#you know what this rough sketch needs? to be completely painted over

[rinto190]

promised to doodle a korsica for @lizardsarecute as thanks for helping me with my tumblr issue

but, in classic angel fashion, i rendered the damn thing. oops.

[lia-linny]

summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

note: i lost the request but who ever asked for this i hope you enjoy. ♡

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?�� You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[sameschmidtdiffname]

I’m so fond of Soft for her Loved Ones Katniss and a Peeta who knows his grumpy wife is the soft one. I think that he always knew she was soft since he saw her with Prim, and that was part of him realizing she loved him. “She lets me get away with murder and my smile and baby blues get me anything”.

On a serious note, I do feel like during their growing back together period, Katniss is just so incredibly gentle and careful with Peeta when she can be. Like when they get close enough they're back to spending every day (every hour, every minute) together again Peeta has to barely suggest something before Katniss is up and running to get it for him. He nics himself once with an exacto knife during a project and Katniss is suddenly all "Doctor Everdeen" again and Peeta 'never had genuine care and affection growing up' Mellark, who somewhat remembers how she used to care for him pre-hijacking, is just slowly melting at every fret and touch, just watching her care with the biggest, lovesick puppy eyes he's ever had because it was tortured out of him to remember how nice it feels to be genuinely cared for.

I feel like this is even more exaggerated by the fact that after Mockingjay Katniss and Peeta I think switch some aspects of their personality. Like I would imagine Peeta is more akin to Katniss at the beginning of the series with falling in love now because he's very skeptical even though he can now remember how he used to feel, but that's like a completely different person in his head almost, so it's more a theory than a memory. So everytime Katniss is kind or loving to him at first he's nice about everything while internally semi distrustful of the whole thing, and definitely not fond of the idea of allowing himself to be vulnerable. Meanwhile Katniss has switched to needing validation and affection so bad it hurts, but knowing she can't demand it because that's not fair to Peeta so she just pours as much love as she feels she's allowed into all of her actions without trying to reveal her state of longing for him because she's just glad he's returned to her period. It doesn't have to be romantic.

I also feel like this would apply to when Katniss has nightmares and Peeta eventually begins comforting her via physical touch. I think it would be extremely obvious how touch starved Katniss is post-Mockingjay even though she tries to hide it for Peetas sake, and eventually Peeta just can't handle not doing whatever he can to help ease her mind, even if it's just holding her hand (which helps a lot) until all the subdued feelings just come pouring out that night they finally confess while tangled in their bedsheets.

Once they're well settled into their relationship? Peeta is 1000% abusing his husband privileges. One time he's three days into a painting project, there's acrylics all over the floor and Katniss tries to clean up but Peeta is insistent that it's fine because once they dry he can just scrape them off the floor with a washcloth. No, really honey, I used to do this all the time, as he pushes her quickly out the door of his study because he's way too invested to chit-chat and wants her to be surprised by the work anyways (he likes the praise from her seeing it go from a rough sketch to a full blown painting, especially since it's turned into a where's Waldo situation of her looking for themselves in his paintings.) And then he goes to clean up the paint himself only to realize this is really nice paint that has stained really nice Capitol-grade imported wood and it is not coming out. Katniss is fully aware of what happened the minute Peeta comes home rambling quickly about these "wonderful rugs Effie had" and "I just had to get one for the house" because "It's good luck" and he'll tell her about it some other time, he's gotta get this rug upstairs. Ignore any bumps you hear! (She does not. The bump is Peeta falling down the stairs cuz his prosthetic glitched and between the giant woven rug and his natural clumsiness that fucker went down.) But she doesn't say anything because he has this stupid smile as he presents her with three paintings and a basket of cheese rolls because he just loves her so much, that's all.

Then there's one time a load of laundry goes missing and Peeta is just insistent that the clothes must be in some odd corner unwashed, even though she could've sworn she put that load in the wash. So for two weeks straight she's just constantly thinking about this load, sometimes getting out of bed in the midst of the night when she can't sleep anyways to look for the damn clothes because they're obviously somewhere. Clothes don't move. But then her husband starts asking her to give up, they'll pop up sooner or later, and she's starting to wonder why he's baking so much bread. Like, lots of bread. Bread with cheese, or honey, or nuts. Just constantly kneading dough in their kitchen while chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought. And at first she's convinced she's actually losing it. Maybe she's starting to have black out episodes. Is that even possible? To do something and just have absolutely no memory of the event at all? What if she starts hurting people during these episodes? What if she's already hurting people while she's in these episodes?? And that's why Peeta is so nervous now???

She's got an appointment with Dr. Aurelius next week, she'll bring it up to him. Peeta is definitely hiding something from her. But then one day after she comes home from her hunting trip, longing for her favorite sweater instead of the one she's wearing today, Peeta is beaming in the kitchen saying he found the load and it's all washed and hung up in the closet. "Oh, it was just behind the washer! Who knows how it got there."

Except Katniss knows she checked behind the washer. Three times, actually. And Peeta doesn't smile like that naturally. So she's not crazy, and Peeta has got something going on. So, when they go to bed that night, Katniss waits for three hours before she finally slips out of bed, knowing he's too konked out at this point to notice her missing and sneaks into his study to see what all could be in there. And after an hour of looking, she doesn't find anything, and now she feels bad for suspecting something and going through her husband's things. She's about to click off the light when she notices a bottle of oil paint missing in a set she'd bought for Peeta a little while ago for his birthday. And things start clicking together. Because first off, he doesn't go through paints that fast. Second off, even if he does, he never throws away the bottles. Like, ever. There is an entire drawer filled with empty bottles and such of paint and other supplies partially because Peeta needs to remember the names or brands, and partially because Peeta hates the idea of potentially wasting something unless he is fully convinced it's done. Which he never is.

It takes one day before he confesses, and when he does it's because Katniss casually mentions how her favorite sweater doesn't seem to have an old snag from when her ring caught on the yarn and nearly ripped a hole in the arm. And that's how she finds out Peeta accidently left a poorly closed bottle of azure blue paint in his pants pocket and not even Effie had been able to save the load, so she helped him reorder everything. Thus why he's been stress baking. And Katniss is way too entertained to be mad because at this point, there's no better reprimand than the one Peeta has given himself.

But idk tho. I don't think about them much :)

[sleepingdeath-light]

human au + sentient puppet reader hcs ; wally darling

requested by ; suninwalls (14/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “Hello! Unfortunately, I was also tapped in a underground concrete box by those puppets. I can't leave! Can I ask for Human!Wally and puppet!reader (a little switcheroo). How would he deal with a sentient or hunted puppet that he or someone else brought to his house. Have a great day!✴️🌟”

note ; i need to refresh myself on the lore after this, but since this is a complete role shift au it shouldn’t be too badly ooc

warning(s) ; human & puppeteer au, mostly fluff!

though your friendship had started off on a… rough note to say the least, once wally has gotten used to the whole ‘sentient living puppet’ thing, the two of you became as thick as thieves

(after all, puppeteer or not, most people would panic if the puppet they just bought from an auction suddenly sat up and started talking to them of their own accord — arguably, if anything, wally handled the whole thing quite well by pushing through his fear to introduce himself to you and ask you about yourself)

whenever any of your stitching becomes loose or one of your button eyes falls out, wally is always there with a needle and thread to do some last minute repairs — he’s not at poppy’s level of mastery over textiles, but he knows just enough of the basics to keep you healthy

he’s brought you on the ‘welcome home’ set a couple of times when you’ve complained about being bored when he’s left you home alone, and you’ve been incorporated into a couple of episode sketches here and there — typically to teach a lesson about empathy, self acceptance, or something else along those lines to their young audience

(it’s always a good laugh, even if it is a bit strange for you to watch your fellow puppets get human limbs, or whole humans in some cases, shoved inside of them in order to bring them to life — like you know they aren’t alive like you, but it’s still a deeply disturbing thing to witness)

(wally has also had to pretend to be your puppeteer to hide your sentience before, which earned him plenty of praise for his vocal range and a very stern talking to from you about warning you before grabbing you by the hemming — you forgave him, obviously, since he’s your dearest friend and the absolute most, but you’ve never let him live it down)

when he’s not working on set, he’s up in his workshop painting something or another (a trait he shares with his most well known character, which you never fail to joke about) — most of the time he just paints whatever comes to mind, other times he’ll start painting you because your puppet proportions are so unusual to him that he can’t help but try and capture whatever thing you’re doing at that moment

his close friends and fellow puppeteers are the only other people who know the extent of your sentience, and they’ve all readily accepted you into their friend group — for better or for worse

for example, julie and poppy are forever planning and crafting up new outfits for you to wear (including a recreation of the wally puppet’s outfit which everyone seemed to find rather amusing) and making sure all of your materials are well taken care of, whilst barnaby is someone who is quick to rope you in to whatever prank he’s about to pull on your dearest human companion — you never really know what you’re going to experience from one day to the next, but you wouldn’t have it any other way

[princessfanonanona]

Something I've noticed lately, and has become really prevalent, is the idea that a "warmup doodle" is anything less than a full illustrated completed piece.

Which is NOT correct.

When I was in school, and it follows every single sport I ever participated in, it was taught that a warm up is a way to physically warm up and loosen muscles to prevent injury which is why you also have cool down stretches to help get any lactic buildup out of the muscles to prevent cramps.

So it should follow that a warm up drawing should be movements to loosen and relax the muscles in your drawing hand/arm to prevent injury before actually working on a piece. This means drawing squiggles, loops, hatching areas, just absolute nonsense. (There's also a whole slew of physical stretches that you can do as well to help, but that's for another post). The point of warm up drawing is to physically warm up and loosen the muscles directly related to holding your stylus/pen/paintbrush/charcoal/whatever before you actually work on the piece you actually want to work on.

"But this isn't a fully illustrated art that took me bajillions of hours to complete, so its obviously-"

A sketch! A practice drawing! Drawing exercises! A speed test! A draft! Concept art! There are so many other words to use to describe your art!

A professional soccer player doesn't just warm up and go play in a match. They have drill practice, they have mock matches, they have exercises and trainings and everything in between.

Your art is the same.

You need to practice, anatomy exercises, line exercises, shading practice, point drills (draw a bunch of dots and connect them with as smooth of a line as possible without a ruler), hatch shade practice, color exercises, etc. You know what a lot of classical artists did before painting on the giant canvases? They sketched the image over various iterations to get the shape and form and layout, they did a rough painting to show what colors and where they were to go, and did it over and over before working on their final pieces.

Just because it's not perfect, does not mean its just "a warm up doodle." Please expand your vocabulary and understand a "warm up" is to prevent injury not "imperfect illustration." You are not only hurting yourself physically, you are going to hurt every young artist who's still learning.

[sarahvincere]

I quite like using Tumblr because there's not a lot of people here to judge or hurt me.

