#ugh my sketches are so messy

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Feeling pretty worn down today but I did at least do some sketches! I’ll clean these up when I get the energy </3

[screwpinecaprice]

I woke up feeling like I was crying to sleep when I wasn't??? And my dream was about Mei from Turning Red riding a snow sleigh. Um There's nothing sad about that??? Lol

Anyway, the warm up sketches. The colors were added in Medibang. It was pretty fun, might do that technique some other time. My body still refused to recover from being bummed out throughout the day so I did house chores instead of commissions. 😅 Will try again tomorrow.

[as-rare-as-trees]

Me, working on an actual "serious" artpiece: ahah I'll just mess around, sketch and leave it unclean and messy

Also me, working on a meme artpiece: well, I shall do a fully rendered colored piece, or else

[dunadaan]

an old traveling outfit design I did back in 2021 and forgot about...I'm obsessed with Faramir's leather cuirass and wanted to make another version, but for Créa, and symbolizing the North. I'll have to revisit it one day, put more details on it...

[hydetheghost]

more or less, its all a mess. but when i starve, i'll be fine. but when i numb, i'll be fine. its still a mess. its all so messy.

[elvhendis]

I keep flip flopping between telling myself that stylized art just isn't my type of art, I just can't do it well, better stick to what I'm good(?) at, then 5 seconds later seeing the most amazing stylized art and going I wish that was me I wish I could draw like that 😭😭 and it's not productive but it happens more often than I would like

[ruinxl0ve]

Gothzha...but different!

[red-ink-jpeg]

Sketchbook spread from june

Close ups under cut

[engagemythrusters]

the thing is im okay with my drawings being shit. well no im not, obviously, but i am feeling okay to post them. if they're horrid and ugly well thats okay i only started learning uhhhh 4 months ago and this is pretty good for someone who never drew more than for stippling before this.

BUT the MOMENT i wanna joke around about my art? show it to someone to be "haha i can't get any better than this" (shows them funny thing i did in my rough sketch)... that's when my insecurities come in.

what the fucks with that?

[taeyamayang]

i'm coping

goodnight

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Steal My Girl

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: Theo's friends get to meet you for the first time.

&lt; 2

__________________

Perfect. 

You clapped your hands in satisfaction after taking a little study break to organize all your fabrics by color. The plan was originally to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack, but your messy little studio set up in your dorm easily distracted you on the way out and made you change your plans. 

Your fingers flipped through the pages of your design sketchbook. A small smile formed on your face as you traced your sketches. 

Fashion. 

The only thing that you felt competent in. You didn’t have to try to make things look good. It was the only thing that came natural to you. You could plan an entire outfit for any occasion faster than you could even list the ingredients in a simple potion. You weren’t going to become a doctor like both of your parents, but you thought it’d be better to do something you’re good at rather than forcing yourself to study materials that you’ll never be able to understand. No matter how many times they tried to persuade, or threaten, you to change career paths, you never strayed far from your dreams. The dreams that kept you happy when you were scolded for wanting to stay home and draw instead of going with your father to work.

At least you will never have the chance to mess up a surgery. That would be worse than the invention of jeggings. 

The door swung open and your roommate walked in. You furrow your eyebrows upon her presence, wondering why she would be back so early from her date with Cedric. 

“How’d your date go?” You closed your design book and walked towards your bed before flopping onto it. 

So comfy. 

Cho sighed before rolling her eyes, “stupid last minute quidditch practice.” 

You giggled as your stomach growled. Maybe you should’ve gotten a snack before you decided to clean. 

“Dining hall?” Cho offered her arm out. 

You jumped up from your bed and happily skipped over to her and took her arm. 

“I’m famished,” You exclaimed in desperate need of having anything in your stomach after the oatmeal bowl for breakfast. 

“Me too, Cedric had promised me pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade before I got canceled on,” Cho grumbled as the two of you walked in a pair towards the hall. 

