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vintagelacerosette · 27 days ago

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Art Tag 🖼🎨💕

I was tagged by these talented magnificent artist thanksss 💕

Molly @deathclassic Julissa @heymrspatel Deanna @deedala Ice @spookygingerr Ling @lingy910y

Have you always been interested in creating art? Yes, I was that kid in high school doodling anime girls throughout class lol

What's your favourite medium to use? I really like digital for the infinite undo button with my perfectionist ass lmao & I'm using Clip Studio. Paper art has been quite therapeutic for me too

Do you create outside of fandom? Yes

Share something you haven't finished and/or never got around to posting

I made a tribute to our Gallacrafts zine, but at the time, the mods had changed, so I was gonna create a companion piece. I didn't get around to it & then the mods had changed again 😅

Some OG crafting overlords Rhys @smokey-mickey Leah @whatwouldmickeydo Donna @sleepyfacetoughguy

I also have gallacrafts I haven't completed for really old themes, but I do still wanna post lol

Favourite piece you've made? Toss up between my gallacrafts Pride 2 piece (see piece that has most notes question) or my 2024 gallavich valentines/my icon

Draw your icon in a minute or less

You get the gist lmao

An underrated piece you've made in your opinion

A little bit to thus This collection of missing posters with the mixed media.

Do you do art in a professional setting? No, but I wanted to. I studied Visual Arts with a major in screen arts in university tho. Uni wasn't what I wanted my plan was to do animation, but, plans fell through

A piece you don't like but did really well on social media

This. The portions are wack basic background, Ian's face feels off & I rushed this

Post an old piece and compare it to your most recent, what are the similarites?

Wow pretty good that I get to compare these two lol. Still got the star motif & the way I'm drawing bodies is has improved yay! Look at that looooong squiggly pointing arm

Have you ever collaborated with another artist/s? Yes, with the lovely & super talented Ling @lingy910y I couldn't have as for a better first time collab partner 🫶🏼 Would love to collab more 🥰

What piece has the most notes? Are you surprised?

This one has the most notes for hand drawn art & the other is my most notes for art/crafts in general. I'm pretty proud these are top dogs & pleasantly surprised with the Deleted scenes one 😄

Who/What is your favourite subject matter? Our boys but also when I'm acrylic painting I'm loving painting clouds & sunset/sunrise skies hues

Show us something not from fandom you've made

I've been experimenting with acrylic paints after getting inspired by a sparkling water painting I saw on tumblr & here are some cute cows I drew for Leah

Where do you like to create? There's a table in the lounge room that's very spacious, has good light & a cart with a stash of my art supplies. But I wanna migrate back to my room bc I got a new big desk there to keep my mess away lol

Do you have a tag that you use to group your creations? Tell us so people can follow it. It's under Myn's art

Give yourself a shoutout, where can we commission/buy/follow you for more pieces? I don't sell my art or do commissions, but I kinda have some drawings I do love & toy with the idea of making postcards or have it on a mug

I'll tag sensational & inspiring artist if they wanna play 💖

@suzy-queued @tsuga-of-mars @samantitheos @burninface @darthvaders-wife @psychicskulldamage @michellemisfit @sgtmickeyslaughter @mickittotheman @y0itsbri @friend-bear @matt404b @takeyourpillsbitchh @michellemisfit @mikhailoisbaby @mikcrymilkovich

#tag game #Art tag #Myn's art #gallavich fanart

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astra-galaxie · 3 months ago

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Hello again! Loved the Jason HCs, he might be a parody but he needs more appreciation, the missed potential!!!

ANYWAYS another character for the ask game (I hope two back to back isn't too much, sorry if it is ;u;)

Specifically, my personal favourite, SILVERee! 🏳️‍🌈💔❤️‍🔥🖕😭😶

(Bonus notes: I have a theory surrounding him specifically! Also I do wonder, why was he never given a legal name? Surely it would've come up since he was in 3 cases. (I assigned him Shin Sang-jun personally))

Thank you! I'm happy to hear you enjoyed Jason Stone HCs! His character definitely had some missed potential!

I don’t mind people sending in multiple characters; I always get repeat customers!🙂

That said, I’ll see what I can come up with for SILVERee!

(I just assumed we never learned his legal name because he lives his stage persona, but if it had been revealed, I could see it being done in his third/last appearance. (Nice name choice! I love giving unnamed characters names!)

🏳️‍🌈 A sexuality headcanon

I’m not sure what I would pick for SILVERee… Maybe pansexual since he’s a big celebrator of love. But regardless of his identity, I see him having a preference towards women, but he is not oblivious to his attraction to men, non-binary, etc.

💔 An angsty headcanon

SILVERee’s manager was secretly working for SOMBRA. When he was starting out, he joined a talent agency to help him grow his fame. Unknown to him, it was a secret SOMBRA front to try and recruit unsuspecting youth. That’s how they were able to use his and others’ music to recruit more children. SILVERee never knew that his management team was so sinister, and after discovering the truth following SOMBRA’s Hunt, SILVERee’s career took a significant hit from losing his management team, and he had to start again almost from scratch.

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

While he can come off as a playboy and flirt, SILVERee doesn’t have time for relationships due to his busy schedule. But he would like to be in a relationship with someone who isn’t with him for fame. Of course, he knows it's unavoidable that his love life will be displayed for the world to see, but he would still like to find someone who loves his true self and not the singer on stage.

🖕 A headcanon relating to anger

SILVERee has a short temper, especially when things don’t go his way. It earned him the title of “diva,” and people know to follow his orders, or else he’ll (metaphorically) explode. But after receiving therapy for his trauma at SOMBRA’s hands, SILVERee also learned how to control his anger. He still has moments where he lets his anger control him, but he’s getting better at managing his temper.

😭 A headcanon about the worst thing that happened to them

During SOMBRA’s hunt, SILVERee watched a kid get shot in front of him. Their blood splattered onto his face and clothes, but he still believed it was all fake for the “show” and that the blood was artificial. When he found out the Hunt was real, SILVERee realized the blood on him was too. He had a panic attack, and the second he was able to take a shower, he nearly scrubbed his skin off, trying to remove the blood. Even afterwards, he could still see the blood and the guilt of leaving the injured child because he thought it was fake began weighing on him heavily.

😶 A random headcanon

He loves painting his nails. SILVERee finds it therapeutic to paint colourful polishes onto his nails and has even tried nail art. He’s not that good at making designs on his nails, but he’s getting better. He’ll also watch nail art tutorials to learn new tricks and how to keep his nails in good condition.

And that’s all I’ve got! Thanks for the request!

#criminal case #criminal case save the world #SILVERee #headcanons #ask

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pale-opal · 3 months ago

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Heya! How long have you been writing for? And also, what inspired you to do so? Also any tips for new writers?

Hello! I would say that I have been writing since... well, since always, really. But I only started getting serious about it in middle school. I was inspired by a lot of the books that I read, and as I got older and started becoming aware of the processes authors used to write their stories, and I noticed that some of them didn't really use outlines: they just started with whatever idea they came up with in their head. And at some point I must've thought to myself: "Hey, I come up with stories in my head all the time! I could totally write a book!" (I did try doing that at one point - I never finished it. But I'm kind of glad I didn't. The story I wrote was a hot mess.) I do have a few tips for new writers: 1. If you have an idea, write it down - Ideas are all well and good, but that's all they are: ideas. They can't do anything until they get out of your brain.

2. Take breaks frequently - Ironically enough, taking breaks is just as important as writing whenever you can. Breaks are key for preventing burnout (which is the death of manuscripts and fanfictions everywhere), and for keeping up with your health and preventing conditions like carpal tunnel. Not only that, but if you're having difficulty with something you've been working on for a while, stepping away from it and coming back after a few hours can give you "fresh eyes", and let you examine your work with a new perspective (this works for just about any creative pursuit, really. I've personally found it helpful when doing art (walking away for an hour or two has saved so many drawings from being scrapped)).

