#i swear one day i will draw art that is not just silly sketches but. today is not that day

[fourth-wall-rebuilder]

Can you tell I'm farming for the after endings rn

[weakestskeletonfan85]

NIGHT 6 HARD MORE I mean DAY 6 OF MIKU ALL WEEKU

fnaf at ferbdys I love bear

Sketch and closeup below

What a silly game I hope they don't make me stay at Freddy's for five nights

Needless to say, this is my obsession, at least one of them, I knew I had to make a drawing based on it sinxe I found out about the miku all Weeku. For dear corruptimles, creator of the art challenge I'M SO SORRY I SWEAR I DODNT STEAL THE IDEA IT WAS JUST A COINCIDENCE anyways I hope y'all like it :)

[general-dweebous]

Cute Gale Headcannons or whatever

Gale is a #1 fan of knowledge and the arts, so anything you do regarding or relating to that either gets him all mushy and lovey or makes him want to bed you

He recommends a book to you that he loves and thinks you’d like, and catches you reading it out in his favorite spot on his balcony, and it goes one of two ways:

he gets all lovey-dovey and comes to cuddle you while you read, a book in his hand as well, OR… he comes to distract you with wandering hands and kisses pretending to be interested in what you have to say about the book, trying to get you to give in to him

He loves to watch you draw / paint and is always overly supportive, “the way you capture natures beauty with a simple pen and paper will always wow me”, just nothing but compliments and praise

You know he’d be the type to use the silly bookmarks you make him, and pin your sketches up around his home- especially the silly doodles of Tara

He loves when you play with his hair while he studies, it feels intimate and relaxing to him, but all in all he just enjoys when you’re near

I imagine that one of the things that won him over about you was a mixture of showing interest in his ramblings, or being just as excited about facts and things you’ve learned or are interested in. He swears he could talk with you for decades and not grow tired of it.

And let’s be real- Gale would totally be the type to recreate the romance and smut you read. He inquires one day about what has you so flushed, and when you show him the pages, you see a smirk on his face grow. You go to take the book away from him out of embarrassment, and he holds a hand up to you- “ah ah- I’m studying” he’d say.. just for him to pull the same move on you moments later followed by some sort of flirty comment like “was it this part that had your heart racing?.. or this?” knowing damn well you’re putty in his hands.

[lostfirefly]

Welcome to the AU where Buggy and Catherine have daughters :)

"The Little Artist"

Buggy sat in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, grumbling at the endless chaos around him.

“Cabaji! The lights are crooked! Mohji! Don’t let Richie eat the cotton candy again, dammit! Who.... Who put my good scarf on that lion's neck?!”

“She did that, Captain.” Cabaji nodded towards Aurora.

Aurora sat on the edge of the practice ring with her sketchpad, tongue poking out as she focused intensely on her drawing.

In front of her, Richie posed or at least, Richie thought he was trying. In reality, the lion was mostly just yawning.

Aurora giggled and softly walked over to adjust Richie’s ribbons and scarf.

“Stay still, silly kitty,” She whispered. “You’re the star.”

Buggy glanced over from his chair, watching her. She looked so much like Catherine when she concentrated. Her brows were furrowed, lips pressed tight, little shoulders tense.

After another twenty minutes, Aurora hesitated, staring down at her sketchpad.

“Hmmm....” Her little face scrunched with worry.

She stood up, carefully clutching the drawing to her chest, and walked toward Buggy, who was busy muttering something about circus poles being half a centimeter off-center.

“Daddy?” Aurora said softly.

“Yeah, marshmallow?” Buggy looked down at her.

“Do you think it’s… good?” Aurora held out the sketch.

“Oh, let's see.” Buggy took the drawing and opened his mouth. He saw the slight wobble in Aurora's lip.

The same doubt Catherine had warned him about when she told him, “She doesn’t need a critic, Buggy. She needs her dad to believe in her.” This happened after Aurora drew her first picture when she was about two years old, and Buggy, out of ignorance, said that the picture could have been better.

For half a second, the old Buggy wanted to analyze the proportions and shading. But then Catherine’s words rang again in his head.

Buggy looked at the drawing carefully. Richie’s face was a bit too round, one paw bigger than the other but the ribbons were bright, the smile was perfect, and her little signature at the bottom had hearts in it.

He smiled wide and lifted Aurora up onto his lap.

“Wow, marshmallow!” Buggy tapped her little red nose. “You made Richie look like an absolute superstar. Look at those ribbons. Look at that mane! He’s gonna ask you for an autograph.”

“Really?” Aurora’s face lit up.

“Really. You’ve got my blood in you. Which means you’ve got circus magic and art skills.”

“Thank you, daddy!!” Aurora giggled and hugged him tightly. “Can we hang this drawing in Richie's cage?”

“Sure!” Buggy kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her small frame. “Now, I have one very important question, my little artist.”

“What?” Aurora whispered.

“Should we go celebrate your masterpiece with… ice cream?”

“Two scoops?” Her eyes widened.

“Three if you pinky swear not to tell your mom how much sugar I’m about to give you.”

“Deal!” Aurora giggled and immediately offered him her tiny pinky finger. “But I don't think mommy would be mad, she loves sweets too.”

“Yes, that woman has the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I know.” Buggy stood up, holding Aurora in one arm. “Alright, let's go.”

“You’re the best, daddy.” Aurora wrapped her arm around his neck. “I love you so, so much.”

“Love you too, my marshmallow.”

The sun was warm over the harbor, casting golden reflections on the shop windows as Buggy strolled hand-in-hand with Aurora after the day in the circus.

“I don't understand why mom likes to walk along the embankment.” Aurora said, her little boots pattered against the cobblestones, her free hand holding onto her tiny red purse (she insisted on bringing it — “just in case, dad!”).

“I don't know. But she's been dragging me on walks since the very first day we met.”