Pastries. Croissants. Ugh you missed home. France has the best pastries. Now you were craving a chocolate croissant. Not that croissants are the only pastry in France. 

“Next ti- ow,” you rubbed your head after the harsh impact, stumbling a bit. 

“Watch where you’re going next time mate,” another boy came up and landed a harsh slap on his back. 

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The boy in front of you questioned frantically while trying to hide the fact that he was searching your head for any bruises. Theo might kill him if he made a bruise on his “pretty girl”. 

“I‘m okay,” you waved your hands in front of your face, kind of nervous that people were starting to look.

“Hello y/n,” The other boy came up and offered his hand out. 

You were confused on how he knew your name despite the fact that you didn’t know his, but still shook his hand. 

The boy chuckled at your confused looking expression. He could understand why Theo had called you pretty instead of his usual “she’s hot”s that the group would receive when talking about girls. 

“I’m Mattheo, Riddle,” he winked, “Nott’s friend. And this is Lorenzo.” 

You made an ‘ohh’ face in recognition but you remained surprised at the fact that you were even linked to him. 

Cho nudged your side. You looked over to her and was met with a raised eyebrow. You were as equally as confused as her. You and Theodore had only interacted once and it was during that one potions class, the day Cho had to skip due to sickness. You had no idea why his friends knew about you or were even talking to you.

But nonetheless you offered a warm smile towards the two boys, “nice to meet you.”  

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lorenzo returned the gesture. You liked him, he seemed nice. 

Cho cleared her throat while clutching her stomach. You had forgotten what the two of you had even come to the hall for. 

“Well, enjoy your meal!” You waved them goodbye as Cho dragged you to the Ravenclaw filled tables and out of their sights. 

“Who are you losers bothering,” Theo scowled and smacked the two boys on the back. 

“We were just getting acquainted with our best mate’s girlfriend,” Mattheo teased as Theo raised his arm pretending to hit him, making Mattheo duck. 

“Girlfriend? Please, you and I both know I don’t do none of that,” Theo rolled his eyes and the trio walked over to their table. 

“Lucky her, you’re not exactly boyfriend material yourself,” Enzo replied as they took their seats grabbing their lunches before quidditch practice. The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up, they needed all the fuel they could get before Malfoy made them run what felt like 100 laps during practice. 

“What are you talking about? I'm the epitome of it,” Theo replied confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich. Sandwich was a bit dry, Italians do it better.

“Right, someone bring Hannah over for questioning,” Mattheo laughed as Theo glared at him.

“We never dated, I don’t owe her anything.” 

____________________

“IT’S SO COLD!” You let out a high pitched scream as a huge gust of wind blew right into your face. You had a sweater that you knitted yourself on, paired with a skirt and black tights along with a designer scarf you had searched the whole country for. It was late October, but you hadn’t expected the weather to drop this low. Maybe you should’ve worn your winter coat or opted for a bigger scarf. Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. That was the original plan until Cho had managed to convince you to attend. You didn’t really understand quidditch. The whole game seemed complicated to you, plus the whole flying really high and the possibilities of students getting hurt didn’t sit well with your stomach. But you came regardless and it seemed to make Cho very happy. 

“I KNOW BUT WE HAVE SUCH GOOD SEATS!” Cho screamed over the loud clapping and cheering that signaled that the game was about to start. Loud screaming, another thing you weren’t a huge fan of. 

“HERE!” Cho screamed as she took her earmuffs off and placed them on your head. 

“YOU MIGHT NEED THEM MORE THAN I DO!” She yelled before turning her attention back to the game. 

One by one players in either red or green began to fly out. Everyone you were cheering as if it was a competition to see which side would be the loudest. 

“GO HARRY! YEAH!” You heard Cedric shout from the other side of Cho. 

You didn’t know any Gryffindors that well but since you were in a crowd of people all supporting that team, you didn’t want to stand out so you decided to clap along. 

