etc.

there's further tension to explore if you utilize those intimate scenes correctly, continuing to build and escalate each time upon the previous moments. don't just jump straight to crazy sex. build up to it. let them explore each other and their sexuality together. that is where the steam comes from, the continuation of tension, the excitement of getting to know one another. don't just steamroll right over opportunities for development and sensuality.

anyway that's it folks bc this post is long af. have fun, write freaky shit, write cute shit, write what makes u happy and horny.

[justin-chapmanswers]

Sorry if this is a bit rude, but how do you consider yourself as he/they or they/he? I am questioning my sexuality and gender at the moment and seeing you (idk if ur lgbt) makes me find comfort, if you can, how did you realise you were not straight and how I can find mine! :3

Oh golly uh. Let's see if I can keep this short and then bury it under other answers. <3

Labels are fun cause they're so funky and ever-changing as you learn more about yourself. So, firstly, don't stress about finding something so perfect right away and bounding yourself to it. You're still you, any way you word it.

Gender-wise I'm in a state of def preferring they but being chill enough with he. Like whateverrrrr. It's hard to get around societal norms and perceptions, so my expectations are calibrated accordingly. I of course feel that for people who feel more strongly about a specific label, it's important to fight for it to be recognized whenever you're in a safe-enough environment to do-so. But for me, the concept of pushing for a specific label or, even more-so, of seeing other people pushing others to use a specific label for me is veryyyy anxiety-inducing. I tend to avoid spotlight when possible. But at the same time, a lot of it just comes down to not wanting to be grouped/perceived gender-ly at all. I tend to use the label agender. But I'm sure a lot of people have similar experiences with different labels. I just, ya'know, wanna be me.

Gender exploration is funnnn. There's no one right way to learning about yourself. Some people know from a young age, almost inherently, some people figure things out a lot later. It's never too late. Some people learn with outfits and styles, some with looking to people/characters who they want to be perceived more-like, some with experimenting through new names/pronouns and feeling-out how being called different things makes them feel. If you have friends you feel safe around with all of this, on or offline, can't hurt to say "hey would ya mind calling me x-name or y-pronoun for a bit?" And if you don't like it, you don't need to stick with it. But really be cognizant of it feels right to you.

Then on the romantic orientation side, that's been a much longer journey haha. I was calling myself straight through middle schooler, bi for a bit in early high school, gay starting in later high school, then for a long while. Nowadays I just say queer. Labels make things easier, until they don’t haha. For me, if you imagine a scale of feminity to masculinity with like little pegs running down the line from 0 to 10, with 5 in the middle, I tend to find myself attracted to people in like the 4 to 8 range? Something like that. But even that's not perfectly consistent! There's never going to be a perfect word for everything. That's why I like queer as an umbrella term. It's also just a cute word, I don't make the rules.

Hence earlier when I mentioned that you should just feel free to keep it open and not close yourself off. Maybe nothing'll change, but what if something does? But of course, I assume you're asking from more of a place of just starting this journey. I'm trying to get my mind back to where I started with that. I think the first time the not-straight realization hit was when a friend of mine didn't show up to an event and I was all like "why am I so miserably sad that he wasn't there?" And then a lightbulb appeared over my head and out-loud I said "aw damnit." And then things have been weird and confusing ever since.

But in terms of giving advice, it's hard to not just be like "uhh idk just hang out with people that makes you feel gooey." But obviously it's more complicated than that. A decade ago, I was taking random "am I gay" tests online. But they're kinda silly cause the questions on those would ask me to fill in information about how I feel, but how am you supposed to know how I feel without the test telling me how I feel??????? So realistically, I'd advise private journaling. Just take some time, even five minutes. Start now. Write out who you are drawn to, in any sense, and how they make you feel. Especially if you're like me and have trouble self-reflecting unless I force myself to. Like. In a Tumblr post.

There's so many ways to explore. It's also nice to look at relationships in life and media and seeing if you connect to any relationship or long to fit into someone's place within a relationship. That's why representation matters, baybeeeee! But also, ya'know, talking to people goes a long way to learning about yourself. Trial 'n error let's gooooo.

And above all: you got this.

[lovebugism]

hi bug!! for blurbcember, how about ❝ don’t tell anyone, but, i spiked the eggnog. ❞ where shy!reader is by herself at a work holiday party, maybe she’s new or just really shy and doesn’t talk to many people, and steve/eddie goes up to her and jokes about spiking the eggnog to break the ice and flirt with her bc he has a crush on her and wants to make her laugh 🥹 totally not based on what i wish would happen to me at my work’s holiday party lmao

ah this is so cute! :D i decided to do this one for steve so i hope you like it!! — steve harrington spends the company holiday party flirting with shy!you (friends to lovers, shy!reader, fluff, 1.9k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The quiet mouse and the personality hire walk into an office holiday party.

It’s like the start of a really bad joke.

You try to be as enthusiastic as you can about the whole thing, but spending the last half of your day socializing with coworkers who've never looked your way before now isn’t exactly thrill-inducing. Neither is having to hear “Oh, I didn’t know you actually spoke” a thousand times over.

You just don’t want the lecture about being a team player just because you have a harder time talking than most people do. Everyone knows you’d rather be at your desk, anyway. That’s what you do best — keep your head down and get your work done.

But Steve Harrington? He’s totally in his element.

He flits around the common area with a drink and a smile, making people laugh without even trying. It’s hardly fair.

You don’t know how he does it — or why he chooses to waste his charm on you. You’re hardly deserving of his dumb jokes or his pretty smile, but he’s stuck to you like glue, anyway.

He leaves your side only once. To get you another cup of eggnog because you were too scared to cut through the crowd for seconds. “Here you go,” the pretty boy croons as he hands you the plastic cup with a strong, golden hand.

You mutter a small “thanks” under your breath when you take it from him. At least, Steve thinks you do. You’re so quiet it’s hard to make the words out sometimes.

He pushes his sweater sleeves up to his elbows — a deep evergreen with a cream stripe around the chest, lined with several little Christmas trees — and leans against the wall beside you.

