#you can paint. pointe shoes. people do this so often

[gwensy]

i cant do this today

[mischiefandlies]

The cold feels like home

Loki x Reader

Masterlist

Notes: Just felt cute, it's all floofy and comfort. I'm holding out hope that we might actually get some snow where I live this year.

Warnings: Nilt.

Come here. Now.

Loki never texted you like that. Was he mad at you? What had happened? You'd left him downstairs loading the dishes when you went to bed. Why hadn’t he just called up the stairs? Was he hurt?

Your phone pinged again.

QUICKLY

You jumped out of bed, bolting down the stairs two at a time. Running straight down the hallway and into the kitchen, you burst in the door, only to find…

He wasn’t there.

Fuck.

Where was he?

You did a lap of the house in record time. Not in the living room, not in the dining room, not hallway, not bedroom, bathroom, spare bedroom, where the fuck was he? It was by pure chance that you saw the outside light flare up. It was motion censored, so the foxes would set it off at random points. But it just so happened to illuminate the figure at the end of your garden, gazing up into the winter sky. Loki.

You went back down the stairs and wandered down the garden. It was a freezing night, so much so that snow had just started to slowly drift down from the sky. And there, in the middle of your lawn, dressed in only a pair of cotton pajama trousers, was your husband. The snow settled on his cold skin, turning him blue piece by piece. His eyes were closed, and you could see the little snowflakes had settled on his lashes. His skin had begun to change, it had more ridges and patterns adorning it, like some kind of beautiful tapestry. There was snow in his hair too, more noticeable because of the contrast between it and his dark locks. He looked so tranquil, so completely at peace, it was unlike you’d ever seen him before.

You reached out to take his hand. He was colder than usual- he was always cold, but when he was in his asgardian form it was far less noticeable. You were able to trace the markings on his hand with your thumb, look at how detailed they were. It wasn’t often he let you see him like this so when you do, you always try and make it count.

“I wonder if this is what it’s like on Jotunheim.” he says, breaking the silence. His eyes are still closed, his face still pointed skyward.

“Have you ever been?” you ask.

“Never”

“Wouldn’t you like to go?” you say, wondering what it would be like to not know where you came from.

“And to what avail?” he replies. “There’s nothing there, as far as anyone could tell. When Asgard too their power supply, they had nothing to keep their society running. All it’s been since is savagery. It was barely civilised before; I dread to think what it’s come to now.”

You stand there in silence a little longer. “What if it’s not like that?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he says “They’re all savages. They aren’t-”

“How do you know that Loki? How can you say that about your people?”

“They’re not my people.” he spat.

“Perhaps not. But you are one of them. You are their rightful king. Maybe they are savage, I certainly don’t know. But haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like? To look like how you are now and to just.... be?”

He doesn’t respond. You stand by him, watching the world slowly get painted white. Snow really did make everything look beautiful.

“Would you go?” he asks. “If you were in my shoes?”

“Yes. If nothing is gained, at least you know where you came from. And if you did go,” you add, “I hope you go and realise you don’t have to hide this part of you. I hope you realise how beautiful you look in your own skin.”

“Do I really look beautiful to you like this?” he says, looking down at you with those beautiful ruby eyes.

“Yes.”

“But I'm a monster.”

“Loki,” you chide “you are not a monster. You couldn’t be. You keep out everyone because you’re scared they’ll realise the same as I do- that you’re actually not the cold-hearted villain. Easier to play the bad guy that make the tough decisions trying to be the good guy.”

“You really believe that?”

You ponder it. “I have to. I love you. I married you. I want to be with you forever. How could I possibly tie myself to you if I thought you were evil?”

He smiles. “Ok. Maybe I'm not a monster.”

“You’re either my husband or a monster. You have to pick one.”

“Oh, monster obviously.” he teases. You just slap him playfully.

“C’mon slimer, lets go to bed.”

“Slimer’s a ghost, not a monster.”

You huff. “Well, your both perpetually covered in green.”

“I’m actually blue right now.”

“Smartarse.”

He chuckles. “If this petty arguing is all I get for being a monster, I should’ve picked husband.”

“Too late now.”

He spins you around and gives you puppy eyes. “Pretty please? I promise I'll be a good husband.”

you smile back at him. “You’re already the best,” you say, pressing your lips to his.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐏𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐲 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre!outbreak joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn

word count: 3.1k

summary: Months after the move you're trying to paint again. But you lack the motivation to do so. Thankfully, Sarah comes over and keeps you company until Tommy and Joel come over to pick her up.

warnings: brief themes of grief, tommy radiating younger sibling energy and being a menace, fluff

a/n: thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed the prologue and a special thank you to @pedrito-friskito who edited the chapter, love you! 💜💜💜

prologue || chapter two

The dust lingers in the air, a constant reminder of what once was. You see flecks of it dancing in the beams of light that pour through the window, illuminating the room with a hazy glow. The smell of dust permeates every corner, fills your lungs. There are still boxes stacked in your room. Some of them waiting to be unpacked and some of them waiting to be filled. 

Looking through your grandfather’s old knick-knacks had been a harder task than you thought. You found pictures, lots of them. From his past, from his now. You even found a picture of yourself from when you were a kid; laughing in the sun with mud all over your face. You had promised him the perfect garden. At the end of the day, it was far from it but he still said that it was. 

Your fingers clench around the brush you’re holding. An hour ago you decided to use the grief to make something of it. You had a heaping amount of black and red paint poured onto the pallete, untouched. 

You shake your head, agitated. You really shouldn’t be wasting paint. It’s not like you can afford to continuously buy supplies. 

You’re staring deeply into the blank canvas when a loud knock jars you back to reality. You can feel a burn in your eyes, taunting you for the wasted hour spent sitting idly without so much as a brushstroke to show for it.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble under your breath while heading to the door. Your eyes linger on the window, it’s a clear day out, which now you decide to point all your anger at. If it was raining, it would be different. You would have the proper ambiance to be inspired. 

Without looking, you open the door, your eyes immediately dropping to the girl standing on your porch. “Sarah?” 

“Sorry for barging in,” she says with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my keys and dad isn’t home yet. Can I come inside?” 

Dad. Joel. 

You blink before smiling. You take a step to the side as a wordless invite. She steps inside with grace, her shoes blinking pink and purple. It’s hard to stifle a giggle, which earns you a quizzical look from her. 

You point to her feet, “Nice kicks,” 

“Oh,” her eyes lit up, leaving her heel glued to the hardwood floors, she lifted her foot. “Aren’t they cool? Azra offered we trade shoes for the day.” 

"Veeery nice," you nod, but as Sarah turns to head further inside, you clear your throat. "Shoes off," you remind her.

“Right, sorry.” 

You make your way to the kitchen, Sarah follows closely behind, taking off her blinking shoes as she goes. You stretch up on your toes and open the cupboard, searching for Sarah's preferred brand of tea. 

Since you moved in and formed close bonds with the Miller family, both Tommy and Sarah have been regular visitors to your home. You enjoy their company. It was nice to talk to people instead of obsessing over your muses that had clearly abandoned you.

You pull out the box of apple cinnamon tea and place it on the counter. Joel never stops by. You only see him whenever he comes over to pick up Sarah and that’s pretty much it. Sometimes you send cookies via Sarah and the next day she would tell you he enjoyed them. You aren’t quite sure if Joel is just reserved or if he just didn’t like you that much, but no matter what it is, the rest of the family seems to enjoy your presence. Which is all a neighbor could ask for. 

The staccato drumming of Sarah’s fingers against the wooden table pulls you back. You turn on the kettle, a soft steam filling the kitchen. 

“Your uncle Tommy is going to stop by too,” you say, leaning back and crossing your arms. “I’m assuming you’re dad is with him?” 

“Yeah, but it’s pizza day today so my dad will probably force them to stop by the supermarket to grab some stuff,” she lets her head fall onto her hands and adds. “If he doesn’t forget, that is. You should join us,” 

The water comes to a boil, forcing you to turn away from her. You place two tea bags into comically large mugs (the ones that make both Tommy and Sarah giggle, which brightens up your day) and pour the steaming water into them. You place one of the mugs in front of Sarah and slide into the chair beside her, watching as she wraps her nimble fingers around the purple mug. 

“I’m a busy woman,” you tease. “I need to work and stuff,” 

“Coffee shop?” 

“I’m off for the day,” 

A mischievous glint glimmered in her eyes, her smile widening into a cheeky grin. “Date?” 

You snort into your tea, waving your hand dismissively. Sarah raises an eyebrow at that. The girl has quite a sharp intuition. If you were being completely honest, it made you nervous some days.

“Nah, I just need to work on my paintings. I haven’t managed to paint a single stroke. It’s frustrating,” you stop and take a sip, the fruity flavor makes your taste buds come alive. “Very annoying,” 

“Maybe just paint something else or sketch something you like,” she states nonchalantly. “Take a break from the main thing, do a side quest,” 

“Sometimes I do that, but I really need to get a grip. I’m gonna end up working at the coffee house forever, or I’m just going to have to risk starvation,” 

“Don’t worry. We’ll take you in, feed you,” 

Teenagers. You shake your head with an amused smile, “What am I? A dog?” 

“A friend.” 

You still at that, fingers curling around the hot mug, it burns to the touch. Sarah starts to look around your house as if what she just said just now wasn’t ridiculously sweet. 

She hops off the chair and starts to wander with her mug nestled between her palms. Taking a sip, you smile into the porcelain rim, your heart beating fast. 

When you first moved here, you were scared to be alone. That you wouldn’t be able to make any friends. After your grandfather died and left you the house, you had half a mind to not make the move. It was nerve-wracking at the time. But ironically enough it was your grief that spurred you to take the leap forward. 

Sarah slows down, reaching the bookshelf. The one you have in the living room isn’t really that impressive, mostly put there for decor. She pushes a succulent out of the way and allows her fingers to trace the smooth spines. “You have a lot of children’s books,” 

“What can I say, I’m a kid at heart,” you observe the bookshelf next to her. She isn’t wrong. A lot of Roald Dahl books, which are followed by a series of Nicholas and the Gang books. “If you want to see my more serious stuff, we can check the one upstairs.” 

“I’m good,” Hooking her fingers around Matilda, she pulls the paperback out of its home. She flips it over and scans the back. “Can I borrow this one?” 

“Sure, be my guest. That’s one of my favorites,” 

“Living in a house full of dumb-dumbs sounds like my life story,” 

“Oh, believe me, your dad is much smarter than he looks,” the sigh you let out attracts her attention, eyes flitting back to you. “And so is your uncle. Also, Matilda’s parents are kind of assholes,” 

“Woah, spoilers.” 

Another knock at the door. Compared to Sarah’s slow, more careful ones. These knocks sound eccentric, hitting the wood as if the person behind it is out to break it. 

“Uncle Tommy,” Sarah guesses, rolling her eyes but smiling. “My dad’s probably with him,” 

She’s spot on with her guess. Sarah peers from your side, looking over both her uncle and dad. Tommy shoots you a wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Joel stands tall right behind him, his arms crossed, he greets you with a small smile and a signature head tilt. 

“Hello boys,” you say, returning the nod and smile. “Do you guys wanna come in?” 

Joel lifts a bag of groceries, “Pizza day,” 

Sarah’s ears perk up at that, her eyes wide with disbelief, “You didn’t forget!” then she narrows her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out. “Who are you and what did you with to my dad?” 

“I had to remind him,” Tommy chuckles, nudging his shoulder into Joel’s. He holds your gaze. “But I’m here for you, beautiful,” 

“My hero.” 

Joel scoffs with a half grin and gestures his head towards Sarah, “Get your things. Let’s get going.” 

All Sarah has to do is lean to the side and grab her backpack from behind the door. Joel waits for her below the short set of stairs, one hand in his pocket, eyes flicking between you and Tommy. He seems impatient, almost. 

Tommy brushes past you while Sarah takes her first step over the threshold. At that very moment you feel suspended in time, your eyes finding Joel’s for a brief moment until Sarah comes into view. He slaps a hand over her shoulder and smiles at you. Sarah is still holding the book as she waves you both off. 

When you close the door, Tommy is already in the kitchen, rummaging through your fridge. “You have nothin’ to eat,” 

“I thought we could order out,” you offer, your gaze falling to the blank canvas. Tommy moves his entire upper body out of the fridge and slams it shut. 

“You have anything in mind?” 

You don’t have to think long for an answer. 

“You know what? I think I’m craving pizza.” 

The thing about Tommy Miller is that he’s a good listener, paired with quite the mouth. 

He can talk for hours. You always comment on how that was his superpower; there RE no awkward silences when Tommy İs near. He’s also ridiculously intuitive, which makes you think Sarah got it from him. 

You two are sitting on the couch with crossed legs and facing each other. Your knees press together as he tells you about his day, munching on the last slice. He’s telling you how the concrete deliveries got delayed, which meant that the rest of their schedule got fucked. His words, not yours. Joel was furious, apparently. You never would’ve guessed. He just looks tired all the time.

“By the way,” he says, swallowing and reaching for the glass of bubbling coke. “If you were cravin’ pizza so much, we could’ve gone over to Joel’s. Eat some of that good homemade shit,” 

Picking up the empty pizza box, you place it on the coffee table and push it with the tips of your fingers. You don’t know how to answer him. Your brows furrow, and when he sees it, worry crosses his face. 

A bitter chuckle drops abruptly from your lips, “I don’t think Joel likes me very much,” 

“What?” Tommy sounds positively horrified. If anyone heard, they would’ve thought you said something along the lines of your mother dying. “Nonsense. He adores you. Why would you even think that?” 

Your eyes drop to the cushions you sit on. You feel the brush of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze. His eyes are a soft brown, a shade lighter than Joel’s. 

“Hey, you can talk to me. Did he do something to make you feel like that?” 

“N-No,” you slowly shake your head, your pulse throbs under your skin. “I just…I don’t know. It seems like he’s wary of me, like I did something wrong once and he’s expecting it to happen again,” 

He sighs, his palm now fully cradling your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his touch. “That’s just Joel for you. He’s got a fair share of weight on them shoulders—I’m also probably not a big help to him. Always getting into trouble,” 

“I know for a fact that Sarah and Joel love you very much,” you have the need to remind him, and his eyes light up at your words. The skin under his hand burns. “Besides young siblings are always trouble, I would know since I’m the younger one as well. It’s character.” 

He blows a raspberry into the air. His hand falls from your cheek and takes refuge over his lap. “Some character,” he utters under his breath, shooting you a playful gaze. “You want me to talk to him?” 

“Please no,” you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder as you get up. “That would be super embarrassing,” 

“Sometimes you need to tell that stubborn dog to behave,” his voice reaches you in waves, his socked feet following you to the kitchen. You dispose of the boxes, start to prepare him, and you some late-night tea. 