3. Use prompts to practice - If you want to write, but don't know what to write about, prompts are a good way to get started or to warm up! I've found that writing-based bingo boards are a good way to find a lot of interesting prompts in one go.

4. Read as much as you can - Reading can be really helpful in learning about new subject matter and expanding your vocabulary. Not only that, but what you read influences your creative voice. If you like the way a certain writer writes their characters, settings, prose, etc. and you want your work to be more like theirs, try reading more of their work if you can. There's nothing wrong with wanting your work to reflect what inspires you.

5. Experiment with other genres - What genre a story is in can have a large impact on how characters behave and what the setting looks like. For example, a person is going to act a lot differently in a zombie apocalypse than they would in a coffee shop AU. If you want to get a good grip on how a character acts and what their personality is like, try throwing them into a different genre.

6. Write from experience and personal knowledge - The saying "Write what you know" can apply to both one's life experiences and what they are aware of from an academic standpoint, and doing so can help make what you write seem more believable. For instance, if I knew a lot about plants, that information might come in handy for doing something like coming up with a plant-based metaphor, or if I wanted to write a character that was a botanist. On the other hand, if I knew what it was like to be left at the altar, I might use that to write that same event as part of a character's backstory. However, if there is something that you've experienced that was hard to process, think carefully before writing about it. It's like method acting: it can be really effective and even therapeutic, but it can also cause you harm if you're not careful. 7. Don't be afraid to look up synonyms - If you find yourself using the same word over and over, see if that word has any applicable synonyms. Google is honestly so very useful in this regard. It's been of so much assistance to me that it's gotten to the point where I am starting to wonder if the Oxford English Dictionary (which is where Google pulls definitions from) has ever saved a life. But try to keep connotations in mind. "Small", "little", and "itty-bitty" all mean the same thing, but they read differently, and that difference can become highly apparent in different contexts. For example, "Joel was little" has its own vibe in comparison to "Joel was itty-bitty."

8. Show your writing to others - This is something that I struggled with for a while, and still have issues with sometimes. However, something that I have found to be helpful is showing my work to someone who I'm close with. What might be considered a harsh criticism from someone else feels a lot less intimidating when it's coming from someone who you've known for a while. Not only that, but there is a good chance that they'll catch a mistake you made that you didn't notice while working on it, or even if you check over your work yourself (that's just the sad truth of looking at something for a long time, even if you take breaks - things start to blend together). That's about it. I didn't think that my answers to your questions would make for such a long post, but I hope that you found this helpful!

#questions #writing advice #long post #opal speaks #may God bless you all

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egcdeath · 2 years ago

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neptune angel baby if you would be at all willing,, i need need need those joel girl dad headcanons,, like,, carnally,, if they are top secret feel free to keep it that way,, but if not,, i’d die to see them

and i suppose i’ll look for some foreshadowing in succession🫠🫠🫠 because wtf🫠🫠

-🍓

okay okay, just for you strawb! honestly they’re not groundbreaking or anything butttt here are my joe girl dad™️ headcanons

he’s taken sarah to every Destiny’s Child and Beyoncé tour. does it make his pockets hurt? yes! is it worth it?? absolutely!

he had to learn pretty early on how to do sarah’s hair and like, he’d never admit it to anyone but he actually finds doing hair so therapeutic. there are also many many many photos of him with like a bunch of berets in his hair

that being said joel DEFINITELY knows a thing or two makeup. he started watching tutorials when he caught wind that sarah was even curious about makeup, helped her out a few times, and is pretty good. he’s no pro but if you ever broke your hand or something he would have you covered

yes joel is a very busy man but he always will make time to do whatever sarah wants. volunteer at the school bake sale? he’s there. father daughter dance? he’s there. tea party with her stuffed animals?? he’s there!!

to add onto that, joel has been a guest at many of sarah’s tea parties (particularly when she was younger). if anyone asks, he’s just going through the motions. but in reality, he loves getting to spend time with his little girl and all of her toys, and he thinks it’s so cute how she tells stories and gives her little toys voices

as i’ve said before, joel used to be an awful cook, but after his wife left he realized he had to get his life together and he’s improved his skills a bunch since then. whenever sarah’s down, or whenever she has company, he always makes sure to whip out her favorite dishes and it always brings a smile to her face :D

joel LOVES a good barbie movie. he will be sat in the best seats in the theater with sarah for barbie (2023) and that’s not even a headcanon that’s just canon sorry

spa days. at first joel was just supervising when sarah would ask to go to the salon, but one day he sat down in one of those massage chairs and an available tech offered him a pedicure and he’s been a pedicure stan ever since. they have many father-daughter spa days and sometimes sarah even lets joel help decide on nail art 🥹

joel learns all of sarah’s favorite songs on the guitar! sometimes she asks for a greatest hits concert and who is he to say no to her???

when sarah was younger, she used to be scared of a lottt of things, including the dark. there were many times where he promised to stay with her until she fell asleep, then ended up falling asleep in her tiny little bed

basically, joel is the girl dad of all girl dads.

#neptune answers #🍓 anon #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff

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nolanrossblog · 2 years ago

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Game Hammers

HELLO! This is the first-ever-world-renowned Game Hammers blog. There are 2 Developers on this week's post, they are hopefully going to be on future blogs as well. The developers of this blog will track their progress in the week and whatever difficulties they encountered. The mission of this blog is to create a good environment for learning and exploring. Nolam This week I was working on a witch game, so I started by creating a new unity project with some cubes. I want to set it up to be a 2.5D sort of space, where you can move left and right but also see the depth of scenes, kinda like Tomba. In this project, I set up some core mechanics like wall jumping, ledge grabbing, moving, regular jumping, and some scaffolding for more complicated things like combat.

Here you can see the little block guy finding his way in life. In my progress towards moving, I thought it would suit the game to add a sliding mechanic for rails. So you can like, slide on rails. For this, I turned to splines - which I would later regret. If you don't know what a spline is: it's a bendy line. Bendy lines are very useful but very complicated as well.

This was an attempt at a homemade spline made with the help of chat GPT. It was very rudimentary and I abandoned it after realizing unity has built-in splines. All of this so that I could make a bendy banister. For about 4 days I farted around and wasted my time with this, realizing that it's probably better to just do an easier straight line anyways. Whoops! After that cr*p, I tried to find a new productive avenue - so I went towards making some art.

The game is about a witch who has to clean a house with her broom, and crossing my vision with Flodo's, I was able to come up with a model of the character, after an interesting attempt.

that attempt ended up having cool hands, but they likely are to forever rot on my hard drive. This attempt, however, was much nicer despite having no fingers to speak of.

The character ended up having a poofy outfit that looks very warm on her - which I like a lot. I did lots of new things making this like faces and hair, and have been trying to improve my topology. Yesterday, my parents left on vacation and I am in charge of my 3 siblings. It's going to be a difficult week ahead - going back to school and stuff - so I'm excited to see what progress I can make in school and with modeling and game design. PS. Grammarly on tumblr is booty.

Spebby Hey there! This is the Spebby section of the weekly Game Hammers Blog. Like my compatriots, Nolam and Flodo, I’ll be rattling on about what I’ve been learning and doing this week of my life. It’s midterm season, and I’ve been hard at work on studying up. My focus has mostly been upon Calculus, with a focus on Parametrics, Polar Graphs and Surface Area of Rotation. I’m feeling pretty good about my study actually, I have a pretty good grasp on Integration and Convergence, and this midterm’s topics are pretty similar, so I think I’ll be all good! While studying Polar Graphs, I came across a pattern I particularly like, which I’ve dubbed “The Lotus”. Not a super original name, but I think it fits. I accidentally stumbled across this one, the function that creates it is 4cos(5θ/13). A render of it can be found below.