I can scream into the void without fear of repercussion or someone dramatically changing my words.

well today I almost got cancelled.

but like on a niche... fanartist scale. y'all know what HSR is right? so I did a drawing on my alt on TWITTER (my first mistake) with 5 followers. FIVE! i didn't think anything would happen. then it blew up. hello?? like??

anyways since it was just a quick, warmup study to my 5 followers I didn't think anything would happen, and forgot to credit the artist who's work I studied.

and so they dmed me asking for credit and for me to change my pfp a couple days ago, but I legitimately just didn't see their dm. I didn't get a notification for the dm request or anything.

then they threatened to go public with it. but again, I just hadnt seen their dm yet. and they're a big artist, okay, and this is fucking honkai star rail you KNOW the community is toxic. and it's on twitter. so it's like twice as bad.

and I keep thinking, what if I had never accidentally clicked on the dm tab? what if I hadnt seen the message on time?

I've been having a panic attack. bad, this time. just within a month or so I started getting them almost everyday. and it was exactly when I started trying to grow my twitter.

the last time I had a panic attack before this was over 5 years ago. I was a very laid back and chill person before all this. now I'm just paranoid.

and I'm so fucking scared of getting cancelled. I'm way too fucking sensitive for this shit. I'm not cut out for fame or having any eyes on me. I'm not made for this shit. I can take hate comments or insults or criticism. I don't care about any of that.

but getting cancelled fucks up me getting into a good college! and it potentially fucks up my life!! what if I get doxxed? then it's not just me but my whole FAMILY that's in danger.

another funny story is that I'm not allowed to have any social media for that exact reason. I'm not allowed to even have a fucking phone and I'm SIXTEEN. when I was younger, this used to really tick me off. but I get it now.

if I could, I would chase my dreams of being an artist without social media. I hate how much I rely on it.

I'm so tired of the internet as a whole, really. I shouldn't be fucking scared to ruin the rest of my life just because I did a study. a 20 minute warmup sketch before I started painting.

no shade to the artist that dm'd me, I get it. it's rough out here, and you need to fight for your work to be seen and appreciated. I'm not mad or anything. I understand completely.

I'm just tired of how social media makes me feel. I don't even fucking use it other than to post once a day. even THAT drains me.

[xephia]

Hi, i hope this question doesn't bothers you, do you have any videos of your process?, im currently starting to learn how to do digital art and have trouble knowing where to start and what to do (im always like, should i start drawing this part first?, is it better to do clean lineart or just paint over the sketch?, do i work on the lights first or the shadows?, etc)

I can probs make you a video on this at some point based on something I'm currently working on, although I have a few on my tiktok already (@ xephia) if that helps!

My process is a bit messier than many other artists - I alternate between stages of sketch and colour before I even think about ‘final colour’. I’ll start with a sketch like the ones below, then slap some rough colour on. This is because IMO colour is an important part of the composition so I want to see what works before I line. They’re not meant to be pretty or social media ready. This stage can look super messy or tidy depending on how I feel or how complicated it is. And they can look wildly different; here’s some examples:

That stage also helps me decide if I want to finish the piece or if I should abandon it (I abandon a lot). Sometimes this stage takes 15min, sometimes 2 hours, it really depends on the piece. But for me personally, it’s crucial because otherwise I find it very hard to envision how it will look later, or forget what I was planning.

Then, I do at least one more layer of ‘sketch line art’, which is basically a first layer of line art to see what works and what needs changing. I colour the important bits relatively cleanly (usually character/s) and add might some subtle shadows/gradients and/or lighting to get a feel of what it will look like finished. Sometimes I repeat this process a couple of times if I’m not happy with how the first iteration looked. This stage usually looks a little like this character sheet I’m working on, and this slice from a Kiki delivery service sketch:

It’s usually not until I’ve done all that, that I go over and do the final lineart, making it thicker, colouring the lines, redoing the flat colours, tidying it up, and adjusting where needed. Essentially I don’t start ‘finishing’ a piece until I’m happy with where everything sits and what colours I’ve picked. It’s only at this point I feel like the sketch is ready to line, and lining and final colouring can actually take less time for me than all those layers of planning somehow haha.

At this point I keep tidying, cleaning, lining, colouring, until the piece feels complete. Sometimes complete for one piece is tidier than complete for another, it really depends.

I’ll also use Procreate’s push tool to adjust things as I go in all steps - it saves a lot of time and isn’t cheating.

Although as you can probably tell from my examples, I do change this procress up a lot depending on the piece! Sometimes I’ll even paint over parts of my final piece like I did in this magical girl street. I think find whatever works for you, everyone will work differently and things like mood, energy levels, how patient you feel, how stressed you are, if you have any hand pain or shaking, and how much free time you have that day to draw can all affect your process day to day, week to week.

Some days it will be easier and more comfortable to sketch messily, other days tidier. Some days you will draw well, other days not well at all. At least for me, I find consistency almost impossible.

So I think there's no right or wrong order to do things and it's great to switch it up and keep things interesting for yourself, and different processes work for different people. Hope this helps!

[romancingdaffodils]

Pictures and portraits

ARTIST!WILBUR U MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME I AM UR BIGGEST FAN

sort of out of character wilbur but it’s okaayyyyy

AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

they r gonna be so cute just u wait JUST U WAIT.

NAMED BY JADE !!!!!

2.1k words let’s go raahhhh

Wilbur was perched on the edge of a bench. Leaning forward, tilting his head and moving his legs, he was trying to get the perfect angle. A new painting. A gorgeous willow tree hunched over a deep green pond, the long hair like branches tickling the surface of the water. His sketch was going okay, it was the first time he had experienced true motivation in months. All was well until an oblivious passer by stopped right in front of him. He groaned, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough to voice his own frustration. However, what he hadn’t realised was the depth you added to his new piece. A person, who he had to admit looked very sweet, stood examining the same beauty he had seen. He was no longer angry. He began rapidly sketching, it wasn’t quite right to draw a stranger. However, he pushed that to the back of his mind; he’d go over and ask you once he’d finished this. He didn’t need to move, you simply came to him after about 20 minutes. Unaware of his plan, you strolled over the bench to check the pictures you had taken. Nodding at Wilbur, you silently asked ‘am i alright to sit here’. He nodded in return, allowing you to do whatever before he spoke. Quickly, you checked the pictures you had taken. A few had been on a disposable and the rest on your actual camera. Deleting any that weren’t from the right angle, you looked over to Wilbur as you heard him clear your throat.

“Photography?” he said, looking back at you. He gave you a small smile, but he was still trying to figure out how to ask if it was okay he had included you in his art.

“Yeah! You’re an artist?” you replied, gesturing to the pad in his hand. You returned his smile, turning your whole body to face him as you spoke.

“That’s right. Actually, you stepped in just as I was sketching. I hope you don’t mind.” Wilbur quickly turned around the pad as he spoke, revealing the sketch. It was so gorgeous. You looked beautiful, the rough pencil drawing had complimented you more than any camera. You were stood in the centre of the drawing, he had captured you at a 3/4 angle. The disposable camera was visible in your hand, and some how he had managed to enhance your feature’s charm by 1000. Not to mention the immense detail in the background, how perfectly he had captured the scene. You were in complete awe. How could one person have such talent?

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all, it’s gorgeous.” you continued to stare at the piece, your eyes only left to look up at Wilbur. “Oh, I don’t know your name. I’m y/n, wow. I cant believe you, like, made that. It’s so pretty, you made me so pretty.” you added, going off on a slight tangent after introducing yourself. You couldn’t help it, the sketch was just too incredible.

“I’m glad you like it.” he responded, his eyes not leaving your bewitched face. “Wilbur,” letting out a soft laugh, he looked down at the pad. He wasn’t sure what had you so hooked, but he was glad. It was good. You had made it so much better.

“Wilbur is a nice name. Are you going to paint it? Or?” you said, finally drawing your attention away from his art. You looked at him, giving him a big smile.

He couldn’t help but return the smile, looking down at you. “Thank you. Yeah, I’m going to paint it. Actually, I’d quite like to take it home. Would you mind, giving me your number or something? I can show you progress. I mean, only if you want to. Maybe so you could send me the pictures you took, so I can get the colouring right. Again, only if you want to.” he was a little proud of his cover up, he just really, really wanted your number.

You had practically started glowing as you reached down for your phone, you showed him your number. “I don’t know it off by heart, sorry.” you said, laughing slightly “And, of course I’ll send over the pictures. I’d be happy to help, you’re so talented.”

He nodded his head, in an attempt to distract himself from your constant compliments. He also retrieved his own phone from his pocket, he typed in your number and sending a quick text to check he had it right. The notification popped up and he smiled, content with successfully having your number. You had returned to admiring the art, eyes flicking between him and the sketch pad.

“You like it that much, huh?” Wil said, tilting his head as he kept looking at you. He couldn’t understand why someone liked his work so much, not that he was complaining.

“You make everything seem so irresistible. You see the world beautifully. How are you able to: capture everything through drawing it’s so incredible?” you sit back after subconsciously leaning closer to get a better look at this piece, and Wilbur. You wouldn’t admit that though.

“I’m not sure, if I’m being quite honest. I’ve been struggling for motivation recently, hated everything I painted, and sketched. So, thank you, for walking into my view because I don’t think I could ever hate this one. Even if I royally fucked it up.” he watched you move back; he sat the sketchbook back in his lap. His eyes flicked around the view he originally had, making sure everything was perfect in his sketch. You almost scream, he doesn’t hate it because you’re there. “Well, I think it’s perfect. Especially the background, you must’ve been here for hours.” you replied, looking back at your camera. Not the disposable, the professional camera you’d spent your life’s savings on. You pick out the best of the pictures and turn to show Wilbur, “How’s this?” you asked, looking over at him.

“Perfect. Thank you. Would you like to go for a walk? I need to stretch my legs. I have been here for hours.” he offered, placing all of his equipment into his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” you replied, pulling your camera over your head and the disposable into your pocket. Your phone was safely tucked in your other pocket, your phone that now had Wilbur’s number saved in it.

He stood up, then offered out his hand to help you stand. He felt a bit stupid, but kept his hand out. You took it as you stood. You looked at him, looked up at him. “Christ, you’re tall.” you laughed lightly as you spoke, shaking your head.

“I get that a lot. 6’6” he said, smiling down at you. He started to walk, his steps far bigger than your own. You picked up the pace to keep up with him, though you didn’t really mind.

“6’6, jesus christ. Sorry. You must get this all the time.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. You’re a photographer? What else do you photograph?” he responded, turning the conversation in a different direction. He craved your voice; he wanted to know you. Slowing down to match your pace, he thought about the way you had complimented his work before. Phrased so beautifully. So genuine. It brought a soft smile to his face.