“He is behaving,” you reply, feeling his presence behind you. “I just get into my own head sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” 

Your hands are still above the kitchen counter when you feel his warm breath fanning the back of your neck. You watch his fingers curl around the edge, his chin not quite pressing but lingering a couple of centimeters above your shoulder. 

“Anyone who doesn’t like you is a grade-A idiot, just sayin’” his voice is a low echo in your ear. He’s not physically touching you, but it feels as if his entire being is consuming you by just being so close. The click of the kettle parts the silence. “The water’s done.” 

You’re surprised when you turn and find that there’s actually quite a bit of space between you still. You could’ve sworn that his body was only a breath away. 

Tommy steps closer, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. He has a lazy, yet adoring, smile on his face. Your legs start to tremble, a habit you found you did whenever you were in any kind of confrontation. 

Now, there isn’t really anything to confront, so you blame the crackling of tension between you and him. You take a breath and your chest heaves.

You hold your breath when you notice he’s starting to inch closer, gorgeous browns dropping to the flush of your lips. You don’t pull away. But you don’t lean in either. You’re like a deer in headlights, shocked by the sudden beam of brightness. 

“Is this okay?” he asks in a whisper. You swallow, your muddled mind finding it difficult to string the words that might or might not form a coherent sentence. 

Tommy has always been a close friend. A confidant. Someone you can call in the middle of the night with noquestions asked. You know for a fact that he can be a flirt. And this quality of his cheered you up from time to time—like when he calls you beautiful or praises you in any shape or form. But you’re quite not sure you want to breach the limitations of a platonic relationship. 

Suddenly you feel his lips on your cheek, pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he releases you from the cage and grins at you. 

“Gotcha.” 

“Excuse me?” Your mouth feels like sandpaper and your throat dry. You swallow and watch him sit on a stool across from you. His fingers grip the peaking part of the stool head between his legs, he looks like a toddler. 

“I’m just doing my thing, being a troublemaker. Just like you said,” he hunches forward, eyes looking up to you between dark lashes. “It’s character, right?” 

“Oh fuck off, Tommy Miller,” 

“You know I’m not above accepting that offer, right? It’s been a while.” 

You roll your eyes and turn on the kettle again, the steaming water now probably tepid. 

“What would you do if I actually kissed you?” 

The question lingers in the air and uncomfortably presses into your skin, you lack the air to take a breath. You don’t dare to look at him. Gaze stubbornly watching the button of the kettle to pop, signaling you that the water is boiling. 

“I don’t know Tommy,” you answer honestly and press a palm against the heating surface of the kettle. “I don’t know.” 

You hate taking out the thrash. 

You don’t know why. When you were a kid, it was your dad who took it out and that would always be accompanied by a series of complaints. His habit of talking to himself and to the inanimate objects around him had passed on to you. The night air chills your skin, a shiver shuddering up your spine while you struggle to keep the trash bag in the air with one hand. Your nails begin to tear the plastic and you start to walk faster. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, arm cramping. “Come on, just a little further,” 

When you reach the container, you lift the bag with a heave and do a small little hip wiggle at the small victory. 

Turning around you see Joel watching you with a wide smile. 

You’re stunned into silence, arms and legs tingling at the thought of how stupid you must’ve looked. He’s holding a trashbag of his own. Red flannel accentuating his narrowing hips perfectly. He cocks his head to the side when you continue to stare. 

“Are you always this excited after throwin’ out the thrash?” he asks, humored by your reaction. 

While you think of an answer, he takes wide steps and throws out his own trash. Joel then turns to you, the only thing separating your bodies being the white picket fence. 

“Let’s just say that I was happy it didn’t rip while making the trip,” 

He nods while pressing his hands into his thighs, “A worthy thing to celebrate.” 

You shift from one leg to another. The conversation you had with Tommy the night before echoes in your head worry clouding your chest with the question ‘did Tommy say anything?’.  But you assume not when Joel takes a step back, palms sliding down his jeans like a nervous tick. 

“Well then,” he clears his throat. “See you later neighbor,” 

You lift your hand to wave, an early smile starts to curl over your lips. However, your half-uttered goodbye is cut short by the absurdly loud growl of your stomach. 

Ah fuck. 

Joel stills. Your cheeks and the tips of your ears burn. His eyes drop to your arms that are now wrapped tight around your stomach, then he lifts his gaze back up to meet yours. 

“You wanna join us for dinner?” he asks, he pronounces every word slowly, reminding you of the way you whisper to animals that you don’t want to scare away. “Sarah’s makin’ her special burgers,” 

“Special?” you ask back, ignoring the fact that you’ve become a charity case in a blink of an eye. “What makes them special?” 

Hand sliding into his pockets, Joel gestures with his head for you to come over. 

“Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?” 

[shoccolatine]

purple.

⚘pairing: rafayel x gn!reader ⚘summary: for the first time, rafayel asks for your help with his latest painting. ⚘tags: sfw, oneshot, 2nd person POV, gender-neutral reader, fluff, mutual understanding, a lot of metaphors, blushy rafayel bc boy can BLUSH ⚘word count: 943 ⚘a/n: hi!! i started playing l&ds two weeks ago and i am HOOKED. rafayel is my favourite, and so i was inspired to try writing his voice! this is my first l&ds writing so thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy~!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As usual, the door to Rafayel's home studio is unlocked. You push it open and slip inside, removing your shoes. The heat of your bare feet sticks against the surprisingly cool hardwood floor as you move into the room.

Rafayel is actually where you expect him to be for once, headfirst in a painting you haven't seen before. You sigh and get ready to settle in for a while, knowing how absorbed he gets when inspiration hits. He probably didn't even hear you come in. So it catches you off guard when he actually speaks first.

"Hey. Come over here," he says as he slides a thick, wet stroke of paint onto the canvas, never looking away.

You oblige without fuss, mainly because his tone is so airy and earnest that you feel being mischievous right now would go over his head. You stop next to him.

"What do you think?" He asks, still gazing at his work.

You puff air out your nose. "You're asking for my thoughts? That's a new one."

He finally looks at you then, his expression just as light and floaty as his voice had been. It's not a side of Rafayel that you're used to, but it's one you find most interesting—the one where he's so deep in artistic expression that he himself has become one with his canvas. An abstract impression of its own creator. A secluded forest monk reaching a state of nirvana like sunlight's warmth on his face.

You don't see it often, since he paints in solitude and you get him out of the house more than he bargained for, but it's the rare intrigue of it that makes this Rafayel all the more special.

"Just tell me," he says simply.

You finally take a good look at the artwork perched on the easel.

It's gorgeous and colourful, his trademark thick strokes, playful yet meticulous and reminiscent of sea foam, present a scene that is at once novel and familiar. It's significantly warmer than most of his other paintings, liberally using more reds and purples alongside his usual blues, as if plucked directly from a sunset.

Knowing Rafayel, if he could do just that, he would.

And yet, as lovely as it is, you can't help but feel like something's... off. The canvas is nicely underpainted, but the centre is dreadfully blank. The painting has no focal point.

"It's missing something," you point out. He hums a thoughtful "mhm" in reply, as if those were the exact words he was waiting to hear.

Suddenly, he turns the paintbrush on you. You realize, a bit delayed, that he's holding it out as an offering.

"I want you to add something to it."

"Huh? Me?" He doesn't respond right away, so you continue. "What would you want me to do?"

Rafayel shakes his head, but there's a gentle smile on his lips. "If I told you what to do, then I might as well just do it myself."

His smile remains as silence grows between the two of you, a silent invitation beckoning a leap of faith. You break his gaze to turn back to the canvas, the gaping void in the centre like an eye of the storm, pulling you in and yet blowing you in every direction. What could you possibly add to this piece that Rafayel couldn't?

"I thought you hated people messing with your work. This is a trick, isn't it?"

He shakes his head again, his soft messy purple curls tickling his lashes. "Kinda a lame trick. And annoying. I put a lot of hard work into this already, only for it to go to waste like that..." he says, and the pouty Rafayel you're more accustomed to is back. "Besides, you're not 'people'. You're you."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means you know what this painting needs. You'll treat it well. You know my vision for it more than anyone else because, well... my vision is you." His voice trails down to a whisper.

You look at the painting once more, with new eyes. This painting... is you?

"Rafayel..." you say, unable to say much else.

He takes your hesitation gently, holding it like a hand and guiding it along, taking the reins and allowing you to find your footing again. "It looks different from my other pieces, right? I'm sure you noticed. That's because you make me different. Not like I've changed for you or anything, but more like... I've changed because of you. You know?"

"Um...? Not really," you reply sincerely.

He taps his chin thoughtfully. "You're red where I'm blue. And together, we make purple." He breathes out a laugh. "It sounds so simple when I put it like that. It's not that simple at all. Nothing about you is simple. You're annoying and loud and strong and everything I'm not, and yet somehow we blend together so well that I don't know how I was able to be content with being blue for so long. I want to be blue, and red, and purple. But only your shade of red will do."

He pauses, his ears a dark shade of the exact colour he speaks of. His eyes are pleading, as if saying 'understand me as I understand you', and before he can open his mouth to spout more abstract nonsense, you dip the brush in red—a perfect match to the hue blooming in his face. You are in this colour as much as he is.

"I think I know what to do now," you say, and your red splatters over his blue, mingling purple like summer plums, sweet and sour and bursting.

[the-curator1]

In the Darkness of your dreams

Demon!Copia x Fem!Reader

Author Note: This story was inspired by the fantastic fic Call Me, Little Sunshine by @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe. If you haven't read it, go do it now! It's a gem. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out to me.

This one is quite sweet? But I'll promise I'll be more spooky next time.

Summary: It is not easy being a demon. It gets lonely sometimes in a cold empty house. While it can be funny and thrilling to be all threatening and scary, sometimes all he would need is a companion. (≈6500 words)

Tags and TW: Copia POV, reader POV, kind of love at first sight (because I'm a hopeless romantic), home invasion, men being absolute creeps, but Copia is kind of your guardian angel demon, a hint of angst, spooky vibes, a very vivid dream, smut (my first smutty fic)

The old house groaned with the weight of its own history. Copia knew all of its secrets all too well, for he had been bound to this forsaken place for many years now. It was not easy being a demon. Actually, most of the time, it was very lonely. The initial thrill of scaring the inhabitants of the house had long given way to a profound loneliness that gnawed at him like a relentless hunger.

At first, he took delight in watching people flee in terror, their screams of sheer horror echoing in the cold, dimly lit hallways. He revelled in the satisfaction of driving them away. If anyone displeased him, as was often the case, he would relentlessly ensure they never returned.  He would slam doors with thunderous force, create eerie and unsettling noises, whisper chilling words into their ears, break their belongings, make their dog bark and occasionally if pushed to the brink of anger, he would even resort to biting or scratching the intruders. However, he would really show himself on very rare occasions.

But now, it had been an eternity since anyone had dared to settle within the walls of the house. The last intruders had been no more than fleeting shadows, and even their presence had ceased to amuse him. As Copia lingered in the darkness, he pondered the cruel irony of his existence, bound to a house he had come to hate, condemned to an eternity of solitude and yearning for something he could not quite define.

But one day, a man crossed the threshold of the old house. He was neither young nor old, with a presence that sent shivers down Copia's spine. The demon felt something unsettling about this visitor. Even a demon such as him could feel something was off. Instead of unleashing his usual frightful antics, Copia watched, his cold eyes fixed on this new intruder. For a moment, the man inspected the damaged house. It was only after a while that Copia realized the man was surely the new owner: he saw the “For sale” sign in front of the house being removed a few days ago.

His suspicions were confirmed when a group of men in work overalls invaded his place in the following days. They laboured tirelessly, painting the walls, mending the creaking stairs, and reviving the old house. Copia knew what this was about– someone was going to settle in the house. Copia hoped it was not the man that he saw for he did not like him… not at all.

As the once-desolate rooms transformed with each brushstroke and hammer strike, Copia's world shifted with them. The air was filled with the scent of fresh paint, the echoes of hammers and saws, and the laughter of the workers. Copia was not pleased with their unbearable hurly-burly however he decided not to disturb their work. These men were doing nothing but their job, and Copia liked to think of himself as a considerate demon. Moreover, he could not help but wonder what surprise destiny had in store for him… 

And this surprise was you. 

One fateful morning, Copia laid his eyes upon you. There you stood on the threshold of the freshly painted wooden front door, holding a suitcase in your delicate hand Copia felt his heart beating out of his chest… if he had one. You were a vision of radiance, stunning and alluring. Your lustrous hair, your gleaming eyes, the elegant contour of your nose, the outline of your lips, and the captivating curves of your body. Copia was well aware that you could not see him unless he allowed it.

He summoned the courage to approach you, drawn in by your magnetic presence, when... He saw him. The man from last time. This bald fucker. He appeared behind you, his eyes cold and unrelenting. a surge of cold anger seized Copia’s chest. A low growl rumbled in his spectral form.

You took a step forward when you felt him behind you, unease clearly etched on your face as the man inched closer. He casually placed a hand on your waist.

“How do you like the entrance hall, Miss?” he asked, his voice oozing with a sly and unsettling grin.

Copia's anger grew as he observed the scene unfold.

“I love it,” you said, your voice was like a melody to Copia’s ear.

His anger quickly subsided, he was focused on you again. At least you were not receptive to the man’s obvious advances. He started to show you around the house. Copia quietly followed you, his eyes never leaving you. 

As the bald man concluded the tour of the house and engaged in conversation with you, Copia couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, an unsettling gaze that made Copia's blood boil.

However, Copia's mood shifted when he witnessed the man presenting you with a set of keys, a wide smile gracing his face. At this moment, the lonely demon knew it was the start of something known… Maybe something good? 

The movers had left. A peaceful silence enveloped the house, only disturbed by the gentle hum of your voice. You were meticulously arranging your numerous books on a shelf. Copia was hidden in the shadows, watching you closely from the dark corner you had chosen as your bedroom.

You were nothing short of enchanting in his eyes, the most beautiful thing he had seen in his long, lonely existence. He longed to draw closer, to be near you, to feel your earthly warmth. His spectral form shifted in your direction, inching closer, driven by a desire he had never felt before.

But clumsy as he was, in his attempt to approach, Copia inadvertently knocked over an old chandelier you had placed on a nearby table. The sudden crash startled you, and you swiftly turned around, eyes wide with alarm. Copia's heart, if he had one, pounded in his chest. He did not want to scare you! He already knew he would not try to drive you away, not ever. You were his chance not to be lonely anymore.

You carefully approached and picked up the chandelier, a slight frown grazing your beautiful face. Copia watched in silence, concealed in the shadows. For a moment, you looked around, your eyes scanning the room as if trying to make sense of the unexpected disturbance. After a brief pause, you placed the chandelier back on the table, ensuring it wouldn't teeter too close to the edge. Copia could finally breathe again: you probably thought the chandelier had fallen by itself…  Then you left the room, and the demon followed you like a love-sick puppy.