Outside of Calculus, what else have I been working on? As a stinky Comp-Sci major, I’ve been working on that. I’m still fresh meat. I very much appreciate my CS professor. He’s quite willing to throw us into the deep and push the limits of what our little brains can think of. I’m pretty brash, so I don’t quite give each assignment the thought I probably should. Learning about in-line assembly arguments and how to effectively use them, proper memory management, creating truly class-agnostic functions and how to write fast and efficient code. I find programming quite fulfilling and therapeutic honestly. Making something run faster and figuring out why something wasn’t working quite how I suspected is always quite the reward.

I’ve unfortunately not had much time to work on programming in the lens of game development. Perhaps Nolam has better time management than I do, he always seems to find time to crank out another prototype. Prototyping is quite the art, I’ve never really had to write something from scratch like that, Flodo or Nolam have always beaten me to the bunch in regards to these sorts of things. At some point it’s on my todo list to get cracking with a prototype. I’ve found it frustrating being limited on what I can feasibly do in a project, but to be honest that’s given me some liberty to get the creative juices flowing and try something wacky within my limitations.

Continuing the theme of academics, outside of my STEM major, I’ve been trying to take some interesting humanities classes. Anthropology has been an interest of mine for awhile, at first I thought only Cultural Anthropology would interest me, but Primatology and other Biological Anthropology subdisciplines have proven to be even more interesting to me. Learning about how odd humans are from an evolutionary perspective, and the adaptations that were taken in order to allow for our unique form of movement or perhaps our ancient ancestors, those of Selam, Toumaï and Platyops. Anthropology is such an interesting subject; If you have the ability, enroll in an Anthropology class, they’re super interesting and can teach you a lot about the world and perhaps change your worldview.

I could go on and on, but I feel it’s best to bring this entry to a close. Be catching you next week. Perhaps we could have a longer chat, no?

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pathofmysins · 2 years ago

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𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

I've tasted blood and it is sweet.

I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet.

I've trusted lies and trusted men.

Broke down and put myself back together again.

You couldn’t tell where the grey skies ended and the grey seas began. There was only the wind, sending shivers down my body as I was walking down the coast of southern California. Despite the wind and the freezing air, engulfing me in it’s clutches, it was somewhat peaceful. I loved storms, they resembled my personality, but even more I loved sitting on the beach during one. It was therapeutic, a way to calm the storm within my mind while watching one unfold before my eyes. Another wave of shivers runs down my spine and I throw that old, outworn leather jacket over my shoulders. It belonged to my dad, at least that’s what my mother told me. The jacket was all I had left of him now. We lived on the outskirts of town, but our house was located conveniently halfway between biker clubhouses and acted as a safe haven to a lot of the bikers who stopped at our house. When I was ten years old, I used to pop open beer bottles for them while my mother patched up their wounds and cooked them dinner. Sometimes she would let them crash for the night and that’s also how she became pregnant with me.

Once I make my way closer to the water, I sit down on the wet sand and inhale the salty peace while lighting up a cigarette. The ocean always felt more home to me than those four walls and a roof people call home could ever be, that’s why I always came here since the day I can remember. It was my escape, where I kept the record of the wreckage in my life. It was not a tragedy, it was just the sad reality.

My mother always blamed me for ruining her life, shattering her dreams of fame. Her wish was to be a famous singer and travel the world, but instead God gave her me. I was the daughter she never wanted, the mark of shame for eternity since she wasn’t even sure who was my daddy. There was a man who sticked around for a little bit though, he taught me how to ride a bike and how to hold a gun when I could barely even fit it in my hand. No, it wasn’t love, but it was the closest I ever got. Of course it didn’t last long and the dream soon turned into a nightmare.

“I’ll be back soon, kid. Make me proud.” Those were the last words he ever said to me before placing a kiss on my forehead and walking out through the doors to ride off into the sunset. Twenty something years later and I still haven’t heard from him, no prayers will ever bring him back to me now. People disappear, but a little part of you always remains hoping that maybe it was just a bad dream and soon enough your loved one will walk through those doors again. My mother says he’s probably rotting in prison, but I would rather believe he is dead.

I have mastered the art of portraying the perfect facade of not having a single care in the world. I had no choice, it was the only way to survive in my world where different men came and went almost every night. It was an open house. I lost count how many boyfriends my mother had over the years or how many times she let them slap me across the face. It didn’t take me long to realize where the money was actually coming from. What once was my home became my worst nightmare so I grew up on the streets and quickly enough I found myself involved in many dangerous situations as well as potentially fatal addictions. Some of them, I regret and regret is something I carry a ton of within the depths of my soul. My path is now one of sins, it always has been my fate, no matter where I go. I try to be better, to be selfless and compassionate, but then a trigger gets flicked and my emotions turn cold. I push the good people away, hurt them in ways they don't deserve to be and in times like these, I fail to be the warrior I was born to be. Instead, I show the frightened child within, still hiding under the safe covers of my bed, counting seconds until the next hit would come and leave me in tears.

“So you let Max fuck you now? You know what he does, Nora. I didn’t think you were this fucking stupid!” My mother shouted while stubbing out the cigarette into the ashtray on the kitchen counter. Her eyes gave it away, how little she thought of me, how ashamed she was of my choices.

“What can I say? I learn from the best. You have no right to judge me.” I snapped back.

An embarrassment, an idiot, a slut. All the insults heard one too many times, I became immune to it all. I have tasted blood too many times before and now it just tastes sweet. Oddly my mother never approved of the lifestyle I chose, but she gave me no choice. I would have done anything not be stuck in this house, which is why I got involved with Max and his business, that was the easiest way to make money around here. Earn enough to get myself as far as possible from this place. Max owned a brothel in the city where I spent most of my nights for the past few years. It wasn’t all that bad, at least no one could hurt me there. Besides, most of the men only last five minutes and they are good to go which makes my job so much easier. The plan was always to get away and perhaps if only I could get closer to Max, become his favorite girl, a different path would open up. With every risk I take, with every kiss and each tainted touch - I get one step closer to my goal.

My mom’s last boyfriend, Jonathan, he was a bit of a drinker. That’s how I got all my bruises since I was about ten years old, that’s the age when I started to remember. The first slap was the worst, even though his hand was empty, I felt like I was hit with a piece of metal. I guess when you’re a kid, you don’t realize how much strength adults hold because they’re never meant to use it against you. When I was older, whenever I could, I used to take the hits meant for my mother too. My whole childhood I dreamed of the day my mother would leave him, I would go with her and flee the violence. But that day never came. Every hiss from Jonathan’s lips had to be more spiteful than the last, as if it was bringing him satisfaction to see me hurting, breaking. Long ago I learned how to hide the pain, I became intoxicated with the emotions I never had the desire to feel. Hate. The acidity of it was too strong to ignore, it was just waiting to be spat out in the most foul manner. In this fog of anger and vulgar words, before I could realize what was happening, his fingers were wrapped around my throat as he slammed me against one of the kitchen walls and spit on my face.

“You’re a fucking whore. If you were my daughter, I would fucking kill you.”

Here comes another insult, but I just smile in the most twisted way possible. Perhaps I was signing my death wish with the sarcastic curl of my lips, but the temptation to send him over the edge of anger was too sweet to resist. I looked over to see my mother, she was curled up on the couch, almost choking on her tears, but she never had the courage to protect me. The wall shuddered, I could hear my mother desperately crying out for him to stop, to let me go. But his fingers tightened instead, the glowing embers in his eyes ablaze with rage and I could smell the reek of whiskey coming from his breath. I couldn’t deny the pain anymore and my facial expression was a clear indicator. My vision blurred, a flame curled in the pit of my stomach and my brain went on overdrive.