“DADDY! WAIT!!” Aurora jerked Buggy's hand sharply. “LOOK!”

They stopped in front of La Vie en Glace, Catherine’s favorite ice cream shop. Buggy tilted his head at the pastel sign, then glanced down at his daughter.

“We should buy mom ice cream.” Aurora poked at the sign.

“You sure she likes this one?” Buggy pointed at the cafe.

“Absolutely.” Aurora nodded solemnly. “It's her favorite ice cream after a hard day. You should know it, daddy! Just stop thinking about doing that disgusting thing with your lips.”

“Hey!”

“Plus, she was with Ev at the doctor's today. That counts as a hard day.”

“Alright, boss.” Buggy chuckled, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “You’re in charge.”

Aurora marched up to the counter, standing on tiptoes to peek into the glass freezer. Her eyes darted over the colors: mint green, deep chocolate, lavender, golden caramel and finally landed on the maple nut swirl, glistening with ribbons of syrup.

“Is this good?” Aurora turned to the teenage cashier with full seriousness.

“Um...” The girl blinked. “It’s one of our bestsellers.”

“But it’s for my mom.” Aurora narrowed her eyes, considering. “And it’s her favorite shop. It has to be fresh and perfect.”

“It’s really good. Promise.” The cashier smiled.

“Does it have actual nuts?" Aurora leaned closer, whispering, “Because she loves soft ice cream with crunchy stuff.”

Buggy tried not to laugh. “Kid, you sound like you’re doing a background check.”

“It’s important, dad!” Aurora turned to him and whispered loudly, “What if I mess it up? What if she thinks I don’t love her?”

“Aurora.” Buggy crouched beside her, gently placing his hands on her small shoulders. “Your mom adores you. You could bring her a bucket of frozen seaweed, and she’d cry happy tears.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. But don’t,” Buggy chuckled, “Because that’s disgusting. I tried.”

“Okay…” Aurora giggled. “I want one scoop... NO! The bucket of maple nut for mom.”

“What about two buckets for her? And then we will definitely get a smack on the nose.”

“Oooh! I love it!!” Aurora raised her tiny hand, gave Buggy a high five and turned to a cashier again. “Then two buckets for mom. And a huge cone for me, please! Mint chip.”

On the way home, Aurora carried the ice cream. “She’ll love it, right?”

“Of course. Because it came from you.” Buggy ruffled her hair. “Your mom loves you.”

“Even if I’m weird sometimes?” Aurora asked quietly.

“Especially because you’re weird.” Buggy slowed his steps, squeezing her hand. “You remind her of me.”

“But isn’t that a bad thing?” Aurora tilted her head.

“Nah. Not to her.” Buggy laughed softly. “And… not to me either. Weird is good. Weird means magic.”

“Then we’re the weirdest family ever.” Aurora beamed.

“Yeah. We are.”

[sparks-and-wires]

SAME AND IM THE ONE MAKING THEM LMFAO

I was crashing out for a bit cuz I was like do I do a detailed artstyle or silly/cartoony and settled on the more cartoonish side. I like flowy dynamics more and think it fits. I'm very hype and will let you know when it's done. Ofc it'll have to be manufactured but that'll be the next step! Just finished a big festival event too the other day where merch in my little corner sold so gonna put that money towards this! - Artsy anon

itd be so hype if i could see before and afters but god knows I could barely remember to take before and afters for my own art. I remember drawing a Skitty and thank GOD I took a picture of the sketch before because I feel like I'm going to watch to digitalize it sometime and compare it to my traditional coloring with markers.

Anyways so hype I want to twirl my hair around my fingers just thinking about it. Cry and scream, I'm so normal about the vargas brothers I swear to god

[fiendishfinesse]

What drew me to your blog? Honestly? I was wanting my own Raphael for a while. Ofc I gave other Raphs a try, and don't get me wrong, they were all lovely people and great rpers, but they never seemed to stick around for long? Which is sad because Raph is such a cool character! And you write him so well... You never cease to entertain me with your portrayal of him to the point I'm like KNOCK KNOCK I WANT SOME RAPH HERE lmao

But then! We talked ooc, and it was friendship at first sight :3 Not only do we click incredibly well ic, but ooc too? We're the inseparable duo. Not even god could tear two Brazilian bitches like us apart, it would backfire horribly! In all seriousness though, you've become someone I genuinely rely on. I've said this before, but I'll repeat as many times as I can: past experiences made me incredibly cautious about being vulnerable with others, but you showed me it's safe to show that side of myself to you. That kind of trust is rare.

Cheers to our unhinged Discord calls, you high on sleeping meds, drawing "demon friends" and calling it art therapy. Or sketching furry versions of me at the circus because why not LOL

Girl, you are nothing I asked for and everything I didn't know I needed in a friend. Strong, reliable, loving.... I hope you truly know how much that means to me, and I'll always try to be here for you the same way you've been here for me.

I came for the devil, stayed for the person behind the muse. Now we follow each other wherever we end up, spamming reels at ungodly hours, probably traumabonding over the dumbest memes too lmao. Love that for us! And I swear, if we lived closer and one of us was crying? The other would show up at her doorstep without a second thought, probably with snacks and a blanket, ready to crash for the night.

This friendship runs deeper than blood, and thicker than marrow. I love you, girl. Stay awesome. And as always:

Be mine. ❤️😈

What drew you to my blog initially, and what, so far, has made you stay? — answering

MILKY, MY BELOVED!!!!!!! get over here for a bear hug and a bunch of kisses because you just punched me right in the feels outta nowhere I'm not letting that slide. 😤

You came knocking for a charming devil but instead found the silly shy gremlin behind him and somehow decided to keep her. Bless your heart and your very bad choices. I'm so happy to know you've found your Raphael in me (to the point of neutralizing him all for yourself. yes, I see that and it's totally understandable, moral and fair), and I found my Astarion in you!!!!! Also, we're now forever bound by Brazilian magic. Amarração amorosa be upon ye!!! LMAAAO. Brazilian baddies gotta stick together 💅

I'm trash at mushy speeches, so here I am, rambling scribbles while smiling like a happy puppy. Thank you for trusting me and opening up, Milky. I'll never take that for granted. Even if I'm annoyingly scatterbrained and naive sometimes, I swear my intentions are pure and caring. LOL.