“I, I work for the newspaper. I go round, and I take pictures whenever I’m wanted. Sometimes I do photoshoots for others - like weddings and stuff, they pay decently. But, I like to take pictures of things I think are pretty. Let me know if you ever want a photoshoot done.” you said, smiling back up at him. Anyone would’ve thought you were a couple, everything felt so natural. You had a feeling Wil would be one of those people you instantly clicked with and would never ever let go. To be honest, from the forty minutes of knowing him, you didn’t want to let go. You’d put across a bit of light flirting, where was the harm. You were semi sure he wouldn’t confront you about it, you were wrong.

“So you think I’m pretty, y/n?” he quipped, his smile had turned into a smirk. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for your response.

“Um, uh. I-“ you started, quickly being cut off by his soft laughter. “You’re a cunt!” you complained, this caused him keel over with laughter as he kept walking. He shook his head.

“Y’face was a picture. Maybe I’ll paint it.” he joked, turning back to you after his fit of laughter. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re quite pretty too.” he added, eyes boring into the side of your skull.

You were sure you could die in that moment.

“Do you sell your artwork?” you asked, trying to deter the conversation away from the situation. He smiled; he knew exactly what you were doing, but decided he’d go along with it.

“Yeah, I have a little group I’m in. We set up exhibitions, and sell our art. It’s more like a club, we meet up every Wednesday to share our current artwork.” he said, tearing his eyes away from you and looking ahead. He’d probably crash into something if he stared for too long.

“That’s a really cool idea. You make much money?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, I’m kidding. Depends who’s buying, sometimes we bring in a lot. Sometimes we don’t.”

You nodded as he spoke, you understood that. You continued to walk down the gravel path through the park, talking about anything that came to mind. You dreaded the walk coming to an end.

It had been two hours since you met Wilbur, and you were developing the largest crush you’d had since seeing Damon Albarn in the 90s. Your worst fear became a reality, the walk ended. You were stood at the gate to the park, a foot between you. Wil smiled. You smiled.

“It was lovely to meet you, y/n. Can I see you again, tomorrow maybe?” he asked, covering his nerves the best he could. You didn’t notice the way he brushed his knuckles against the palm of his hand. You did notice the little shake in his voice.

“I’d love that. Where do you want to go?” you questioned further, a permanent smile plastered on your face.

“There’s a lovely cafe, not too far away from here. I’ll message you the address. But, is 3 good with you?”

“3 is perfect. I can’t wait.” you said, still beaming up at him. He couldn’t help but return it.

“You’re going to ruin me.” he mumbled to himself, you barely heard it. You tilted your head, obviously confused. He then spoke again, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Bye y/n.”

“Bye Wilbur.”

Neither of you moved, this caused a cacophony of laughter. You pointed and said, “I’m going that way.”

“Let me walk you home.” he replied, he decided he should’ve offered that in the first place.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. You don’t have t-“ you were cut off by him beginning to walk the way you had pointed. You ran a bit to catch up to him, shaking your head. “Rude.” you said, looking up at him.

“Sorry, dove, I won’t walk you home next time. Let you get eaten by a cannibal?” he responded, placing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah? Where’s this cannibal? I’ll fight him off myself.”

“He’s right next to you.” he said, sarcastically.

You feigned shock and placed the back of your hand to your forehead, gasping. “Noo! Please!!!! Don’t eat me?! Where’s my knight in shining armour?! I am but a fair maiden in need of rescue!”

He laughed, you laughed.

“I lied. I won’t eat you. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I’ll be on the look out for being eaten though.”

“Probably for the best.” he said, watching as you turned a corner. He was walking on the outside of the pavement, closest to the road. He felt like a gentleman.

“I hope you’re not going to stalk me now you know where I live.” you said, jokingly. You were admiring him and it was a little obvious, you didn’t mind though.

“No promises.” he joked back, readjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Do you even live anywhere near here?” you asked, turning another corner as you spoke.

“Yeah, not too far.” he wasn’t lying but he wasn’t exactly telling the truth either, it was about a 40 minute walk from where you were walking now. Fortunately, you had made it to your building.

“This is me.” you said, looking up at him as you stood on the step.

“Flat?”

“Yeah. Everything’s way expensive here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow. Good bye y/n.”

“Good bye Wilbur.” you said, waving him off. He waved back before strolling away. You sprinted up to your flat and immediately collapsed on the couch, screaming into a pillow. You had never been so happy.

[echoedcrosshairs]

The Portrait ~ Boba x F Reader

Plot: You, a daughter of a former bounty captured by Boba Fett, are asked to paint a portrait of the new Daimyo although you despise him you can't help notice the growing tension. 🖤Enemies to Lovers 🖤

Warnings: second person narration, no y/n, suggestive sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is 41 canonically), lots of petnames (Little one & Old Man), praise kink, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens; protective Boba moment~> violence, Enemies to lover & sort of slow burn and eventual smut. This is a build up chapter.

Word Count: 6.7k

Masterlist Part Two

🔞no minors allowed🔞

Yes I know I need to go through all of my stories because small typos.

Boba sat in a darkest corner booth of the cantina waiting for his prospect to arrive but something was bugging him about her name it sounded familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it. He had arrived early to avoid being noticed by the crowds who came in during rush hour as Daimyo every knew his face and who he was but he wasn’t in the mood to be bowed at. He had his shawl covering his armor and his helmet tucked in beside him, knowing it’s shine would make him stand out. He brought his drink to his lips letting his eyes wandered to one of the dancers, although she was gorgeous but not gorgeous enough to distracted him with her curves and elegance to notice the prospect walking over. He blinked admiring the features in your face and the way your hips swayed as you walked towards him. He knew the confidence of female hunter when he saw it, alluring yet on the prowl. He let his eyes travel along the entire noting all of the empty concealed pockets.

"Do you two need a minute?" you laughed sitting down looking between him and the dancer, "I would hate to come between a hunter and his prey. She is rather pretty"

"I admire. Nothing more," he said curtly not liking the fact you noticed what he tried to hide, "I am retired," he added, “and to old to be chasing such beautiful creatures.”

"Once a hunter always a hunter. All you traded was one type of bounty for another just with less stakes but that's semantics," you said dismissing it.

Boba studied you carefully curious to what would compel you to so bold and brazen with him, "I take it you are not found of how I run this town?" he asked simply not letting any emotion or interest pace his course rough.

"No your rule is not one with an iron fist nor disappearing villagers in the dead of night or making examples out of petty things. I just do not care for you," you said pulling out your dust covered sketch book flipping the page of him taking away your father and your father's imprisonment in stone, "Getting to the subject. All supplies must be paid for up front, the entire can change once I started however you’re still wearing the same thing so I don’t think that matters and point me in the direction of the nearest lodging. I can begin as soon as the supplies arrive," you said closing the sketch book and returning it to your bag. Your eyes caught swift movement of hands of the person bringing both of you drinks, quickly pulling out the blaster out of your art bag dispatching one fatal shot you caught the tray with the drinks and dumped them both into a flower vase watching them quickly wilt. That’s what I thought, I need this try again later. You sat back down putting the blaster away, "What?" said noticing him staring at you.

"You loathe me yet saved my life, interesting" he said studying the expression on your face, "with such tenacity and efficiency."

"I may have talents outside of painting. I would hate to lose such an important commission before it was complete."

"Indeed," he said finally blinking looking at the corpse being dragged away, "stay at the palace, plenty of food and rooms to choose from," he offered.

"I'll take whatever room is furtherest from you," you grinned pulled the pad with the out the list of supplies and upgrades handing it to him. His leather glove brushing against your hand taking it, it sent a cold shiver up your arm like you just touch death.

"Consider it yours, I'll send someone to pick up all of these premiums," he said in attempt to ignore the fact brushing up against your finger set a jolt of something down him. Fear? Anticipation? She's a daughter of a former bounty and I just invited danger into my house. He stuck out the pad, Fennec taking it from whatever spot she was hiding.

"I should have most of these by sunrise, one or two might take a few extra hours," she said nodding walking off with the pad.

"I know my way to the palace," you said standing up eyeing the women he was looking at earlier, "Enjoy yourself for a change," you let out a small harsh laugh, "Try not to get killed until the commission is completed."

You walked away pretending not to be in a hurry about your heart was racing and your hands were clammy just being around him. He was a dangerous man with a temper for disintegration and being ruthless with how audacious and brash you were talking to him wondered if he had the mind to disintegrate you. What was I thinking? He's a client at this moment, nothing more. Your mind wandered back to that night when he took your father and showed him off to you in carbonite. Your fist balled but you kept walking, you had half the mind just to get off this sand ball but the other half wanted the money and the recognition for something other than the fine marksman the ire had turn you into too. Now he was an aging man, ‘retired’ and you didn't know if it would be worth it if he wasn’t in the game. Yet the muscles in his arms and the coldness in his face suggested he was still ever bit the predator... one who had a disgustingly charming gravel voice and it set a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure this isn't a conflict of interest, little one?" You heard Boba's voice emerge next to you.

"Being in the same persec as you is a conflict of interest but this is business as you well understand," you couldn't help but notice the annoyance seeping out over his company, although the sound of his voice was better then silence. You didn't bother look at him as you kept walking, "Also don't call me that, I'm not little nor a child," you added.

"Why take the commission?" He asked finally letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"It's you I have to thank for my talents whether it's through a paintbrush or a blaster." you said harshly still not bothering to look at him.

"You could just take the money and go-"

"We both know there's no honor in that, although I don’t think I would ever consider you honorable," your tempter starting getting the best of you, you finally stopped and stared at the T visor helmet forever engrained into your memory, "I am here because I have to prove to myself you are nothing then a man to not some assassin droid in the shadows without a thought or care."

You watched him stand still for a moment before putting his hands clasp behind his back, "You speak your mind without thought of the repercussions or hesitation, I respect that," he said starting to walk again, "I even admire it."

Your lip twitched but you followed after him in silence. You kept nonchalantly wiping your hands on your pants, feeling like an angry fool living in the past but you liked the praise from him sending goose bumps down you.!What the hell is wrong with me? It was a silent trek to the palace after that, thankful you didn't continue making a fool of yourself publicly speaking to him like that in view of those still up at this hour. The doors of the palace swung up, you walked in not bothering to wait for an invitation which was custom on Tatooine.

"Still want the furthest room or do you want to face that fear too," you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Just point me to an available room and show me the location."

Boba lead you to a long hall way more adorned with fineries then the others. He pointed to the door on the left, "Yours," he pointed to the door on the right, "Mine. This way," he said turning back heading towards the throne room.

You scowled following after him realizing where he was taking you, "Of course it's the throne, how pretentious," you mumbled sarcastically taking out the sketch pad.

"Do you have a better idea?" Boba said stopping mid step turning to you, "you are the artist after all, where would you choose in my position."

"Each previous Daimyo has had his done on the throne using it as display of power and fear. If I wanted to prove my rule was different, I would do mine somewhere to show who I am underneath."

He nodded, "Have you ever seen the Tusken huts?"