On that evening, Copia continued to observe you as you prepared for bed. His spectral gaze followed your every movement, his fascination growing with every passing moment. Your grace and beauty held him captivated, as you went about your routine, unaware of his watchful gaze. His longing, however, remained a silent ache within him, a desire to be closer, to understand you better. Copia yearned for a connection beyond the bounds of his spectral form.

Not now… I don’t want to scare her. 

For now, he observed your every move, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you undressed. You were gorgeous. Even Mother Lilith would be jealous of your beauty. He felt a growing ache in his chest, an ache that could only be soothed by the touch of your skin…

He wanted to touch you.

When you slipped beneath the covers and turned off the bedside lamp, you were asleep within moments. The weariness from the day's work had claimed you, leaving you vulnerable in the quiet, moonlit room. Copia emerged from the darkest corners of the dimly lit chamber, his form silent as he ventured closer.

He longued to touch you. 

His clawed hands barely grazed your bare arm. The warmth of your body and the softness of your skin sent shivers down his spectral form, a sensation he had not experienced in an eternity. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of your slumber. He knew he could wake you up and scare you to death. But he could not help himself.  And he was a demon after all, why couldn’t he indulge in a bit of wickedness?  Moreover, his intentions were not really malevolent.

So, he gave in to his desire, tracing his fingers across your face, through your hair, and down your legs, which were revealed by your short nightgown. He even placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. Copia believed his touch was to be soft enough not to wake you, and indeed, you slept peacefully until morning's first light filtered through the curtains.

As you stirred in your sleep, a sign that you would soon awaken, Copia hastily retreated into the shadows even if he knew you could not quite see him. His ghostly form disappeared from view. Copia watched you as you stretched, and then, you got up and walked to the bathroom. He was about to follow you when he heard you gasp loudly.

“What the hell!” your voice echoed through the house.

Worry gripped Copia, and he rushed to the bathroom. There, he found you standing in front of the mirror, your eyes fixed on numerous scratch marks that scarred your arms… And on the trace of black paint on your cheek.

Guilt started to gnaw at Copia's demon heart. As he watched you in your fear and confusion, he knew that he was the cause of those scratch marks. He had only wanted to caress you, to feel the warmth of your living body, not to hurt you… How could he have believed he could possess a gentle touch? What had he been thinking? In that moment, Copia was haunted by his own actions and the realization that his desire had brought fear and harm to the very person he longed to be with.

Copia watched in silence as you picked up your phone and called someone. He figured you were talking to one of your friends. He observed you frantically explaining what had happened: the chandelier falling, the scratch marks. Your voice was trembling with fear. But as your friend spoke, he noticed a change. You seemed to grow calmer. Copia strained to hear the distant voice on the other end of the line.

“You probably moved in your sleep, you did that to yourself, darl… as for the trace on your face, you said you used paint to work in your house right?”

“Yes…” you answered in a quiet voice

“See? There is nothing to worry about,” your friend's voice assured you.

Copia's invisible presence remained in the shadows as you hung up a few moments later. He felt that you were still a bit agitated but relieved.  The demon followed you as you moved about the house, preparing yourself for the day. His guilt was soon replaced by desire and longing again. He wanted to be near you again. But next time, he would need to be more careful. Maybe next time, he will try something else…

In the afternoon, a knock echoed on your door. Opening it, you were greeted by the sight of your landlord, a smug grin on his face. Copia emitted a low growl at the sight of that man once more... What could he possibly want this time?

"Hi, Miss," the man greeted, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I just wanted to check if everything is going well for you. Have you settled in comfortably?"

“Y-Yeah” you replied, a fake smile on your beautiful lips “Everything is okay thank you, sir”

Copia's presence loomed nearby, watching carefully the interaction. 

“Wonderful,” the landlord said, his voice lowering an octave

He leaned closer to you, and you took a hesitant step back. Copia keenly observed your discomfort. A fiery anger swelled in his spectral chest. How dare this man intrude on your personal space and make you feel uneasy?

Your eyes widened, and a sense of unease washed over you.

“Uh… I don’t know,” you began, your voice wavering. “I don’t think so... I still have work to do.”

The man's expression darkened briefly, and he scowled at your response. Then, his unsettling smile returned.

“Oh, that’s okay,” he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. “I'll ask you again when you have more time…”

You merely nodded as the man finally left, and Copia watched in silence as you closed the door behind him. He longed to comfort you, to alleviate the distress you felt, but what could he do from the shadows? 

However, you seemed to gather your composure, making an effort to put the encounter behind you. Moments later, you put on your coat, grabbed your car keys, and left the house. Copia was left alone with his thoughts, haunted by the image of your lovely, sweet presence. He wanted all of you.  And he wanted you all to himself. That man was definitely going to be a problem.

When you got back home with the groceries, the night had already settled in, shrouding your garden in darkness. At first, you just wanted to go out to get some groceries but you ended up spending the afternoon at the mall. You needed that. The strange noises, the scratch marks, you weird landlord… You needed some time to think and to take a step back and you began to reconsider it all. Perhaps it was all a product of your overactive imagination. After all, this was a new beginning, a fresh chapter in your life, the house was ancient, and your head was full of ghost stories. As for the landlord… creepy men were everywhere, you just had to be careful. The rent was really low and you did not want to leave your dream house for some mediocre disgusting man. 

You got out your keys to unlock the door. At that very instant, your gaze was drawn to a peculiar sight. There, on the first-floor window, was the shadowy outline of a tall figure, its eyes glowing like eerie beacons, fixed on you. But as quickly as you blinked, the apparition vanished into thin air. You felt your heart start to beat faster, but you tried to calm down anyway… You were really tired, were you not? 

Pushing the door open, you entered cautiously. Your heart was pounding with the fear that an intruder might have entered your house. 

"Hello?" you called out, your voice shaking

With your groceries set aside and the door closed and locked behind you, you retrieved your trusty pepper spray from your bag. And so, you embarked on a meticulous search of your home, meticulously inspecting every closet and even peeking beneath the bed. However, no one was there. A sense of relief washed over you. You really needed some sleep. 

After a comforting shower, you went through your familiar nighttime rituals, determined to brush off the unsettling events of the day. You did your best to disregard the creaks and groans of the aging house.

It’s a super old house, you tried to convince yourself, it makes noises, it’s nothing but normal.

Moments later, you found yourself in bed, cocooned in the safety of your covers, determined to tune out the persistent creaking of the old wooden floor in the house. With each creak and pop, you tried to convince yourself it was just the house settling, just a strange symphony of its ancient timbers. Eventually, the comforting embrace of sleep began to sweep you away, and you allowed yourself to succumb to its soothing embrace.

“If this world is wearing thin

And you're thinking of escape

I'll go anywhere with you…”

A gentle, velvety voice beckoned to you as you were standing in the entry hall. Its cadence was soft and enchanting, a siren's call in the dark. Instead of inciting fear, it drew you closer to it. As you followed the voice, your surroundings transformed. The house dissolved into a serene, velvety darkness, wrapping you in a shroud of calmness. It was like being enveloped in a plush, black coat or floating in an infinite pool of inky tranquillity. You climbed up the stairs slowly as the voice continued to sing.

“Just wrap me up in chains

But if you try to go alone

Don't think I'll understand”

You were irresistibly attracted to the voice. Now, you were walking in the corridor that led toward your room. 

“Stay with me…”

You were acutely aware that the voice was calling out to you, and it sent a flurry of a thousand butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It was so seductive, so alluring… It was impossible to resist. The voice drew you closer with every word. You got to the red-painted door of your room. You put your hand on the doorknob. 

“In the silence of your room

In the darkness of your dreams

You must only think of me…”

The voice was getting more and more seductive, more and more sultry. And you felt a growing heat between your legs. You opened the door.

“... There can be no in-between

When your pride is on the floor

I'll make you beg for more”

There he was. The man to whom this enchanting voice belonged. His eyes were a mesmerizing juxtaposition, one a gentle shade of green, akin to the soft caress of a feather, while the other was white, cold, and empty, like the sharp sting of a needle. His face was a canvas painted in black and white, with hollow sockets drawn around his eyes and a mouth contorted into the eerie visage of a skull. But how you found him attractive… you found him so very handsome. His outstretched hand beckoned you. You moved closer to him as if in a trance. He said your name before his voice started to sing again.

“Stay with me…”

Like an automaton, you walked toward him. What was this man doing in your room? Who was he? You did not know. In fact, you could not care less about the answer.

You found yourself standing before him, your hand instinctively reaching for his. Your gaze remained locked onto his enigmatic eyes. His painted lips curved into a captivating smile, and he gently raised your hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your knuckles.

"Now, you belong to me, dolcezza," he whispered, his voice a sultry blend of desire and affection, wrapping you in an irresistible enchantment.

His gaze burned with an intensity of raw desire that left you feeling as if the world were spinning around you. His white eyes were glowing like the sharpest diamond. In that moment, all you could perceive was an enveloping silence with his voice being the sole existence in your reality. 

Suddenly, the man pulled you toward him and his mouth began to ravish your neck. His gloved hands roamed your body, an almost electric touch. A gasp escaped your lips as he effortlessly lifted you and gently tossed you onto your bed. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of you, his mouth continuing its exploration of the delicate skin of your neck. A fiery passion enveloped both of you, threatening to burn you whole. His hands were now on your thighs, exploring the sensitive skin. Your entire being was consumed by an intense, burning desire for him. It was an insatiable longing, a burning hunger that had taken hold of you.

"Mine, all mine..." the man growled, his words resonating with this feral, possessive energy.

You somehow knew that he was not human; the growls, these unearthly eyes, that aura about him. But in that moment, in the throes of desire and pleasure, you could not have cared less about all of that. All that mattered was the intoxicating connection that bound you together. And like that, almost without thought, his name escaped your lips. 

"Copia..." you whispered a name that seemed to flow from some dark corner of your mind

You felt him smile against your heated skin. His mouth continued its scorching journey, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. There was a pause, his lips hovering just above yours. Then, he captured your mouth with a fierce and passionate kiss, a clash of teeth and tongues that left you moaning into his kiss. Your hands roamed his back with equal intensity, while your legs locked around his hips. You desperately wanted to pull him closer. Copia's hips eagerly moved against yours. Finally, he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless, panting for more, and utterly consumed by a desire that had become impossible to deny.

“Oh Lucifer, amore… Let me have you” he murmured “Say yes to me…”

You did not even have to think. You nodded eagerly.

“Yes. Oh, yes, please… Copia”

In an instant, his painted lips were on you again. A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips as he swiftly and decisively removed your nightgown, leaving you exposed to his fervent desires. It seems like he was everywhere all at once. His clawed hands traced a path across your skin, marking you with fiery scratch marks that only intensified the pleasure. You didn't mind the marks, in fact, they were making you even more excited.

His name became a sacred mantra, a litany that you repeated. The passion between you both grew with every breath, every whisper of his name. He gave more kisses on your chest, on your stomach. Then with fervent passion, he peppered your thighs with heated kisses, leaving smudged black paint on your skin as a sensual mark of his presence. The intense heat between your legs had become almost unbearable, causing your thighs to glisten with the undeniable signs of your arousal.

With the same impulsiveness that had marked his earlier actions, he tore away your panties, a sudden, thrilling act that made you yelp. It left a faint burn and a red mark on your skin, sensations he promptly soothed with tender caresses and soft kisses. Then, with unbridled desire, he began to lap at the wetness on the skin in your inner thighs, igniting a fire of passion that left you gasping and trembling.

“You taste so good, amore… so good” he purred as his mouth drew nearer to your most intimate area.

His tongue then moved with an electrifying swiftness, delving between your delicate folds, drawing incontrollable squirms and gasps of unbridled pleasure from you. His fervent attention was akin to a starved man feasting, and his primal growls reverberated through your core, stirring a wild, untamed desire within you. Your fingers tangled in his greying hair as moans spilled from your lips, refusing to be contained.

You gazed downward, you saw his white eyes filled with enchanting mischief that sent a shiver of longing down your spine. With every passing moment, you inched closer and closer to the precipice, teetering on the edge of an impending ecstasy that promised to consume you entirely. There was no trace of fear, not even a fleeting second of doubt. In this captivating moment, fear was eclipsed by an overwhelming sense of vitality and desire.

You had never felt so alive… 

Alive.

Your eyes snapped open, and reality crashed in on you. The room felt stiflingly warm, and your breath came in laboured gasps. As you looked around, you realized that you were still in your own bed. It had all been a vivid, intoxicating dream. A wave of profound disappointment washed over you, leaving you with a lingering ache in your chest. The intensity of that dream had awakened desires and feelings within you like never before. In that ephemeral world, you had felt wanted, desirable, and perhaps even loved in a way you had never experienced in waking life. The contrast between the dream and reality left a bittersweet yearning.

The vivid memory of his touch, his heated breath against your skin, and the sensation of his tongue between your legs lingered in your mind, leaving your body burning with the memory of his passion. Who was this man? Have you encountered him before? Why did he feel so unearthly, so unlike any human? These questions swirled through your thoughts until you came to a realization: it was merely a dream, after all… wasn’t it?

Copia had entered your dreams that night. He was aware it was bad. But he was a demon for Lucifer’s sake, it was in his nature! And it’s not like he could control the reaction you had in your own dream.  He knew he could have frightened you, but you seemed so responsive… you wanted him. Copia had retreated into a corner of the room when you woke up. Why on earth did you have to wake up by the way? The demon was still mad with desire at this point and mad with love. You were so lovely, so sweet, how he longed to be near you again, to feel your warmth not only in your dream this time, to take you as his own…

Copia's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. You were absent that afternoon. You left about one hour ago, were you already back? The demon cautiously moved toward the entrance hall, his presence hidden in the darkness. He froze when he saw the one who had entered: your landlord, that disgusting man. Copia's spectral form quivered with unease as he watched the man climb up the stairs and enter your room. Copia followed him quickly, making sure to cause the loudest noises when climbing the stairs. But that did not seem to disturb the man who was already focused on his perverted purpose.

Copia found him opening your closet, and digging through your drawer. The man took a pair of panties in his hands and put them against his nose. It was too much for Copia, way too much He would not let someone disrespect you and pry on you in such a way. With a supernatural surge of power, the demon forcefully slammed the drawer shut on the intruder's hand, prompting a piercing cry of agony.

"What the...?" The intruder managed to utter before chaos ensued.

Before he could do or say anything else, Copia lunged forward, seizing the man's arm with his clawed fingers, his voice oozing menace.

"Seeking some thrills, your fucking pervert?"

The man spun around to witness the demon standing inches away. Copia bared pointed, razor-sharp teeth and let out a guttural snarl, resembling a monstrous, otherworldly feline. His eyes blazed with intensity, like the very fires of hell itself. A blood-curdling scream erupted from the intruder's trembling lips as he scrambled up the stairs, fleeing the house with the same haste with which he had arrived, knocking over some stuff in his flight. Copia chuckled darkly to himself, confident that, landlord or not, the man would never dare to disturb you again.