You recognized a few Slytherin players, the faces of the two boys who you had bumped into a few days earlier were spotted flying on broomsticks. You secretly clapped for them as well. 

The mixture of red and green made your heart happy. Christmas. Your favorite holiday. Only two months to go! You couldn’t wait until you get to start putting together presents and drink peppermint mochas with your friends. It was all so exciting! 

Focus on the game! 

You scolded yourself. You look up and frown as you see players begin to grow aggressive. You frowned as a Gryffindor player tried to throw one of those flying balls at Lorenzo. 

You knew it was part of the game but the fact that someone had almost harmed the nice boy made you want to reach for your wand. 

“Yay go Enzo!” You cheered and clapped as you watched him dodge them with ease. A few Gryffindors side eyed you and gave you nasty stares but it was hard to pay them any mind with the distracting colors of ketchup and mustard wrapped around their necks. 

Theo wanted to thank Berkshire, he really did. He wanted to thank him for providing him the strength to throw bludgers at Gryffindors. What was he doing stealing your attention like that? Last time he checked Berkshire was busy trying to ask out a Slytherin a year younger than them. He needs to leave you alone, you were his friend first. Maybe he should throw a bludger and knock Berkshire off his broom. 

Would that be a Slytherin or Gryffindor point?

[rainily-03]

some things i've drawn since finishing AM

image IDs under the cut!

[image 1 ID: digital art of Edelgard (post-timeskip design) from Fire Emblem: Three Houses. She is facing forwards with an angry/determined expression, one fist clenched in front of her and the other arm outstretched as though giving orders. There is blood dripping from her fist and from her left eye. It is an uncolored sketch aside from the blood and the background being dark red. End ID]

[image 2 ID: Byleth and the Blue Lions (pre-timeskip designs incorporating some headcanons), standing in a lineup against a white background. Notes are written around the characters with arrows pointing to them. Byleth's read "shaggy hair (cuts it themself)", "always looks bored", and "gender = ???". Dimitri's read "very intense stare", "lanky", and "awkwardly big hands & feet". Dedue's read "earrings" and "always furrowed brow". Ingrid's read "fine, straight hair" and "long legs". Sylvain's read "messy hair on purpose" and "muscular". Felix's read "ears stick out" and "wiry (thin but strong)". Annette's reads "petite". Mercedes' read "downturned eyes" and "tall and curvy". Ashe's read "upturned nose" and "skinny". End ID]

[image 3 ID: three busts followed by four simple full-body drawings of the artist's personal female Byleth design. The first bust is labeled "Academy" and shows Byleth with blue hair and a neutral expression. The second is labeled "War" and shows Byleth in profile, green hair in a ponytail, with a determined expression and a scar on her cheek. The third is labeled "Post-canon (AM)" and shows Byleth with shorter, wavier hair, wearing the Enlightened One outfit and smiling. Three of the full-body sketches show layers of Byleth's outfit, altering it somewhat to make it more practical and less sexualized. The fourth is labeled "casual/work" and shows Byleth wearing a dark gray sweater over a pink collared shirt, black shorts over patterned tights, and short black boots. End ID]

[image 4 ID: a simple four-panel comic. In the first, Sylvain is clinging onto Felix, burying his head in his chest and crying while Felix looks bored and pats his back. Sylvain is saying, "UGH Felix why did I do that I'm such an idiot." Felix responds, "Well at least you're my idiot." In the next two panels, Sylvain looks momentarily startled before looking up at Felix with an adoring expression. In the last panel, a slightly disturbed Felix watches from afar as Sylvain walks by, surrounded by hearts and looking blissful, saying to himself, "I'm Felix's idiot..." Felix thinks, "He's so easy to cheer up but at what cost..." End ID]

[catiuskaa]

charcoal, paint, post-its and tape.

SUMMARY: seeing your boyfriend’s messy art studio, you couldn’t help but want to try and surprise him with a painting of the most gorgeous piece of art you knew: him.