I should be the one thanking you!!! For every 3am discord shit-fest, for tolerating sleep-med-high me slurring about random nonsense, and for never blinking when I overshare and need someone to vent my ass off. Also for the days you endure me after a few glasses of beer, when I start professing my love for you and the world. A true warrior you are, yes.

You call me strong, reliable, loving… girl, thats a mirror. You're also a treasure I found all for myself. I might be willing to share. A bit.

So here's my blood-oath-pinky-promise: need a Raphael fix, a sobbing session, a gossip session, or someone to tag in meme spam at ungodly hours on insta? Im there before you can type 'ARE U BUSY RN?' 🙂‍↕️

In fact, you can barge in and ask for queue-writing priority and I will HAPPILY OBLIGE. My friend needs Raphael???Oh, bet. I'm dropping everything. Canceling the queue right now. Shoving the other drafts off the metaphorical desk. My darling needs her man.😂

"Nothing asked for, everything I never knew I needed" --right back at you, pookie!

Yours always. ❤️😈

[siffrin-gimmick-blog-number-37]

Greetings and Salutations, everyone! Allow me to properly introduce myself.

My name is Zeisty King — aka the random individual behind this silly little blog! I mainly go by just Zeisty, though (seeing as I treat the "King" part as a surname).

My main goal for this blog is to doodle Siffrin from In Stars and Time (as well as other characters sometimes) so I can get used to a new tablet and set up, while also having fun with it!! Hence why I named this blog the way I did and why I don't mind calling the art I post here "messy," especially considering half of them are sketches anyway!

I may make mistakes from time to time and some results may be wonky, but that's okay! It's all a part of the learning process!! And is not limited to forgetting how anatomy works; I put two hands on the wrong way in one post once and I have to accept the fact I did that.

REOCCURRING GIMMICK BLOG TAGS:

#main blog to gimmick blog — anything from my main blog that I've reblogged to this one! I don't think I'll do it a whole lot, but I just wanted to let you know that happens and that they may contain spoilers when it does.

#not quite a daily — on occasion, doodles that don't count as a daily (but are still silly enough to be shown off on this blog) will be posted here! I don't think I'll do it too much, but don't be surprised if you see any doodles that aren't dailies from time to time.

#personal reblog — anything I've reblogged from myself once, twice or even thrice! I sometimes do it to make sure you haven't missed a post from me, or if I have something else to say about it.

#siffrin gimmick blog asks — as of posting this introduction this week, this is a new one! These are any questions you lovely folks wanna send in through this blog's askbox, and that I've answered.

#siffrin gimmick blog doodles — self explanatory! These are any drawings/doodles I've made for this blog, dailies or otherwise! I aim post here every day, though I sometimes won't on account of my memory or out of respect for certain events. Or if I need a break. I am only one goober, after all.

#siffrin gimmick blog rambles — any thoughts I need to say or anything I need to inform you will be under this tag! They won't contain art, so this one and any others like it are the exceptions.

#siffrin gimmick blog suggestions — got any suggestions for me to draw? Along with the ask tag, this is a new one as of this week! Any ideas you have for me to draw will be slotted under this tag! Be careful not to send in any spoilers, as I refuse to draw them six days of the week.

#siffrin gimmick blogs angsty sundays — this is the only time I'll intentionally post spoilery, angsty and/or serious art! I'll make sure to tag them as such so you can avoid them. I just wanted to give you a little head's up that I'll also reblog spoilers and tag them as well. :3

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

-My main blog is @electrozeistyking! You can find me reblogging my gimmick blog doodles there, along with any other stuff I drew not meant for this one (and stuff other people made)!! It's not exclusively ISAT stuff though, obviously.

-I swear quite a bit and do not tag them when I do. It'd probably be a hassle for me if I did, so if you're not cool with that, feel free to block this blog! You absolutely don't have to interact if you don't want to. I will tag other serious stuff/triggers, though! (Except this post, seeing as it's the introduction and it's important folks don't miss it. Sorry!)

-I'm not guaranteed to accept every suggestion or answer every ask sent my way. In the case of suggestions, there is a chance I won't be inspired enough to draw it for you; in the case of asks, I might not know what to say. And other possible reasons, if they ever happen to come up.

-I see every ask sent my way, so please try not to send the exact same Ask/Suggestion more than once! I promise I'm either formulating a response, figuring out how to draw your suggestion, or I was forced to delete it (in regards to the following note).

-I don't want this blog to overshadow you, so I'll unfortunately have to force myself to delete your ask if it has nothing to do with this blog in particular or ISAT. That's why I recommend you send it into my main blog instead!

That's it for now! Thanks for reading, and for hanging around this blog with me! :D

[ickmick]

INKTOBER DAYS 30 AND 31!!

getting immediately into this- the acronyms key, past weeks posts, and rambling afterwords are under the cut!! drawings on full display today!!

Day 30

gore: undead

we have a miss cleo!! look at them!! so very cool, I'm actually very happy with my first real attempt to draw her! the hair was fun too, ehehe...

Day 31

wh: so below

hc: halloween

GRIANS COSPLAY OF CROWLEY!! WHO CHEERED?? 🎉

he looks oh so smug and cool, I really love this drasing of him! that face! and I took a worth while risk on the pose!!