He towers over you in every way imaginable. It makes it hurt not to cower when he looks your way. Most of all, when he beams at you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks suddenly, nose scrunched and honey eyes sparkling.

Your brows pinch momentarily in confusion before going lax again. “Sure?”

He leans closer to you, his warm scent engulfing you instantly — like morning coffee and woodsy cologne. It’s suffocating, in the nicest of ways, to be this close to him. 

“Don’t tell anyone, but I did actually spike the eggnog,” Steve whispers beneath the cheesy holiday music and distant chatter, quiet enough for only you to hear. 

You laugh before you mean to. 

He laughs because you are.

“I actually wouldn’t mind that,” you joke with a shy shrug.

“It’d make this whole thing a lot more tolerable, right?” he scoffs and brings his cup to his mouth. The heavy cream of the eggnog clings to his cupid’s bow before he licks it clean again.

You get quiet for a second, momentarily lost in how pretty he is. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“I think you’re the only person I know that’d rather be working than be here.”

“Well, I’m not really a—” Your mouth opens and closes like a fish until you find the words to say. That happens a lot. It’s why you find it easier not to speak sometimes. “—A social butterfly or whatever, you know?”

“I thought you were gonna say people-person.”

“That, too.”

Steve thinks for a moment, flits his eyes to the ceiling, and juts out his pretty pink lips. He crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “Well, I don’t think that’s totally true.”

Your brows furrow. Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as you thought. “No?”

“No,” he says confidently and with a shake of his neatly styled hair. He swipes his fingers through the intentionally messy strands. Then he shrugs. “Well, I mean, maybe. But I would say you are a Steve-person, you know?”

Your face screws up. His attempts to flirt with you don’t land.

He quickly tries to explain himself. “I just mean that— you know— that you don’t let everyone know you the way you let me know you.”

He gets all shy about it, but you think he might be right. 

Steve Harrington is more than just magnetic. He’s the kind of person that draws you in and opens you like a flower. An ounce of his attention feels like being basked in sunlight. He’s as handsome as life, too. Something holy, maybe. 

It’s his divinity that draws something out of you, you think.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re different from everyone else,” you shrug instead of elaborating on the dramatic religious metaphor in your head. Your gaze falls to the untouched cup between your palms. It’s easier to look at but much less interesting than the melting honey in Steve’s eyes.

He grins all sweet even though you’re not looking at him to see it.

“You mean prettier?” he jokes.

“Yeah,” you scoff and smile before you realize it. “No one’s competing with those dimples, Harrington.”

He beams. It basks you in golden sunlight. 

Something about the way he looks at you is comforting. Nostalgic. It makes you feel safe. Makes you feel brave enough to raise a trembling hand to his scruffy jaw and poke gently at the dimple in his left cheek.

“You just make it easier to talk. I guess.”

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I love hearing you talk.”

You squint playfully up at him. “Is that because you’re usually the one talking all the time?”

He nods. “That’s exactly why.”

You laugh, and it sounds like stars falling over his skin. 

“It just feels easy to me, you know? Being around you and everything,” Steve shrugs to pretend like you don’t stir something sort of poetry in his chest. “I just think you’re cool. Exactly the way you are. And, you know, when you apologize for being too quiet or too complicated or whatever— it makes me wanna kick the world’s ass for making you feel that way. ‘Cause you’re, like, one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

For a second or more, you’re not totally sure what to say. And not in the way you usually are. This is different. This feels like there’s sunshine in your throat, and you can’t speak a word through it. This feels like being so choked up you could cry.

No one’s ever been this nice to you, you think. No one’s ever been so kind to you about the thing you hate most about yourself.

You swallow through the sun rays and muster a wavering smile.

“See what I mean?” You try to laugh, but the words get caught in your throat. You cough once to clear it. “I have to talk to you because no one else will say such nice things to me.”

“And that’s just a shame. ‘Cause saying nice things to you is basically my favorite hobby.”

You laugh again, even though he’s not really joking.

“Like, if I could get paid to do it, I’d be out of this shithole in a second.”

You smile up at him, so wide it makes your eyes squint and your nose scrunch. No one else could stir such a loud emotion from the quiet you are. No one else but Steve.

[justasecretflower]

Highschool! Jujutsu kaisen characters with an American! Transfer student HCS 🌸

~ fluff.

‼️Do not reblog my works‼️

_____________________________________

Satoru Gojo - canonically, he knows a bit of English, but for easier communication purposes all of the jjk guys can speak English and Japanese..

- orders snacks from America to try out with you

- I don’t think he’d hate on America or Americans but when you’d mess up a mission or lose during sparing he’d pull a joking “Classic American.”

- devours twinkies when he first gets them then orders like 50 more boxes. Refuses to share his twinkies.

- tells you he’s gonna take a trip over there when he’s older and has more freedom and eat all the best food. New York styled pizza, those huge milkshakes with like a waffle on top, triple cheeseburgers, he’s gonna take pictures of him eating it all and then frame it for you. (Don’t even ask.)

Geto Suguru - he’s more interested in the culture, i personally think. He likes to learn the proper greetings, weird customs, differences between Japan and America.

- he baked a classic southern dish once in secret and liked it..

- hates when Americans are overly patriotic. He pulls this face.

- more drawn to the west coast

Shoko ieri - makes fun of your accent. Yes, Americans have accents. Never actually mad or annoyed at it, just pokes fun.

- honestly doesn’t care as much as geto or Gojo. Like yeah, there’s other people from other countries and cultures, she’d already known that?

- honestly doesn’t care lol.

____________________________________

Yuji itadori- oh he knows about America alright. His wife lives there! (Jenifer Lawrence duh)

- finds all of the city’s interesting, definitely wants to watch a New York fashion show

- attempts to do a southern accent (either fails or does it scarily good)

- asks questions about schooling over there, specifically the dress code.

- pulls up to you one day decked out in American flags, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat and asks if you feel at home on 4th of July. If you told him about 4th of July.