REQUESTED! here by my pookie wookie @4ln-stay8, and honey, this was a beautiful idea! i love writing about art and hyunjin and hyunjin and art (and hyunjin) lol, hope you like! <3

CW: hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety, reader is really hard on herself as a perfectionist (which sadly i can relate), crying and cursing, lots of fluffy comfort in the end!

WC: 1.6k

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

You hate it.

Your hand feels cramped, your head hurts and you’re close to breaking the paper if you keep on erasing the same lines over and over again.

But it’s hideous.

It’s a sad excuse of an attempt in art and you hate it.

You were tempted to kick the sketchbook away, but knowing that it belonged to your boyfriend, to hyunjin, who could actually do art, made you refrain from doing so, opting to just harshly shove it away from your lap.

It wasn’t fair. You’d seen tutorials. You had practiced beforehand. You went as far as to use his anatomy books to study it, wanting to be able to do justice to his ethereal, beautiful self by at least getting proportions right.

But no. Art wasn’t accepting your preposterous attempt to join into it.

Hyunjin entered your shared apartment as he hummed a random melody, happy to come back a bit earlier than usual, his head drifting off to how he could surprise you and what kind of activity the both of you could do with the newly-founded time.

But he froze after he kicked his shoes off at the entrance.

“Angel?” He called, and you cursed, but barely had any time to put anything back into place as he followed the sound of your gentle sobs.

“Hyun…” you started.

“My love.” He crouched down next to you, looking at you as if you held the stars and the moon just for him. “Want to tell me what’s wrong? Mhh?” He hummed shortly, his hands traveling to your face and stroking it sweetly.

You stared at him, your heart troubled, so the only coherent response you could come up was throwing yourself to his arms.

The long-haired artist hugged you tightly in response, a part of him appreciating having the type of trust that allowed you to break before him and let him watch you reasemble with a little helping hand.

You sniffed, then shook your head sideways.

“Are we doing the nod and shake?” He smiled in efforts of making you join him, which you did shortly, and he allowed himself to take that as a win. “We can do that, pretty. Nod if you want to.” He snickered.

But you shook your head, staring down at the forgotten sketchbook.

“I-it’s just th-a-at I… I w-wanted… wanted to surprise you… b-because I-I wa-s trying to paint…”

Hyunjin’s face shined upon your confesion.

“My pretty girl was painting?” He chimed back with a gleeful joy. “But you’re not having fun. What happened?”

You just shrugged, sinking your head in your hands. “It’s horrible.”

“Can I see it?”

Watching you nod, it was only then when Hyunjin separated himself from you just enough to grab the sketch, then sprung back to your side.

A silence only broken by your unsteady breathing clouded the house as he viewed the canvas.

“Do you want my opinion, my advice, or my shoulder to keep crying?” He offered soothingly, and you rolled your eyes at his last mention. “What? My shoulders are very comfortable. I don’t even charge if you leave tears on my shirt, you know.” Hyunjin teased with a smile that you were quick to match. Another win for him.

“I just… I don’t know…” you sighed, melting against him. “It’s… ugh.”

He stared at your piece in silence, which you didn’t, only zoned out, playing with your hands as the silence crept up your spine.

What if he hated it too?

“It’s just like how you do with your post-its.”

He interrupted your spiral of thoughts, and you blinked at him, so Hyunjin repeated himself with a gentle smile. You then sniffed, a small chuckle fighting to get out in the midst of frustated tears. “What are you on about?”

“You have your cute organizing board filled with post it notes, don’t you, lovely?”

You nodded, but scoffed, still submerged in the depth of the painting —or rather lack thereof. “What’s that got to do with anyth-“

You trailed off when his hands, still a bit colder from the weather outside, cradled your face, forcing you to look at him, a beautiful sight you didn’t notice you were evading.

“Listen to me for a second. Please?” He pleaded, eyes soft, and giggled sweetly when you pouted, a petty way of letting him know you were listening. You blushed when he kissed you.