(I have moved the next 2 paragraphs to under the cut, to make sure this isn't too long to scroll through if you only want to see the art!!)

as for the second sketch (which has two photos so you don't have hold you device upside down LOL) I had the idea of secret life grian and (SL)watcher grian! a reverse, mwahaha... I really only meant to draw the crowly one, and didnt think I had the energy for more... but brain rot!! it is so strong!!

so of course after that I finally rectified my lack of clothes design for watcher grian lol... now i have to draw a SL design too!! eventually... eventually... I didnt make a note of it, but I think he just... wouldn't wear shoes LOL... watcher grian, I mean. let those lil talon feeties free, or whatever pffft...

week one, two, three, four and 5.1s posts!!

I'll only list the prompts I used that day, but here's the key for acronyms n such;

wh = welcome home

hc = hermitcraft (I have 2!)

ink = official inktober

gore = goretober

(actual gore will be triggerwarned! so far none has any blood or violence!)

Oh boy- okay! so I swear I didn't forget, its just that art block came and smacked me in the face for a short period. Thankfully I came out of it with two drawings I really love!! And some pretty good doodles too, haha...

I do think I still want to do a weekly novelember drabble... and of course a related drawing. we'll see! check in on sunday! i wont just disappear now that inktober is over!!

but also, maybe come back tomorrow if you're interested in a certain very tall persons birthday. yknow, the one with a new vtuber model! yeah! them! /silly

(Im talking about Ranboo, haha!! Im hoping to finish a drawing for their birthday tomorrow!!)

Thanks again for all the support!! 💜

[im-fruity-and-bored]

I’VE RETURNED, MY LOVELIES! (featuring an important announcement and some of my graphic design class work)

Hello everyone! I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, because I most certainly did not :]

I’ve just been very busy with trying to balance school, time with my family, making time to call my girlfriend (yeah I have one of those- crazy I know,) and having time for myself to rest and watch TV and sleep. It doesn’t help that for the past WEEK when I’d finally started to get back on Tumblr to just doomscroll and thinking up how I’d make a return post, I've been sick with the FLU 😭

But I have good news:

I’ve FINALLY started to work on those art requests! some of the more complex ones might take me longer, and I won't show sketches rn cuz I get kind of insecure about my sketches and like to have the outlines done before I show my WIPs, but there IS progress I SWEAR.

Y’all have waited long enough on my procrastinating ass, and my art block has been helped a lot by being in my graphic design class and watching Gravity Falls with my sibling since I’d never properly watched it. I’d known of it’s existence, and it had come on at my doctor’s appointments a few times when I was younger, but I thought of it as just a stupid cartoon that wasn't worth my time- which I HATE myself for because had I looked past the silliness (even though I love silly and childish jokes so idk what my problem was) and actually WATCHED THE SHOW, I would've seen that is was right up my alley with the mystery element and the deeper lore and everything. I was just like “ugh I see this stupid triangle guy everywhere, and this weird journal at all the Scholastic Book Fairs- stupid Gravity Falls.” But then I ended up watching Big City Greens a few years later, which had WAY stupider humor?? Like what?? Make it make sense??

But the point is I’d never seen the show, my friend had been obsessed with it and I tried to kinda pretend I knew what she was on about from my vague knowledge, and I started watching little clips and found it hilarious. Then one day my younger sibling (the middle child out of three,) came up to me and said “Hey sis I’m gonna watch Gravity Falls. Do you wanna watch it with me? I wanna finally understand all the references and audios I hear on Youtube shorts.” So I said “Y’know what? Absolutely.” Guys. That show altered our BRAIN CHEMISTRY. My sibling started REWATCHING season 1, BEFORE WE’d EVEN FINISHED OUR FIRST WATCH OF THE WHOLE SHOW- WHENEVER I WAS TOO BUSY TO WATCH SEASON TWO WITH THEM, THEY JUST WATCHED SEASON 1- They asked for The Book of Bill and Journal 3 as a reward for good grades. They've started doodling Bill Cipher on all their papers. I've been looking up fanart on here and been planning to make some of my own. We’ve been watching pretty much ALL the content we can find on Youtube (unless it looks NSFW or involves MINORS with characters MUCH OLDER THAN THEM (cough triangles.) Y’all know what im referring to. Those shippers know who they are. I think it’s safe to say we’re totally normal about the show and not obsessed AT ALL. Totally. (/j)

But yeah when I find a cartoon I’m really into, it helps with my art block- makes me WANT to draw. And my graphic design class has kinda forced me to be creative, but has given me enough free reign with projects (my teacher is cool like that,) to inspire me rather than crush my creative spirit. I don't think any class has inspired me more or meant more to me than that class does. I love it so much.

You guys have Alex Hirsch for creating Gravity Falls, my friend for convincing me to watch the show, my sibling for asking me to watch the show with them, my Graphic Design teacher for being the best and giving me cool projects and being supportive and inspiring and sparking creativity within her students, and my girlfriend for kinda just being moral support and giving me energy and motivation by just existing (I swear even if im having a bad day or I’m exhausted, all I gotta do is get on the phone with her- we have a LDR- and then I feel better and it motivates me to get things done and be creative and makes me happy.

@transieraine I love you baby ❤️

But yeah-

TLDR; I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, I didnt forget you guys, I planned to come back earlier in the week but got the flu, and I’ve FINALLY made progress on y’all’s art requests- my motivation was fueled by my friend and youtube shorts convincing me and my sibling to finally watching Gravity Falls which I’m now obsessed with, my graphic design class, and my girlfriend’s moral support.