When you arrived back home, you were surprised to find the door unlocked. An feeling of unease crept over you. Had you genuinely forgotten to lock it, or was it your exhaustion playing tricks on your mind? You couldn't help but chastise yourself for being so tired and disoriented, especially after the vivid dream that had lingered in your thoughts.

As you cautiously entered the house, your eyes were drawn to a plant knocked over in the entry hall. It was a clear sign that something or someone had disturbed your home. You recalled your books, the ghost stories… you recalled everything that had happened since you moved in.

“Hello? I know you’re here…” you declared with a hint of hesitation in your voice

You climbed up the stairs to find the door to your room wide open. You were certain you had closed it.

"Did you do that? It's okay, I'm not mad..." you assured, as you moved through the house, searching for any sign of a presence. 

However, your calls went unanswered, and the eerie silence persisted. In a moment of impulse, without overthinking, you uttered a single name.

"Copia?"

You called the name repeatedly, a sense of longing in your voice, but there was no response. The silence in the house grew heavy, stretching into minutes. In a moment of self-doubt, you couldn't help but laugh at your own foolishness. How could you have thought that… 

But then, it all became clear. It hit you all at once. The pieces of the puzzle clicked together. The noises, the objects falling over, the figure at the window that night, the scratch marks, the trace of paint on your cheek, the dream… There had to be something in this house! And that thing was in your dream last night. But you were not afraid… for you felt he was not trying to hurt you. 

“I know you are here,” you repeated out loud “You cannot hide in the darkness forever…”

Silence.

“Please, show yourself… I just want to see you”

Silence again. 

Maybe you were going crazy… ?

You went about your day, trying to distract yourself by unpacking the last of the boxes. But your mind continued to drift, haunted by the vivid memories of your encounter with Copia. The sensation of being watched lingered, a disquieting feeling that refused to fade… but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you again? 

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Your thoughts were consumed by the memory of his eyes, the sensation of his breath against your skin, and the ghostly touch of his hands on your body. The longing became unbearable, and you found yourself unable to resist the yearning that had taken hold.

In the solitude of your room, your own hands began to trace a path across your body, traveling slowly down to your thighs. With your eyes closed, you conjured the image of him in your mind.

"Copia..." you sighed his name, a whispered plea.

Just as your hand slipped in your panties, a weight settled on your bed, and a presence made itself known. You opened your eyes to find him. He was hovering above you with a mischievous grin, a spark of desire flickering in his mismatched eyes. His gaze held a fiery longing but there was affection in eyes. A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, yet you remained still, enthralled by the intensity of the moment. Your cheeks were red to be caught in such an intimate moment… you knew he was watching you the whole time.

“Did you call for me, amore?”  his now familiar voice purred 

"Copia..." you whispered, your voice tinged with anticipation 

“Yes, amore… I have come for you, at last,”

His nose playfully nudged your neck as he pressed his body to yours. The sensations were so vivid that you couldn't help but question the dream-like quality of it all.

“Oh please, tell me this is not a dream…” 

"It's not, not this time…" he assured, his voice a soft murmur as he kissed the tender spot behind your ear. "Are you afraid of me?"

“No,” you said without hesitation. “Should I?”

He stopped kissing your neck to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions.

You met his gaze with unwavering determination and reached out to touch his face. "I believe I know what you are, and it doesn't frighten me..."

“Oh, cara mia…”

He leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth while his hands began to explore your body. The sensation felt so much more real than the dream you had…

“Why didn’t you come when I called you earlier?” you asked in a hushed tone.

“I hesitated. I did not want to scare you, amore… I felt so guilty when you found those scratches on your body…”

He sounded a bit sad, and you gently caressed his face.

“I don’t want you to go, cara. You… You are my light. I want you to stay with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You did not expect to see an unearthly creature like him in such a vulnerable state. 

“I won’t go…” you whispered “Not ever…”

He gave you a tender smile. 

“You are such a treasure… You were sent to me by Lucifer himself.”

His voice quivered with emotions as he spoke. His words made you blush. His hands resumed their exploration of your body. He pressed himself against you. Your body felt so warm, so hot. 

“Do you want me?” he whispered in your ear

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his lips warm and eager.

“Let me have you…” he whispered, much like in the dream.

“Yes, Copia… please, take me.”

He wouldn't need to be asked twice. With a low, feral growl, he lifted your nightgown above your head, leaving you almost naked and exposed to him. He lunged forward and began to suck and lick on your breasts with fervour. You moaned loudly, the heady desire drowning out the thought that someone could hear you cry out. As he pressed his hips against you, you could feel the hardness of his arousal, and it sent shivers of desire cascading through your body. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, as you surrendered to the raw, unbridled passion that consumed you both. He was worshipping your body like no one did before.

He straightened up to look at you.

“Belissima…” he murmured as his clawed hands went to your panties, hastily removing them 

You blushed profusely. 

“Why don't you finish what you started, cara mia?” he purred, gazing down at you with raw desire, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“What... What do you mean?” you stuttered, your mind dizzy with want.

“Don't play innocent, my love… I saw you.”

You blushed even more when you finally understood what he meant. A mischievous smile played on his painted lips, he patiently waited. With your cheeks painted red, your hands moved toward your inner thighs once more. You began to touch yourself for him, your fingers playing on your pussy. Your eyes were not leaving his as you moaned, giving in to the irresistible allure of his desires. He started to undress before your eyes, this was only fueling your desire. He was so handsome in your eyes. 

“Copia…” you whispered as he stood naked before your eyes. Your voice quivered with pleasure. “You are so handsome…”

He beamed upon hearing your words, and you could swear you saw a hint of a blush on his painted features.

“You are beautiful, so beautiful…” he murmured, his voice heavy with desire as he watched you.

As you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, you sensed his hand gently covering yours.

“That's enough, cara… I think you need more than just your fingers.”

You nodded eagerly as he moved closer, settling between your opened legs. 

“You are gorgeous, mia amata… You are mine forever,” he whispered tenderly, his voice filled with love and affection.

He positioned himself, his cock near your entrance, playfully teasing you for a moment. Your restlessness under him drew a chuckle from his lips, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 

“So eager… I love it” 

Then he pushed his cock inside you. You gasped, your moan catching in your throat. He entered you slowly, inch by inch until he was all the way inside. His glowing eyes were locked in yours. He was looking at you like you were the most precious jewel. 

“Such a good girl, taking me so well” he purred, his voice laced with desire

Copia's hips started to move languidly on yours, in a slow and sensual dance. His cock was stretching you so perfectly, reaching all the right spots. You were feeling so full, so whole. You pulled him closer as if you wanted to melt your body into his.

"Oh, you feel so good, amore"

He was not holding back his moan. He was very vocal, it was absolute music to your ears. His name spilled from your lips like a blasphemous prayer.  He started to pick up the pace, moving more passionately, more quickly. His low moans were now mixed with feral growls. But he was still so considerate with you, running his hand through your hair, caressing your skin. He was scratching your skin with his claws but you did not care… Sex had never felt so intimate before. He was thrusting inside you with such raw passion, it was nothing short of blissful.

"You were made for me," he said in between moans "You are mine, all mine!"

You felt it build up inside of you again.

“Copia! I’m going to…” you whimpered, throwing back in the pillow

“Me too, amore-ah!” 

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body quivered by pleasure as you clung into the sheets, your head was spinning as you fell into the arms of bliss. He gave a few more thrusts before his release. Your name escaped his lips as he spilled inside you, his clawed hand clutching your waist. You would certainly have bruises afterward but you couldn't care less. 

He fell onto you, breathing heavily, his head resting against your chest. You reached out to run your fingers gently through his hair. You both remained in this intimate embrace for a while, the sensation of pleasure still tingling on your skin. He hummed contentedly while you continued to stroke his hair.  With a gentle kiss on your forehead, he moved to lie down on the bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight and affectionate embrace.

"Why did you knock over my favorite plant?" you asked after a moment, your voice laced with a hint of amusement; you were not angry at him.

You felt Copia stiffen against you.

"Uh... I didn't, amore..."

He tenderly ran his fingers through your hair. You gave him a confused look, waiting for him to explain.

"That disgusting man... your landlord who was at your doorstep a few days ago... he broke in while you were away."

He noticed the growing unease on your face.

"He behaved like a creep... I spare you the details. But I believe after what I did... he won't attempt it again..."

He kissed your forehead, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

"I scared the shit out of him, I must admit..."

The discomfort and confusion transformed into amusement. You knew Copia had been protecting you, and you realized you were never truly alone. You knew you never would be again. And you were determined to show him that he would never have to walk alone again either.

"I'm with you always, my dear... I won't let anyone harm you," he whispered against your hair, "Never."

[ma1dita]

zuko, give em pumpkins to talk about, chocolate bar. please im beggin actually

runnin' with the devil

[STARRING: PRINCE ZUKO x reader “Really? Now? God, you have terrible timing.”] wc: 1.1k warnings: none. erm allusions of kidnapping and kinda stockholm syndrome, this is pre-character development baldheaded ass zuko so he’s a jerk… yandere? no he’s just a dick. this ended up fluffy

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

There’s a part of you that likes it.

The catch and release— running from him gives you an adrenaline rush you can’t explain. It’s been almost three years of this— a predator chasing after his prey but still he hasn’t killed you, if that’s any consolation. People have been thrown overboard or blasted into ashes for less—loyalty is important to the Fire Nation after all, especially with the forgotten prince. 

Some values are instilled so deeply within a person’s core that it’s difficult to break free.

But you find yourself not wanting to as he chases you for an nth time, on this occasion, through the underbrush of Kyoshi Island. Flames lick at your heels as you push forward, your calves burning in exertion. You could’ve sworn he already left to chase the Gaang before you made a break for it—but if they didn’t know Zuko and the 41st were here already, well… the wildfire spreading through the village should be proof enough.

“Stop running!” the prince roars, and the two of you barrel past townsfolk who scream and run in different directions, anywhere to be away from the both of you. None of them fought back of course—neutrality was the island’s selling point, a reprieve from the Hundred Years’ War. But they were kind enough; pretty girls with painted faces and fists of steel trying to determine if you were friend or foe as you slipped off the boat to search for new shoes from a nearby market. You didn’t suit any of the military-issued gear on board, often having to get crafty or sneak away for personal necessities. The Kyoshi Warriors only intended to protect their own, releasing you from your restraints after they realized you were but a lost girl with no escape plan. 

Or was it no plans to escape?

“Then stop chasing me!” you yell back, hair whipping in different directions as you look back at his angry face and then—CRASH!

Headfirst into a cabbage cart with an old man groveling at finding his produce in the dirt, you lay there with your vision spinning until all you can see is him. Zuko stands over you with an incessant glare on his scarred face, “Get up.” His hand reaches for your tunic and you flinch, before he grabs you by the scruff like a yowling puppy, watching you kick and scream for dear life.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Jeez, hothead—you think anyone in their right mind won’t start running if flames are shooting past them?” Your arms are crossed as he sets you down, a warm hand still pressed on the nape of your neck as if he expects you to change your mind. 

“I just wanted new shoes. Spirits know running from you has worn mine through.”

It’s kind of annoying to him that even when you’re mad at him like this, he can’t find it in himself to give a damn. You look petulant, glaring at him through your lashes and he knows if you were actually useful—you’d probably shoot lasers out your eyes.

But you can’t, much like how he can’t be without you. This arrangement of convenience is something he can’t live without—even if Iroh tries to make him admit it. You were the last gift to him from his father, after all.

A gift should be treasured. This one just likes to make him work for it.

“You could’ve asked me. You’re not my only problem, you know!”

And then you’re smirking, like you know that even if that’s true—boy were you his favorite one to deal with. Every single time he leaves to ‘catch’ the Avatar, he also leaves an opening for you to set yourself free. Whether it be a door left ajar or Iroh whistling and swinging the keys off his fingers, you wonder why a skilled tactician like him always gives you an option.

Maybe it’s because he knows you don’t want to leave him. Maybe that’s his secret hope.

Wind blows overhead as Appa and the Gaang arrive to protect the island that only protects their own. Thinking about it from a broader perspective, you can see the appeal of the villagers and why they do so. Zuko cares for you too, in his own convoluted, disorganized way. 

So maybe, you should’ve warned Zuko about the Kyoshi Warriors. But it’s kind of funny to watch his ass get kicked once in a while, especially since it’s hilarious to see him so mad every time it happens. You and the crew are soaked to the bone after the battle, teeth chattering as the unagi douses the flames that dance around the livelihood of the island until there is nothing left but char and smoke. The 41st runs up the ramp, preparing to set sail for the South Sea, and your feet are sinking in the sand.

Here’s your chance—you look back to the destroyed forest and for a moment, you wonder if you should disappear into the distance that separates you from that boat. Maybe become a warrior yourself, or live in the simplicity that comes with being nothing but a memory.

“Your highness! We need to go!”

Zuko’s standing on the deck, staring at you. He’s not saying anything, nor does he need to—your feet make the steps back to him before your mind can make the decision.

It’s easier to choose a familiar hell instead of an unknown heaven.

Iroh smiles at you softly, patting you on the head as you walk past him; he hands you a warm towel to wipe your feet. You wash away the dirt and grime of the day as you watch the setting sun, staring off towards the horizon.

A pair of new embroidered shoes knock against your ankle, bouncing against the wooden floors. They’re your size, and nicer than anything you’ve ever known. Zuko stands against the railing, pretending to not see his uncle’s shit-eating grin.

He protects his own, and by extension, what he can admit—-is that includes you.

If this is the part in the story where you get your supporting character development arc to change the tides of fate, you surely hope defeating Firelord Ozai won’t be affected by kissing the cheek of his exiled son. 

“Did you steal these?” You tsk, holding them by the tips of your fingers and nudging him, his face steaming from a featherlike touch that if he thinks hard enough, he’s not sure if it happened. Zuko doesn’t know how to handle affection—so he does what you two both do best—chase and catch. And run his mouth.

“Really? You know, we wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t have terrible timing,” he rattles off, getting angrier as you walk away, miming him blabbering as you skip around the ship in your new shoes.

In all senses of the word, you’re already his.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is closed for requests but ongoing for the rest of october!

[wildharesandboundteeth]

A subtle and low energy form of worship inspired by Chaos Magick and Sigils

So this one's a bit of basic Chaos magick I've been using for years to charge my sigils. It's slow but steady form of charging sigils that also adds a more 'personal touch' compared to charging with the moon and/or sun. Basically you just put the sigil on a body part with the intention of it being worship.

I am not the first one to do this but I figured that it might be good to share this knowledge to more people.