Megumi fushiguro - another one that genuinely doesn’t care. He’s just like “oh alright cool”

- doesn’t make fun of you for an accent or poke fun at you for being American. He js genuinely doesn’t care.

- will watch the US reality tv shows and finds all the drama stupidly amusing.

Nobara kugisaki - also very interested in all the cities and fashion

- watches Victoria secret fashion shows with you if you like that. Or just New York fashion shows in general.

- critiques American style

- pls take her to LA, NYC, or Chicago she’s begging atp

- if she visited any of the cities she’d dress to the nines just to walk around in the city streets.

Aoi todo - interested in all of your celebrities you have other there.

- ends up finding a new celebrity crush and watches all of the movies she’s in.

- gossiping to u abt celebrity drama that YOU didn’t even know about before him.

- “this is y/n!! My American friend!!” “Todo you don’t have to introduce me to other people like that”

- yuji would prolly also say that line ngl

+ sequel! Teaching Satoru Gojo! To swear in English, Idea suggested by Chiefclown🤍

Thank you for reading :). Pls request some more JJK head canons with the “🌸” emoji!:)

Tags

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TOUCH (1)

- you lost contact with the boy next door, and you believe your life is better for it. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, ⚠️ adult topics mentioned, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 1,003

a/n - aaaaaa my top gun obsession as of late is currently taking up everything in my brain 🥹 now that i’m out for the summer, i really am going to try to finish what i started. come along for the journey, if you dare <3

You were never “together” together with him. You used to wish you were, praying desperately to every fallen eyelash and coin in a fountain and 11:11, but nothing could make Bradley Bradshaw, the only thing your teenage self wanted, settle down.

Instead, you followed him like a lost puppy, and he reveled in your affection. He was fifteen years old, just barely starting to grow his hair out, and you were fourteen. He was also your neighbor, something you could not get out of your giddy head every time you caught a glimpse of him riding his bike outside your window. You supposed it was a thing of proximity; you fell for the only boy you had ever really talked to, and he wanted a warm body.

It was an innocent crush. You liked the way he moved his (frankly horribly styled, which you only realized later) hair out of his brown eyes, and he liked that you liked him. So you went out on “dates”, and you had a fun time, and he inevitably left you to fend for yourself when his friends came around. It took two months of this for you to finally realize that it just wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as you pulled yourself off of your metaphorical knees, he was attached to another girl. A blonde named Rebecca with curves that were certainly not age-appropriate, even at seventeen. You hated her, for a time, but looking back on it, she had the same lovesick look in her eyes that you did. He had that effect on everyone.

When Bradley left, you didn’t even miss him.

You’re thirty-four now, with a brand-new sparkle in your eye. Things are perfect. You just accepted a new job in sunny San Diego to be closer to your long-term boyfriend, and really, life couldn’t be better.

After high school, you moved halfway across the country to attend your dream college, where you met Derick. He’s a nice guy. He brings you flowers, knows your drink order by heart, and, most importantly, he isn’t afraid of commitment. He has a big, shiny ring tucked in the back of his sock drawer, and you won’t ever tell him you know where it is.

Even your job is amazing, which is something people rarely get to say. You got the opportunity to own and manage a cafe quietly nestled into the cozier part of the California coast, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Its proximity to a naval base is also a great thing, as uniformed men line up in droves for an early morning coffee or the odd pastry on their cheat days.

You’re hardworking, and finally, finally, it’s starting to pay off. You smile to yourself as you pull the morning’s cash profit out of the cash register and divide it into folded envelopes. Nothing, you think, could ever go wrong.

Bradley’s life is great, too. That’s what he’d like to think, at least. He has friends. He loves his job. He loves the freedom of hooking up where he wants when he wants, without anyone trying to tie him down. He likes condoms and birth control, too, which are very important to his lifestyle. But when he looks at couples, rings around fingers and hands tucked into back pockets, something inside of him gives a little.

He’s never been one to stay in one place. He moved around a lot as a kid, and some essential part of that stuck with him. His job doesn’t make it easier, either–he’s constantly on the move. Now, though, he’s living in San Diego semi-permanently, and his roots are beginning to dig into the sand. And the whole time, he’s stayed depressingly single.

Women want him. There’s no doubt about it. He’s young enough, at thirty-five, for the twenty-something’s to chat him up, but old enough for the forty-somethings to not feel creepy talking to him. He’s fit, smooth, confident, and if he wants to take it that far, very good in bed. Despite all of that, he’s never found anyone that could truly tie him down. He’s getting a little tired of it at this point.

“Lord, she’s the hottest thing I’ve seen all week.” Fanboy moans into his palms. There’s a croissant on a napkin in front of him that he hasn’t even touched.

Hangman grins from behind him. “You gotta get us there so we can take a shot. As a humble man, I can firmly say that she won’t even think about her boyfriend when I walk through the door.”

The daggers are going on about their new crush of the week. Apparently, Fanboy had spotted what he describes as a “cuteness off the charts” cafe owner on his quest for a new dessert spot. There’s only one thing that deterred him from sweeping her off of her feet: she has a boyfriend, one that she’s evidently quite serious about.

Rooster isn’t into taken women. It’s too much hassle, and he doesn’t like getting in the way of a relationship. He’s made that mistake in the past, and gotten a black eye to show for it. A bit of him is curious, but he won’t take that bait.

“I want to go back. Maybe… maybe I can say the croissant was so good that I had to get another. Guys, you need to go with me. It’s serious serious.” Rooster can firmly say that he’s never seen Fanboy so worked up about a girl before. Who in the world could make his friend geek out like this?

Phoenix chimes in from her spot behind Rooster. “I don’t condone messing around with girls with boyfriends, but I’ve gotta see her for myself.”

Fanboy stands, determination written on his face, as he takes a bite of the croissant. “Let’s go. And you guys better not steal my thunder.”

Rooster rolls his eyes, but follows behind his very smitten friend. He’s in for an interesting (if not somewhat funny) afternoon.