Now have some stuff I made for my graphic design class. It isn't great because it was kinda rushed, but I like it:

[forever-a-lake-effect-kid]

wttt week planz just to have a little record and to keep myself accountable

day 1: probably art. i have a comic about the california wildfires written out but if it feels too heavy or is taking too long to actually draw i have a backup plan (go birds) [edit: I CHANGED MY MIND AGAIN :tada: its still kind of a comic but its like a little bitty four panel one so it'll be ? fine. i have a rough sketch done] [edit edit: EXCELLENT NEWS !! this has been lined and almost all colored!! i just need to color the skin and refine the text and it'll be good to go :D] DONE!!!

day 2: two guesses who this is gonna be. probably art, if i can swing it, just because i'm gonna be posting writing the next day [edit: and i have a very very good idea of what to draw :)] [edit edit: and a very (very) rough sketch!)] [lined!]

day 3: i swear to god i'm gonna finish my aroostook war fic i swear to godddd. i've been working on it since last june and its nearly 3,000 words and IM GONNA FINISH IT!!!! IM GONNA!!! ive practically got every bit of the plot i wanted to get in these bitches just WILL NOT SHUT UP

day 4: actually don't have ideas for this :thinking: pennsylvania's liquor laws are buckwild but theres already a video for that lmao [EDIT: OKAY I GOT SOMETHING. list of rules for the table meetings starting with the ones laid down in like 1776 or whenever and going from then up until now with like edits and stuff in it. i started writing this on the plane back to college i think it will be very fun and silly]

day 5: i've invented an entirely new dynamic for this and im very excited. no spoilers but did you know: maine alaska vermont and hawai'i are the only 4 states to have banned billboards. i already have a few paragraphs of this written but no real plot so we'll see how it goes.

day 6: something with cities. plurality win maybe? but also...canada .... my beloved.... [edit: oogh boston and halifax. boston and halifaaaax]

day 7: freedom of choice is so scary.... i don't know....

[seraph-chim]

Sup, nerds! My name is Seraph-Chim.

I mostly make digital art. The dream is to eventually draw one personal work every day; this will include my and my friends' oc's/sonas, fandom stuff, Christian themes, and random pieces; I'll be sure to tag them all accordingly. I've been known to post process updates such as sketches or partial colorings as well, which will be under [#wip]! As for [#my writing], it's projected to be mostly fanfics. I don't have many of those—you can find all of my finished works on my AO3.

I'm not accepting commissions as of now, but I will take art trades or small requests for minicomics, one-shots, or just sketches.

+*.~Enjoy your stay!!~.*+

((tags guide under the cut))

#my art -- finished pieces, including everything from quick sketches to fully rendered artworks

#my writing -- this is where I'll link my fanfics that I write from here on out (likely to be mostly one-shots, but i am working on a sonic&shadow or sonic/shadow au fic). Other than that, this is also where I'll keep my short poems (or "poems") and teeny-tiny-short-stories

#:p -- non-writing-related text posts or just me being a silly lil guyg

#wip -- works in progress! The function this serves is that it shows you I'm not dead. The reason I post em is cause sometimes I get excited (or lonely. take your pick.)

#sonic x shadow fealty au -- this is that au I mentioned before. The basic premise is that a demon who is only capable of following orders is pitted against Sonic, god of the wind, and swears its fealty to him in exchange for his command to love. Instead, Sonic transforms it into an angel in his image and names him Shadow; his only command is to do whatever he wants to do. I don't categorize this as strictly sonadow/shadonic because, even though this relationship is going to be close and intimate, I don't think of them as lovers in this au; however, if someone wants to interpret them that way, it doesn't bother me, because they do Love each other in ways that are often presented as romantic in today's society. If it helps, you can think of my presentation of them in this au as a qpr

#shitty work art (queue) -- self-explanatory. I draw at work, I post it here so y'all have something while I'm in-between full artworks or working on my fic(s)

[irys955]

I'm really just a silly who love drawing her favorite characters...

...and their genderbent versions, and boobs too I guess... I don't bite, I swear, but I'm bad at starting conversations, so feel free to talk to me hehe (●'◡'●)

Below is some ramble about my drawing journey ~

I have to thank a friend of mine, who I met during university. She was the one who helped me to find joy in drawing, taught me how to draw anatomy more correctly (I'm still bad at it but I now can see where I do wrong, even though I cannot fix those problems yet lol). I learned a lot watching her drawing in our classes together (we really did not pay attention to class.....). Yeah, she was also the one who pulled me into Hetalia....!

I drew some commissions during this time with dirt cheap prices like $3-$10 for full colored pictures that took me at least 2-3 days to complete lol. Here is the very first commission I made in 2016, I still like it very much (I nuked my dA account so yeah, I have no idea who was the customer for this one...I'm sorry ; - ;; )

My happiest moment was when I gave customer two sketch options and they said they wanted both lol....

Here are almost all of the commission I've made

Then after Uni, I went to work and was severely burned out...I did drew some arts for HalBarry but it was 5 years ago (wow time flies...). After them, I drew very little to the point of none. It must have been at least 4 years since I was last serious about drawing.

Until the beginning of this year, I got to work from home, yay, I finally have time and pick up my pen again. At this point, I have to thank Patalliro and BanMara for making me pick up drawing again xD!!! Then I fell back into the old pit (yes it's you ZeroX), reading their doujin, seeing all the wonderful artworks and fanfics about them on Pixiv, I suddenly want to contribute too. I love them so I want to draw them out, I want to materialize my plots for them...I want to force people to look at my creations so I post them online haha-

Though my job right now is kinda unstable (good pay for single adult though) and I'm in early mid life crisis of what I really want to do with my life...I like my current situation, it's like my dream job and situation, but as I said, it's not stable, it could end anytime. And at my age (I'm not THAT old but the job market is really harsh where I live), it's really hard to find a new job, but oh well, I guess thing is as good as it gets, I hope teehee

[preeningpisces]

you sound really fun!!

i've really enjoyed everything i've read from you before!