The basic formula is your God's symbol/ a correspondence of them on or against your body with the intention to dedicate each action of that body part to them.

A choker with a bird pendant dedicating every word you say to Hermes. (Good for presentations and for shit talking with the boys.)

Some examples:

(helpol specific because I'm more familiar with them at this moment)

A rose on your chest,/shirt/bra/binder with the intention of dedicating every heart beat to Aphrodite. (Low energy, more consistent and makes you feel hotter than usual. ;) )

Athena's name written on your finger to dedicate each word written to Her. (Good for homework though try not too write anything too stupid (very difficult for me).)

Ares's symbol painted on the bottom of your exercise shoe's inner sole with the intent to dedicate workout to Him. (Who knows? He might join you (and put you to shame).)

Ways to mark yourself:

I used to use this method with the elemental alchemical signs as well back when I worshipped/drew power from them more often. Holy book versus, sacred numbers, ect. can also work. Heck, maybe even write the entire Mahabharata on yourself.

Non-toxic marker / pen

Water / soil / ash / powder of ground herbs or flowers (non-toxic)

Temporary tattoo / Henna / actual tattoo

Sewing / embroidery / iron-on patches / fabric marker / washable fabric crayons

Honey / milk / yogurt / lotion (all good for the skin)

Face paint / graphic eyeliner / make up (especially foundation you're going to blend)

Just tracing the symbol with a finger

Suggestions

Tip: if you're going with more subtle correspondence (like a drawing of their animal) as opposed to just writing their name or symbol, it's good to do a ritual/ a small prayer to inform them. Just telling them can work too if you're too exhausted for those.

The same effect can be achieved with key chains, stuffed toys, taglocks, ect but I personally like this method as it's something I'm familiar with. It's also harder to forget to do bring something along if it's on your body (yes, I am calling myself out). It also feels more personal.

Disclaimer: Please only do this for gods/entities you know and have a relationship with. I would also advise against doing this to a god that has rejected/not answered your requests to work with them. And please don't mark yourself with a god that you straight up do not know anything about.

I sometimes put wellness sigils for my loved ones on my pulse point(s) or along my chakras with henna. It's slow but with time, it's really builds up.

More rambling

Nowadays, I always make sure to always have the sigils for Lord Hermes and Lord Ares on my foot so I can dedicate each step I take to them. I usually dedicate longer walks to *runs to them but I feel like having a physical 'anchor' helps me concentrate the energy and intent. It also helps if I just plain forget to dedicate a walk to them.

*Disclaimer: author of this post only runs for the bus or because they're late. In no way are they healthy nor disciplined.

In addition to all the worship stuff, it also feels comforting to having something of my loved ones near me/ on me. It reminds me that I am (somehow) loved and that there's something to fight for. Though I might just be getting sentimental in my young age.

So that's my suggestion for you lovely people. I hope to helps inspire someone or something. If anyone has any other suggestions, ideas or constructive feedback, please let me know.

[eris-snow]

𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, meet in dreams, fluff

We met in a dream. Really? Really. Literally? Literally.

"You're here again."

Bakugou whips around, and he catches your eyes again. It's the same empty void, the same white, endless room.

And you're there again.

Waiting for him, it seems.

"Right back at you."

"You're insufferable."

Bakugou chuckles at that. He loves getting under your skin and loves the challenge you give him. Some people are just delightful to annoy, and you're one of those people.

"Rough day?" He asks, striding closer to you. Your face twists into a scowl, and he laughs at that. You wear your heart on your sleeve, no matter how much you try to mask your feelings.

It takes a second before you respond. "Don't laugh, idiot. You don't look any better."

Bakugou winds his arm up, feeling the ache in his bones. Well, you have a point. Training to become a hero isn't just your average high schooler's day-to-day 7 to 5. His battery is flat by the time he ends the day, and the next thing he knows it's morning again.

But this is a dream, his dream, and this isn't his first time here. The both of you have built mountains, painted cherry blossom trees and created sandy beaches straight from your minds.

"We can make anything," Bakugou says.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You peer at him, a smile forming against your lips for the first time tonight.

You look so good when you smile.

"Well then what are we waiting for, Bakugou Katsuki? Let's get to it."

--

Bakugou remembers that night standing in grassy fields with you. It was your turn to set the scene, and you brought hazy green and a strong gale with you as the both of you stare at the moon from the grass.

Bakugou likes the feeling of it. the fields stretch on and on, and he feels free, like he could do anything.

"We can make anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

That's what you had first told him when he first dreamt of this place.

People think he goes to sleep early because he wants to keep his sleeping schedule intact, but his biggest motivating factor is his dreams. Dreams instead of nightmares of his kidnapping, dreams instead of the war.

He loves this, so, so much, and he's grown fond of you.

"Where is this?" He asks. You always have a reason for whatever place you take him.

"Nowhere." You tell him, arms cushioning your head as you stare up at the round, round moon. "I just like the wind in my hair the breath of fresh air. It's so wide, so quiet, and it makes me feel like I can do anything."

It's a good 15 minutes of talking before you sit up abruptly, causing Bakugou to do the same.

"What is it?" He asks.

You look at him before tapping his shoulder lightly. Then, without warning, you take off into the night.

It takes him a good 5 seconds to decipher what you just did. "Oi! You little shit, get back here-!"

He runs and runs chasing after your surprisingly nimble self. He can't use his quirk here, and he knows it'd be unfair if he did anyway, you'd never count it.

No matter, he can tag you without it.

Your voice bubbles with laughter as you dodge his attempts, scaling a sakura tree and watching him trying to grab your shoe.

"Catch me!"

Sakura petals drift down as you jump. Startled, he does, but your momentum causes the both of you to collapse on the ground with a loud thump.

You snicker, he sputters, yelling at you.

"What is wrong with you, dumbass? Does the word bruises exist in your vocabulary? What about injury? You're crazy, you know that?"

His ribcage throbs, but in a good way. The weight on him is good, because you're still laughing, and that's all that matters.

"It's a dream, silly. You don't get hurt in dreams." You reply, getting off his body.

"Come on, catch me."

With that you take off again, and he's racing after you, shouting the entire way.

--

You both do it more often than he'd like to admit. Chasing each other in the grassy fields, you laughing, him shouting, as the wind of eternal spring messes up your hair.

Sprawled on the ground without a care in the world. He loves it. He loves the way you make he feel.

He loves you.

"What are you looking at?"

He glances up, and he sees you hanging lazily from a tree.

You like trees.

Sakura ones, especially.

"You," His lips coil into a smirk, and he grabs a brunch and swings himself up there such that he's right in front of you.

You don't look fazed at all.

He leans in, and the kiss is short and sweet on your lips. You lean in too, and when he pulls back, he settles himself comfortably next to you, bodies comfortably pressed against each other.

"You're blushing," He notes. You try to smack him, but he catches your hand. "Look who's the one getting flustered."

"Insufferable. Downright insufferable." You mutter, yanking your hand out of his grip.

"Says the person who runs around fields for hours at a time."

"Yeah, love you too, asshole." You reply.

We can make anything.

And we did, Bakugou thinks, smiling fondly as holds you closer.

Let him have you, he tells the universe, let him find you.

A remedy for his nightmares, a medicine for his heart.

Catch me, you'd say, and he'd chase you for as long as it takes.

As long as you're here, anytime, anywhere, real or not, it'd be better than just a dream.

--

Author's note: I was gonna write angst but given the option, my sister chose fluff, so arghh-

[mieeaahhh]

How I view all for the game characters but it’s just pictures! (Updated version + some useless head-cannons)

Renee Walker

-Andrew helps her whenever she re-dyes her hair

-transgender mtf 🗣️🗣️🗣️

-he has a few smaller tattoos other than the wings on her back but she got them in ‘hidden’ places

-is really bad at video games

-has a pet rabbit named Barney that lives back at home with her mum

Allison Reynolds

-has been collecting shoes since she was thirteen and has a matching pair for every single outfit she owns

-her love languages are gift giving and acts of service

-has a diary that she still uses from when she was eleven

-she has one of those ‘upside down smiles’ or whatever it’s called

-low-key had an emo phase but if you bring it up she’ll post your home address and card information on social media. How? A magician never reveals his secrets🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

Neil Josten

-desperately needs braces but couldn’t care less about getting them so his teeth are messed up

-can do that frog blinking thing

-can cook and is actually really good at it but doesn’t enjoy it

-he would’ve been a chronic scooter kid if he grew up like a normal person

-has the face of someone with zero thoughts, eyes wide and face flat

Andrew Minyard

-the only reason he doesn’t wear his glasses is because he actually lost them years ago and doesn’t want to admit he can’t find them anywhere

-when he was a little kid he was actually really shy

-when his nail varnish chips he just paints back over it instead of taking the rest off before hand and it’s usually kinda messy

-since he has smoker lungs™️ whenever he’s sick it actually sounds like if a teenage boy going through puberty smoked twelve boxes a day

-only got piercings because Aaron had them and he thought they looked cool and he only really started finding his ‘style’ after moving in with Aaron and Nicky

Kevin Day

-has the LOUDEST snore ever but denies that he snores at all

-the foxes all tease him and have inside jokes about his ‘crush’ on Jeremy

-almost everyone and their mother has numerous videos of his drunkenly singing his heart out and it’s usually something like bohemian rhapsody or some basic ‘white chick’ music

-in the nest his hair was always trimmed and neat but when he left he let his hair grow a bit and just left it to flop around and do its own thing

-will literally stop, drop and roll in tears if a spider goes near him

Aaron Minyard

-growing up he was considered a ‘crybaby’ by a few people because he cries or gets teary when frustrated/angry

-has fallen out the bed so many times it’s ridiculous and then will wonder how he wakes up with random bruises (my other post about his weird sleeping🗣️🗣️🗣️)

-has a fear of cats

-Aaron’s eyesight is a lot worse than Andrews

-Randy often asks Matt to invite Aaron over during the holidays and stuff once Matt and Aaron become closer (they are best friends idc)

Seth Gordon

-he likes when Allison is the big spoon but that’s a secret for them and them only

-had a pet hamster named Jerry who ran away when he was a kid

-DAHLIA PIERCINGS🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

-he was the sibling that turns off the lights and holds the door closed to scare his siblings

-Allison was the first (and last) girlfriend he was truly inlove with

Matt Boyd

-gives THE BEST hugs🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I mean like lifting people off the ground in big bear hugs kinda hugs🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

-buys flowers for Dan everytime he goes to the shops

-he and Andrew do become somewhat friends at some point

-he the best at video games AND board games out of all the foxes

-he has very subtle freckles in his nose

Dan Wilds

-GUMMY SMILEEEEEE!!!!!!!

-she and her work sisters used to do secret Santa every year and she was known for the best/most meaningful presents

-she’s one of those people who hit when they laugh

-her favourite Disney princess growing up was Snow White

-she is absolutely COVERED in beauty spots/moles

Nicky Hemmick

-used to be very lanky before joining the foxes but ended up gaining some muscle after awhile

-he doesn’t like his hair being played with but he LOVES playing with other peoples hair

-has a resting worried/shocked face and the foxes find it hilarious

-would rather go bald than eat chocolate cake

-acts like the world is ending and his immune system is shutting down whenever he has a cold

[b-biltz]

Tips and classes for Drawing and painting!

Hi!

The other day I saw a comment on Tumblr from someone who was just starting out in drawing and was using AI to help study their drawings. I decided to put together some resources that I know can help artists study and use as a reference without feeding this algorithm that is being so harmful to so many people in the artistic field.

Feel free to add more in the comments and reblogs!!!

Note: Some YouTube channels and profiles mentioned here I don't follow for so long or/and I didn't have time to analyze the content posted in full, but they were recommended by other people. Some channels/profiles are on these lists because of these recommendations or because they were useful with a post/video/tutorial at some point in my life. If there is any controversial/questionable conduct, I make it clear that I didn't know before posting! (We never know, right? hehehe)

LET'S GO:

1. You and your environment:

That's right, YOU. Your person and what you have available at home can be great references! Photos of family or friends, your pet, everyday objects that you barely pay attention to, the landscape around your house (even if it is not considered the most beautiful landscape or if it is just a wall), your food, the forgotten plant in the pot, your shoes, your clothes, your own body! They are physical objects, in YOUR hand, where you can rotate, position, arrange as you wish, and as a bonus you can do light studies on them with your cell phone's flashlight or natural daylight.

2. Follow your favorite artists and styles you like:

By following profiles of artists you like on social media, you can study their drawings, to understand how they do what they do, and, little by little, develop your art with your personality based on the styles you like!

Just be careful not to plagiarize! There's a difference in taking art from your artists to study, and keeping it for yourself and posting copies of other people's art or copying someone else's design! Study, understand and end up developing yours! DO NOT base your studies purely on the arts of others, but complement with them!

3. Follow photographers:

Photographer profiles are a treasure for anyone who likes to draw! There are photographers who capture images of people, animals, plants, landscapes, cities, etc. There are several categories! And different styles! Black and white, evidence in the shadows, play of colors and perspectives! It can be a fun exercise!

4. Follow model profiles:

Templates also provide good references. Today there is great variability in model profiles (if you know how to look well), and it can be a good exercise to design clothes and accessories on people! Study of fabric, movement, makeup and pigments in skin, hair, pose, among others

5. Media:

You can pause and take a screenshot of scenes you like from series, films, documentaries, cartoons, anime, or even take a panel from your favorite comic and draw it in your style, or study that image and try to copy it before applying in your style!

6. Pinterest:

The classic of classics! Great for references, using PHOTOS, of REAL people, animals, objects and landscapes. In addition, there are also several posts with drawing and painting tips, and even several mechanisms about various objects and elements, which can allow you to better understand the dynamics of what makes up your drawing, making your drawing, design and painting easier! There are even ready-made folders shared by other artists with several images, but you can make your own, in your own way! Mine have more than 60.000 pins!

7. Tumblr’s focused on tips for drawing and painting:

There are several names that we can mention and it is very easy to find these Tumblrs!

8. Follow artists here on tumblr:

These artists often share tips, techniques and brushes!

9. YouTube channels focused on drawing and painting:

There are several channels focused on art, tutorials, classes and drawing tips!

Some are: New Masters Academy; FZDSCHOOL; Proko; Alphonso Dunn; SamDoesArts; Marc Brunet; HABOOK; Brad's Art School; KeshArt; 조맹 Chommang_Drawing; NIRO; Sinix Design; Mmmmonexx; Draw like a Sir; fjordwind; Angel Ganev; Desenho Mestre; Pikat; One Pencil drawing; Bluebiscuits; SulaMoon; Uncomfortable; Bob Ross; Kevin Oil Painting; Fine Art Academy; Sycra; Moderndayjames; Kaycem; Tim Mcburnie - The Drawing Codex; Swatches; Ahmed Aldoori; Jordan Grimmer; Justin Donaldson

10. DAZ Studio:

It is a free program that allows you to model characters. You can customize and position the avatars however you see fit. You can even work with light incidence. You can also set up scenarios.