NEXT

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Winx Season 2 Outfits

Once again, I finished this way back and just never posted it.

Season 1 Outfits

Onto the why! This got long, so cut! ✂️

The main factor for these outfits was the fact that they're on Earth for almost all of this season, so the outfits had to be a little more in-line with Earth fashion while still being "them".

Tecna finally opens up to different clothes. While shopping for Earth clothes, she comes across a jacket (Pictured above) that she absolutely falls in love with and never takes off. The shoes she's wearing are an old pair of Bloom's. She still prefers Zenithian clothes (as seen by the shirt), but is glad to have stepped out of her comfort zone a bit.

Musa's been saving up her allowance for some new clothes for a while, and finally got to expand her wardrobe. It's not too far from what she wore in season 1, but it's new, and it's actually hers this time. The headphones were a group gift to her for her birthday (they do actually fit her ears. It's not pictured bc I didn't want to edit the bases much, but all pointy ears get hidden via magic).

Flora brought some of her nicer clothes with her this year, now knowing the kind of group she's with (and she's glad she did when she meets Helia). There's not a huge change in the types of clothes she wears this season beyond that. Most of her clothes can reasonably blend in with Earth fashion.

Stella wears a little less jewellery this season. The illusion hiding their more alien features is her doing, and it's dark magic too, which she still isn't strong at, so no earrings to make it easier. The dress is actually Vanessa's. She starts the season off in something typically Stella, but gets very close with Vanessa, and gifts her a dress of hers. Stella still wears the sunglasses (I forgot to turn on the layer with them when I took the picture, and I'm not going back or this will never be posted).

Bloom is wearing some of the clothes she had to leave behind when she first came to Alfea. She takes full advantage of having access to her full wardrobe this season, and this is really only one of many outfits. She's still struggling to figure out how to incorporate pink into her outfits.

Aisha!!! She makes her first appearance this season! This isn't her introductory outfit, but she changes to this pretty quickly after being accepted into the group. This was meant to be similar to the group's season 1 outfits, where she's still trying to find herself a bit. Luckily, she has a lot of people ready and willing to help. It's nearly entirely second hand and paid for by everyone else.

Roxy also makes her first appearance this season. She gets a lot of her trousers scratched up from various animals she takes care of, so she ends up patching them with custom-made patches. Her docs are also customised. She wears fingerless gloves because they look so cool. I will not be taking any kind of criticism on this point. She has a few outfits with some different styles, but likes to stick with either darker colours or neons.

Extra Tidbit: Most of this season's wardrobe is from various second-hand clothes stores.

Aisha and Roxy's first appearance outfits

[writingsbychlo]

surprise | cassian

summary; on starfall evening, you plan on revealing some big news, and giving cassian a very special gift.

word count; 4581

notes; this week was so insanely busy for me so I fell behind on these fics, but let's try and catch up at least a little bit, so here's day four!

As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing a hand over the indistinguishable bump on your midriff, the smile forming on your lips was beyond your control. In the connecting bathroom, humming away to himself as he styled his hair was the love of your life, every inch of thick and terrifying General absolutely adorable to you as he prepared himself for the night ahead, streaks of excitement bursting down the bond to you every now and again.

You hoped the life growing inside of you got his passion for life, and his love of all the little things. One of the parts of Cassian you’d fallen hardest for was his ability to always find some kind of silver lining, to find a way to make even an empty glass seem half-full, to put a positive spin on any bad situation. He made every problem a joint challenge, he made every fear a shared worry, he made everything so much easier.

There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that he would be a wonderful father, just as he had been a wonderful boyfriend for years, a fantastic friend for centuries before that, and a good man for his entire life. If anyone deserved the kind of joy you knew your reveal would bring, it was Cassian. 

For almost two years you’d been talking about having children, trying for a little warrior he could call his own, if the adoration he showered down on his nephew was anything to judge by. For six years, Cassian had loved Nyx like his own child, and almost three years ago, after the candles had been blown out and you’d been half asleep, Cassian had nervously whispered his desire for his own child. Three months ago, that wish had finally come true. 

It was far too special to just blurt out, and so you’d waited. You’d suffered through every minute of just wanting to burst it out to him, to save it, to make it truly special. Luckily, you’d managed to make it to this evening without your scent changing breaking through, or your bump coming in early. 

As Cassian stepped out, eyes scanning over the simple underwear set and somehow managing to make you feel sexy even in that, you tried desperately to fight the sudden burst of excitement. By the time the two of you went to bed tonight, Cassian would know he was going to be a father.

Every nerve seemed to leave your body as he let out an appreciative hum, gaze raking you in the same way you were for him. He’d tied his hair back in a neat bun behind his head, and trimmed and neatened the overgrown hair along his jaw that you loved so much. Dressed in smart dress pants and a black silk button-up that he’d purposefully left undone by a few buttons, chest hair on show, he was a sight to behold. Even more so as you watch him strap on just two of his siphons, one over the back of each hand, expertly clasping them without needing help.

“You’re staring, y’know.” His cocky tone made your gaze snap back up to his face, tongue sticking out childishly, and he only grinned in return. “Shall I pose for Feyre to paint? Then you can stare all day long, and never tire of it. Maybe I’ll post nude.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but a smile crawled over them all the same, matching his joke-filled attitude. Cassian picked up your dress, admiring it before himself, before making his way over and stopping behind you. His eyes met yours in the mirror, a much more intimate smile on his lips now as his large form swamped yours, and he dipped to press a kiss to each of your shoulders. 

With matching kisses all the way down your spine until he was braced on one knee, he unzipped the dress, before holding it open for you to step into. One foot at a time, you did, and he began to smooth the grown slowly up your body, inch at a time. Both arms in and the material settled over your frame, he ran a single knuckle along the trail his lips had traced along your back, to grip the zip at the bottom. Slowly, it crawled up the tracks, getting tighter and tighter around your stomach until it paused. 