and honestly, i must confess – i think you're making me like kenjaku a little more xx <33

i honestly really liked that kenjaku one-shot! the dynamic was just so fun! i loved the build-up! and you know what? i can see the appeal in kenjaku! he's playful, clever, silly, willing to experiment (to a fault), but he's also... a little unattainable but in an attractive way?

anyway, i like your writing. and honestly? i think your smut is some of the best i've ever read because it reads as being authentic. like you know how to time things and how to build tension.

i also really love your art stuff!! i think it's super cool. i can't pick out your favourite drawings, but the ones that come to mind are the sketches of kenjaku, especially the diptych of one having kenjaku smirking and the other licking up his brain fluids, the one that you deleted but which i adore of kenjaku getting down and dirty with the kitty cat, and the pieta!!! which is so cool and which i keep on thinking about!

i hope i'll get to read more stuff by you!!

since you're slowly but surely converting me to the kenny love train, i would love to read more stuff about kenny xx BUT your characterisation of others is brilliant too xx i thought the overstimulation ones were pretty fun xx and the tinder one, too, was absolutely hilarious !! <33

Hihi!! Thank you :3 I certainly hope the people in my personal life consider me fun

This ask is dangerous. I’m about to be SO annoying - buckle up ‼️

If there is one thing you can say to unleash the menace within me, it’s to tell me I converted you into liking a character. Especially if they’re typically disliked

I know you said making, like in the process, but….

ONE OF US 🧠 ONE OF US 🧠 ONE OF US

YEAAA unattainable in an attractive way is such a good way to put it!! Your mind!!! I think that’s a large appeal for me - like you’ll never be on his level & he’ll never really love you (in my opinion). The toxic part of me really fucks with that. Striving for something you can never have is just MMMM degradation kink go brrrrr & they’re someone you can’t help but want to impress/seek the approval of (tho you should never tell them this; he’s already insufferable)

It kind of satisfies a personal philosophy of mine; that oftentimes yearning/wanting something is more pleasurable than actually having it. But maybe that’s just a pretentious way of saying I like the chase

(to a fault) TOOK ME OOOOUT - his curiosity really is his greatest strength and greatest weakness

Ugh that just makes me so pleased to hear—I really enjoy writing horny shit so the fact you enjoy my approach that much is just 🥺🥺🥺 I think they’ve all been similar thus far, so I hope to delve more into the spooky/yandere realm since I eat that shit up (and Kenjaku in particular just fits that genre so well)

AKSJDJHF F im glad you enjoyed the horny drawings. I posted it like 3 separate times with less and less pictures each repost (it’s like a whole comic - kind of) because I’d get too embarrassed LMFAO - I don’t think it’ll ever see the light of day

AND YES characters that aren’t kenjaku - after i finish the kenny one that was requested I have 2 posts in progress that include all of them!

One is 18+ (tho it’s pretty wholesome!), the other is lighthearted/silly and in the same vein as the Tinder headcanons. I also have a horny lil oneshot planned for satosugu x YN, but it hasn’t been started. Weirdly, I have a Mahito fic rolling around in my brain that is more plot centric. I’m pretty excited for it, but I’m still working out the details & whatnot

I swear I like other JJK characters 😭🙏 the brainrot is just intense it’s my Scorpio placements

It’s funny to me, but I also feel a bit bad, because I think a decent portion of followers came from my Nanami NSFW headcanons.

It’s like, you come for Nanami only to find endless kenjaku posting LMFAO like

(((if this applies to anyone i love yall & im sorry for being the way that I am 🥺💙🙏)))

BIG THANK YOU anon - this was like - i don’t even know how to describe it. You entertain my nonsense too much!!!! I’m indebted to you

I hope you have a lovely day <33

[chaoscontrolled123]

the gang's all here!!! my designs for the dreamtonics masc voicebanks based off of their logos, names, voices, and various archetypes of music student i encountered during college lol. feel free to use these for non-commercial purposes, just credit and link back to me!

KEVIN: the energetic theater kid who drags his buddies to dennys at 3am after a show. do NOT hand him the aux cable

RYO: the goth band kid who's teaching himself guitar but his main instrument is clarinet. do not hand him the aux cable either but for completely different reasons

MO CHEN: the wannabe composer who makes the music history exam study guides that everyone else mooches off of. has 400 hours in elden ring

AN XIAO: the popular choir kid who plays multiple sports and has constant scheduling issues. his major is "undeclared"

[inkandpen22]

Only Love, Only Hate (5/?)

Pairing: Riff x Latina!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst 

Part Summary: In their final hours before the rumble, Y/N and Riff hide away in her apartment. 

A/N: Merry Christmas!!! Here’s my present to y’all!

Masterlist

I unlock the front door and peek my head inside cautiously. The lights in the kitchen and living room are shut off. "Mamá! Papá!" I call out. Only to receive no response. “Mateo?” 

The sound of my bedroom window creaking echoes throughout the empty apartment. I hurry inside and drop my books onto the kitchen table on my way to my bedroom. I enter just in time to see Riff climbing in. 

"I look forward to the day when I no longer have to climb the fire escape like a superhero." He grunts. 

I giggle, moving across the room to pull back the curtains. "At least no one is home. We don't have to be so quiet and whisper."

He rises to his feet, towering over me with a smile. "Sounds nice," he mumbles before pressing his lips to mine. 

I break away with a grin. “Shouldn’t you be with your fellow Jets? Preparing them, giving them some powerful speech?”

“Nah, I just want to be with you. They’ll be fine without me for a while,” he assures, brushing his lips against mine. 

I lift my arms to drape over his shoulders. No Jets. No Sharks. No fighting. Just us. If only it could always be like this. 

He mumbles between kisses. "How do you say, "this is my girlfriend back off, buddy" in Spanish?"

I laugh. "I am not telling you that!"

"How do I keep PR boys from looking at you?" He reasons. 

"Talk to them civically as you would a boy like you!”