This was my life, always has been, whatever I do, they make me suffer for it. Repeat, repeat, repeat. How many more hits before he decides to finally kill me? How long until my mother finds me beaten to death on the kitchen floor because there was no more whiskey in the house? My words were scattered as I struggled to breathe with his hand still wrapped around my throat. That bitter smile on my lips though, it lingers as I try to provoke him to see how far was the bastard willing to go.

“Kill me, go ahead. Put me out of my misery. I fucking dare you!”

The memories come rushing through, weighing me down as I relived every night I spent crying, begging him to spare me. The flame twisting in my stomach came rushing forward, crawling through my veins and taking complete control over my body. My fingers coiled into fists as I was being completely deprived of air and now my rage held the power of a wildfire. I saw it in his eyes. It was either kill or be killed. I’m scared. Frightened. Was there a chance that all of this is just a nightmare? I’ve been there for my mother so many times, saved her over and over again, but now I was being outgunned and she still would rather watch me die than fight the man she claimed to love. She didn’t know what love was, neither did I, maybe we were never meant to find out. Now my lungs are running out of air as Jonathan continues to choke me. I worry I won’t be able to control the ending of my story. Darkness consumes me and I find myself reaching over for one of the kitchen knives on the counter. Pain and sickness, fear and cold. I let go of the last piece of hope in my heart and stab him in the abdomen.

The waves are crashing, rising and falling. They come without fear of the beach, embracing their destiny. My fingers find their way into the pocket of my leather jacket as anxiety begins to take over, my chest is hollow. What have I done? Is he still breathing? Trying to juggle my mistakes, my past and present sometimes would leave me wishing I was drowning in these mighty waves. I am worthy of a better life, but I have been a drowning victim since childhood and now, in adulthood, I curse those to blame for the life I found myself living.

I walked these streets my whole life, I know them as if they were etched in my mind with a sharp knife, scars so deep they would never heal. I knew I did something horrible, but I had no choice. Right? I had to do it. The guilt was now like gasoline in my guts, there was so much of it, that it left me completely empty, just an outline of a person. I had no one to turn to, except for the family I chose myself, it meant more to me than my own blood. And these beautiful streets, that were once my salvation, now spike up my adrenaline as good as a shot to the arm.

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lucew-art5 · 1 year ago

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Royal College of Art - Visible Mending

Visible Mending is a short animated documentary by the RCA about the ways in which we repair ourselves through knitting, even when we can't be fully mended.

'Visible Mending' was an experiment and focused exploration of the affect knitting has on the human brain and how it can help people to reconnect with their own sense of self. Some case studies included:

A software engineer re-learning knitting to help with his fine motor skills after suffering a stroke

An occupational therapist specialising in pain management uses knitting as a therapeutic tool

A mother who knitted to help her process her anxiety and trauma after her injured son's recovery

A terminal cancer patient who knits and crochet to give meaning to their day

Betsan Corkhill, occupational therapist, author and interviewee in the films says, ‘Therapeutic knitting is the combination of knitting and knowledge in order to deliberately improve wellbeing. Two handed coordinated patterns of movements … has a calming effect that facilitates a meditative like state, a sense of familiarity, comfort.’

I found this project especially interesting and touching on a personal level. My mum is an avid knitter, she always has been from a very young age. I do often wish I had the patience to learn. She told me she knitted her first cardigan when she was 7 and was 4 years old when my Nanny taught her the basics of knitting. It made me consider different reasons as to why my mum has continued to knit all these years. Without talking to her, I feel she knits, yes, because it is a hobby and she enjoys it but also to feel close to my Nanny. It was a skill she had passed on to her and I can imagine it might feel nostalgic for her. Not only this, my mum lost her best friend, Bethan, to breast cancer a number of years ago. It really affected her and since she had passed away, my mum, Bethan's mum and more of her friends started knitting chocolate egg covers for charity - every Easter, Halloween and Christmas. All the proceeds go to a chosen charity of that year. It is their yearly tradition to honour Bethan. So for my mum, in my opinion, knitting provides her with memories and in a way, is a form of therapy for her and a sense of pride. I could be incredibly wrong, and it could simply just be because she enjoys the creation aspect, of a ball of wool going from simply that, to a functioning item or a teddy/toy.

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baby-girl-e · 2 years ago

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Cherry Wine

Tag List

Part 2

Characters - Phoenix x F!Reader

Summary - reader realizes her feelings for her childhood but convinces herself she’s out of her league.

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Fluff, Kissing

A/N - As most of my fics happen, this idea came to me in the middle of the night! If you like this, keep an eye out for a potential part two. Even if this crashes and burns and nobody likes it I’ll still probably write more because I write because I want to and it’s incredibly Therapeutic!

Growing up nothing made sense without Natasha around. You never had as much fun when she wasn’t there, always leaving early from the parties she didn’t attend. You had known each other since you were in elementary school, clicking the minute she moved in. She made you laugh more than any of your other friends, and you just seemed to get each other. For the longest time you thought that was all she was to you, a good friend. A good friend that you never wanted to part with. It wasn’t until she told you she was joining the navy that you finally realized how you really felt. Shit. You loved her, and she was leaving. You were obviously enthusiastically supportive of her decision, this was the perfect job for her. She was always destined to escape this small town, figuring she would outgrow it at some point.

If you were being honest you had outgrown the town yourself, just didn’t quite have an out at the same time she did. That is until you got an offer to apprentice with a famous painter that had agreed to take you under his wing and teach you more than you could’ve learned going to art school. Painting has always been a comfort to you, being able to express how you felt without needing to use words. You could even channel your feelings about Natasha into them as well. One of your most successful paintings was actually inspired by her. It was an oil piece that depicted a faceless dark haired woman looking up into the sky. You had decided on a whim to enter it into a competition at a festival and ended up winning first place. You had a couple of offers to sell the painting (more than a couple honestly) but you just couldn’t bring yourself to sell a piece that meant so much to you.

The painter who offered you an apprenticeship was actually one of the people who wanted to buy the painting, but when you refused his astounding amount of money solely for the fact that this painting meant so much to you, he knew he had found a true artist. That was how you found yourself with your bags packed and a one way ticket to San Diego. You got lucky when your now boss had told you where his studio was, heart warming at being so close to where Natasha was currently stationed. The two of you kept in touch and she said that after an extremely dangerous mission that almost took her life they offered her a choice of either staying or going somewhere else. She loved San Diego too much to leave it, and wanted to finally put some roots somewhere after years of traveling.

Boarding your flight, your hands were shaking with anticipation. You were finally getting to live the life you’ve always wanted, close to the woman you loved and painting with a famous artist. The painting part was going to be the easy part. What about when you saw Natasha again? How were you supposed to act around her? Like you weren’t enthralled by every little thing she did? You liked to think positively, but you also liked to think logically. She was so far out of your league that it was almost ridiculous that you’d even be friends. She was always traveling, seeing new places, and she was a god damned navy aviator. She was the full package, beautiful, smart, and dangerously talented. You couldn’t help but feel highly inadequate speaking to her, let alone fantasize the idea that you two could ever be lovers. You shook the thoughts from your head and carried on boarding.

The flight itself was short, given you lived only a few states away. Your new boss had set you up in one of the apartments he owned claiming he needed you to focus on your work and getting another job to pay for living expenses would be a distraction. After you argued with him for a minute, it was settled that he would let you live in the apartment and pay for your living expenses. You were never much of a negotiator and he seemed hellbent on supporting you. God knew he could afford it and never knew the difference. To put it into perspective, just one of his paintings could go for at least a year's worth of living expenses, and that’s being conservative.