You were taken back by the question, "Not up close, no."

"Wish to take the Rancor for a run or a speeder?" he asked.

"Rancor," you said stepping up to his obvious challenge to test your nerves further, "It's been a while since I've been on one."

"Let's see if he's awake. So you've ridden one before?" He asked calmly but intrigued.

"Once or twice," you said opting to give the least amount of information knowing he was digging.

Boba smiled knowing it could not be seen, "The riding boots your wearing covered with your pants suggest other wise," he said done playing coy that he didn't notice the little things, "one of your many talents I assume?"

"Perhaps," you trying to keep the irritation out of your voice glancing down at your foot wear that you didn't bother to change when you were done, "or perhaps I wear them because their comfortable and made to take a beating. Perfect for function, comfort and a sleek appearance."

"I'm sure they are, little one," he chuckled watching your face force smoothness on it. He couldn't deny he was interested in you in more ways then one, you were beautiful, complexed and smart but perhaps just as dangerous and unpredictable as he was at that age regretting putting your room so close to his if you had the urge in the dead of the night to unleash vengeance upon him, "How about a bargain?" he asked.

"What are you proposing?" you asked crossing your arms following him into the throne room looking down into the pit.

"Every day you get to ask me one personal question until the portrait is completed."

"What do you get out of it?" You asked because it sounded like you were getting the better end of the deal.

"Hopefully not feed to my rancor in the middle of the night," he said with laugh, the sound made you blink. It was warm and kind, rough like his voice but it reminded you of a shot of whiskey after a long day. He watched your face falter for a second after his laughter, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy rubbing my fathers fate in my face?" You said boldly, looking down at the sleeping rancor.

"No however I hoped it would prevent you from going down the same path."

"What path would that be?" You asked tartly looking back up at him feeling his eyes linger on you.

"One without the need to follow in his shoes"

You studied him as he studied you, "Funny," you mused.

"Indeed," Boba said realizing it was what set you on this path. He lightly tapping the bars to see if the Rancor would wake but it's soft snores he was out for the evening, "A speeder it is."

"Did you ever find him?" He ask heading towards the main doors.

"What was left of him to find."

"I'm sorry."

Those two words hit a nerve but also shocked you. Your mouth fell agape but you shut it not knowing what to say to the statement, the man who turned your life on it's head... apologizing? You followed him outside to the one speeder realizing you were going to have to share. You wandered if you both were thinking the same thing, how easy it would be to toss each other off.

"I'll ride in the front," he said giving you the upper hand waiting to see what you would do.

"I'm personally holding you accountable if I get hurt due to your driving, old man," you jested trying to hide the anxiousness of climbing on behind him having to hold his waist.

"Then you better hold on, little one. I'm not that old."

"Are you sure about-" you shut your mouth holding him tighter as he took off full speed towards the Dune Sea. You felt the chiseled muscle under his clothing, red subconsciously warmth spreading across your face. It made you sick that you had a reaction to him, the lingering smell of leather, blaster smoke and sweat didn't help. You tighten your jaw reminding yourself of the monster you were clinging too as he enjoyed riding the waves of the sand.

"Having fun?" He chuckled feeling your cheek burning into his back and your arms tighten around him as he took another bigger sand dune. It took a lot of self restraint not to move his hand to yours and tease you but knew you’d probably shoot him if he did.

"Extremely," you said sarcastically thanking the maker when he stopped so you could let go and hop off.

Boba watched you quickly take out your pad to engulfed in your work to notice the approaching Tusken's. The Tusken's recognized him, signing his name. He nodded to them in greeting and preceded to explain why they were out this late, that he would send them food as payment for the disturbance.

"They want to see," Boba said pointing at them.

His voice pulled you out of the composition of art to notice the raiders standing next to him. You gulped, you were not fan of the Tusken's for their violent nature towards outsiders and it didn’t help that the Daimyo was very comfortable around them. You carefully walked towards them showing them the sketch of the hut. They made a noise and you looked to Boba raising an eyebrow.

"Their impressed."

"Thank you," you said nodding your head, they handed you the pad back allowing you to walk back to the spot and continued your art.

"Tribe?" the Tusken signed looking between the two of you

"No, Business."

The Tusken nodded signal for him and his companions to leave. Boba walked over looking of your shoulder watching the hunt come together with the rough sketch of the Tusken in the foreground.

"Done?" He asked watching you look at the pad then up then back down.

"Yes."

"Let's get back to the palace, it's getting late and creatures should be waking up," he said climbing back into the speeder feeing your arms go around his waist again but this time he didn't feel your hands as sweaty against him.

When you both arrived at the palace, Fennec was waiting different sizes canvas. Boba picked a medium sized one, modest yet large enough to be noticed. Fennec kept her eyes on you the whole time.

"Do you want me to have guards outside?" she whispered wondering if you could be trusted.

"Just one discreetly at the top of the hall if it put your mind at ease."

She gave a small nod, "What you think of her?" she asked quietly watching you pull out your sketch pad looking over your work.

Boba just slightly turned his head not to make it obvious, "One of a kind."

Fennec rolled her eyes, "Friend or foe?" she corrected.

"Both," he admitted, "Good Night," he said to Fennec raising his voice back up from a whisper.

You cocked your head to see him heading back inside, you followed after him sketching out a simple speedy portrait of his face. You caught up to him and knocked on his helmet, he turned catching your wrist pulling it away.

"Helmet off," you said pulling your wrist back.

"So bossy, little one."

"So deaf, take it off old man," you said bringing your pencil back to the pad waiting,

He took it off, you examined the lines in his face quickly sketching them out. You were to distracted with the lines to notice his brown eyes boring into you. You were raptured in artist inspiration staring at him, your hands moving seamlessly across the paper noting every healed scar and various shades of brown to gold in his eyes. You finally looked down red creeping back into your face as you sketched his shoulders and the top of his armor.

He looked down at the paper stunned, "May I?" he asked holding out his hand. You stared at what was probably your best rough sketch but handed it to him. "It's absolutely marvelous," he said examining it closing looking at ever scar and remembering the cause to each one, "Your marvelous," he unintentionally whispered.

"I know," you said grabbing the sketch back and walking towards the hall with the bedrooms, flushed and angry. You noticed the bags that you tucked away at the Cantina you were going to go back to retrieve were sitting the end of the bed waiting. You groaned tossing your art bag on the bed and setting the pad on a big wooden ornate vanity. You unpacked the essential clothing you needed and various toiletries. Your head was swimming and knew you couldn't sleep, you grabbed your toilets stepping into the hall. Your face flicked up when you heard footsteps, a single guard walking a catwalk above.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked watching him walk to the end of the hall and point at a door. He spoke a language you didn't understand, "Thank you! I think,” you called.

You opened the door, staring at Boba in a towel around his waist water still trickling down his pecs and abs. You quickly pulled the door shut, "That didn't just happen."

Your hand quickly shot up to your eyes when you heard the door immediately open "I'm sorry he doesn't speak basic," you said trying to defend yourself.

"Unfortunately it did. Dank Farrik! Next time I'm going to shoot you in the knee cap! I could have still been in the crinking shower!" He called up the guard who was laughing suddenly stilled. He noticed your hand over your eyes, "I'm not that bad to look at," he laughed, "I was just leaving," he said stepping around you, "I'll have them come in and fix the other one tomorrow promptly."

You uncovered your eyes for a moment watching his muscular back as he headed towards his room before quickly getting into the bathroom and shutting the door realizing there wasn't a lock on it. I seriously can't believe that happened. You turned the water up to match how hot your face was. You discarded your clothing, neatly putting them on the what looked to be hand carved precious stone counter. You ran your hand across it, still cool. Maker that had to cost which ever Daimyo a fortune. You shook your head and stepped into the shower hoping the heat would wash away the embarrassment. After spending a fair amount of time scolding yourself clearing your head you stepped out and noticed a couple of credits with a note on your clothing.

"It didn't happen -Fett."

You stared at the forty thousand credits your mouth fell open. I need the money but no way I can accept this much, I'll just slip part of it into his room or something. You quickly got dressed and peaked your head out the door to see if he was there, you breathed out in relief. You groaned the moment you got to your room noticing the small fruit assortment on your bed. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed or he is. You moved the fruit to the vanity and crawled into bed, you laid awake into the night before finally prying yourself up deciding fresh air might help you get situated with your temporary reality. You tucked your blaster in your waist band and found your way to a balcony overlooking the city.

"You too?" you heard Boba's voice behind you.

"Yeah. Are any of the cantinas still open this late?"

"One, you want to go?" he asked.

"I need a drink... or five if I'm going to be sleeping in the room across from you," you admitted.

"Likewise."

Both of you quietly walked into your rooms and changed. You dawned a form fitting dress with a side holster and boots with hidden knife pockets. You opened the door and found him waiting with holding his helmet.

He did his best to keep a straight face over the entire, "Expecting company?" He said pointy looking at the blaster as an excuse to look at your figure before looking back up at you.

"Always except the unexpected, that's how you stay alive in this line a work," you said as you started walking.

"Which is our problem," he said following after you.

"Another bargain perhaps?"

"You don't trust me and I don't trust you, I could simply move into lodging like I wanted too or we could drag the other bed into the others room so we can at least hear it coming," your throat dried up, “because I can’t think of a reason why I would want to trust you. You can only out run your past so long before it catches up.”

"What ever your comfort with, little one-" Boba stopped looking at your dress and then speedier.

"Dank Farrik," you mumbled motioning him to get on, hiking up your dress an indecent amount throwing your leg over it, "Why can't they just make flattering dresses with pants?" mumbled uncomfortably exposed to him.

"You now have plenty enough to get some tailored to your design," he suggested.

"I can't accept all of them for something so little, not even for this predicament," you said, "Got a problem or something that my skills can be used for?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

He let you get off the speeder first to adjust your dress before getting off himself. You both kept each other arms lengths apart. Heat rose to your face thinking about how close his back had been between your legs. You did not and would not like this man. Eyes on the prize, finish this commission and get the creds then get hell away from this monster. No Boba Fett is a man, this commission is to prove that. He's not the boogie man, at least not any more.

He opened a door letting you go in first, the cantina nearly empty except for a few stragglers. He watched them eye you then back at him with a nod of respect. You walked up to the bar hoping he wasn't going to follow you. You noticed him hovering the door and you smirked.

You slide in the stool seat, "Whiskey, double," you told the bar droid, who dropped a shot glass in front of you and poured it. You slammed it back and tapped for another.

"I'd hate to see you on a bad day," Boba laughed joining her after eyeing everyone again to see if any one was going to make a move. Given most of the men in here were older then him he was pretty confident that no one going to given she also came in here with the Daimyo.

"This?" You said lifting the third shot, "is barely the appetizer for today."

"The same, sir?" The droid asked him.

"Yes."