"Well, I wouldn’t talk to anyone calmly if they were looking at you.”

I roll my eyes with a slight groan. “Mi amor…” (my love)

“Oo, I like it when you call me that.” In one swift motion, Riff scoops me up and places me down on my desk. He stands between my legs and rests his hands on my thighs. 

I laugh, cupping his face in my hands. 

“Say it again?” He requests, glancing at my lips. 

I lean in to whisper in his ear. “Eres un alborotador, mi amor.” (You’re a troublemaker, my love)

“Civil, huh?“ He asks. 

I nod, pulling back to meet his gaze. “Sí.”

He sighs. “Boring but alright! Only because you asked."

“Oh! Muchas Gracias,” I remark sarcastically. 

He chuckles. "You know, you never told me what you're in school for."

"Education."

He grins. "Well, I kinda gathered that much on my own, Sweetheart."

"I'm studying Education, silly! I want to be an art teacher,” I specify. 

"Oh, right, right...” He nods. His eyes flicker down to my sketches left on the desk. He picks up one and inspects it. "Is that what these are from? I saw them last night."

"Sí, I have to draw something from life. I haven't been very good,” I sigh. “My professor says I lack inspiration and originality.” 

He looks at me wide-eyed. "Better than anything I can do."

I place a quick peck on his cheek. "I'm sure that's not true."

"You have too much faith in me." He chuckles, setting down the sketch before placing his hands on my waist. "It's cool that you have a plan, ambitions. I haven't put much thought into what I want to do. I just always figured I'd end up in some factory job around here." He shrugs, then a cheeky grin forms on his lips. "But if we're gonna afford a house with lots of land upstate I'm gonna need somethin' a little better."

I caress his cheek. "Whatever you do will be enough." I kiss him softly. 

When we part, I stare into his sparkling crystal eyes and a million questions cross my mind. There are so many things to know and understand. 

A faint blush develops on his cheeks. “What is it?”

“You already know so much about me. I want to know everything about you. What you love, what you hate, what drives you crazy!”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m Irish, basically as white as it gets.”

“Is that why you have this bracelet?” I ask, taking the four-leaf clover pendant between my fingers. 

He nods, peering down at it. “It was my mom’s.”

My eyes flicker up to his chest and I scoop up his necklace. “And this?” 

“My grandpa gave it to me. He got it during the war in Germany.”

My fingers glide down to his forearms. On his right, a tattoo of a woman with a flower. “And your tattoos? What do they mean?”

A smirk creeps up on the edge of his lips. Silently, Riff grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Then, he does the same to his undershirt, revealing all of his tattoos and torso. 

I had seen his tattoos last night. Since then, I have been curious. I hadn’t seen so many on one person. Having one is rare enough. 

Riff watches me as I glide my fingertips across his skin and over the dark drawings. 

“Did they hurt?” I ask. 

He shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve felt worse.”

Slowly, I brush my lips across his collarbone and plant a soft kiss to the lettering. Riff tilts his head back, his eyes falling shut. 

“I never want to imagine you in pain…” I whisper against his neck. 

“Baby...” Riff tucks his fingers beneath my chin, urging me back to meet his gaze. “I know you’re scared, but it will be okay.”

“You’re going to get hurt!” I worry aloud. 

“I can take it!” He assures me with a confident grin. “And I’ll come here right after so you can nurse me back to health.”

I giggle. That plan doesn’t sound too bad. 

He narrows his gaze. “What are your doing tomorrow?”

I shrug. “I don’t have class. I’ll probably take Mateo to school and see if Anita needs help downstairs. Why?”

“I want to go see Bernardo and tell him about us. I don’t want to have to hide anymore. Once everyone knows, we can be happy!”

My eyes grow wide. “And what if he gets angry and forbids us to see each other! The Sharks-”

He cups my face and voices with certainty. “Nothing. Nothing can keep me from you.” He shrugs casually. “Plus, not if, when the Jets win tonight I will have ultimate say. Bernardo will just have to accept it.”

I snicker, in disbelief of his unwavering confidence. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It will be, Baby.” He almost guarantees. 

“And you’ll come here straight after the rumble? Promise!” I plan to hold him to it. 

“Promise.” He nods sharply. Then, he bites down on his lower lip. “And I’ll even stay if you’d like…” He insinuates. 

I smirk, leaning closer to him. “Well, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyes fall to my lips. 

“Yeah…” I mutter as our lips brush against each other, this time more hungrily than before. 

“I like waking up next to you,” he whispers.

My hands run down his chest and over his muscles as they flex under my touch. His fingers find the zipper on the back of my dress and start to urge it down. I want to be with him, every part of him. I feel like even then, I’ll want more. I’ll never get enough of him. 

_______________________________

The mid-afternoon sun pours into my bedroom and onto my rug. Making up for lost time from this morning, Riff and I lay in my bed, pondering the silence and peace. No one can trouble us here. The world is far from us. Each passing minute is a minute closer to Riff’s departure. 

I push the thought to the back of my mind. I rest my cheek against his chest as he glides his fingertips up and down my spine. 

He releases a deep breath of contentment. “I wish we could stay here forever.” 

“Yo también.” 

“What time must you go?” I ask, unable to hide the concern in my tone. 

He sighs and answers reluctantly. “Soon.” 

I rest my chin on his chest, meeting his gaze. “Be careful?” 

As worried as I am and though I can’t ignore the pit in my stomach, I don’t want it to consume the limited time we have together. I also don’t want Riff worrying about me tonight when he should be focusing on coming out okay. 

“I’ll try to make it quick.” He lifts his hand and combs his fingers through the side of my hair before tucking the strands behind my ear. “So I can come back here to you.” 

“You better,” I joke, sitting up to straddle his waist. 

He chuckles, gripping my hips.

“If you take too long I might lock my window,” I playfully threaten. 