The free program already comes with some basic elements and on the website you can download more elements to compose your scene, such as other avatars, animals, objects, clothes, textures, among many others. However, it should be noted that some of these elements are paid. But the free basic elements already help A LOT in reference position, proportion, anatomy, scenery and study of light and shadow

11. Sketchfab:

It is a website that has several 3D elements generated by other artists. It has a free basic plan, with certain limitations, but it helps a lot when photos and other drawings are not enough for the pose you want!

12. PixelSquid:

It offers 3D models that can be useful for reference.

13. Floorplanner:

Allows you to create 2D and 3D house plans with a free account. This can help you with references to compose the scenario!

14.Dimensions:

It allows the notion of the dimension of different objects and figures.

15. Comparing Heights:

Website that allows you to compare heights between two figures

16. SculptGL:

Free basic 3D sculpting tool

17.Textures.com:

It has 3D molds and textures. There are free options in its gallery

18. Justsketch.me:

It has a free version with basic human models to create positions for reference. They are somewhat reminiscent of the articulated dolls used in the past.

19. Reference Angle:

Offers photographs of people that match the position of a 3D mold. You can select facial expressions

20. Photo reference X 3D model:

It gives you some 3D molds of human and animal skeletons and correlates the position you leave with photos

21.Bodies in motion:

Provides several stop motions of people moving. There is free and paid content

22. Sketchdaily:

A website that offers several reference photos for drawing, with different poses. You can select whether you want photos of structures, vegetation, animals, body parts, people and other specifications. One cool thing about this website is that you can choose to set a timer for the image, allowing you to leave it exposed for you to draw for 30 seconds to 1 hour (or not, you can choose to leave it without a timer).

23. Line-of-action:

It has an interface that is very similar to Sketchdaily, but the maximum time for displaying an image is 10 minutes. It has the categories of human figures, animals, hands & feet, faces & expressions and scenes & environment and basic shapes & still life.

24. Reference.pictures:

Site with several posed photos. However, there is paid content.

25. Croquis.cafe:

Various reference photos of people. Paid content

26. Pose tool:

Selection of multiple reference images that can be selected according to a filter

27. Clip Studio Tips:

Various digital drawing tips provided by the clip studio website itself

28. CecelyV:

Blog created by Cecely Valderrama (CecelyV) where she provides free tutorials

29. Drawawesome:

It has free content for artists

30.Will Kemp Art School:

A blog with free painting and drawing lessons

31. Blog Art Instruction:

Offers free art instruction. Created in 2007 by Ralph Serpe.

32. Draw Mix Paint:

Offers a series of tips, classes, videos and content focused on painting and drawing for free

33.The Dimensions of Colour:

Material created by David Briggs for coloring

34.Guide To Drawing:

A guide from Bill Martin

35.Artyfactory:

Offers some tutorials for free

36.Art Lessons Online:

This website has some free content

37. Ctrl+paint:

Offers a range of free and paid content

38. Drawspace:

It has free and paid drawing and painting courses

39. Paid classes:

Domestika

Sketchbook skool

Proko

Teacups

The Virtual Instructor

40. Color Palette Cinema:

Instagram account that creates and publishes palettes based on scenes from movies and series

41. Canvas color palettes:

Create color palettes from an image upload

I can do a drive collecting books for drawings too, but that's for another post or for someone's reblog hehe

[ciaossu-imagines]

Day 3 prompt 3 nr 4 - vongola squad and anyone else you really wanna add

Of course, my lovely! Thank you so much for sending in this request; it took me some time to really settle down on things for some characters, but it was interesting to think about such small little tidbits for these wonderful characters! I hope you’ll enjoy what my brain came up with!

Your character has to leave the house shortly and they have very little time to prepare. What’s the one thing they will choose over others – breakfast, washing their hair, painting their nails, replying to e-mails, etc.?

TSUNA

Tsuna is used to being forced to leave the house in pretty short notice, so he’s gotten really skilled at quickly getting ready. When this happens to him, it’s a case of getting dressed and making sure he’s wearing clean underwear, getting his wallet, giving his mom a heads up that he’s going out, and then shoes and any outdoor clothes he might need.

The most important thing to him though is to ensure, beyond all else, that he has his copy of the house key with him. Even if he’s heading out with someone else who would have the house key, Tsuna needs to know that he has his own house key with him, just in case the two of them get separated, get into an argument, or the other person needs him to run back to the house for something.

He has experienced being locked out of his house in his childhood and it terrified him a little. It’s not something he wants to ever repeat because it was scary but even worse, it was so humiliating.

GOKUDERA

There’s a lot of small little things that Gokudera insists on doing before he leaves the house, even if it makes him a little late. Because the weather in Japan can get chilly, and because temperatures fluctuate pretty quickly, Gokudera likes to have layers. Not only does he have to quickly figure out a base outfit but the proper layers for it.

He also makes sure he has an extra pack of cigarettes, as a ‘just in case’ moment, along with a fresh, unused lighter. He’s been stuck without cigarettes and especially without a lighter because of people punking his lighter or it accidentally slipping out of his pocket, and he knows both things suck.

He will make sure he has the other necessary things for him to leave the house with – his keys, his phone, a hair tie,  a coin purse, etc.

He also absolutely makes sure to put on anti-perspirant and a body spray for males that he likes before he leaves the house. He’s not stupid and knows that most places are scent-free environments, so he’s careful not to put too much of either thing on and keeps the scents hie wears kind refined and understated.

YAMAMOTO

Okay, hear me out here, because this is a weird one that makes a lot of sense once you know the context.

Even if the house is completely empty, even if he hasn’t lived with anyone for years and years, Yamamoto always gives a cheerful ‘be back soon’ when he leaves the house and a grinning ‘I’m home!’ every time he comes back home.

Like I said, there could be absolutely nobody there to hear it, but it’s pretty much a force of habit at this point. During Yamamoto’s youth, he remembered his dad doing this a lot, both at home and on the job. When Tsuyoshi explains to Yamamoto the importance of doing things like that, how good it can be for your mental health and letting go of the crap from the day, so you don’t poison the household by bringing in all that shit from your day, it makes a lot of sense to Takeshi. He’s been doing both of those things pretty much shortly after he is born and it won’t stop, even if his father dies, even if he’s alone.

Takeshi will pass this tradition on to his own children, if he finds himself blessed with them.

RYOHEI

Ryohei’s someone who does get up quite early. It is really surprising for him to be running short of time prior to leaving the house, so this isn’t a choice he would make often. It’s far more likely for Ryohei to run late because he’s gotten caught up in his training, got into a fight, or encountered a slight issue on a mission.

If someone surprises him by telling him they need to leave for something really quickly, Ryohei’s got a very mundane superpower. He can get ready so damn fast. It’s really a little ridiculous. Ten minutes or less and the boy is dressed, deodorant is on, hair is combed, and he has his wallet in his pocket – everything he needs before leaving the house, pretty much.

If he can only pick one thing to do before he leaves the house though, Ryohei would have to go with deodorant any time. Putting on deodorant before going out in public should be absolutely necessary, though Ryohei could just hold this opinion because of his own super-keen sense of smell that makes him really susceptible to other’s body odors. He never wants that stinky person disrupting other’s days with their stench and it’s better safe than sorry.

LAMBO

Lambo likes to think that, if he had the choice of what to do before leaving the house, he would make sure to shower and put on decent clothes every time before going out.

The truth of the matter is he panics about having to get ready so quickly. He rushes to get ready and looks a little disheveled leaving. It’s also guaranteed he forgets at least one thing at home, even though his last act before leaving the house is always to pat himself down, pretty much, at least 81000 times to double-check that he has everything he needs.

HIBARI

In all honesty, Hibari doesn’t really rush anywhere. If, for some reason, he did need to get ready and leave in less time than it would take him to get properly ready, he’s going to be really pissed, so I pity the poor person who has made him rush like that.

While Hibari tends to buck against a lot of what society says is correct and acceptable, in some ways he’s rather staunchly traditional in his views. One of those views, and the one that impacts his day-to-day life and this question, is his views around what is and is not acceptable clothes to be seen in public in.

Hibari’s not a vain man, not in his looks, but he is a man with a lot of self-respect. To him, leaving the house in anything less than clean, neat, and proper clothes is disrespectful not only to the people who are also outside but is a huge sign of self-disrespect, like you don’t deserve to look your best.

Because of this, the absolute one thing he must do before leaving the house is that Hibari must get changed into proper clothes. The only time he allows himself to be seen in things he considers ‘unproper’ is when he’s in the hospital, healing and recuperating, or when he’s become exceptionally close to someone.

MUKURO

Mukuro doesn’t let himself be rushed out of his residence. If someone tries to force plans on him last minute, without giving him enough time to prepare himself, he just doesn’t show up. He has no time for that much added stress and people are meant to bend to his whims, not the other way around.

Because he always makes sure that he has the time necessary to prepare to leave the house (except in exceptional cases such as an enemy attack), Mukuro doesn’t really have to worry about much leaving the house. He does always make sure that he has his weapons on him and that nobody did anything stupid like leaving the water running or such…it wouldn’t be the first time someone did that and he’d like to prevent any further damages to the property.

CHROME

If Chrome is living somewhere with a locking door (i.e.: anywhere other than Kokuyo Land), she does have things she absolutely must do before she leaves. She always makes sure that all of the lights are off and the stove isn’t on.

When she finally gets out the door and locks up, it’s almost a compulsion but she has to try the doorknob out at least two or three times, putting her body weight into it at least one of those tries, just to reassure her brain that the door is indeed firmly locked and that her home will be safe.

[annaizscribbling]

Frosted Windows

In which Janus has a question to ask.

Wordcount: 2093

Janus tapped his fingers on the wooden end table pressed up against the plush black armchair he was seated in. His mismatched eyes were thoughtful, not kind, but thoughtful. He often looked like he was actively coming up with a challenge. A test. A trick.

The room was lavish. Dark stained oak made up the floors and furniture. A Persian rug covered the floor. High ornate ceilings above. Strange oil paintings adorned the walls, all normal at a first glance yet stranger when examined.

He kept drumming his fingers. The gloves made the sound silent. Still, the movement was captivating. It wasn’t rapid but measured. All five fingers tap in quick succession before a half moment break. Then again. Again. Again.

The ticking of an unseen grandfather clock rocked a rhythm into the room. His legs were crossed. At the ends of his dress pants, black socks peeked through before being hidden below leather dress shoes. It was 9:00AM. He always looked this formal. He smelt like pine.

‘Do you think, in your opinion, that you’re a good person?’ Janus asked coolly, eyes only half open, like the question was so dull he barely had to be awake to ask it.

‘Odd question to ask me of all people.’ I say, because it is. I am the last person worth asking this.

Janus raises his eyebrows in a mocking replica of surprise. Like my assumption is unexpected, or even bold. It isn’t. ‘I never said you were the only person I’ve ever asked,’ Janus said.

I don’t bother challenging that, though I’m positive he hadn’t been rounding us up one by one to ask. ‘Even still. It’s an odd thing to ask me.’

‘I don’t hear an answer,’ Janus says, fingers drumming again. His gaze is drifting away from me. I’m being boring to him. Or maybe he’s pretending to be bored by me. He wouldn’t be the first to do either.

‘I think good and bad are subjective,’ I tell him, nearly clinically.

Janus smiles. His smiles are sharp and pointy like the edge of a blade. ‘You think that answer impresses me,’ he says like it is fact.

‘I don’t care enough to impress you’ I say.

‘You are refusing to entertain the question. Simply by asking specifically for your opinion, I am acknowledging that the question and answer are both subjective. I know that you cannot objectively answer.’ Janus looks back at me. I don’t like his gaze trained so closely on my face.

‘Then what is the point?’ I say, slightly colder now.

‘Come now,’ Janus chuckles. The sound is like a deep rumble from an old actor with a transatlantic accent. ‘Even you aren’t completely practical. Don’t you enjoy a little bit of stimulating company? Indulge me. It’s one question.’

‘There is no simple answer to your singular question,’ I tell him.

‘Then we can start at a simpler point,’ Janus says like I am a child struggling to understand a basic concept. ‘How about this? Is humanity good?’

‘I don’t believe you are as funny as you think you are.’

‘Come on, I’ve been dying to pick your mind,’ Janus says without convincing me of his words. ‘Just answer the question. Is Humanity good in your opinion?’

‘Again, there is no objective answer to that question,’ I sigh curtly, ‘and what’s the point in an answer that subjective? It’s pointless here. I don’t bother with pointless what ifs.’

‘Mmmmm. Not a philosopher Too practical?’ Janus says, smiling at the window. The glass is frosted, so what lies beyond it is too blurry to make out. It’s hard to decide if Janus would be the type of dream up an unused front lawn just to be blurred by a windowpane. There are certainly some of us who would, but would Janus?

‘No. I am not a philosopher. I leave that to you, Janus,’ I tell him tautly.

‘It’s true, I do love hypotheticals,’ Janus preens, running his fingertips along the brim of his hat, ‘but I like them because they so easily apply to reality. I don’t exclusively spend my hours scheming up pointless questions. I think that I’m clever enough to avoid pointless questions. I ask about what I see.’

‘And what do you see, exactly?’

‘More questions,’ Janus shrugs with his usual poised nonchalance. ‘Just like the ones I’m asking you. Is humanity good in your subjective opinion?’

‘Humans are not good or bad,’ I say, knowing I will not sway him.

‘Right, right, but that’s a cop out, my friend. By saying that, what do we imply?’ Janus asked, spreading his arms.

‘I imagine you will tell me.’

‘Saying there is no good or bad implies that humans are animals. There is no good or bad in a deer or a dog. Are we the same? Or do we simply delude ourselves into it? Our higher intelligence only hinders our personal aspirations then. Morality furthers the wellbeing of our species as a whole while shackling the individual. We need not morals or empathy then. Doing ‘bad’ things aren’t actually bad things at all. Only things.’

‘…Sure,’ I say after a pause, if only to appease him. My hesitation makes it sound like I don’t understand. I do. I just don’t like where he might be steering me. I don’t like being steered at all. This is the most basic train of thought; I don’t understand why he’s wasting his time on it.

Janus looks slightly annoyed at my lack of engagement. ‘So what? You agree?’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Humans are animals controlled by invented feelings of guilt and moral superiority to our unrestrained mammals we share the world with,’ he says.

‘I suppose.’

‘So if I hurt you, it means nothing. I can do what I’d like, and you may acknowledge it as harmful to you, either emotionally or physically, but it is not a ‘bad’ thing to do.’

‘Janus,’ I say wearily, ‘this is neither inventive nor stimulating. I was there when Thomas went to high school. I thought you had better material than this.’