Both of you sat in silence, while Boba caught up on the shots. He watched you down a couple more, the tipsiness finally started to show. The warm glow of alcohol spread across your face, wondering if you always looked just as a beautiful regardless.

"Might want to slow down, little one," he said eyeing her twitch trying to focus, "You don't look like it would be a fair fight." He watched her pull out a blaster and bull-eye a painting on the wall. He tossed some credits to the droid as an apology, "How did you get so good?" He asked wondering if the circumstances were different he if he could convince you to stay.

"Practicing praying one day I would get a chance to kill you and everyone else associated with my father," you admitted, "I looked for you in every shadow praying and our paths would cross.. then you fell into the Sarlacc a few orbitals ago. I realized if I could not kill you... I could kill the idea of you and prove you don't have to have Fett running in your veins to be good." You felt the few horrified gawking stares at the disrespect and contempt laced words coming out of your mouth. The whiskey had loosened your lips a little further then you intended, "That that counts as your one personal question of the day."

"I do also get one personal question?" He asked taking his last shot knowing he was going to have to drive both of you back.

"It's only fair," you said sliding the shot glass back to the droid, "done." You said cutting yourself off knowing your mouth was only going to get worse. "I may have had to many." You admitted.

You stared into Boba's eyes, counting the shades but the slight double vision made it difficult, "five or six" you muttered pulling your eyes away, "color shades in your eyes. Can't tell right now."

"You're drunk," he laughed, "let's go home, little one."

"Stop calling me that, old man."

Boba scooped you up and put you over his arm like a nap sack, "That's enough out of you." He tried setting you down realizing you were asleep. He carefully set you in his lap holding you with a vice grip as he drove one handed back to the palace. He saw Fennec doing her patrol and shook his head carrying you inside and setting you on his bed. He looked at you debating if he wanted to have Fennec come in and change you but doubted she'd be there right when you woke up to explain. He carefully pulled off the blaster and set it besides you. He grabbed a bantha hide and curled up on his armoire couch, looking at you more time wondering the type of person you were under all of that hurt.

You felt the sun shining in your eyes, Wait my room is opposite of the sun, you took in your surroundings the various artwork on the walls and target practice posters. Fett’s room? You looked over and saw the closet still open with several flight suits. Your head was pounding but you got up feeling for your blaster finding it laying next to you. At least I’m still in my dress. You scurried back to your room munching down some of the fruit arrangement and black melon which helped. You opted for pants discarding all of the dresses back into your bags, Never again. You tapped on the refresher door when there was no reply you opened the door and quickly did your business. Leaving the refresher you found Fennec standing outside your bedroom door.

“Good morning,” you offered opening the door letting her in.

“All of the supplies are in a work room for you, along with food, one hall over with the blue door.”

“Thank you,” you said still trying to dry your hair, “You guys wouldn’t happen to have a shooting range or something?” You asked noticing the rifle slung on her back.

“Two halls over down the stairs behind the orange door.”

“Thank you again,” you said putting the towel around your shoulders.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No. I don’t know why either of you would need me for anything but if I’m not in this room or the work room, you’ll probably find me in the range.”

She nodded quietly backing out of the room, Friend or Foe? rung through her head. The exchange had been minimal but she didn’t see a gundark waiting to strike which alarmed her further. I’m a good judge of character, but I still can’t answer that question.

Fennec found Boba sitting on the throne, “How was your patrol?”

“A couple hooligans needed a stern talking too, that’s all.”

“She’s awake. She’s been informed the supplies have arrived and where her work room is, inquiring if we hand a range and I told her where to find it.”

“Good.”

“Is something on your mind Boba?” Fennec said noticing the short answers.

“Thinking about something she said. Wondering if my past has caught to me and if this is my undoing.”

“I can get more guards-”

“That won’t stop someone on our level. She no longer seems to want revenge, old man,” he said shaking his head “I want to know what she really wants with the commission.”

“Have you tried asking?” she suggested half heartedly.

“No but that would be my personal question of the day,” he muttered getting up to head to the work room, “summon me when our guest arrive.”

Fennec arched an eyebrow but nodded. You had various sketch pads out using them to sketch quick ideas how the portrait should look using various compositions with shadow and foreground and background ideas along with one or two the rancor was in too.

“Come see what you think” you asked hearing the door open, you looked back to see you were correct that it was him.

“That one.”

“Consider it yours.” You smirked throwing the sentence back at him, tearing the other ones out and set them to the side to dispose of later, “Is there something I can help you with?” you noticing him not leaving.

“What do you have so much riding on this commission?” He asked.

“Pride.”

“That isn’t much an answer.”

“Does it count as your personal question of the day?”

“No.”

“Than that’s the answer you’re going to have to live with,” you said eying him taking a seat.

You don’t know how long it had been until Fennec stuck her head in, “Daiymo, they have arrived.”

Boba excused himself to leave you to your art. The next few days where like that. Quiet. Every day his chair got a little closer until he was sitting next to you. Time to time he would stop to ask you questions about art, your favorite things to draw and other various things about you biding time for you to ask him question. It was a nice little routine as much as you despised him it became to comfortable. You eventually took to sleeping during day and working on the piece during the night as an excuse not to have to see him. You missed the company but every morning Fennec joined you at the range. It was small talk mostly but it helped dull the loneliness. Fennec left earlier this morning to go take care of an errand, leaving you alone in this big palace. Given some of the guards didn’t speak beside your only reprieve was the animal in the pit. You found your way to the Rancor kneeling before it, offering it a large slab of meat staying in routine of the past couple days. You smiled as the Rancor finally accepted your status as below him.

“Where is she? She’s not in her room or painting,” you heard Boba say concerned, stifling your laughter.

“She hasn’t left the palace-” Fennec said looking down hearing you.

“Someone’s losing their touch, old man. You know I ride yet you didn’t look down?” You huffed disappointment, finally getting to scratch the Rancor’s cheek, “I don’t recommend putting leash on me however, I bite.”

“I can’t even pet him,” Fennec said staring, “and I live here,” she muttered.

“Rancor respond to a social hierarchy and as I have no interest in staying, I made sure he knew he was the boss of me. Unlike me, Fennec you scream predator which is why he doesn’t respond to you. You have to be both hunter and prey,” you said standing up and wiping the dirt off your butt, “being a one sided blade only gets you so far, it’s those who are two that survive.”

Boba looked at you noticing how seamless the Mandalorian philosophy rolled off your tongue with such an easy explanation. Boba eyes trailed after you pinning. He was use to every woman throwing themselves at him having his selection of whatever fascinated him that evening. Even as Daimyo women fanned over his power and wealth having to let down several mothers trying to sell off their daughters to him.

“Well, I got my painting in for the evening so I had to wait for that to dry. I’m going to go the Cantina before going to bed,” you stared at the paint you missed on your foreheads and elbows, “after I apparently shower. Again,” you groaned walking off grumbling about paint and how it always ends up in weird places.

“You like her don’t you?” Fennec asked smiling watching his eyes trail after her, “Old man,” she said wiggling her eyebrows, “You’ve killed people for less.”

“She… reminds me of another time. I think I’ll accompany her discreetly. No need to follow.”

You shower daring to wear a flowing dresses with two discreet slide slits that overlapped to hide the thigh holsters, “At least I can ride a speeder in this.” You found Boba standing outside the door waiting. His molten gazing temporarily holding you in place, “I figured I’d give you a ride.”

“I am quite capable of getting there on my own,” you said inserting your independence staring back at him.

“You are… quiet the capable woman,” he said noting the heighten chemistry today, “but I need the speeder today.”

You looked at this features feeling sick about how in depth you studied every scar, crease, shape of his nose and the depths of his skin, “Fine, let’s go,” you said looking away first, “but I’m driving, can’t risk crashing in this dress,” you said doing the best to ignore the tension that has been slowly building since you met him and the playful banter he allowed you to get away with. Just awhile longer.

He waved his arm forward, “Lead the way.”

“You haven’t asked your question today,” you asked glancing him.

“I’m sure it will come to me before you go to bed. You haven’t either.”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” you said tossing your legs over the speeder realizing this was the worse idea you ever had but you didn’t want to have to explain changing your mind. You felt him climb on, you took a quick silent intake of air when you felt his cod piece nuzzled up to your ass. He gently wrapped his arms around you placing each hand on your hip. You bit your lip and turned on the speeder taking it near full speed to the bustling cantina. Boba was like the sun of Tatooine pressing against your back and his gloves pressing you where felt like heaven wishing you could take them for your self. Getting off the speedier for a split second you could feel the cod piece rub against your ass. I need some company because that isn’t happening.

“Take this,” he said tossing you a device, “Call me when your ready to get picked up,” although I don’t intend to let you be here alone. Boba took the speeder around giving it the appearance that he left before letting himself inside through the side door. His eyes spotting you at the counter with a shot in hand. You took himself to an empty booth a distance away tucking away his helmet and covering his armor to blend in. The droid brought him over a drink when he saw a man slide into the stool next to you. Boba blinked because the man was about his age. Anger starting boiling over when he saw him put hand on your leg watching you light up and smile at him.

“What is a goddess like you doing in a temple like this at this hour?” the man asked.

You smiled at the comment, “Hopefully enjoying some company for a bit,” you dared, watching him put his hand on your leg.

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” he said ordering to drinks.

He’s no Boba Fett, but he’s still cute to look at. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking such thing. Both of you chatted the conversation coming easy, there was no playing coy or calculated responses it made you miss having company because Fennec and Boba weren’t quiet conversationalist. You felt eyes at the back of your neck, you scowled for a second realizing it was probably Fennec keeping an eye on you or someone under here.

“What is it?” He asked concerned.

“Oh it’s nothing, I lost my train of thought.”

Boba watched every action his jaw setting tighter and tighter. He watched as the man leaned in kissed her. Boba’s gripping on the shot glass caused it to break. Your head turned again and you saw broken glass but not the person sitting in the shadows. Just a coincidence. Right as you started to lean back in you saw him pulling his hand away from your drink and a whipcord shoot out dragging him to the dark booth.

“Bantha Fodder,” you heard the growl from a familiar gravel sounding man, watching him step out in the shadows.

“Caraya’s Soul Fett! For kriff’s sake,” your blood ran cold for a moment staring at the helmet the man wired on the ground before taking out the blaster and shooting the man, “I get it he was going to drug me, but did you really have to stalk me? I could have handled it on my way,” you said putting the blaster away and getting in his face. You stuck your finger on his chest and gave him a small push, “I don’t need to be babysat let alone by you of all people.”

Boba looked down shot him again watching him disintegrate into dust, “You were saying?”

“I guess we’re even now,” you huffed pulling your finger off him watching retract the wire and putting his arms in front him. “I’m going to a different cantina, this time don’t follow me.”

You tossed a couple creds down on the table and leaving hearing his foot steps behind you and the heat from his gaze boring into the back of your back. You whirled around to find him standing there with his hands still in front him.