“So. Your post it notes.” Hyunjin smiled. “You stick them on the board, but often, they slip down, right?” He asked, to which you nodded. “And when that happens, I noticed your little trick, brains.” He booped your nose, and you couldn’t help but smile coyly. “Tell me, beauty. What do you do when they don’t stick?”

“I… I put a small piece of tape on the back.” “And it works like magic,” he grinned, beaming in a kind of proudness you had never seen on anyone, not when it came from others aside from themselves. And it mended your frustrated heart to see him like this, his now warmer hands stroking your cheeks.

He took one of your hands, and with a strained groan, reached to his pencil cade, grabbed a piece of charcoal and stained your hand with it, kissing your palm sweetly

“These are now the hands of an artist. And artists, just like you and me, can be quite like those little post it notes of yours. We bend right after taking us out of the package.” He chuckled, and you followed along, letting the sound of his voice lift your spirit. “It won’t matter how, there can always be a crease, or the glue won’t stick right, or the color is too blinding, maybe too dull, perhaps the paper got stained with paint or ink.” He stared at you, deeply so, allowing you to see through him, allowing you to understand.

This wasn’t about post it notes. Not anymore.

He continued. “But, just as your post its, sometimes…” he smiled. “Sometimes all we need is a bit of tape to stick in place.”

He kissed your tears away one by one, allowing your breathing to even out, matching and following his as you relaxed against him.

“Let me help you stick back on the board.” He looked at your lips in a flash, then bashfully went back to your eyes. “Let me be your tape.”

He hugged you tightly, and he showed you the sketch.

“To me it looks fine, beauty.” He started. “It’s a really nice attempt. Would I redo some things? Probably, if I wanted to be really perfectionist, because it doesn’t look bad at all. Or maybe I’d let the color do its magic.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “The thing about drawing is that we cannot let it control us, hoping to achieve perfection. That can’t be achieved, my love.” Hyunjin laughed. “Even what we see sometimes doesn’t look right in real life. There are references and references, and if a drawing’s sketch isn’t quite what we’re looking, sometimes we may need another one.”

You stared at him softly, comforted in his honest commentary.

“I can help you. You know were to find me.” He smiled sweetly.

“I…” you sniffed, staring at your charcoal-stained hand.

“I just want a coffee right now.”

You both giggled as you stood back up, and he engulfed you in a bear hug, picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, determined to make you the best coffe in the whole year.

It wasn’t until the next morning that you found him puting your first sketch next to his. Only this time, instead of his usual messy tape lines, yours han bits of tape glued to the back.

Little by little, charcoal and paint helped post-its and tape, but even with the smallest things, it could certainly be the other way around.

And Hyunjin loved it any kind of way— Hyunjin loved you, post-its, charcoal stains and all.

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~kats, who will now go to bed with my own cup of hot milk (not coffee lol, and sadly not made by hyunjin either)

[al6nst]

Hibiki Wataru Breeding and Bondage kink send tweet

goated send tweet

dont threaten me with a good time, nsfw‐streamer hibiki wataru .

mdni, 18+, nsfw content under read more

synopsis : your boyfriend, a famous porn streamer hibiki wataru, has invited you to his first anniversary stream, As his manager, you had no choice but to agree, but you didnt know you were agreeing to this.

sketch info : smut, cursing, bondage, breeding, gn reader, praise, kissing, overstimulation ( undescribed previous rounds ), you call hibiki hii to yk, save face. more creampies than imaginable, size kink

"'Who's the special guest'— " wataru repeats, "well, mm.. would you like to see them?"

the smell of sex was pungent and oddly sweet— the sounds of your breathy moaning and satisfying noise of coins being sent as WATARU held your masked face to the camera. You bite his thumb as it enters your mouth, staring into the lens, "hngh.. hii~ eek, hello, im.. fuck.. hii's manager." Your arms are secured to your collar. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, loose rope red hung loosely on your thighs and knees as his hips stutter. "so good."