The rest of your things were being driven out by your sister and her husband in a week, so you made do with what you brought with you. After you unpacked the small amount of things you did have, you decided you wanted to go to the beach with your camera. It was nearing sunset and you were near giddy to get some good reference shots for a landscape piece that your boss wanted to work on with you. You threw on a light yellow sundress, sandals and a white cardigan thrown over the crossbody bag you always had. Once you felt confident about your outfit choice you headed out to the nearest beach. The walk there was pleasant and fairly quiet, save for the hustle and bustle of the city around you. It gave you time to think over how you would tell Natasha that you were here. You had been meaning to every time you talked, but the words always escaped you. It was almost like you wanted to live in your bubble of fantasy, fearing that reality might pop it.

When you snapped out of your reverie you realized you had definitely made it to the beach, people scattered here and there, the day obviously winding down. You immediately pulled out your camera and started snapping shots of the ocean and the sunset above it. You made your way closer to the ocean, taking off your shoes to be more comfortable. Feeling like you had enough pictures of this particular part of the ocean, you let the camera hang from the strap around your neck. You walk a little further before you come across a rowdy bunch of friends that seem to be playing some game of football. They looked so happy and carefree in the sunset so you snapped a few shots of the group. It wasn’t until you put the camera down once more that you realized that you recognized one of the players. How could you ever not recognize someone that beautiful. She looked different here, more carefree, more sure of herself. You were about to make your quick exit, not wanting to disturb her or the fantasy you had built, when you heard your name being called by the Pilot in question. She was now actively running towards you at a speed you didn’t know was possible in the sand, so you made a quick choice to cap your lens and carefully set your stuff down before she all but tackled you. Your heart was soaring at being at the receiving end of one of her hugs again. Her hands were gripping your back like she was afraid you’d float away if she let go for even a second. “What are you doing here Y/N?” She was breathless and you blamed it on the fact that she had just stopped playing a game to sprint towards you. “I live here now, just got in today.” She pulls back just slightly to see your face and oh. You forgot how easy it was to get lost in her eyes. All this time you thought you were painting a picture of her in your head. You thought you had amplified everything to put her on a pedestal, but clearly you were wrong. “Like permanently?” You try to form a word but all of your energy is being put into not looking at her lips, knowing if you did your heart would take over and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tasting them, so you just nod. She smiles at that and it looks like she’s considering something. She always had that look when she was trying to decide if a risky move was worth it.

One time when you were in elementary school the two of you had found a tall dirt hill and you just so happened to be on your bikes, so you both ran your bikes up the hill and stopped at the top. You weren’t sure but when you looked over to Natasha she had that same look, like she really wanted to do something but was weighing out her options. You’re brought back to the present by Natasha apparently making her decision because her lips were on yours. You were shocked to say the least but the second your brain caught up with what was happening you were kissing her back. Everytime you imagined what this would feel like you never actually got it right apparently. You never imagined the way she takes your bottom lip between hers like she wanted to keep it. You never imagined the way she shyly slipped her tongue past your lips to explore your mouth further. Your arms ended up around her neck as hers pulled you impossibly closer by your waist. Eventually the need to breathe became apparent and you pulled away to be slightly chased by her lips having a mind of their own. You pressed your forehead against hers and closed your eyes tightly. “Nat, that was..” You weren’t sure what you were going to say honestly. How can you describe a kiss that nearly stopped your heart? “A long time coming?” You let out a breathless laugh and grin.

God how long had it been since you were this happy? Never? “I promised myself Y/N, up in that cockpit when I had escaped the dogfight with my life, that the minute I saw you I would tell you how I felt. That I’ve loved you for a really long time, I just didn’t notice until it was too late.” Your unfocused and dazed eyes caught hers at that, “It was never too late Nat, I’ve loved you for a really long time too.” Her eyes started to water and you realized just how much time you’ve wasted thinking that she just saw you as a friend. Suddenly you were kissing again. This time it was mixed with tears and smiles but you could care less because it still tasted sweeter than cherry wine.

#phoenix x reader #phoenix #natasha trace #natasha #top gun maverick #girls who kiss girls #lesbianlove #saphic #girlswholovegirls

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mattydemise · 2 years ago

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10:30 in the morning. September 11th, 2022.

Had a beautiful evening last night. Busy but not chaotic. I sat down here and tried to think of an opening line but then had to reset the mental process a little. Writing what I’m thinking has never been how I do this. I sort of switch off and let my subconscious do the work. Maybe it’s a gift (for lack of a better term) of mine. To switch off and then write without inhibition. I’m not one of those artists—though I’m loath to refer to myself as such—who needs to be fucked up to produce, to paint, to write, etc. Although I’ve always found it a little easier to create to whilst in a bad mood. I recognise the inherent flaw in that though so I try to create while in a positive frame of mind too. It’s dangerous to condition yourself to only create when you’re depressed. Just like how some people condition themselves to only be happy when they’re high. They condition themselves to be anxious, depressed, and miserable whenever they don’t have their substance of choice. Not a judgment, just an observation. I watched first hand as someone I loved would get high and then be torn in this state of anxiety and misery over disappointing their mother. They wanted to smoke but they also didn’t want the overwhelming weight that comes along with respecting someone they love. It’s a struggle, a battle, between want and need, You want to get high but you need to live up to the expectations of a parent. The relationship between the artist and their art is similar. Some simply cannot create without being in an altered state of consciousness. Like that bloke in Heroes that needs to use heroin to paint. I won’t spoil anything but I loved that character’s arc. Also, I’d be remiss not mentioning how criminally underrated Heroes is. Makes me wish the Marvel TV series could match that same level of quality, but I digress. My point is that everyone has some element of themselves they want to burn out like dry ice on an unsightly wart. The way in which we create art is no different. We may be able to appreciate, to some extent, what we produce but if we aren’t in the right mindset to do so, we may as well not’ve created at all. What I aim to do with these pieces is to let go of some of the subconscious baggage I carry. I’m well-adjusted but by no means perfect. Art is therapy for me and circling back around to drugs, in the same way a lot of addicts use drugs to self-medicate, I use the blank canvas and page as a therapeutic tool.

#mattobsidian #writing #words #thoughts #text

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shyestofhearts · 3 years ago

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Hi Shy~

Sooo, I have this headcanon that Damian is like this wonderful child prodigy genius. Like, super smart. So smart, that when Bruce tries to enroll him in Gotham academy, they tell him that Damian has tests for college level. Which, Damian just rolls his eyes at, because duh. After discussing it with professionals and yada yada, Damian gets enrolled into college. He’s like, twelve-ish. He is STILL bored in class, and knows most of the information they are trying to teach. His advisor is so sweet and invested into Damian though. And observant. After noticing Damian lack of enthusiasm, he asks Damian what the problem. Nothing interests him, none of his classes.this advisor is an old timer, in my opinion, and has seen so many kids pushed to do things they never wanted to do, and decides he can’t let that happen with Damian. So the Advisor pulls out every department, every major, and goes through it with Damian. After a few hours, because it takes a while to convince Damian that it is alright to do anything he wants, Damian has his majors narrowed down to a few things. Art and pre-med. Damian’s advisor suggests he visit a few of the clubs on campus to really get a feel of what he wants. Thing is, even after going to the students’ art club gallery and one of the pre-med club meetings, neither really speak to him. It’s a Saturday night, and he’s alone on campus. Damian is about to call Alfred, when a student from Damian’s organic chemistry class spots him.

“Damian!” Jace, a slightly round student with soft curly hair smiles at Damian. “Are you here for the show?”

“Show?” Damian scowls?

“Yeah, the fashion show. This year’s theme is sustainability,” Jace smiles. They one of the few people who never ogled at Damian for being a Wayne or looked down on him for his age. They are just genuinely nice, and Damian knows that.

“I didn’t know we had a fashion show,”

“Really? I swear I thought I mentioned it,” Jace says, surprised. Jace may have mentioned that, but Damian probably was zoned out during the time.“Tickets are $15, if you wanna come”

“Oh,” Damian frowns, “I used all the money I brought with me for the art gallery and lunch earlier,” He says, cursing internally for not bringing more cash with him.