You’d had the dress made months ago, before you’d even fallen pregnant at all, and even though you weren’t obviously showing yet, you were beginning to fill out just slightly. Last week, you’d been able to get this dress on alone, with no struggle. Now, Cass had to give a little extra tug to keep the zip moving. Your lips flickered at the edges, biting your tongue to hide a comment about how fast your baby was growing, and how large they were sure to be, just like their father. 

Cassian, clearly misinterpreting the look on your face, spun you around as soon as the dress was fastened, pulling you in until his lips could brush your hairline lovingly. “All that extra training, doll. Got this pretty ass even thicker for me to hold onto.” 

He made a point of squeezing your ass in both hands until you smiled, head tipping up to steal a kiss from his lips. The look he gave you was wrapped in sin and lust, and you had to fight back the urge to jump on him then and there, knowing that look was exactly how you ended up this way in the first place. 

Instead, you tutted at him, pulling away and chuckling at his groan, only to reach out to hold his arm in support as you tucked your feet into your heels. Soon enough, your feet would be too swollen and you’d be too unbalanced to wear anything but your slippers, so you fully intended to make the most of these shoes while you could.

With hands wrapped tightly together, you cast one last look at your underwear drawer, a surprise for later tucked neatly inside, as he turned off the lights and led the two of you away to the party. 

When you arrived, the rest of your family was already there, but you’d expected as much. Cassian was nothing if not a drama queen when it came to his appearance for these events, even if it was family only. He spent so much time messy, un-groomed, wrapped in dirty leathers and covered in sand and sweat, you didn’t blame him for enjoying a little primping when the time presented itself. 

With the greetings done, Cassian turned to you, lips on the shell of your ear, “What can I get you to drink, baby?”

“Just water, I think,” You hadn't thought this far, knowing you had to wait for the right moment tonight, for it to be perfect, and unable to explain any odd behaviour leading up to it. His rear back with raised brows was enough to show you his shock and concern too, and you only shrugged. “I just think maybe I’ll hydrate a little before we get into the real drinking, save myself the hangover tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” His nose nudged over yours before he stepped back. “I make no promises of doing the same.”

Your laughter carried him a long distance from you, and your hand settled subconsciously over the life inside of you as you took a deep and shaky breath. Before even starting to calm your newly raging nerves, Rhysand was making a direct and pointed bee-line for you across the room, your eyes widening a little at his determination. An easy smile sat on his lips, but something calculating in his gaze, and when you glanced to Feyre behind him, she was doing her best effort to look anywhere but the two of you, bashfully. 

“You look stunning tonight, my dear,” He placed a friendly kiss on your cheek, a motion which you repeated for him, before pulling away. “Forgive me for my forwardness-”

“When have you ever been truly sorry for that, Rhys?” 

He only smirked, shrugging casually as his hands tucked into his pockets, but while his smile said ‘fun’, his eyes said ‘serious’. “You know… me and Fey could smell it as soon as you walked in. Everyone else is going to be able to tell soon, too. You won’t be able to hide this much longer, why doesn’t Cassian know yet?”

Your heart dropped a little, skipping a beat in dismay. Cassian had been hurt before, when Nesta had chosen to marry Eris instead he’d been wounded for years, he didn’t want his brother going through any more heartbreak, and you understood that. You appreciated his loyalty to his brother, and that the same loyalty would be inherited by your child, but you hated the miscommunication he seemed to have created. “I’m not hiding it, Rhys. I was waiting for a special time. I want this to be memorable for him.”

He looked a little bashful, and it was your turn to shrug. 

“Take a look.” Tapping one finger to your temple, only moments later, a tap at your inner shield was replacing it. You let the memories pour out; mornings in bed with Cassian discussing the future, moments after you’d babysat Nyx, or seen children out during the summer in Velaris. Every memory of discussions about children, about the picture of the future, and his utter joy at the prospect of having a child. You even showed him the little gift you’d planned, your way of telling Cass the news. “I know how much this means to him, and I want to make every single moment of it something special for him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Your walls crawled back up as he retreated, a much happier smile on his face. “I love how much you love Cassian, and how much you’ll love your niece or nephew.”

“I’m going to spoil them.”

“I know.” You grinned, watching Cassian begin to make his way back over, your water clutched in hand with just the number of ice cubes you liked. He knew you so well, it made your heart clench. Leaning a little closer to Rhys, you whispered; “I’ll need your help later, with sneaking the gift in.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

“What are we talking about?” Cassian broke into the conversation, handing you your drink with a kiss to your cheek, and you leaned into the arm wrapping around you. You sipped your water for something to do, to occupy yourself so you didn’t have to lie. You hated lying o Cassian, even if it was an inconsequential one that was for the good in the end.

“Your darling girlfriend was just harassing me on when dinner would be ready, she’s starving. Truly, brother, do you not keep your girl well-fed and satisfied?” You choked on your water at the innuendo, and Cassian only scoffed, squeezing your hip at the insult. 

“Trust me, she has no room for complaints.”

“Men.” You scoffed, and Rhys only flashed a cheeky smirk. 

“Is now soon enough for food for you?” He clicked his fingers, varied sounds of awe all around as the table filled with food, and you were glad Cassian was distracted, because the abrupt clash of scents in the room made your stomach churn so violently your head spun temporarily. 

Thankfully, Cassian was once again caught up with Rhys, never looking your way again until he was pulling your seat out at the table he’d guided you over to, tucking you under with a kiss to the top of your head. By that time, you’d managed to quash the obvious look of nausea on your face. 

Across the table from you both Feyre pulled out a chair, and onto it hopped Nyx, his eyes lighting up when he found himself opposite his Uncle Cassian. Almost immediately, the two fell into conversation, the boy telling his favourite uncle all about his week at school, now that he was officially attending the ‘big boy school’ Rhys had been pestered into letting him enrol at. His stories never ended, ranging from playground games to classroom lessons to jokes his new friends had told him, and Cassian ate every bit of it up. 