He adorns a sly smirk on his sweat covered face. "You feel it all, dont you? fufu.." And he's right. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull as his cock slides in and out of your hole. his other hand is on your left thigh, drawing patterns on the soft, plush skin. "nh, should i snap a few photos, hm, hm~?" he teases, pinching your cheek. Wataru postions the camera to your entrance, it focuses on your swollen entrance and how it wrapped around and tightened on watarus flushed cock— his base is covered in a mix of his cum and lube, his length has a sheet of your shared juices staining the flesh every time he pulls out. you moan, shaking your head rapidly, "ugh, wait. hii, a second, please!" Your back and legs aches as he folds your legs over your shoulders, stretching your body in unimaginable ways.

— your hooded yet so round eyes, and still so soft as you look up at him, eyelashes fluttering, blinking away tears that blinded you so nicely. "so good f'me, hehe.. you like taking my cock, dont you?" he grins, moving his hands down only to have them graze angsinst your most sensitive parts "please— come on, more." You shakily beg your voice nothing but a whisper under the resounding squelch of your messy cum filled hole. wataru smiles softly, his hands are steady and quick, skilled enough to make the rope in your tummy snap. your toes curl as cum around him hard, mewling a thank you as you choke out a sob— hes really big, filling you up to the brim. his cock is kissing your g-spot with every thrust, wataru holds your hand as he shoots ropes of his cum in you with soft moans of your name.

his balls slap against the curve of your ass as more of his cum drips out as he pulls out again, your thighs quiver, and youre left unable to think. "One more round, what does everyone think?" he squints at you, waiting for you to nod. "And of course, let's ask my beautiful, pliant manager." Before he pushes himself back into you, he works dutifully on tying your legs together, securing your arms to your sides and right above your stomach. a bow knot is tied in the middle of your chest once he finishes. he rubs his tip on your slick hole, pushing his member into you with ease, his cum making it easier. you hiccup pathetically, gritting your teeth as drool spills from the side of your mouth. "Shit.. ah, hngh.. 'taru, please," begging for something, anything— you throw your head back, grinding into his onslaught of steady yet impatient thrusts. everything felt so much more real, you cant help but squirm and you feel something stronger in your stomach. "mm, last one, you're doing so good, stay still." his voice is soothing in your ears as he kisses its shell, with almost quivering hands, he pushes against the bulge in your tummy, you squeal, "no, no! dont press it.." your shaky moans drowned out by the obsene, wet squelch of your hole as you came around him again, your cum spraying out of your hole as you squirt again. " what a mess youve made of yourself, dear " wataru snickered.

his pelvis smacks into your butt and he holds your head up. kissing you "youre doing so good, so good!" with every word has a thrust to go along with it. the more you squirt, the messier your torsos and the camera get. "hic, dont move! hii, please, noo!" he smiles crazily at your messy state and pulls out, stroking his cock desperatly as he cums on your thighs and stomach, painting your skin white with glee. "Ah.. msnager, so good.. thank you, everyone, signing off for tonight." he mumbles into his mic, turning off the camera and shutting down stream before he lays next to your exausted body.

uh teah yjisnone ss hkrjble. i had so many fyas go perfect thsi but i didnt lol ill remake ti soon im sorry anon you gotta read this mediocre writingb im gonna eat myself alive

[babyniigo]

ughhhh I just thought of little enanan doing doodles for her cgs and it’s so cuteee ugh she’d be like

“Mizu! I drews you a picture!”

While Mizuki’s trying to keep her composure omg-

and if Honamama’s watching then of course it’s going on the fridge!

Little Ena! And drawings 🎨🖌️ ₊˚⊹♡

SO CUTEEE

When she’s regressed no matter if it’s around a more baby 0-3 or a more toddler 4-7, she’s still has really weak motor skills so her doodles look very sweetly messy!!!