“If you want to go, I’ll cover you.” Jace smiles, “Think of it as payment for help on our last exam” Damian would usually say no, but Jace is just so nice,

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Besides,” Jace smiles, turning towards the stadium, “I have a feeling you’re going to love it”

And Damian did love it. The designs were amazing, some more haute couture while others were casual, and each designer explained how their designs involved sustainability. Some were statement pieces, designed to address political issues, others were just to demonstrate that sustainability could still be cute, and while others highlighted affordability and sustainability.

Damian wanted to do this. Running through his head were endless possibilities. Perhaps he can enlist the help of Poison Ivy to create a vegan leather that was also bullet resistant, or…

The next Monday he is waiting for his advisor at 7 in the morning, because he spent the rest of the weekend coming up with ideas, sketches, creating a portfolio, and practicing hypothetical arguments as to why Damian should go into fashion. At 7:15 his advisor sees him, and can tell by the light in Damian’s eyes, determination on his face, and the way he’s clutching his sketchbook, Damian has found it.

“I want into the fashion program!” Damian all but bursts, unconsciously on his tippy toes in excitement.

“Okay,” His advisor smiles, ushering him into his office. “Let’s make it happen”

“Just like that?” Damian asks, eyes wide, voice surprisingly small. His advisor smiles at him kindly.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.”

It takes a bit before Damian can actually get into the program, he has to work on some prerequisites, and also create a better portfolio with samples, but Damian is determined. By the end of the school year, he has been accepted.

Damian doesn’t tell his family, not in the beginning. He actually doesn’t want to tell his friends either, unsure of how they’d react. He is still insecure, and just entering his teen years. He worries about what any or everyone will say. Eventually, though he tells Jon and Colin, swearing them to secrecy. They both are excited for him, asking if he’d design their costumes for them. Damian blushes but says,

“Tt, like you can afford me”

He eventually tells Alfred as well, because he needs help learning how to use a sewing machine, and fast. Sure, he can stitch someone up flawlessly, but sewing machines weren’t part of the League’s lessons. Alfred is in charge of the one at the Manor, so it only makes sense to ask him. Even so, Damian is reluctant. When he does finally ask, he nearly gives himself an attack, worrying about being scolded for not using his “full potential”. Alfred simply squeezes Damian’s shoulder, and agrees with a kind smile. The young Master finally seemed passionate about something besides vigilante work and violence. Alfred would do everything in his power to foster that.

“Just,” Damian looks down, hands clenching into fists at his side, “Do not tell the others. I would prefer this between us,” He looks at Alfred, unsuccessfully trying to hide the vulnerability in his wide emerald eyes. Alfred agrees, for now. On the conditions that Damian would have to tell his father and siblings himself, and not to far in the future either.

Damian impresses everyone with his designs, and people learn he is actually quite adorable when he’s doing something he enjoys. His classmates and professors encourage him to join the fall fashion show, which is covering “multiculturalism and the media”. Damian hesitantly agrees, though he has been making designs since the theme was announced. His room is full of crumbled paper on his floor, designs he deigned not good enough. Many of his designs are heavily influenced by his Arab culture, but he also has some Chinese-influenced designs as well. His statement piece is the hardest to get right. It involves a hijab and beautiful colors, but he just can’t get the right patter. Ripping another page and crumpling it,Damian is too concentrated to realized Tim and Dick have been creeping into his room.

“What’s this Dames?” Dick asks, startling Damian, as he looks at some of the rejected designs. Panic makes Damian defensive as he yells at them to get out, frustration fueling the dread of his family seeing such unsatisfactory work. Tim flinches, shocked by the emotion coming off of Damian, rushing out with a few crumpled papers he snuck from the floor. Damian is literally trying to shove Dick out the door. Dick turns around, because he can hear the panic in his little brother’s voice. In his Robin’ voice. “Damian,” he says softly, easily deflecting Damian. “It’s okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around Damian, reversing the situation. “What’s wrong, why are you reacting like this?” After a few minutes of struggling, Damian gives up. Slowly,he explains the situation, how he’s in the fashion program and the fashion show coming up, all the pressure to do well, the frustration of not having his statement piece yet. Dick listens, his hold turning into a hug. “From what I’ve seen,” Dick says softly, “these are all wonderful designs,Dami. Whatever you end up making will look amazing, if they look anything like your sketches.”

“It’s not enough!” Damian complains, eyes burning, but he refuses to cry. “You don’t understand!” He says, frustrated.

“Then explain it to me, why is this so important?”

“Because it is about me!” Damian’s voice cracks ask he turns away rosiness his eyes harshly. “When I was introduced to the public, as “Bruce Wayne’s biological son”, do you not remember how the newspapers reacted? They didn’t know me, or my mother, but because—because of my skin, the country I was born, I was mistrusted. Scorned. Yeah, maybe I’ve killed people, but that isn’t because of my skin color or my culture or the language I speak. I have this opportunity to speak out against that!” Damian turns to look at Dick, “I’ve tried to become better, to do better. It’s hard and unfair that none of that matters, because guests are invited to galas hosted in the house that I live in, only to make snide racist comments about “nukes” or the desert or bombs whenever Father and you all aren’t around me. How can I be better, when I’m not given the chance because people can’t see past my skin?” Dick wraps Damian into a tight hug, as wetness drips down Damian’s cheeks. “I’ve been here nearly four years—and it still happens” Damian whispers.

“Why didn’t you say anything Dami?”

“What could I say?” Damian whispers back,

“Bruce—”

“Invites these people because they are important to Wayne Enterprise.” He scoffs. “What could you do, especially if I have no proof?”

“Believe me, Damian,” Dick says seriously, pulling back to look into Damian’s eyes. “Bruce won’t invite anyone who’s racist or derogatory towards his children, back to a gala, let alone do business with him again.” He smiles a hard somewhat vicious smile. “I know because when I was first adopted, he did that for me” Damian’s eyes widen. “And if Bruce can’t defend you, you can bet your brothers will,” Damian looks unsure, but nods. “But I get it now. You’ve always used art to vent and express yourself. This design is something that would allow you to address what the media has done to and said about you.”

“It’s been,” Damian shrugs, looking down, “therapeutic. In a way I never imagined it would be.”

“Well, I think, whatever you end up designing will be amazing,” Dick smiles, and Damian looks up at the sincerity, giving his own smile smile in response. “And I expect an invitation to the fashion show!” He chuckles, causing Damian to blush. “And I bet the whole family would want to come as well,” Damian blushes, looking away once more.

“Tickets are $15 each, and available online,” Damian replies, making Dick belly laugh. “You can invite the others, if you’d like” Damian mumbles.

“Hmm,how ‘bout I invite the siblings while you invite your dad,” Damian grumbles, but agrees. “Great! Now, take a break. One night not designing won’t hurt you.” Dick says, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulder. ‘Might do you some good, in fact.”

Things get better after that, because after his talk with Dick, Damian gets an idea for his design. Ziba, a Persian student Damian met in his Literature class, agreed to be his model for his statement piece. She wore her hijab proudly, a solid black color, which helped with the down-to-business look the rest of the outfit screamed. Ziba’s makeup was beautiful, as Damian was putting the last touches on her. They both were quiet, nervous excitement pulsing through them both. Ziba had on white trousers that flared out a bit, to give an almost flowy feel, with black basic vegan leather square pointed toe mule flat accented by a silver buckle. Damian had made the top a cross between a tunic, a blazer, and a cape. It is white, and goes over a plain solid black turtleneck. Printed on both the buttoned blazer tunic top and the trousers are past racist articles written about Damian. In red graffiti styled letters sprayed across the news paper articles are phrases like “Lies” “Warped Perception” “Western POV” “Racist” “I was only 10”. The red paint matches the red lipstick Ziba is wearing.