He’s always been so good with Nyx, from the moment you’d first met him and seen him interact with the heir who was just a toddler then, you’d known he’d make an incredible father someday. You were just happy you were the one who got to go on that adventure with him. He reacted in all the right ways, gasping dramatically and laughing loudly and feigning abhorrent shock at the right times. They were always such a sight to observe together. 

As food was served, Cassian took charge of caring for Nyx automatically, his large hand leaving your thigh to pull Nyx’s plate over to him, never interrupting the child’s endless excited monologuing, and cutting up all his food for him while still managing to focus. You weren’t privy to the conversation, nor any of the conversations around you as you all ate, far too wrapped up in admiring Cassian. It was perfect. Everything about it, leading up to this moment, this night’s big reveal, couldn't have been better.

Only when you felt a prickle along the side of your face did you pull your attention away, the feeling coming from Rhysand’s stare, a smile on his lips, and he wiggled his brows a little towards Cassian and his son, neither of them any the wiser, and you only shrugged. At the squeeze of a hand on your thigh again, you tuned back, your boyfriend’s attention having moved to you as Nyx was now arguing with his mother about eating his carrots. 

“You okay, babydoll? You’ve barely touched your food.”

It was true, one glance at the plate confirmed you’d only taken a few bites, mostly having just pushed it around and considered it. Part of the reason was that you were distracted, the other part was your sudden intolerance and aversion to certain things. It had been nothing short of a labyrinth of poor excuses and lame misdirections these last few weeks to avert his focus on your meals and sicknesses and mood swings. How were you supposed to explain why you suddenly couldn't stand to eat your favourite sandwich fillings without telling him everything? 

By the end of the night, that was just another burden that would be lifted.

“M’fine, Cass, don’t worry. Just… not feeling it tonight.”

“But it’s your favourite.” He mumbled, eyes narrowing only slightly, the way he did when he was assessing someone he wasn’t sure how to read yet, putting all that military tactics and body language reading to the test on you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I swear-”

“Babe.” His tone said enough, one brow raising, and so you sighed. Putting on a smile at his concern you leaned in, his lips puckering to receive the kiss you were offering, but his eyes never closed, telling you he wouldn't be distracted so easily right now. 

“I want to save some room for dessert. I’m really craving sugar tonight, and I kinda’ just want to binge out on a lot of cake and pastry and ice cream.” His lips stayed pouted for just a second, this time not for a kiss but out of confusion, before a soft gasp left him. 

“Are you… coming up a cycle? You always crave sugar on your cycle. Is that why you’re acting odd these last few days?” It was like a lightbulb went off in your own mind, and you wanted to slap a hand on your forehead for not having thought of that yourself. “That makes so much sense. Why didn’t you tell me, we could have stayed in tonight, cuddled and read in bed?”

“My cycle… yeah. I am, and I just want a ton of sugar right now. But I’m fine, really. I’m just going to wait for the cakes to roll out.” He was far more content now, gaze flicking back to your plate. 

“Do, you’re not gonna’ eat this?” You shook your head. “Can I have it?”

He didn’t get a chance, though, because Nyx was down from his chair now and tugging on Cassian’s sleeves with force, clearly desperate for the attention. “Uncle Cassie, Uncle Cassie! Let me show you my new toys now, you said we’d play right after dinner!”

“I know, buddy, but I just need to stay here for a little while.” Subconsciously, even as he turned to the boy, his hand smoothed up and down your thigh slowly, comforting and reassuring. You lifted it in your own instead, kissing the back softly before placing it on his knee. 

“Go play, Cass. I’ll be fine here.”

“What? No, I- no.”

“Go. I’ll be just fine. I’m waiting for my sugar rush.” You patted your stomach lightly, all this talk of cake and baked goods really was getting you hungry now, and you could only thank the Mother that you hadn't lost your love for chocolate. “Go be with Nyx.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He hesitated only a second longer, before letting his nephew take his hand and lead him away to a patch on the floor where you could no longer see them, only the tips of Cassian’s wings sticking up. 

While Cassian was distracted, you saw your chance to slip away. A quick walk down the halls, past the flickering sconces and stone tiles, until you were back in your bedroom once again. Hidden away in your drawer, underneath all the socks and bras, was the small wrapped gift package you’d prepared days ago. Swiping it up, your thumbs smoothed over it. Soon, the truth would be out there, and everyone would know. 

It would be real. 

And you couldn't be happier about that. Smiling, you lifted it, pressing a kiss to the paper and the promise it held inside, before pushing the drawer closed again, and making your way back to the party, before your absence was noticed.

You were barely gone for five minutes, thinking you could slip out and be back in time before anybody noticed. But, your boyfriend had been suspicious all night, and you could hear his panicked voice from the opposite end of the central corridor. With the gift tucked behind your back as you rounded the entry and back into the main hall, your gaze closed in on Cassian. He was questioning Rhysand for your whereabouts, stopping only when he looked over his brother’s shoulder at you.

“Baby, hey.” He all but elbowed Rhys out of the way, stopping before you and smoothing his hand down your arms, eyes searching your face. “Where’d you go?”

His gaze shifted, to your hands behind your back, and so you leaned up swiftly to kiss him before he could look much further. He was gentle, as always, a sweet kiss as one hand smoothed down to your hip, the other large and warm and calloused as it sat on your jaw. Behind you, you felt Rhysand take the packet from your hands to hide, freeing you to put them on your boyfriend instead. 

As your hands found him, one gripping his shoulder to pull yourself further up and the other slipping into his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly until he gave a soft groan against your lips. “Don’t think you can distract me with kisses and playing with my hair.”

His mumble against your lips was low and gritty, but your laughter was much louder. His eyes twinkled a little as he watched you. Sinking back down to stand properly, your arms were slung around his neck, his hands smoothing up and down your sides slowly. “There’s nothing to distract, Cass. I just went to freshen up before the stars began to fall, that’s all.”

Those tanned chinks gained a hint of pink, his eyes widening just a fraction, and lips parting. “Oh… sorry.”

“Don’t be, I like it when you worry about me.”