But they’re so messily loved!!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა She puts her entire heart into drawing her CGs with their favorite things and colors and it makes them sooo happy to see! ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

When she’s come to Mizuki like “Mizu I Drew’s you!!! ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა” Mizuki’s hearts combust! It’s the cutest little portrait doodle of ena and mizuki holding hands under a corner sun and a few birds !! Cutest ever!!!

She only draws on paper (no screen time for the baby!) so she adds her favorite stickers to drawings of Mizuki or Kanade or Honami!

When she’s been a little fussy and made her CGs upset; she draws them a little drawing and adds her favorite sticker ever!!! The big one she was saving!! It goes to her CGs because she love them,, and they accept her sincere apology always!!!! ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

Sometimes when she’s in babyspace, she finds words hard to come by, so she communicates with her caregivers through art! ૮꒰ྀི∩' ᵕ '∩꒱ྀིა

“What does the baby want to eat?”

“Hmm…૮๑ˊ - ˋ๑ა” *starts sketching a circle and fills it with orange* *points at it twice with expecting eyes*

“Oh does the baby want a pizza? Mimi will make it for you!”

“Nuhnnnn!! ૮꒰•̀༝ •́꒱ა”

“Does my princess want a pie? Honamama will make it for you!”

“Nuhnnnnnnnnnn!!! ૮꒰ ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡꒱ა”

“Oh wait- does the baby want pancake”

“Hehehehehrej ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა” *happy baby babbles*

[mappingthesky]

"just let me take care of you" for ✈️🍌, pleeaaaseeee!!!

Jane is curled up on one end of the couch with a book in her hands. She’s read the same paragraph four or five times now, and would really like to move on to the next one, except she can’t, because-

UUGgghh!

“Oh my god,” Jane’s head hits the arm of the couch when she throws it back in frustration. “What?”

From the other end of the sofa, beyond where their legs are intertwined, Nymphia groans at her laptop screen. She’s uncharacteristically disheveled: her long hair is pulled into a messy, bumpy ponytail, and she’s wearing her glasses, which almost never happens. Not nearly enough for Jane’s liking, anyway. The black frames are thick and rounded and perched perfectly on her button nose, and if she wasn’t being so annoying right now then Jane would find her absolutely, irresistibly delicious.

“It’s all wrong,” Nymphia whines, pushing her stupid, sexy glasses up to nest in her hair while she rubs her eyes with her palms. The laptop, the source of her misery for the last two and a half weeks, rocks in her lap.

“It’s not,” Jane rolls her eyes and rehashes this conversation for what must be the eighty-seventh time. “It’s fine. It’s great, even! It’s probably the best fucking artist statement anyone’s ever read in the entirety of their miserable lives. They should be so lucky!”

Nymphia whines and stretches, a sliver of skin peeking out at the edge of her t shirt when she lifts her arms over her head. Jane momentarily forgets whatever it is she’s supposed to be annoyed about.

“Can you proof it for me?” Nymphia says when she’s tugging her shirt back into place and reaching for her laptop. Jane groans at the request, and definitely not at the lack of exposed skin.

“Ugh, Nymph,” Jane pleads. “Again?”

It’s only days before Nymphia’s final assignment is due - a full collection of garments complete with a written artist’s statement. It’s all they’ve talked about for what feels like weeks on end. Jane hasn’t been nearly as annoyed as she says she is. In Jane’s eyes Nymphia is something like a magician, turning whatever she touches into something miraculous and profound. It’s the reason why she’s let their living room become a war zone, littered with bolts of fabric and stray ribbon and a pincushion that somehow seems to be underfoot no matter how far she hurls the thing. She doesn’t mind that much, not really. It’s only until the end of the semester. Besides, Jane loves having Nymphia around. She’d much rather have her working at home, where she can make sure she eats and sleeps and remembers to wash her face before bed. It’s better than having her cooped up in a studio across town all night, working too hard to remember to take care of herself. Plus, Jane loves to watch Nymphia work - when she loses herself in a sketch or in the draping of fabric and her hair starts to slip from her ponytail, and her glasses are sliding down her nose, and her tongue rests at the corner of her mouth-

“You’re so much better with writing than I am!” Nymphia wails. Her voice is whiny and desperate and Jane’s head is in the fucking gutter.