“I said don’t follow me,” you watched him talk a few steps towards you standing face to face, face to helmet.

“I am the Daimyo, I go where I want.”

“That is exactly why I don’t want you here! No one will talk to me or even look at me when your around. You know what it’s like to sit in silence alone for hours! I hate it.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?” he taking off his helmet, stepping forward pinning you in place with his gaze.

You saw the dilation in his eyes and his uneven breathing, “That’s why.” Feeling heat rush through you and your legs stared feeling like jello under his gaze. You could felt the heat go to your head, your mind emptying but conflicted if you want to kiss him or kiss him your knuckles. You knew your eyes had the same hazy expression thinking about when you found him in the towel, the water and muscle. You weakly stepped back ripping your eyes off of him, dizzily turning around trying to your legs under you. “This is business,” you said finally getting them moving, “Get a concubine or something,” you snipped, “isn’t that what Daimyo’s do.”

“I don’t want one” you heard him whisper.

“I don’t want you too either,” you gritted out not hearing foot steps behind you.

[watcheraurora]

Ask game: 2, 3, and 4 for your florist/tattoo parlor AU ;)

Thank you, my friend <3 I was not done. It posted early. (apparently hitting cmd+enter posts things???) Let me edit and add

2: What scene did you first put down?

The opening scene, actually! As is often, but not always, the case. I find writing the opening scene first to usually be a good way to figure out the voices of the characters in this new whatever I'm writing, along with getting a feel for their characterization and dynamics with whoever is in the scene. With Free Flower, I also got to establish that Jimmy was trying to get a fresh start after a bad moment in his past without giving everything away about the backstory of why and that was fun too XD

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

Another text came in from Tango. What if we do your tattoo consultation on Tuesday? After the shop closes? Have a drink, maybe? Keep it low-key and save the fancy date for Saturday? Jimmy thought about that. The tattoo parlor dark with just the two of them in it, speaking softly over the desk while they talked art. Maybe a rough, small sketch of the idea for Jimmy’s wings while they just kept talking… He didn’t need his mind wandering to potentially making out on one of the stations. He shoved that thought down.

I'm just a really big fan of writing runaway attraction, if you couldn't tell. And writing people falling in love is so much fun, especially when I get to push just a little into spicy territory. I don't like going much further than that and I think the tease is more fun than writing what might come after, but in this case it's just a bit of a fantasy as Jimmy gets carried away by his throughts.

And, what can I say, the thirsty!Jimmy jokes from our DMs never get old

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

I have so many favorites. I don't wanna choose. But okay XD

“Oh. Okay. So, er, what’s good?” Jimmy set the menu down and shimmied out of his leather jacket to reveal the short-sleeve henley completely. “Your arms in that shirt,” Tango replied appreciatively. “Did you paint those sleeves on?” “I meant on the menu.” Jimmy’s face grew hot and he looked away, lifting the menu again to try to hide behind it. “Ohhh,” Tango teased sarcastically. “I mean, it’s Izzy’s cooking. Literally anything you choose is going to be delicious.”

Immediately followed by Tango checking that Jimmy is okay with the way he flirts, but this part is my actual favorite because it was just so silly and it came to me naturally (this little bit and the following segment about checking in that Jimmy was okay with the flirting was not part of the original plan for the date. It just grew organically from Tango saying Jimmy's arms look good in that shirt). And it's also just a lot of fun letting Tango be a shameless flirt sometimes and/or unable to help himself from being flirty when Jimmy is right there and looking that good XD

My other favorite line is actually the very last one:

“Right. Ready for me to give you wings?”

I just thought it was such a sweet, fun little ending. The fic was also really long at this point and I was ready for it to be completed. I also know nothing about tattoos, to be honest, and as much as I really wanted to write the intimacy of Tango tattooing Jimmy's back, I knew I wouldn't be able to do it justice with any sort of accuracy and that line felt like the perfect way to end it, with that in mind.

Thanks so much, my friend! <3

[harveyhawkscripts]

[A4A] Rehabilitating the Community Garden with the Tech Nerd [Nerdy speaker] [Gardener listener] [Awkwardness and insecurity] [New friends]

Google Doc

Usage:

- Okay for monetization

- Please credit me as Harvey Hawk :)

- Tweaks, improv, and pronoun changes are okay! Just please do not rewrite the script completely

Key:

[SFX and Action]

(.) Short Pause

(...) Longer pause

(Voice inflection)

Word Count: 1020

Synopsis: The speaker, a lonely tech nerd, is asked to help rehabilitate the community garden. Enthusiastic about the opportunity to make a new friend, the speaker makes new inventions to help out the gardening process. Now, they are ready to show them off.

–

TECH NERD:

Hey! Hey, you! I'm here!

(.)

What do you mean, "what's all this?" It's my gardening supplies! This is an automatic weed puller. I invented it myself. Look, you just put this part over the weed, pull the lever, and poof! All gone. And THIS is Eco-friendly pest protection powder. Don’t worry, I researched it thoroughly. It’s perfectly safe.

I also took the liberty of sketching out a potential irrigation plan. Did you read that article I sent you on hydroponics?

(.)

Of course I'm well-prepared. I was... really surprised when you approached me about this project. I'm not – I mean, it's pretty clear I don't exactly have a green thumb. That, and I'm not used to being approached in general. Oh, I'm talking too much, aren't I? Sorry.

(.)

 It's... fine? Huh. Okay. I hope you don't mind if I talk more, then. I hardly get the chance to. I mean, I talk to my lizard and my drones, but that's not the same as talking to people. I'm not so good with people.

(.)

Oh! I almost forgot! La pièce de résistance!

Say hello to the Botanical Bot Model 1.

[Metallic Whir]

This part here holds the seeds. The legs crawl along the dirt like so, and this part lowers to till the land, then it drops seeds behind it as it goes. I attached a solar panel for power, naturally. 

 (.)

Yeah, I painted a face on it to make it look friendly. I know it's a little rough, but I made him - er, it from a fishbowl and spare parts. But check this out - it even doubles as a terrarium!

(.)

Thanks, I spent a lot of time on it. I have a bioactive terrarium at home for my lizard, so I used that as a jumping-off point. Speaking of bioactivity, did you read the article on bioenergy that I sent you? It’s complicated stuff, huh? 

(.)

That's okay! I'll explain it over lunch. I brought some summer veggie gazpacho and grilled cheese.

(.)

Sure, I cook all the time. It's just chemistry, y 'know. Oh, but you probably want to get started, huh? I assume we'll need to clear out all of this trash first.

(.)

As a matter of fact, I do have a gadget for litter. Hold on, it's in the truck. You're going to love this!

[Clunk]

Ta-da!

(.)

It's not-okay, technically it is a trash can with robot arms on wheels, but it's more than that! Here, Put these gloves on.

(.)

Of course it's safe! Now, I'll just drive the bot forward...

[Whir]

Yes, it is a Y Cube controller... Um. Do you play?

(.)

Really? We should play some time! Do you like the Marky Mongoose games?

(.)

Right. right. Stay on task. Heh. Okay, now reach out your hands.

(.)

That's right, you're controlling the arms! Now you can pick up any garbage, no matter how heavy or icky. Well, maybe nothing too heavy, but it's still pretty sturdy. Definitely safer, too. I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood for a tetanus shot.

(.)

I know, right?! Technology is amazing.

(.)

(Flustered) Oh, you meant me? Thank you! I get it from my parents; they’re both in STEM. My dad is a chemist and my mom is an engineer. I've been a science junkie ever since I was a little kid. This kind of thing just comes naturally to me.

(.)

They're alright. Parents are parents, y 'know. 

(Hesitant) Sometimes I just... wonder if…well. My parents are really smart. Not to brag, they just are. They gave up a lot of opportunities to have me, too. Sometimes when I hear them talk about how much they could've done if they had chosen their careers over me. I'm sure they would've helped a lot of people.

(.)

That's why I study so hard. Don't get me wrong, I love learning, but... I have a responsibility, y' know? I want to do at least the good they would've done if they never had me.

(.)

How so? Seems rational to me.

(.)

That’s not – I mean, technically, that’s true; I don’t owe them anything. But… I still feel bad. 

(.)

No, no, it's fine, I just… Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, I just dumped all that on you. Let's change the subject. When is everyone supposed to get here?

(.)

Huh? But I saw you invite at least six other people.

(.)

Guess they were busy, huh? But don't worry! We have the power of technology on our side! It definitely sped up the cleaning process, see? All the litter is gone!

(.)

Yeah, we make a good team. So, what's next? We should probably take care of all of these weeds. Let me get my weed-puller. I'll tell you all about my idea for a hydroponic vertical tomato stand. So, we'll need some old tires...

[TIME SKIP]

Phew, it's getting pretty late. We're going to run out of daylight soon. What do you think? Are you ready to pack it up and turn in?

(.)

We did make good progress, didn't we? Next weekend we can even start planting flowers. I'm partial to daffodils myself. We should plant milkweed to attract pollinators too. Ooh, I hope we get bees. They're so shy and cute!

(.)

Pfft, I am not cute! I'm a total dork.

(.)

Hey, do you have plans after this? There's this new Thai place I've been meaning to try out. Dinner is on me if you're down to go. I can give you a ride home afterwards. You took the bus here, right?

(.)

Great. Let's put everything in the shed and get going. I'm really craving some Khao Soi.

(.)

Ooh, that sounds good, too. Maybe I'll get that.

(.)

Really? I can try yours? Thanks! You're so generous, buddy.

(.)

Y'know, I've had more fun today than I've had in a while... I was a little nervous at first, but I'm glad I decided to take on this project with you.

(.)

I'm looking forward to next weekend, too. I think- I mean, that is to say, I really enjoy spending time with you. Thank you for this opportunity – to make a friend, I mean.

(.)

Alright, enough mushy junk. Let's go get dinner!

END

[div1nity]

@freeddead 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡   :   ❝ what does cora's bedroom typically look like. ❞    ——— （   RANDOM HEADCANONS  ‣‣  ALWAYS ACCEPTING ）

CANON 01 :

a mattress on the floor ( twin, 39x75 ) the covers are typically dark - black on black - a duvet is folded at the bottom of the bed for her to reach over and pull it over, but mostly she uses her chequered blanket, thin and super light.

walls are painted dark grey, carpet is a light. though there is a positive in all this, leaned against the walls and the extra space, there's canvases, blank, half painted and fully completed works. there's her own drawings hung up on the walls in a clustered pile, these papers will soon become the ground works for her future graphic novel series - blueprints. there's a white desk in the far corner, the surface stained with multi colours of paints, sketches scratched into the wood with a knife ( rough, but she really loves those ) - it looks more like an art room than an actual bedroom.

she has two piles that move around a lot ; a comic book, book and a record pile, they're a little frayed in places, but she loves them. they're one of the few ways where she spends her money on items deemed luxury ( including art supplies in this.) her comics are mostly filled with horror concepts, though does have subjects in fantasy - as for regular books - while there is fiction, it's mostly non fiction : history based around greece, egypt, china - all that good fun, its a growing pile depending on what she feels like learning about. there is a possibility where if you walk in there, you're going to kick a book across the room.

there's a blue case under her desk that she sometimes uses it to up her feet up, inside is records ; not a lot, just focusing on her most favourite artists ; NWA, D12, fugees, 2pac, biggie, cypress hill, guns and roses are the ones that i feel like she really focuses on. where's her record player ? how about you mind your own business ( she doesn't own one:( )

at this point, she's still getting over the trauma of living on the streets - her apartment really represents that. she finds her place really overwhelming and even subconsciously is waiting for the whole place to get ripped from her, getting comfortable isn't something she's good at - but she really, really tries because she wants to have somewhat of a normal life moving forward, which is why she makes it safe in the way she knows best ; littering the space with art.