His grin was back, wide and sparkling, and he just tugged you closer in response, until your chests were pressed together. You pressed one kiss to his stubbled jaw, the next one to his cheek, the next was just under his eye. Under your lips, you could feel his smile. Next was his temple, his nose, the side of his mouth, until he was huffing in disappointment and impatience. “Kiss me. Now.”

“So demand-” His mouth closed over yours, far more intense than that first kiss. That one had been a reassurance, this one was a demand, and you yielded to the force of his lips against yours, moaning softly into his mouth. “Cass…”

“Mhm?” He didn’t pull away, instead nipping lightly on your lip until you let out a shaky sound that he was quick to smother again. When he dipped you backwards, a giggle sounded from you. 

“Cass, c’mon, everyone’s waiting!” 

“Let ‘em wait.” The kisses moved to your cheek when you were too busy laughing to kiss back. 

“Alright, handsome, let’s go and watch the stars before you decide to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman.” As if to punctuate how close he was hovering to that border, Cassian left a single smack on your ass, a matching nip to your jaw, before pulling away. A few pieces of his hair were starting to fall loose where you’d played with his hair, hanging down around his face in strands that were beginning to curl in the warmth of the room, and you twirled one around your finger. 

“Alright, fine.” He took your hand, raising it to kiss your knuckles. “If you insist.”

“I do.” You tugged him along behind you, until the two of you were standing out on the balcony. Twisting your back to him, you settled into his touch, feeling his arms wrap around your body, wings following to grace your sides and block out the light breeze sweeping over your skin. 

The falling stars started only a few minutes later, bright colours lighting up the sky as the souls began to fly past. Your hand settled on your stomach, rubbing lightly at the growing life hidden within you. 

“Doll…” Cassian’s voice was gentle, almost too fragile, stubbled cheek brushing against your skin as he left loving kisses to the juncture of your neck. “I’m still worried. Are you truly okay? You can tell me if something is wrong, please tell me if something is wrong.”

This was the moment, you knew it. There was no more denying or hiding it, you didn’t want Cassian to start truly panicking, to put a bad tilt on something that should be a happy memory. Twisting in his arms, your hands lifted to his cheeks, something across the spiky hairs there and smiling at the way he leaned fully into your touch. 

Your gaze left his, flickering away just for a second towards Rhys. Cassian followed your gaze, his brows furrowing when his brother untucked the small, neatly wrapped package from his inner jacket pocket. “What’s this?”

“A gift, Cass.” He didn’t seem all that impressed by your joke, however his lips flicked up at the corners, adoration flashing through his eyes, even as his face still read confusion and worry. 

“Obviously. But, you should have told me we were doing gifts. I’ve had my eye on this necklace I thought you’d like for weeks, but-” You cut his rambling off with a sweet kiss, one he was quick to reciprocate, lips melding with your own. He was always so passionate, no matter the kind of kiss it was, or the moment or occasion, Cassian never failed to make you feel like the only woman in the world. As he was distracted, you took one of his hands, pressing the gift into it carefully, before pulling back. 

“We’re not doing gifts. This is different.”

His brows only rose in response.

“There is something. I’m going to be a little sick for a while, mostly in the mornings. I won’t be able to eat certain foods, or drink alcohol for a while. I’ll probably get some really bad mood swings, just like my cycle.” Your boyfriend smirked at that, you both knew how temperamental you could get. 

His hands were shaking, a shallow breath taken in as he glanced at the parcel in his hold. His eyes were starting to shine, ad his throat bobbed as he did, your own growing thick with emotion as the silent message was passed between you both. He was beginning to get it, beginning to understand, tears forming along his lower lash-line as his lips pressed together when the bottom one trembled.

“Open it.” 

“I’m nervous.” A watery laugh left him, rubbing a hand down his face before he leaned forward. A lingering kiss on your forehead, his nose dragging along your temple to leave another on your hairline, before he was glancing down at the parcel. Your heads rested together, and you were acutely aware of the group watching on, silence and anticipation. 

The stars overhead flashed different colours across you both, lighting up the scene in vibrant hues that made for the perfect setting, and you sniffed through your emotions as he tugged on the ribbon. The bow came loose, the ribbon fluttering away to the ground, and the paper fell open in his cupped hands. Revealed before him was the soft material, pale white and delicate and so small.

He lifted it out slowly, shaking it out, and when he finally got a real look at it, a sob left his lips. Loud and unashamed, and he lifted his head to take in the piece in all its glory. Pinched in his hands, so tiny to fit, was a baby’s romper. Plain white and warm, with a matching hat and pair of socks back in the room, the words ‘baby’s first Starfall’ across the front in sparkling silver thread.

Another sob, and your heart squeezed to the point of pain at the elated expression on his face. Tears were slipping down your face to match, his gaze finding your own once again. “We’re having a baby?”

“Yeah, Cass. We’re having a baby.”

“I’m gonna’ be a dad.” He whispered, voice thick, and stealing a series of happy kisses from your lips, wet cheeks sliding together and salt tasting on your mouth, but it was perfect. When he pulled back, it was to spin to his family. With clasped hands and wide eyes and huge grins, Cassian cheered loudly, hands throwing up in the air. “I’m gonna’ be a dad!”

Rhys whooped, Azriel cheered loudly, wings flaring out, and both leapt for Cassian. In big hugs and flaps of wings and excited pats on the back, they celebrated, Nyx scrabbling in his mother’s arms to join the fray. 

Feyre set him free, before making her way over to you, taking you into a tight hug that Mor and Elain and even a reluctant but smiling Nesta joined. You were still crying, as was Cassian, even as he scooped Nyx’s up and tickled his stomach and promised him soon he’d have a little friend to run these halls with.

And as you watched him, watched them all, you knew Cassian would make a wonderful father, and your baby would have the most loving family possible.

[mclalan]

What art program do you use? sorry if you already answered something like this but im so mesmerized by the techniques you use in your art.

Thank you. No need to apologise; I don't mind answering this question because it's an excuse to walk through my latest image!