While Nymphia could produce an entire wardrobe in a matter of days, brilliantly tailored and united under some pristine vision that Jane can’t fathom how her girlfriend ever came up with, the artist statement has thoroughly stumped her. It’s a meager assignment, 500 words maximum describing the inspiration for the collection, and has been the bane of Nymphia’s existence for the past four days. Naturally, it’s become the bane of Jane’s existence too.

“Baby,” Jane begs. She’s enjoyed all this time at home with Nymphia, and she’s proud of her, truly, but she would really like her cheery, horny, reliably unfocused girlfriend back.

Nymphia’s bottom lip curls outwards and her eyes flutter. “Please?”

Jane blinks. Nymphia is a little too good at getting exactly what she wants out of her. The worst part is that she knows it.

“Fine,” Jane concedes through gritted teeth, tossing her book to the floor and sitting forward. Nymphia cheers and claps and leans close to grab Jane’s face, almost succeeding until-

“On one condition,” Jane holds her hand up before Nymphia’s lips can find her cheek.

“Anything,” Nymphia coos, like she expects Jane to go easy on her.

“This is the last of the work you do tonight,” Jane says firmly, watching Nymphia’s mouth twist with anxiety. “I mean it. I can’t fucking hear you whine anymore.”

Nymphia’s anxiety is all too quickly replaced with a devious smile, a practiced sort of coercion, “I thought you loved to hear me wh-“

“That’s beside the point,” Jane doesn’t budge. Nymphia is a tease, a very tempting tease, but a tease nonetheless. Jane knows this well enough, she’s fallen victim to her traps more times than she cares to admit. “Do we have a deal?”

Nymphia falls back to the other end of the couch with a defeated hrmph. “Deal” she pouts.

With that, Jane snatches the laptop. She reads Nymphia’s essay intently, because she really does care, making minor grammatical tweaks here and there. The piece is well written, even without the bit of fluffing Jane’s done over the past few days. Nymphia is absolutely selling herself short. It may not be her preferred medium, but her unique vision shines through her words just the same as it does with her clothing.

“What?” Nymphia asks when a small, proud smile tugs at Jane’s lips. “What is it?”

Jane beams, her eyes lingering on the last few sentences. “It’s perfect.”

Nymphia lights up, “You really think so?”

Mhm, Jane hums, looking over to Nymphia where she’s curled into the corner of the couch, grinning. “I’m proud of you, babe.”

“Okay, because I was thinking I could-“ Nymphia starts to ramble, but Jane has already hit ‘save’ and is slamming the laptop shut. Nymphia’s eyes widen.

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” Jane places the laptop on the floor.

“Yes, but-“

“Uh-uh,” Jane shakes her head, leaning forward. “I think you’re done for the night.”

Nymphia could try to make an escape, but it would be pointless. They both know it. “I am?”

“Yeah, you are.” Jane grabs at Nymphia’s ankles, dragging her closer until she’s lying flat on her back. Her glasses slide down her nose.

Nymphia is still muttering something about picking the right font when Jane silences her with a gentle palm over her mouth.

“You’ve done more than enough,” Jane tells her. “Just let me take care of you. Can you do that?”

Nymphia nods, wide-eyed and suddenly breathless. Jane pulls her hand away from Nymphia’s mouth. “Good girl.”

Her other hand is already sliding beneath Nymphia’s t-shirt, grazing her bare skin. She goes to pull it over her head, and Nymphia reaches for her glasses.

“No,” Jane catches her hand, kissing her knuckles before pinning her wrist above her head. “Those stay on.”