‘Come now,’ Janus clicks his tongue, fingers drumming again. ‘I know you know this. I want your opinion on it.’

‘I think you have a guess as to my opinion, and want your guess to be proven correct,’ I say, feeling impatient. I stuff the feeling down. I don’t have anything pressing to do. Feeling impatient otherwise is a childish emotion. I don’t have time to entertain it.

‘Fine,’ Janus sighs, ‘you really know how to suck the fun out of this you know.’

My hands have been folded in my lap until this point. I feel my arms and spine stiffen.

Janus catches the adjustment in my posture. A self-satisfied smirk tugs at his lips.

‘Is that all then?’ I ask.

‘Not yet, no,’ Janus says, recrossing his legs so that the right one is on top. ‘You’re right. I do have a guess, but that’s the fun of it. Haven’t you ever had a hypothesis you’re itching to test?’

‘I have. Though mine don’t usually involve leading my subject in circles until I’m proven correct.’

Janus pretends to be offended, opening his mouth as his eyebrows draw together in a mimicry of hurt. ‘I would never.’

‘Yes, you would, actually.’

‘Okay fine, I totally enjoy doing that,’ Janus immediately concedes with a smug smile, ‘but that’s to prove a point. This is to test a theory of mine. Completely different. I’m honestly shocked you can’t tell the difference.’

'Care to share your theory, then?’ I ask.

‘Fine,’ Janus sighs dramatically, ‘though it’s less fun that way.’ His fingers begin to drum again, aligning with the beat of the clock ticking from somewhere I cannot quite place.

A few seconds pass. Then longer. A minute and a half go by. Janus is thinking, I can see it in the way his lips twitch every so often. I imagine he’s wording and rewording his pitch behind his closed mouth.

‘Well?’

‘I think that deep down, you believe humans are good,’ Janus says all at once. There’s an anticipation behind his eyes but I can’t see through him well enough to understand why.

I feel my face fall flat. I raise an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

'Is this a roundabout way of insulting my intelligence?’ I ask without much amusement. I feel like the trap he’s setting is closing in on me. He is going to prod and poke until he gets to laugh at me for something. I can feel it. I want to leave, but I’m not so weak to give in just yet.

‘Why would it be?’ Janus asks without answering, head tilting in intrigue.

I pause to think of a good way to support my claim. I level him with a sharper stare. ‘Do you believe humans are good?’

Janus barks out a laugh, looking excited. ‘Turning it on me now? How coy, but this was about you. Unlike many things which are and should be focused on me, I want this to be about you, untainted by my little old opinion. But let’s pretend I did answer, what would that prove?’

'I think you don’t believe humans are good, if I had to make an instinctive guess,’ I say before faltering.

‘And?’

'And by implying that I believe the opposite of you …’ I trail off to my own frustration. It’s hard to get out the words. I feel like I’m being led across a tight rope with a blindfold on. Each step is a gamble.

Janus smirks, leaning back in his seat. ‘You believe that I might believe humanity is bad, and if like I stated previously, you think humanity is good, I think you are wrong. And we just can’t have that, can we?’

I grit my teeth. ‘…yes.’

'Cute. So this whole little game is just a dig at you. A joke. A fun little riddle where the answer is that you are secretly an idiot. Irrational. Biased. Blinded. Wrong,’ Janus says, counting on his fingers as he comes up with different words to describe me as a fool.

'Your track record does you no favors,’ I say lowly.

‘I suppose not,’ Janus shrugs, ‘but no. You’re harder to lead that way compared to the others. I have a different point to make today. Can you guess my next step, darling?’

I glare at him, but I do understand where he’s going with this. ‘Your first question.’

Janus smirks, fingers drumming once more. ‘If I had a cookie, I’d give it to you.’

'Save it.’

‘Do you remember the question in question,’ Janus asks, his finger drumming picking up the pace, losing some of its rhythm in is excitement.

'You asked if I thought I was a good person,’ I say, refusing to look at him. My heart rate quickens. I don’t let my agitation show. Janus is clever, but he’s no mind reader. He’s no god.

‘If you think humans in general are good—’

'Which we have not established—’

'Then do you think you’re a good human?’ Janus finished; eyes fixed on my every move.

‘I’m not even human.’ I say.

‘Don’t bullshit me, darling,’ Janus says, his smug smile boring into my chest.

‘Then I don’t know. It doesn’t matter enough for me to have decided. I am not human, and even if I considered myself one, it doesn’t matter. It’s subjective. It’s pointless. Am I good or bad? I don’t have an answer. I’m afraid you’ll have to manage without one.’

‘I think,’ Janus began slowly, ‘that you refuse to answer. Even in your innermost thoughts. Because if you do decide, you’ll have to face something much larger than something as simple as good or bad.’

‘And what would that be?’ I demand.

‘If you were a good person, why would you be treated the way you are? And if you’re a bad person, then you deserve what you’re becoming despite what he says—'

My vision goes black as soon as I register what Janus is talking about.

‘You don’t deserve it. You deserve better. You deserve to fight it. Good people aren’t bad for defending themselves. Let me handle it.’

Stop. Stop. Shut up. I’m not doing this. Stay back.

‘Please.’

Shut up.

‘I think you’re good.’

It doesn’t matter.

‘Good people deserve better.’

Good people aren’t real.

‘Let me out.’

You’re just my own thoughts. There is nothing to release.

‘Please, Logan?’

‘This is pointless,’ I say to Janus, standing and sinking out of the room before he could object.

[herdsworldbuilding]

City Grime.

so world building a city.

It’s a complicated subject, involving things of how the city came to be, who made it and why? Where is it located and why is it located there? A city trends to thrive on trade or defense. Where dose the city get it’s food and water and where dose it��s waste go? Who holds the power, who are its people? what shapes it’s streets? Is it planed down or did it grow naturally over time? These are all good things to ask about world building a city… but that’s not what this is about.

I’m here to ask about some small scale things you can ask yourself about these cites. 

Specifically about Graffiti

- what is graffiti in the city like?  cities have a lot of graffiti, sometimes its small, sometimes its rare, in some places graffiti mainly takes the form of writing. in other places in the form of drawings.

Is graffiti big and bold or is it small and intimate? Is it both? Is it generally found out in the air or indoors? Graffiti out in allies and on walls vs the small stuff you find in bathroom stalls, school desks and on benches.

what sort of writing is favored? is it short phrases, “like Gorgeio was here.”  is it Tags (small words or names written on objects to claim something in some sort of competition, used by individuals or groups, to show territory or just to show off by getting them in the oddest places.) or perhaps graffiti is away to spread news about something, a bit like how graffiti in Pompeii was used. is grafiety used as markers and cyphers for people in the know?

Do people use graffiti to communicate in an indirect manner?

Think phone numbers written on toilet doors.

Is graffiti used as a more direct form of communication? Such as hobo signs that where used to tell eachother where it was safe to rest, or perhaps thieves guilds to quietly signal to eachother where a target or safe house is. Or perhaps it’s used by magic users for instructions or tests or pointing out the local supernatural hot spot. or wandering cultures telling eachother stories and warnings about the city they are passing through or even as sighn posts that only they can read. Like trail trees.

street art.

stickers, posters, and flyers.

Sometimes more physical things like a wall of gum, flags, shoes hung up places, necklaces strung up high where no one can easily reach them or locks chained to bridges.

I have even heard of small constructions; like fairy or mouse doors and little statues glued to trash cans or in cracks in the wall.

It can be a drawing and paintings or even something more physical like scraps of cloth tide to poles, yarn woven around trees or stickers slapped onto trashcans and signs.

In one place I have lived most graffiti is in the form of spray painted tags on everything and stickers. While in another place tags are rare as the buildings are painted with murals and art and trees with knitting tied around the branches. In another place most of the buildings where wood so graffiti was carved into it.

What kind of things are often drawn? What imagery do people use?

Graffiti will look different depending on what era of history it is, but it will still be around. It might be smaller in earlier time periods.

Is all the graffiti in this city you are building visual? Perhaps some of it is auditory, like wind chimes in a park, or poles carved to whistle as the wind blows through it, or perhaps it invokes a sense of smell or touch? Is the graffiti only able to be sensed or seen by the magical?

-what dose your city smell like? Do different districts in the city have different smells?

-what dose your city sound like? Is it mostly quiet humming of conversation and rustling of leaves, is it car horns and loud construction, is it water lapping on brigades and electricity buzzing through wires. Is it street musicians and local bird? Are some areas of the city different in sound pollution and how dose that contribute to graffiti?

Dose a certain kind of graffiti have a certain kind of well known meaning? Like initials carved into a tree surrounded by a heart, meaning romantic or sensual love.

- is there a code of conduct for graffiti? 

note that I am far from an expert in graffiti, I know like shiltz about it. im simply going off my observations.

I know that there is a loose hierarchy of tags.

If you can’t outdo it don’t tag over it, and if it is a memorial then do not tag over it. These guidelines are not enforced in the same way everywhere, but breaking them will get the other people that tag to come after your tags with a vengeance.

Or at least that’s what I have heard…

Another guideline that might exist is what can and cannot be tagged.

Street signs, utility walls, underpasses, abandoned buildings, train cars are free game.

While things like windows, cars and residential homes are often off limits (though I have seen plenty of exceptions to this too)

Trees and natural rocks seem to me a hit of miss on if they are in limits or off limits. - how dose the city deal with graffiti? 

Do they paint over it? Wash it away? Leave it to be.

Is it the city or private residents who deal with it? Dose the city even think it worth dealing with or do they let it alone?

Are there certain things that get graffiti more than other thing? Such as benches, utility boxes, lampposts, under bridges or one specific wall.

Dose the city do something to prevent this graffiti such as have anti graffiti seats in tram and rail carts.

If a city doesn’t have graffiti why is that? Are punishments so harsh that no one dares or are things allowed elsewhere so no one bothers or is it covered up as soon as it’s thrown up?

Dose the city install public works of art? And if so for what purpose? Public art is usually political in some form or another, be it from a statue to commemorate some historical event or another statue to be an ego bust to a certain people in political power or as a pice to try appease one group or another. It can also be used to hide things that the city dose not want it’s citizens paying attention too. Either in a benign way such as hiding vents or utility wires from view or more malicious things like Anti-vagrancy architecture hidden as “art”.

Dose the city encourage certain kinds of graffiti in certain places. Think street art vs graffiti Tags. Or the before mention news walls in Pompeii.

Is some graffiti seen as vulgar while other kinds of graffiti are tolerable or even encouraged?

What is the legal punishment for graffiti, if any?

Is some graffiti seasonal? Such as graffiti that occurs during certain festivals. For example beads caught in things after Mardi Gras or toilet paper during Halloween.

Do cities see vandalism in the same light as graffiti or are they viewed in a different way?

Is morality ascribed to graffiti? Is it seen as a symbol the degradation of civilization or is it just an active that is seen as fun? Is it something in between?

- how dose the graffiti interact with the citizens?

Is graffiti used in political messaging? Who in your world or city tends to use it that way?

Dose graffiti contain hate speech? Are there other groups who go around covering up the other groups messaging?

What groups tend to make what certain graffiti and who is the other group that tries to cover it up? Is it a gang? A secret society? A political activist group? A cult? Or just a group of petty artist trying to one up each-other?

Dose advertisement interact with graffiti? In example posters that advertise an event or painted art and words on a cross walk advertising a local concert.

Do people steal posters or graffiti when they can? Are there collectors of graffiti or is it seen as only something vulgar?

For example Alphonse mucha the most recognizable artist in the art nouveau movement did a lot of work in advertising. The main form his advertisement took was posters. I have heard that these posters where stollen at such a high rate it was difficult to actually get the advertisement out… though that may have been for an other artist. I also know some people who steal advertisement posters.

Are there any famous graffiti artists or is it an anonymous work for fear of harsh legal action.

How much attention do the average person walking the street notice the graffiti or pay attention too it?

Is there a specific pice or tag that everyone in the city knows about or is especially well known for one reason or another. Like wings painted on a city wall.

Is there a certain graffiti that is found in multiple cities or even travels to multiple countries.

In example; Kilroy was here, a small pice of ww2 graffiti that is still making its was across the world.

(I will not be confirming or denying if I have added to the collections of world wide Kilroys)

Is there graffiti that a person from one city in your setting wouldn’t recognize as graffiti if they traveled to another city?

Are there certain areas of the city that has more graffiti than others? Is there a city district know for its murals or a famous ally or street. Or something seen as a curiosity like the island of dolls in Mexico City.

Is there a certain group of people in your world known for a specific type of graffiti? If so why do they make this graffiti?

Is there religious graffiti? Either invoking or dameing one group or another?

Is religious motifs used in graffiti?

Is there graffiti involving superstitions?

For example (blue) bottles hung up in order to trap spirits, copper coins wedged into wood to ward against good luck. Pices of paper tacked to walls or posts with the wishes of the citizens.

What about public memorials? Do people make small plaques or remembrance? Do people create make-shift shrines? Have candle lit vigils? Or paint a mural? Do different communities in the city grive different ways?

How do the different cultures of your world, especially those living in any given city influences the kinds of graffiti found there? Do the patterns and styles of art change depending on what culture is more dominant in any given area of the city?

What kind of vibe dose the cities graffiti give? Is it chill and relaxed? Is it rebellious and provocative? Is it artistic and hopefully? Is it desperate and territorial? Hostile and hateful? Helpful and fun? Dose the over all vide of the graffiti change from one city district to another or is the city rather harmonious in its cloterr?

After all a sticker for a favored sports team slapped on a sighn post has a very different vibe from a sigh post littered with bullet holes.

-is there magical graffiti?

If you have a magic system, would people use it to make graffiti? Would there be something unique about graffiti made using the magic system?

Is there enchanted graffiti that changes and moves? Graffiti that looks different for everyone who sees it? Paintings of laughing women, chalk fish that swim on sidewalks or tags that translate themselves into many languages?

Can graffiti be organic in nature? Living pods and biological bits used as gag inducing decoration or bones hung up carved in runes? Sculpture made of feathers and fur.

Are magic users used to get rid of graffiti? Or are they the ones who make the most graffiti?

Is it used as protective wards? As a way to put a curse on someone?

And so much more!

As I mentioned I am no expert in graffiti, I don’t even know a lot about it.

But I hope I could at least make you consider about thinking of the very small details of your world, the slight and insignificant.

[wintervalewritersecond]

birthday bash - xavier thorpe

requested: no, but requests are open!

word count: 1.551 warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, talk about death and birthdays

check my masterlist for more work!

In which you, Wednesday's cousin, celebrate your first Nevermore birthday party organized by no one less than Xavier Thorpe.

"Once again, Enid, Y/N never celebrates her birthday."

"But Wednesday," the blonde pouts, staring at her friend. "How can she not celebrate her birthday? Does she not like cake? Who doesn't like cake?"

You only look at her, a small smile on your face.