Damian was nervous with his family in the audience, everyone including Alfred was there. Apparently Superman and Superboy were in attendance too, as civilians of course. Colin was there too. Damian had told his father about the fashion show, and was surprised to see how supportive he was about it. Of course that may have been the shock, as Damian had told him that morning before leaving for school. Bruce blinked, stood up and hugged Damian, before saying he couldn’t wait for the show.

Damian’s set is the last, ask the show is in alphabetical order according to last names. When it’s his turn, all of his model’s line up, and Damian is running around making sure everything is perfect. He hears the speaker introduce his collection, inviting Damian to join him on stage. Damian rushes out, brown cheeks turn red. Together they introduce all seven outfits of the collection one by one, as Damian describes his designs, the material, and the inspiration behind each one. When it get’s to Ziba’s turn, Damian’s nearly choked up. He manages to discuss this piece and it’s significance to him. At the end, Damian received a standing ovation from nearly everyone. Looking over at his family, he has to duck from hiding his flamed cheeks. All his siblings were cheering for him, while Bruce and Dick dab their eyes. Alfred has a proud look on his face, and Damian couldn’t have been happier.

He ends up getting second place, but also his own work room at the Manor. Damian begins selling his work after getting it patented (Tim demanded it), and is surprised when a number of orders are for the galas around Gotham. Dick told Bruce and the others about all the things Damian has been hearing at Galas, and they are justifiably angry. Duke begins chants of “Eat the Rich” every time he hears someone says something problematic about Damian, and that because Tim’s signal on who to take down next.

Damian’s designs become more widely popular as his family starts wearing them, as they love talking about it and how he uses sustainable methods and materials. This earns him big named clients, who start wearing Damian’s designs on the Red Carpet and premiers . Damian also likes to do work for charity, often donating dresses to high schoolers who cannot afford prom dresses or making clothes out of extra material to donate to shelters so people have clothes for job interviews and such.

(He also makes his pets clothes when he’s bored, so it’s normal to see Titus wearing a doggy hoodie with slits in it for his ears)

ANYWAYS, this is my headcanon lol

What do think about it?

—🧵🪡

Headcanon?? Bestie this a whole ass au!

As for my thoughts-

💳 💥💥 💳 💥💥💥 💳 💥💥💥💥

#shy's asks #sewing anon #anon #damian wayne #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #ANON PLEASE #ANON I LOVE THIS??#ANON IS A GENIUS #ITS LIKE 3AM AND IM BARELY COHERENT #BUT NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF THIS AU #Anon I hope both sides of your pillow are cool tonight #I hope your blanket is softer that a cloud #long post

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tohruhondaismydaughter · 3 years ago

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Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

#fruits basket #headcanons #machi #machi kuragi #machi headcanons #machi kuragi headcanons #fruits basket headcanons

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nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years ago

Note

Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does

(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot)

Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots.

When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor.

At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens.

One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice.

And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class.

And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable.

But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for.

Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.

Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament.

The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously.

And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush.

“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly.

“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.”

“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.”

“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.”

Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class.

They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks.

The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.

“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.”

“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked.

To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth.

“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.”

Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later.

“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC.

“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go.

“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.”

“Good luck!”

That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be.

The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set.

There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years.

The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place.

Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face.

He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat.

Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode.

And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial.

So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything.

#sorry #not sorry #zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #I'm gonna edit and add to this #and probably updated something on my ao3 in the first time in a literal month #thanks babe for the inspiration #the babes are asking #hot leaf content

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joonkorre · 4 years ago

Text

To my love,

@drarrymicrofic prompt: forbidden

read Paper Hearts by @dorthyanndrarry and have been completely obsessed w draco doing little mundane things as a hobby or bc it's therapeutic etc etc. i had to fold these paper cranes for an art project once. it's fucking addictive lmao. ao3

tw: very brief mention of blood

It’s just a thing Draco does when he’s bored. A past-time, or a hobby, even. If it’s past midnight and less tiring to be honest, he’d admit that it’s a coping method. But he never really feels like that as of late, as expected from a permanent resident in what is now the Dark Lord’s lair.

Light, clean air, silence, and Merlin knows what else, are lacking in abundance in the Malfoy Manor these days. However, with owl posts too easily intercepted and words too eagerly etched on skin rather than blank pages, paper is readily available. Draco has a lot of free time, being ‘Lucius’s worthless son’ and all. Thus, he writes.

Are you out there? How do you fare?

I haven’t eaten breakfast today. Perhaps I should’ve, but Nagini never leaves.

Will Harry Potter ever get caught?

I tried to go out today. Do you know how it feels to have blood drained from your feet?

Comments of nonsensical nature like so. They help, though. Draco doesn’t quite know the psychology behind it, but he can’t help writing them. A passing interest, then once every two weeks, then every other day, then any piece of paper he can find. Any piece large enough.

To my love,

That Luna girl cries again.

He doesn’t understand why—he’s never understood much, now that he thinks about it—but he’s taken to writing those three words before every message. It feels nice, he supposes, to pretend there’s someone who looks forward to reading his letters, regardless of how boring or awful they are. No matter, a tiny phrase never hurts anyone. He hopes. How many things (small, insignificant things) did he say that—?

To my love,

The last of Mother’s roses have faded to a dull grey. They used to be the color of lilac.

He’s used his wand as a light tonight, a whispered Lumos scarcely bright enough to write down a sentence and cut a strip of paper away, making a square. Familiar folds and creases give way easily beneath his calloused fingers in the dark. Feeling the precise pleats, he bends the wings, then pulls out the tail and the neck. He runs a finger down the neck’s tip. Its head is formed.

To my love,

Should I have killed him?

Cracking open the dirty window right beside his bed, the cool scent of fog and sleepy meadows wafts against his face. A gentle tap of his wand, and the paper crane floats away into the night with minute flaps of wings. Where is it going? He never knows. To his love?

To my love,

There’s a suitcase hidden inside my mattress, ready to go.

Draco closes the window and slides under the cover. Staring up at the swirling darkness of his canopy, he hopes the crane gets to, say, the nearby valley before descending.

To my love,

Let’s run away together.

The scenery is nice there, at least.

----

There’s an analogy to be made about shackles and penance and father’s sins. Draco wouldn’t know. He’s not in the right state of mind to ponder it.

A shame. It’d be nice if his last thought before the Kiss is something poetic.

“He was but a child,” he hears his mother scream. A deafening crash echoes throughout the vast space as her chains weigh more with each word spoken out of turn, forcing her to the dirty floor. “A child!”

Titters and jeers swell in the overheated courtroom. Draco shifts his neck against his collar, silent. Much herculean effort has to be made to ensure his legs are still, lest he rushes to his mother’s side and. Well. He doesn’t know if moving without permission also results in the same punishment. It’ll be improper to collapse in defeat before he’s supposed to: after the Dementor’s had its way with him.

He stands there, unable to do all but look at the particularly orange tile four paces from his position.

“Before Draco Malfoy is given the Dementor’s Kiss as punishment for his crimes, relatives and loved ones are now allowed to say their last words to him,” the Wizengamot judge whose name Draco has let slipped out of his mind in a daze says with a bored drawl.

“If Mrs. Malfoy had just waited for this announcement, she wouldn’t be in her… predicament,” he says, his ‘but what can I do?’ attitude spurring the courtroom to snickers. Draco asks himself, for a brief, horrid moment, if Fiendfyre can be called forth without a wand.

After the laughter has died down, the judge says, “Is there a relative or loved one here who has something to tell Draco Malfoy before we proceed?”

The only one in the vicinity is his mother, whose sobs are choked off by heavy chains. His father has fled. Probably died, too, bless him.

The judge doesn’t even let Draco finish taking a breath and continues, “Alright. Draco Malfoy, you—”

“Wait.”