CANON 3 :

finally my rich girl has realized her worth and realized she doesn't need to live in a hobble… she has treated herself to an alaskan king bed, cushioned white frame, even has those curtains that hang at the top with a rich royal blue - has a mix of colours available for them - bed is covered in decorative pillows, vintage looking ones to modern ones that are different shades of blue, grey and purples - her duvet covers can be very traditional at times, sheets that are very reminisce of a rich girl in the 18/1900s - she really leaned into her vintage heart when it comes to her bed, it's very comfortable, fluffy, jump on it and its like falling on a cloud; don't lay in her bed you wont ever want to leave.

dark wooden flooring with a fluffy white rug that spans across the floor, a gas fire on the right side of the room, the room is large, open, and very bright - its a clear representation of her headspace and how much she's grown.

she has some white shelves, filled with photos of vacations, new friends made, as well as awards that she's gained during this time - antiques, too ; authentic greek and egyptian pottery that she bought, sculptures from her favourite artists through the years, gifts gained from work partners - look on the bottom and you see some out of place cthulhu statue with some horror stuff from in the middle of this, truly living her best life.

coraline also absolutely has replicas of greek paintings, and while she can't hang them all up in her bedroom ; she has one wall where she puts a new painting up every month ( or week, depending on her mood ) - you could walk in and see the painting the fall of phaeton, the next time you do you'll see the lament for icarus - it really is a lucky dip.

[euphoriainteriorsuae]

Modifying a Blank Canvas Into Your Dream Home Step by Step

Turning a blank canvas into your dream home is like crafting a masterpiece. It all starts with a vision, but the real magic happens when that vision transforms into something tangible. It's a journey, not a sprint, and each step brings you closer to the space that truly feels like your own.

The first step? The Concept and Planning Phase. It’s a lot like sketching out the rough outline of a painting. You know the end goal, but you need to figure out how to get there. This is where you sit down with an interior designer company in Dubai to discuss your goals, your style, and your budget. The key here is to be open-minded, as a good designer will ask you questions you never thought of—sometimes even challenging your assumptions.

Next up is Design Development. Now we’re adding color, texture, and substance to that outline. Think of it like filling in the details of a painting after the sketch is done. The fun part is deciding on materials, colors, and layouts, but the trick is in balancing aesthetics with functionality. I’ve found that this stage is where clients really start to see the vision come to life, even if it’s just in a digital mock-up or a mood board. The possibilities are endless, but remember: the key is to avoid overwhelming yourself with too many choices. Focus on what works for you.

Once the design is approved, it’s time for Execution and Implementation. Here’s where the rubber meets the road. Your interior designer and team of specialists work tirelessly to turn the design into a reality. It’s like building a house of cards—each piece has to be put in place carefully to avoid everything toppling over. While the work gets done behind the scenes, your job is to sit back (mostly) and trust that the process is in good hands.

Finally, you have the Finishing Touches and Styling. Think of this like adding the final coat of varnish to a painting. This is where furniture, artwork, and accessories come in. It’s not about just filling up space—it’s about making sure everything ties together seamlessly. Lighting, textures, and little personal touches make your home feel warm, inviting, and truly yours.

FAQ:

Q1: How long does it take to design a dream home? The timeline depends on the complexity of the project, but on average, it can take anywhere from 3 to 6 months. Patience is key!

Q2: How can I communicate my style to an interior designer? Start by collecting images, magazine cutouts, or Pinterest boards of interiors you love. This gives the designer a clear idea of your style preferences.

Q3: What if my budget is tight? Discuss your budget upfront with the interior designer company in Dubai. They can suggest alternatives that fit your style while staying within your financial limits.

Designing your dream home isn’t a one-size-fits-all process. It’s personal, it’s unique, and most importantly, it’s about creating a space that truly reflects who you are. Each step, from concept to completion, plays an integral role in shaping your perfect living space. With the right guidance and a little bit of trust, your blank canvas will soon become the home of your dreams.

[papimolina]

With the Stroke of a Brush

Maxim Horvath X F!Reader

Chapter 1, Complete stranger

Ch 2,

Rating: Mature

WC: 2508

Summary: Having worked as an artist for the past 3 years now, you'd never had a block like this before.

Soulmates, soul bonding, kissing, (a world where magic is normal)

"Why am I so bad!?..." you grumbled to yourself, as you grimaced at your drawing.

You had been sketching for hours now and it just wasn't coming together how you wanted.

For the past few weeks you'd been stuck on the same piece of artwork and it was beginning to get really frustrating. Having worked as an artist for the past 3 years now, you'd never had a block like this before.

Yawning, you look over at your clock. 12:25AM.

Time for bed I guess.

Having achieved practically nothing, you gather your now empty bottle of wine, and lock up your studio for the night. Dumping the bottle you go straight to your bedroom, realising how tired you are having finally given up your concentration. Discarding your clothes on the floor and slumping heavily on your bed, you drift off into your usual dreamless sleep.

Normally when you've left a piece of art unfinished overnight it looks better to you the next time you see it. Apparently not this time. Everything is wrong. Every line, every highlight...wrong. Luckily you still had 3 months before this piece was supposed to be for sale but it irritated you nonetheless that it should've been completed a week ago.

Maybe no wine today, see if that helps.

...

Shiny black shoes...stripped dark trousers. Lifting your head up further, slowly. The end of...a stick...a cane and...the bottom of a long grey jacket...further up a...dark suit jacket matching the trousers

...

*THUD*

"What!?" Jolting awake, you'd knocked your pencil tub off the table in your sleep, the pencils were scattered all around your feet. You let out a heavy breath that you didn't realise you'd been holding and rested your head in your hands.

What was that?

Your stomach deciced to announce itself at that moment. Distracting you from your strange dream, you leave your studio having added very little to your drawing again.

...

Silver headed cane with...blue stones...a silk brown tie adorned with a decorative brooch...up to a white shirt collar

...

The last thing you see is a glimpse of a dark beard before your eyes shoot open.

What the hell! ... Who is that!?

Your body seems to have reacted like you were having a nightmare. A layer of sweat on your skin making your bed sheets stick to your body, slighty out of breath and yet you didn't feel scared.

I don't know anyone who dresses in a suit...do I?...what time...? Oh god, I've been asleep for an hour! You thought angrily.

The second you let your eyelids fall again you are greeted be piercing chocolate brown eyes staring right back at you and your own eyes fly open.

Okay, this is a little scary now.

Feeling wide awake and slightly unnerved you decide to get up and go to your studio to start something new.

Without thinking you let the tip of your blue pencil flow along the paper, up and down, darkening here and there. You add some blue and black paint to really darken in places you thought needed it. Slowly piecing together the man in your dream. You really should try to just forget about your dream but you couldn't seem to get those eyes out of your mind. Maybe this was a way of getting it out and then the dreams would stop. It was a strange feeling, you felt almost pressured to draw this person.

Why? ... Why do I feel so obligated to paint him?

Standing back, you look at the rough edges of your sketch, eyeing up every pencil line.

And why do I like it?

Since you'd hated your work recently, this was a surprise to you that you felt proud of what you'd drawn so far. But your joy gave way to disappointment when you realised that you wouldn't be able to finish it because you hadn't seen his face. Slightly hesitantly, you close your eyes and are greeted by...nothing.

Nothing...wait.

Shoes slowly appear in your mind. You try to think about looking up his body like before but nothing happens. With your eyes still closed, you slowly lower yourself to the floor and lay down on your back. You focus on the shoes and relax your body, trying to simulate a sleepy state to bring your dream to life again. As your breathing begins to slow, your eyes drift up his suit painfully slowly. Oddly you begin to feel excited as you reach the bottom of his beard again, finally starting to see the part you'd been missing. Just as you reach his rosy lips you register a distant tapping but you ignore it, being so focused on seeing his face. But again...

*TAP TAP TAP*

Concentration lost put your minds eye at a stand still, now fixated on his lips and beard.

I'm hearing things now...there must be something wrong with me.

*TAP*

That sounds like...

*TAP TAP*

Fear grips you as you realise the tapping is now in the room with you, you aren't imagining it. You hear a final tap right next you, sending a vibration up your forearm. Keeping your eyelids firmly squeezed shut, you slowly crawl away from where you heard the last tap until you hit the wall. There's a slight tremble in your hands as you pull your knees up to your chest.

"I'm not going to hurt you" a smooth, deep voice calls out you. But his calm voice didn't ease your fear any.

What the hell is happening?! How did he get in?...It couldn't be magic could it...but magic or not, this is him...I must be going mad...there's no way a man in my dream could be real and in my house!

*TAP*

"Please could you open your eyes"

Your eyes flew open without a thought, almost like his words had control over you.

This was it. This was your dream. You sitting on the floor, him towering over you. Just like your dream you slowly lift your head as more of the familiar suit, jacket and cane is revealed to you. But this time, when your eyes reach his beard they keep travelling up to reveal your missing piece.

Rosy lips, a slight crook in his roman nose, big chocolate eyes, thick expressive eyebrows, dark groomed hair...

Ohh...he's...

"Much better. Its a pleasure to meet you, my dear"

He bows slightly and offers his hand down to you.

God, his hands are...massive!

You stare at the hand in front of you as your fear slowly dissipates for your confusion to take over. Clearing your dry throat you finally speak up.

"Um...w-who are you?"

"My name is Maxim Horvath" he replies sweetly.

"Eh...well, Mr Horvath. I d-don't know you, uh w-what are you doing in my home? How did you even get--"

"You know me, my dear" he states calmly, cutting you off.

Retracting his hand, he kneels down to your level, making direct eye contact with you.

You feel your heart starting to work double time under his intense gaze.

"I understand that I frightened you and for that I sincerely apologise" he waits so you nod in acceptance. "Now I wish to explain this all to you but I wanted to help you up from the floor first" a smirk plays at his lips. "I suspect it isn't terribly comfortable down there"

You can't help but let a small smile grace your face as you let one of your hands that was grasping at your knee lift up towards him.