"After the incident at her ninth birthday, we never spoke of it ever again."

"No birthdays," you shrug.

"But- But!" Enid sputters. "But that was years ago! Please, we can go to Weathervane and get drinks! You like coffee, right?"

The poor girl blabbers on, trying to convince the Addams girl to celebrate a birthday here at Nevermore.

"Enid, I care about you, but I promise you, I do not miss celebrating a birthday. I have to go to Fencing class now, I will see you both later."

You leave your cousin and friend behind at the picnic tables as Enid still goes on about anything she could do for your birthday. It was in only a few days, but to be entirely fair, you did not mind skipping it again this year.

It is not like you despised it entirely, not at all actually. Your mother would place a bouquet of your favorite wilted flowers in your bedroom as your father made sure that the theme of your birthday cake was always on point. But, after your dearly loved black cat had passed away on your ninth birthday, you never celebrated it again, though your mom did always leave a single wilted flower, just in case you wanted to celebrate that day.

-

Another day of Enid suggesting different things to do on your birthday goes by. You had finished all your classes and had just grabbed your paintbrushes and paint, but you could barely leave your shared room with Yoko before you got jumped by your friend. It is hard to not notice her though, as she was one of the most colorful people to walk through Nevermore. Her bright pink shoes alone would catch anyone's attention.

"Okay, what if we go shopping for Rave'n dresses then?"

"I doubt if I will be going, Enid."

"What about getting a haircut? Or going out for dinner?"

You stop walking, facing your friend.

"Enid. You are one of my closest friends, but I simply do not celebrate my birthday. I am willing to just hang out with you, Wednesday, and some other very close friends, as long as the birthday is not at all discussed. Now, please excuse me, but I shall go for a small walk now. I will be back later, we planned to paint our nails, right?"

Enid's face lights up as she nods, quickly saying goodbye before walking off.

You would often spend a lot of time in the art studio, with or without Xavier. And that is exactly where you are heading now. He would let you use the studio if you needed a moment of quiet and calm, or if you just wanted to paint at any given time. Not a lot of people knew where the little shed was, which definitely was a good thing in some moments.

As you arrive, you can see that the lights are already on. Xavier must be inside already. You knock on the door before opening it, seeing your friend splatter paint on his canvas, a paintbrush in his mouth as he looks at his work.

"Hello, Xavier."

A bright smile forms on his face as he takes the brush out of his mouth, placing it on the table next to him before sipping his drink.

"Hey! Want to paint?"

You hold up your own paint and paintbrushes with a small smile on your face as the boy gestures to the easel next to him. It still had your canvas resting on it, ready for you to start whenever you wanted. And so you did.

It was quiet for a while as the two of you were immersed in your own work, but then Xavier speaks up.

"Y/N?"

You nod, looking up at him.

"Why do you never celebrate your birthday?"

Enid must have told him. You hesitate to tell him. What if he will see you as weak? You are not like your cousin, you are not as good at masking your emotions as Wednesday.

"I uh... My cat died that day. Never celebrated it since."

"Oh, wow... Sorry," Xavier winces but you just shake your head.

"No worries," a small smile again. "You didn't know. And besides, I never quite had friends to celebrate it with. Though Wednesday does take me to the same place on my birthday before getting the strongest coffee we can."

"You celebrate it with Wednesday? What do you guys do?"

"Well, she always takes me to the closest funeral house to see who passed on my birthday. I bring flowers while Wednesday watches the corpses and crying people."

You let out a laugh. Though more outwardly emotional than her, you do not smile, laugh or cry nearly as much with others as you do with Xavier. He makes you feel safe. He does not judge.

Xavier looks at you blankly, furrowing his eyebrows before nodding.

"Sounds like an Addams."

-

A few classes had gone by already and no one had mentioned your birthday yet. Your nails had been painted a deep, bloody red, which was your color choice as Enid gave you a manicure. Speaking about Enid, she had also not said a word about your birthday yet. You did quite appreciate it.

At the end of the day, you could finally relax. You had nothing planned yet, except for hanging out with some others in the dorms, and you were on your way to your when you hear someone running up to you.

"Y/N!"

You stop, turning around to see Xavier walking closer to you, a smile on his face as he points behind him.

"I uh- I wanted to see if you wanted to go and pick up my canvas from the shed? It's uh, it's kinda big and I could use a pair of extra hands to take some materials back to my room?"

You agree, gripping your backpack as you walk with him. It is quiet, but not in an awkward way, but rather in a comfortable way. You could almost walk to the shed blindly, having gone there many times before already.

"Close your eyes," Xavier says, blocking the door to the shed with his arm.

"Close my eyes?"

"Please," he nods.

You give him a look before closing your eyes, feeling one of his hands covering them as well before the door creaks open. What is he hiding?

The sound of matches, some shuffling, and then the clearing of a throat.

"You can open your eyes."

You do as he says, rubbing them before looking around. The room is filled with candles, circling two pillows that are sitting on the ground. In front of those is a smaller canvas, hidden behind a thin rag that Xavier often used to wipe the paint off of his brushes. He nervously sits you down on the pillow before taking a deep breath.

"I uh- I wanted to give you a gift. Before everyone was here."

He had gotten you a gift?

"I know you don't like to celebrate your birthday, and I know you do not like gifts, but I hoped you would like this."

He lifts the rag off, revealing the painting hidden underneath it. Your shoulders relax and your eyes grow big once you see what it is.

The painting portrays a black kitten, sleeping on top of a bed which is very familiar to you. It starts moving as the kitten wakes up, stepping out of the painting before stopping in front of you, licking her paw before meowing and disappearing back onto the painted bed on the canvas.

"If it's too much, please tell me. I had to hunt down Wednesday for this and she said that she would kill me if it made you upset," Xavier laughs awkwardly before reaching into his bag and pulling out a small plushie that looked exactly like your cat.

You stare at the plushie that he had placed in your lap. Xavier nervously looks at you, did you like it? Did you hate it?

Your gaze moves from the plush animal to Xavier before crashing into him, your arms around his neck as a stray tear falls down. You whisper a 'thank you', unable to say anything more even though you would love nothing more than to say much more. Xavier just held you, a smile on his face as he looks at the flickering light of the candle. You did not often engage in any physical closeness, but for Xavier, you make an exception.

Time passes before Xavier his phone buzzes.

"Hey, Enid. Yeah, she is here. No, we didn't forget about the get-together. We'll be there in a bit. Yes, I bought the donuts with sprinkles."

Xavier slowly stands up, blowing out the candles before reaching his hand out to you.

"Ready to go?"

And so you celebrated your first birthday in years. Surrounded by your dearest friends, tons of snacks, and the gifts that you had gotten from Xavier.

Maybe birthdays aren't so bad after all.

[mlmxreader]

Cinema Dates | Eddie Brock/Venom x gn!reader

anonymous asked: Eddie Brock: Hiya!! I hope this ask finds you well! May I please ask for a work using the following prompts for 🥹 my favorite loser Eddie Brock X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Look, you're gonna be alright"+"Did you ever think we would end up here?" Thank you 🖤🖤! 🐍anon

summary: it's not often that you and Eddie get to spend time together, but when an opportunity to have a long date night comes up, you both jump at the chance.

tws: swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Eddie didn't go to the cinema often anymore, not since he had bonded to Venom, as the loud noises drove the Symbiote up the wall and the flashing lights made him even worse, but you wanted to go so badly, and Eddie had been wanting to see the film as well; Venom agrees with you both on a safeword, a word he could tell Eddie or you if things got to be too much.

He settled on "Mulder", the main character of the most recent television show you and Eddie had been watching; it worked, and more importantly, Venom felt safe enough to be able to get you or Eddie if it all got too much.

But Eddie was excited for the double feature, if he was honest, and it was cheaper to see both than to see just one thanks to the cinema having an offer on - buy a ticket for one, get the other film ticket for free.

You both agreed to dress up as well, with you dressing up for one film, and Eddie dressing up for the other; you wore a nice black suit with a olive green shirt and a tie that Eddie had bought you a long time ago that had little flying saucers on it. Eddie, on the other hand, wore a dull pastel pink blazer with matching trousers, a pair of white shoes, and a light pink shirt; he even bought a necklace with your first initial on it that was pink and in the font of the film.

But while your shirt was buttoned all the way up, Eddie's was undone halfway down, exposing his chest and giving a small peak at his tattoos. Eddie booked the tickets so that there was time to get something to eat before you went into the first film; he let you pick where to go, wanting to give you a bit of a treat before the five hour long date.

Sat in the less than fancy restaurant, you were happy as you sat across from him, Venom resting his head on your shoulder and occasionally stealing a few of your chips; it wasn't often that the three of you got to spend so much time together, you wished it wasn't just a meal and then a couple of films, but it was the best that you could do.

Venom seemed quite keen, too, perking up and grinning when he heard a song related to one of the films.

"Am I a Barbie girl?" He asked you.

You laughed, looking at Eddie as he pulled a face, trying not to laugh. "Venom, everyone can be a Barbie girl."

"But that would make you both Ken," Venom pointed out. "Wouldn't it?"

You shrugged, gently kicking Eddie under the table so he would stop getting you to laugh. "I guess so, yeah."

"It's a shame you didn't paint yourself pink," Eddie joked, biting back a hard laugh.

"But the other film," Venom huffed. "We're seeing both."

"He's got a point," you hummed, nodding. "But, if we'd have painted you with pink stripes, you'd be right down the middle."

"I blame Eddie," Venom said matter of factly. "He's such a Ken."

You couldn't help it, covering your mouth with your hand as you closed your eyes and giggled; Eddie rolled his eyes, but couldn't bite back his own giggles as he shook his head. You both had a good feeling about the date night, it was going to be a lot of fun, and you were glad that Venom was getting into it as well; you liked being around them both, and when one of them made you laugh, you never felt better.

But after eating, you headed over the cinema, and Venom stayed inside Eddie, not wanting to freak people out; you pulled him aside before going to the screen, clearing your throat and letting Venom seep out of Eddie's shoulder from under his shirt and blazer, sneaking through Eddie's open shirt and looking at you with a grin.

"We have ten minutes," you started, "are you sure you're comfortable with it, Venom?"

"Yes," he nodded. "If it gets too much, I will say."

"Good," you nodded, gently kissing his slick black forehead. "Look, you're gonna be alright - you've got me and Eddie, and we're gonna look after you."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, reaching for your hand and holding it tightly. "We're gonna look after you, V."

The Symbiote seeped back into Eddie's skin, leaving you and him to have five minutes together; he smiled as he gently kissed you, over the moon to finally have a few hours with his two favourite things in the world - his partner, and his alien partner. He felt a little giddy as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Did you ever think we would end up here?" He asked softly. "Y'know, after Carnage and all the other shit we've had to go through."

You shrugged, thinking about it for a moment. "I don't think I did. I hoped we would, but I couldn't be sure… did you?"

"I hoped so," Eddie breathed out with a nod. "But I also hoped that we would have more time."

"Eddie, we have plenty," you told him softly. "We might not go on dates all the time, but I'm okay with that - every fucking bit of time we share… it's something I adore."

He smiled, softly kissing you again and letting go of your hand so he could put his arm around your shoulders. "Should we go in?"

"I think we should," you hummed, leaning into him.

Eddie walked you to your seats, and let you sit down first so that he could get next to you, his arm going around your shoulders as he hummed and let out a gentle sigh; he was content, and Venom could feel it.

Venom only ever felt Eddie being content when he was around you. When he had time with you. Venom often felt the same, and when Eddie relaxed, Venom did, too. Their favourite person in the world.

[yumomia]

So now I obviously know what Mia, Mo, and Yuko all look like.

But I know for certain people they might vision them differently in their own head/fic stories.

So in your Mia and Me fanfics what am I supposed to be picturing when thinking of more specifically Yuko and Mo. Mo especially I’m interested to know.. like every little detail so please do describe them all to me 😭what’s his hair type? Did you make his skin darker? (Brown would look lovely if u ask me) what’s his nose shape like? Any beauty marks? Same for Yuko?? What’s going on appearance wise?

OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK THIS

roughly, this is what the trio looks like, including mia's human form! but i'll do a quick rundown of specifics!!

mia: mia is the SPITTING IMAGE of her father, especially when she's in the human world. she has loose brown curls that reach down to about her upper back and her ears pierced. light brown freckles are on her cheeks, and she has a bigger beauty mark on her right cheek (the picrew i used didn't have that option lol). she's the shortest of the trio. in the human world, she has little pink streaks running through her hair that she usually has to use a spell to cover. there's a scar that can be seen stretching above her elf dress (which is the same as canon), almost reaching her neck, from fighting panthea. she likes to wear long sleeves to cover her bracelet, but as it's the middle of summer where we currently are in the story, she doesn't get that option much. her ears are a LITTLE bit pointed in the story when she's in the human world, and her wings are light pink, like in canon!

yuko: yuko is lithe and muscular. she has red hair that just brushes her shoulders when she lets it down, though she never does. she has a small mark shaped like a sun on her right cheek. it's not as obvious as her star from canon is, it glows gold when yuko uses a lot of magic. it's shaped like this!

her eyes are sapphire blue, and she tends to wear small blue gemstones in her hair. just because she's a badass warrior doesn't mean she can't look cute! she's also the only one (in canon as well) that wears real shoes! yuko wears gladiator sandals that lace up around her calves (whereas mia basically wears thigh-high socks and mo has half his foot out). when she can, she likes painting things on herself, like poetry and other little doodles, though she tends to only do that if she knows she won't have to fight anytime soon, so mia hasn't gotten to see the doodles. yuko has a roman nose, because i have a roman nose and i WILL project onto every one of these characters, so she has the small bump in the bridge of her nose. she has the most scars as well, from hundreds of fights over the years. her wings are the same yellowy-orange as from canon, though they are longer than mia's. she's the second-tallest in the group.

mo: mo is the one i changed the most, obviously. he's got dark brown skin (as does mayla, btw. they aren't blood related but in my heart mayla has dark skin and wears her hair in long braids). his curls are about 3b and his hair is like canon, so black it's almost blue. he has a rounder face than yuko does. his nose is flatter than the other two (and as stated in s1e20, they think it's adorable). he has way less scars than yuko. most of his tend to be on his hands from muncs' snakebites. technically, he's supposed to be wearing his crown everywhere, but mayla and raynor realized long ago that that's a lost cause and gave up lol. he's the tallest of the trio, beating yuko by about two inches, but his wings are shorter than hers, longer than mia's. his eyes are an indigo-sort of purple, the same as his friendship ring. he fidgets when he's uncomfortable, most often playing with his friendship ring or opening and closing his water glare. he wears ear cuffs up by the tips of his pointed ears as well, most of the time.

i hope this helped!! i got this less than a minute after you sent it so i've been making sure to include everything i can think of!!

story they're referencing

picrew i used

star tattoo source