All noises cease, leaving behind the squeaking of trainers against tiles. Draco doesn’t look up even as the sounds get closer to where he stands.

“Mr, Mr. Potter,” the judge stammers, “you are not Mr. Malfoy’s relative nor loved one.”

“We have history. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Ratty trainers come into Draco’s field of vision. It’s already too late.

“I—yes, that should be enough, Mr. Potter.”

“Thought so.”

Potter’s presence covers up the especially orange tile, and now Draco can look nowhere else but at the many pockets of the man's olive green jacket. Lifting his head remains a horrible idea.

Nothing seems to move, then, even dust particles seem to pause mid-air. From what Draco can deduce, Potter is content to just stare at him for a bit.

“Thanks for helping me out that time,” Potter finally says. Draco doesn’t know what he wants him to say. That night was fucking hell on earth, he could barely remember it with how hard he blocks it out of his head. So what if he didn’t turn Potter in? What does it matter?

Draco stays silent, even as Potter rustles in his innumerable pockets and grumbles when he can’t seem to find what he’s searching for. Before Draco knows it, Potter hums in pleasant surprise.

“I want to give you something,” he says, holding the mystery object out in a closed fist. Draco frowns, tempted to let his face shift into something long-past and glare at the man in front of him. “Come, now, don’t be stubborn.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco reaches for the object, wrists aching from the iron bands, pulsating with heat. To his confusion, Potter covers Draco's hand with both of his. The man is a furnace, his palms possibly even warmer than the iron bands, the sensation sending volatile, feverish streaks of lightning up Draco’s arms. Potter then tucks an item into Draco’s hand, keeping his hands close by as Draco peers at what he is gifted. His eyes widen.

A paper crane.

Potter's left forearm shifts a bit, jostling the jacket sleeve and capturing Draco’s eyes. This can’t be right. Draco glances at Potter’s right arm and the visibly holstered wand that he always carries with him. Back to his left arm, where the head of another wand is but a hint in the shadow. Draco would’ve thought so as well, would’ve thought Potter is being cautious, if not for the instant familiarity striking him like an elbow to the throat.

His head whips up so quickly his neck strains within the collar. Knowing emerald eyes meet his gaze. “Potter, no.”

An eyebrow cocks up. “Did you not say you want to run away?” Potter whispers back. His fingers trail to the edge of Draco’s armbands like they’re trying to sneak under and touch bare skin.

Draco gasps. Nothing makes sense anymore, absolutely nothing at all.

But from the way the court is growing evidently agitated, from the way Potter doesn’t let them bother him one bit, from the way he waits, endlessly patient.

Potter might be the only one able to make sense of anything at all.

Draco leans a hair closer, so his voice is clear to no one but the two of them.

“My mother,” he says, watching Potter’s irises get swallowed up by pure black. “Remember what she did for you, Potter, please. She can’t stay here…”

Potter nods, promising a later date, that they will both get her. And Merlin help him, Draco trusts every word.

A chair tumbles onto the ground. Shouts explode into existence, footsteps thumping. Draco grips Potter’s left forearm as Potter’s wand effortlessly slides out of its holster into a waiting hand. The fizzling heat of hastily casted hexes slices through the air. With his mother’s shout of relief in his ears, Draco succumbs to the squeezing suffocation of Apparition.

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Text

fluffvember day 1 — doodling/sketching

todoroki shouto

“stay still. oh, and don’t forget to breathe.”

legend : [Y/N = your name] reader uses they/them pronouns, gender neutral. reader has a water quirk for convenience

word count :

notes : okay, so here’s my logic— i plan on doing three days, and back in november 5, i planned on doing 15 days— but then i said nvm because i got too stressed out so,, yeah. three days, so sorry :((

YOU’RE PRACTICALLY multitalented at this point, at least to todoroki shouto. you’re humble, and he finds it amazing due to the fact that you remain humble— you don’t shove it in people’s faces, and sometimes he wonders if you even know how talented you are.

besides being in the hero course in UA, and being his classmate— he knows how much you like art. if you’re waiting for aizawa-sensei, he finds his mismatched eyes watching you scribble doodles onto your sketchbook.

on saturday afternoons in your room, he watches you fill your cup with water— water droplets dispersing from the tips of your hands, as you prepare your watercolor.

watching the pigment disperse onto the sheet of paper, your brush gliding gently against the thick sheet of paper— the sounds of the brush were almost therapeutic. he almost understood why you spent most of your free time watching bob ross (if you weren’t training, spending time with him, or eating)

he’s on the opposite side of your bed, and you look ethereal— basking into the sunlight of the fine weekend, he watches in silence as you erase any stray pencil strokes, and draw on more precise lines onto the lineart.

“what’s on your mind?” you ask, but you don’t look up— you’re too focused onto your art piece, and he couldn’t blame you. he wonders how someone’s mind could create such a piece of work.

but then again, it’s you. you’re unpredictable, in the best way possible.

he knows that artists don’t really like being asked to draw people, even someone as dense as todoroki shouto would get that. but he wants to take that shot in the dark, he’s been thinking about this for a long time— so why not get it out?

“do you think.. you can draw me?”

a smile erupts onto your face, and you flip a page— practically abandoning your piece as soon as he asked. “i never thought you’d ask, shouto.”

he smiles. well— that worked for sure, but now what? what does someone do when they’re being drawn? “just sit comfortably, shou.” you say, as you draw a circle

shouto sits stiffly against your bed, his hands are on his lap— and he’s holding his breath, trying hard not to move as you sketch out his features.

“stay still. oh, and you can breathe,” you chuckle, and he exhales. frankly enough— you’ve wanted to draw shouto for the longest time. his face was just an entire pinterest moodboard, and it felt like you’ve drawn him a thousand times already.

yet— you don’t actually have a real artwork of him. not a completed one anyway.

“shouto, try to relax yourself.” you put down your sketchpad for a moment, and your hand dances along his shoulders. it feels like you have a rock for a boyfriend, truth to be told.

he sighs, and he melts into your touch— it never failed to calm his tense muscles down. you move back to your sketchbook, and his position is much more relaxed, toned down to your liking.

a cerulean and steel colored eye stares at you, observing how focused you look right now. he wouldn’t mind seeing this for the remainder of his life, that is— if you allowed him.

you’re adding extra shadings, and his heart is skipping beats. he doesn’t know why he’s so excited to view your art, not like he hasn’t flipped through your art portfolio before (with and without your knowledge, but shh). but it always amazed him.

“you can look now,” you say, while you’re signing the corner of your page with your signature. it’s a simple sketch of him— just a pencil drawing so far. yet, he can actually see the texture you’ve placed in everything.

down to the pencil strokes that you’ve created for hair, clothes— even his scar. it’s perfect, and even if you claim that it’s not exactly what you call ‘best’

he loves it, so much.

you’re talking about how you want to ink it as soon as possible, but he’s already pulling you onto his lap— burying his face into your chest.

“i like it a lot.” he says, but it’s slightly muffled. he’s tracing patterns onto your back, and you chuckle

“i didn’t know you liked art that much.” he hums, while you’re putting away your sketchbook so any result of cuddling wouldn’t crease the pages.

“maybe i could join your art sessions next time.” he connects a warm kiss onto your lips, and your place your hands onto his shoulders

“sure thing, shouto. though— be prepared for potential mess.”

“i wouldn’t mind getting messy, especially if it’s with you.”

you choke slightly, “do you know the weight of your words, shouto?” you’re unsure if he meant it in a innocent way, or he had suggestive intent in his words.

he looks up— chin pressing against your chest, while he shines a knowing smile to you. “absolutely, love.”

—

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you so much for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha. boku no hero academia/my hero academia and it’s characters belong to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing

do not steal my work

#fluffvember #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki imagines #todoroki x reader #bnha fluff #slightly suggestive at the end #shouto x reader #bnha fanfic

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