The concept for this piece is based on being perceived online through interpretations of posts and artwork, yet how artificial this can be. The relationship the viewer forms is more with the narrative of the work, and any insight into the artist through this feels highly awkward to me, which is precisely what I want to explore with this piece.

In this example, I wanted an attractive sitter to look like someone out of a new romantics music video or like an Enya video, because this genre and era of media is very aesthetically pleasing and nostalgic for me. I hold it as an unobtainable ideal— a hauntology. So, as wonderful as it is, it equally feels shameful and perverse because it's an aesthetic object of desire that I am contriving.

The sitter is holding one of my cartoon characters, Lauren Ipson, the protagonist of my Ersatz world project. A trope in writing is when a character acts as a self-insert of the author, and I'm conscious to try and avoid that with Lauren. I try to write Lauren as dry and sardonic yet also fun, dramatic, and friendly. I don't think of these as personal qualities of my own, but I imagine personal qualities bleeding into fictional characters is inevitable.

Yet Lauren Ipson feels much more alive a character to me compared to any attempt at self-portraiture or self-expression that I've done, which is very little because I'm not interested in constructing a perceivable identity. (I'm aware this text itself can be interpreted as self-expression; however, to me this is just another construct.)

So Is the sitter meant to be me, controlling Lauren? I'm definitely baiting the viewer to think this, and you can interpret it that way if you want, but really I don't think of the sitter as me at all. My intention is to show how it's all a facarde. The sitter is basically just as much a doll, a puppet, a mannequin as Lauren Ipson is, if anything more so.

There's a deliberate irony between Lauren's cartoon rendering and the sitter, who I wanted to render with more detail and evoke a modernist style. I'm inspired by Hans Bellmer and Dorothea Tanning with their work with dolls. However, despite that implied visual hierarchy, the more detailed sitter shares a similar, stilted vector construct to Lauren. They're both born from vector drawing after all. And it's further undermined with the way Lauren the doll looks directly at the viewer, as if she's alive, while the sitter looks to the side with a blank, almost dead-in-the-eyes expression.

Anyway, with that in mind, almost all of my work starts as a thumbnail sketch. Although I often draft digitally and am fine with doing that, I feel more confident doing it freehand on paper. Digital rendering feels more like a refinement process to me. Funnily enough, although I often prefer to sketch with physical materials, I'm anxious of refining or rendering with them.

I like my designs to be very direct and conceivable, so a solid silhouette, pose, negative space etc. I often create a quick digital sketch with this in mind, either by tracing or referencing the thumbnail, although sometimes I skip this step and go straight to the rendered drawing. The aim is to establish a visual guide, dividing the drawing into various shapes for digital airbrush rendering later on.

With this composition, I made a second draft with more attention to details such as the face, hands and feet. Sometimes I'll use photo references if I'm struggling with posing or anatomy. These drafts are often blue because it's easier to render the black linework over a transparent blue sketch.

The chair took some time but was relatively simple to render. It uses the line tool set to magnetic anchor point, following two-point perspective vanishing points. I like two-point perspective because it feels sort of digitally native to me to have these impossibly perfect vertical lines. I also know the horizon line should be at eye level or something, but I just like the idea of the top of the chair to be perfectly horizontal.

Here I'm drawing the final rendered form. I use the stroke tool with it set as smooth as possible. Often I'll redraw lines over and over if it means getting certain curves to look right. Once the lines are drawn, I'll fill them in and remove the stroke, leaving just the solid vector shape. The shade of grey I use is done to simply denote the shape. It does not represent any kind of shading or anything; in fact, when I bring it into Photoshop, all these shapes are set to the same shade, but if I had that here in Animate as I'm drawing, it would be impossible to see what I'm doing. The red background is just for clarity.

Once it's all drawn, I'll make sure every shape is clean, overlapping nicely, and divided into its own layer. A composition can often be comprised of hundreds of separate shapes.

Each shape will be its own layer in Photoshop, which will operate as a clipping mask. The clipping masks act like masking tape or shielded off areas for soft brush opacity rendering, similar to the soft atomised rendering from an airbrush, just done digitally.

I follow very rudimentary painting techniques of simple shading, lighting, and bounce-back highlights. I follow a simplified Grisaille technique, focusing on strong values in greyscale before adding a wash of colour with a color gradient map set to layer style color. Sometimes my values can be a little off, but as long as the values are all consistently acting together, I can correct them with transparent washes or color curves. If the greyscale looks harmonious with all the forms clear, colour will likely work.

Proper digital painters will say this is an amateur process, with results that look mechanical and stiff, as colours in the real world all bounce together off different surfaces, resulting in colour harmonies. However, I don't mind the inharmonious nature of the colours, as I find the values give the composition enough harmony. I'm working digitally, so why go to all the effort to make it not look digital? It's interesting to me to have the red chair look blindingly red, the green skirt look blindingly green.

Colours can look boring without some form of harmony though, so I will add in blue-greens with the darker areas, more turquoise greens towards the highlights.

Skin tones are far more complex, however, as it's something that's more informed by realism. This is why kigurumi dolls with their plastic flesh look so artificial to the eye, because we're familiar with how light passes through flesh and skin and all the subtleties of colour that it picks up. This piece is the first time I've explored flesh tones, as typically I avoid all this by rendering skin as grey porcelain.

I needed to really up the contrast, with shaded areas becoming purples and highlights verging on washed out. Areas with more blood, like feet and cheeks, appear more orange and red. Areas closer to bone and cartilage, like the bridge of the nose, can look almost blue and green. Exploring these colour values and tints in the aim of natural tones was fun to do, and ironic given how blank the face is.

Although in the moment I feel very much like I'm rendering a realistic reality, when I step back, I'm reminded how stylised and unrealistic the painting actually is. It looks kind of insane, like everything is so uniform and overtly saturated. It doesn't feel present in a real space, despite the shadow and form implies one. But I'm not consciously thinking of these things, of style, as I'm working. To me, it's a process of world-building and problem-solving.