Smiling he took a hold of your hand, his own engulfing yours and moved up bringing you with him. As your knees cracked, you craned your neck up.

Jesus, he's tall.

Now that you were both standing you could see he was at least a foot taller you, much wider than you all round in fact. Avoiding his intimidating gaze you make your way around him and sit down on the sofa. He follows and gestured with his hand to the seat beside you waiting for your invitation. You nod.

"So-" he starts, placing his cane across his lap. "I believe your first question was 'what are you doing in my home?' To answer simply, I'm here for you but not to harm you. I would never do anything to hurt you knowingly"

He would never hurt me...he doesn't even know me.

"You said you don't know me" he glances over at your drawing "I can't help but think that that is me you are sketching so beautifully, is it not?"

A blush blooms on your cheeks.

"Well...yes it is but I- I don't know you"

"But you have seen me before? Or at least my neck down" he smirks.

"Yes but--"

"You have dreamt about me and I you"

The confusion on your face caused him to frown, the previous light in his eyes dimming. And then you felt it...you felt your heart clench and your throat tighten. The way his face dropped made your chest sink, you decide you didn't like sadness on him. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as he met your eyes watching your expression change.

"Do you feel anything? Do you--"

He stops when you raise your hand.

"Could I hold your hand...just for a second?"

Without hesitation, he offers his hand to you. And as you suspected, holding hands with him gives you that warm tingly feeling inside.

"You never told me your name" he says just above a whisper. Lifting your eyes from your joined hands to look at him, your breath nearly gets stuck in your throat when you see the tenderness in his eyes.

"Oh, it's Y/N...I'm sorry --"

"There no need to apologise. I understand this is a lot for you to take in"

He smiles warmly at you and startes rubbing his thumb around in circles on your hand.

Just for a second. You thought, smirking at your still joined hands.

"I do feel...connected to you somehow. This feels right but- I'm sorry but I really don't know you"

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek lightly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

"It's okay. You're right, we are strangers but our souls are One, that is why this feels normal"

"Like soulmates?"

"Yes, in a way. May I ask, how long have I been in your dreams?"

"The past 3 nights"

"Mm, well you have been blessing mine for the last 4 weeks" he admitted. "I assume you have had trouble with your art since that time? Since you've been in my dreams"

"Y-yes, but how did--"

"That is how it works. Souls are connected through their passion. In your case, Art. In mine, Magic. I have been struggling with spells that have always come to me naturally, that is until I started to search for you"

He searched for me...

"I see that your skill has returned now though. That really is very good so far but I do think I need a head" his head tilts side ways at you, looking from you to the drawing.

"Thank you" you giggle. "You know, I've never actually met anyone who could wield magic. Could you show me? If you don't mind"

"Of course, sweetheart"

Blushing profusely at the pet name, you watch as he lifts his hand between you both. As quick as you can blink his fingertips burst into a blue flame.

"I am also now back to my former self" he says wiggling his flamed fingers.

"Wow! That's amazing ... So, is blue your colour?"

"It is" The flames disappear as he points to your drawing.

"You used blue to draw me" You look back at your drawing.

I hardly ever touch blue, I always use black...the painting was the key, that was how he got here. How did I not notice...well not that I really care now.

You could feel yourself giving in to this feeling. The feeling of wanting to love him, be with him. The doubt in your mind was still there though because soulmate or not he was still a complete stranger. But you really wanted to let it happen anyway.

"So I did" you smile looking back at him.

A few minutes passed with you both just looking into each others eyes. You were searching for his sincerity, his dedication, his love for you. While he also was looking for your love for him, he wanted to see that you really wanted him. He knew he could be quite intimidating so he needed to feel that you were comfortable in his presence. Both of you found what you were looking for.

"Maxim" you whispered, placing a hand flat on his chest.

He couldn't help but let his eyes lids flutter at the sound of his name coming from your lips.

"Y/N" you felt the rumble through your palm as he practically groaned your name back to you.

"I-I'd like you to kiss me, Maxim"

As he leans closer into your space, you begin do feel almost dizzy. Dizzy from love and lust filling your veins. He's so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him. But he stops a breath away bringing one hand up to your cheek again and the other making itself at home on your thigh. He looks deep into your eyes waiting to see any hesitation from you. But when he finds none, he gives in, finally coming down to place his lips onto yours. It's the most tender kiss you've ever experienced. Just as your lips begin to dance, he pulls away for a second before coming down on you again with much more force. Wrapping your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck you pull him close to you, mirroring his passion. Feeling his tongue poke at your lips you excitedly let him in, your tongues beginning to battle with each other. You moan into his mouth in surprise when he lifts you to sit sideways in his lap. His big hands rub up and down your thighs as you both pull back, desperately needing to catch your breath. You feel his hand push lightly at the back of your head to bring your forehead against his. Breathing in the same air, you take his face in your hands and scratch at his beard making him almost purr at you.

"I do believe I've distracted you from your work" he mumbles, voice low and husky.

"That's alright, I forgive you" you giggle.

"Thank you, sweetheart"

"But you could make it up to me...by modelling for me, since I can finish it now"

"I suppose but..." he starts as you remove yourself from him.

"What do I do?"

Your surprised to see his cheeks tint with pink as your lips meet his forehead, placing a kiss between his eyebrows.

"Just sit there and look pretty"

[isaspsp]

💋💫Crimson Lips 💫💋

A Lady never leaves a mark.

Unless she wants to ~

Edit: I found the original comment I had along with this piece!!! So under the cut it goes. Enjoy the reding, if you dare.

This piece is fanart for Monochromatic's "Crimson Lips"

I have a lot to say about this piece. Firstly, I have a hard time picking favourites most of the time. I don't have a favourite food. I don't have a favourite color. I don't have a favourite music genre. I don't have a football team. I do have a favourite number! I don't have a favourite author. But I believe that last part has been surely rectified by now. I guess I can say that I've dedicated so luch time to doing fanart for this one author, that they can, indeed, be considered my favourite author. Then we are taken to this piece. One more fanart. Of an ABSURDLY amazing story. It might be the bias that it is from my favourite author, and someone I have the honor to call friend even. (Mono, btw is the author of the books for my two AMVs, so I'm quite the fan) But really, it's an amazingly written story I urge you to read. Reminder that the fic is rated teen, but it deals with sensitive topics.

Now onto the piece: This piece took an ABSURD amount of time. Like. I think it officially topples any of my previous records. But I don't know exacly how long it took. If it were up to me (and it is), I'd say it took like, maybe 6 hours? (It didn't, it was a lot more) I really wonder what sort of trance this piece had over me. I finished it in about 5 days-ish? I made the rough thumbnail on day one; 40% of the frame on day two; finished the frame, sketched the characters and blocked in all of them in day three; Rendered 75% of the characters day four; Finished rendering and other details on the morning of day 5. Today! That might seem reasonable enough. But here's the thing. I worked day 3 and 4 all day solely on this piece. From 8am to 11pm. ALL DAY. AND I DIDNT NOTICE I SPENT ALL DAY WORKING ON THIS ONE PIECE. I didn't even open another drawing's file. If you're familiar with csp's time-lapse feature, know that a two character portrait usually amounts to a 2 minute video. A piece that I'd usually spend 4 hours on, amounts to 2 minutes. This piece has a ten minute time-lapse. So I'd wager that I spent… at least 20 hours on this piece. Which feels so wrong. It's a beautiful piece sure. I love it immensely. But it feels wrong. It doesn't feel like it would need that much time to be completed? It doesn't have a conplex background, it doesn't have challenging Lighting, the characters don't interact directly, there isn't so.e frame perspective going on. So I don't know what made this piece take this long.

Let's gather what could've made this such a long piece.

I didn't rush A SINGLE PART OF THIS PIECE. Which contributes to why It took so long. I ALWAYS rush some part of a piece. Not necessarily in big ways, but maybe a rushed element. In this piece, the only thing I settled for was the border/frame/background. And even then, I say "settled" for because I did put a lot of care in it, but it was okay with it not being perfect.

I'm not THAT used to drawing and consequently painting humans. Or humanoid creatures. The reason why I draw more antro than human is because I'm SO terribly horrible with faces. Now, you don't see all the thrown away sketches from years past. I think a lot of that stemed from me not knowing how I wanted to go about stylizing them. When I started drawing pony, I had a very small pool of inspirations, and I did a shit ton of tracing (much before I ever started posting on the internet), so I didn't have much - or any at all -pressure to find a style. Now it's different. I'm very proud of my art. I've convinced myself that I don't have time for self doubt. This is the one and only hobby I'll not ever allow myself to drop. I've dropped knitting, soap carving, reading, swimming (which I couldn't to much in the first place), but art has been the one consistent hobby I've had. My self doubt will have the rip my heart away before it gets rid of my love for my own art. But then humans. I love my art, but then again, I can dislike my work still. And because my horizons are so much broader than they were when I started, I have so many options… too many options. Humans are difficult to draw because they are so fundamentaly different from all the animals I've drawn. They are us. Humans, there is so much more nuance that you have to capture to make them feel real. It's a hard balance to achieve. There are so so so many ways to stylized humans, from more goofy, to more simple and concise, to graphic to hyper realistic (aka barely any stylization). And again, I' bad at picking favourites. So then come furries, anthros. The nice middle ground of humanoid, but still familiar with the animal bits. And with anthro, you can choose how humanoid they'll be, so they were a good way to ease myself into drawing humans! And it worked. But I fear it might've worked too fast. Or at least too pointedly. Too concentrated in this one piece.

It feels like someone else drew this piece.

I think the best way to analyse your art looking for ways to improve it is by imagining you didn't draw it. It's easier to pick out the weaknesses of something you don't have emotional connection with. After I'm done with analyzing, I can switch back to myself and love a piece for what it is. Again, I need to be proud of my art.

But this piece is almost foreign in quality.

It's supposed to be heavily inspired by the art nouveau movement. I think that is pretty clear, so naturally, it's a far reach from my usual style. I don't thing that the realism is the characters' proportions is a staple of that style, more so the rendering, shape language and background style are what clue you into that style. So I could've done any stylization for the characters and it's work. At least it would've been good enough for me. But then again. Humans are a pain to draw. And making them anywhere other than human would destroy the intent of the original text, so that wanst an option. So I started drawing. I honetsly don't remember most of my sketching process nor decisions. Only by looking at the time-lapse that I see what decisions I took. Again. Foreign. I think the only piece of human art I have similar in style tot his one is those humans portraits I drew of my OCs, Beau and Bishop. But even then, this feels… different. Not to count that the rendering technique is something I, again, have never done before! This was mostly a combination of hard pencils smoothened out my blender brushes. I usually just bland with the painting brushes themselves, so that was a new technique for me. Again foreign.

In conclusion. I don't know if it's a good thing that this piece feels that foreign. But I know I drew this and that I'm proud and completely in love with it, and I hope you all are too 💖