“You wouldn’t,” he challenges. 

I snicker as I lean down to start leaving a trail of kisses from his neck and down his chest. His eyes fall shut with a soft, relaxed, exhale. He rubs his thumbs over my hips and he holds them. This may be the calmest and content I’ve ever seen him. 

A raddling of the front door followed by the creak it makes when it’s opened causes me to snap up from my task. Riff’s eyes fly open and meet mine. Heels click against the tile and the tick of the light switch is next. 

"Wait here!" I whisper as I climb off Riff and eventually the bed. I hurry over to snatch my robe off my mirror. I quickly tie it around me. 

Riff sits up, nervously eyeing the door. 

I plant a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t sneak off without saying goodbye!” 

He nods frantically. 

I peek my head through my bedroom hesitantly. "Hola? Quién está ahí?"

Rapid footsteps in the kitchen soon reveal Anita popping out from around the corner. "Oh good, you're home!” 

I emerge from my room and make sure to shut the door close behind me. 

Anita returns to the kitchen. “I’m dropping off some groceries I promised your mamá!” She shouts. 

I shuffle into the room, wrapping my arms around myself. I watch timidly as she unpacks a grocery bag. 

“I also came by to get that yellow dress. I haven't had time to wash out that stain but I can get to it now." 

My heart sinks. The dress is in my room. Riff is in my room. Nothing keeps Anita from walking in there except my terrible lying capabilities and my bedroom door. 

As if she can read my mind, she pauses her task. “You know, I should really get it now before I forget.” She starts to cross the kitchen toward my bedroom. 

Impulsively, I rush ahead of her and block my door. "No!"

She frowns at me in confusion. 

"I mean...” I laugh nervously. “Don't worry about it! I can have Mamá fix it. I actually stuck it in the tub for a bit and scrubbed it really well!"

"Oh really?” She crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Sí!” I swallow hard. 

“¿Cuándo fue esto?” (When was this?) 

"This morning... before class.” 

She purses her lips with a hum. “Because I saw your Mamá on her way to the shop this morning. She told me to come to get the dress this afternoon..." 

Anita’s eyes scan my appearance, noting my robe. When they return to my focus, they’re even more respectful. "She said she had you not try to clean in case it made it worse."

"I did it after she left."

She narrows her gaze. "Your class starts before her shift. What's going on Y/N?"

"Nothing!” I defend. “I'm just... I'm still pretty upset from last night and would just like to wallow about it in my room alone." I place a hand on Anita’s shoulder and turn her around to usher her back to the kitchen. "Emotional teenager, what can I say?"

She snickers and strolls with me back toward the kitchen. "You know, I also ran into Constantina and Sophía on their walk home from class." 

Oh no... 

"They mentioned something rather odd to me." She recalls. 

“Oh really?” I laugh, trying my best not to appear panicked. “Well, you know them, all for the gossip!”  

"Yeah, something about you and a gringa..." Swiftly, she spins on her heels and starts toward my bedroom. 

“Anita!” I freeze. 

Her eyes remain locked on me with a knowing stare. "They remember her yelling something about a Jet boy." She swings open my bedroom door and it hits the wall with a thud. 

My hands fly up to my mouth as all of the air in my lungs disappears. Anita’s eyes land on Riff as he finishes buckling his belt. She swallows hard, her eyes falling to the distant floor as he continues to get dressed. 

His initial surprise fades to a sternness, as though he doesn’t care if she knows. I wish I was relieved that at least someone I love knows, but instead, I feel guilt. 

Anita mumbles under her breath, “hijo de puta.” (son of a bitch) 

Her eyes meet mine and she clenches her jaw. She storms back toward the kitchen, passing me in the process. 

I follow her and plead. “¡No le digas a Bernardo!” (Don’t tell Bernardo!) 

She faces me furiously. “¿No le digas a Bernardo? ¡Cómo esperas que no lo haga! ¡Es un gringo! ¡El Gringo! ¡Nos odia!” (Don’t tell Bernardo? How can you expect me not to? He’s a gringo! The gringo! He hates us!)

I shake my head rapidly. “¡No! ¡Él me ama y yo lo amo!” (No! I love him and he loves me!)

She laughs dismissively, not persuaded. All she knows is what Bernardo has told her. 

Riff emerges from my bedroom and stands at my side. Anita backs away from him nervously, eventually bumping into the counter. 

He snakes his arm around my waist. “It’s true, I love her.” 

Anita points at him warningly. “You stay out of this! You’re the reason we’re in this mess at all, any of us! You couldn’t just leave us alone!” 

He sighs, “I-” 

“It’s not all his fault and you know it!” I shout. “Nardo and the Sharks are equally responsible!” 

Anita grips the roots of her hair. “He has you brainwashed, Y/N!” 

“I would never hurt Y/N,” Riff assures her, despite knowing full well his word means nothing to her. 

She scoffs bitterly with disgust. “No, just the rest of us, right?” 

“Anita...” I mutter. 

Riff steps in front of me and cups my face. “I have to go...” 

I wrap my fingers around his wrist desperately. “No!” 

“I’m sorry...” He turns his head and kisses my palm. “I’ll be back soon.” 

I nod slowly. Tears wheel up in my eyes but I do everything in my power to suppress them. I don’t want Riff to be distracted with concern for me. 

He presses his lips to mine softly and all I think is: ‘I wish we had one more minute.’

Anita huffs, turning her back toward us to focus out the window above the sink. 

Riff rests his forehead against mine. His ocean eyes consuming my sight. 

“Te amo,” he whispers. 

“Te amo.” My voice shakes. 

He leaves a prolonged kiss on my forehead before rising to his full height. He glances between me and Anita. She remains facing the window, unwilling to look him in the eye. 

He holds my hand until the last second and then kisses my knuckles. “I’ll be back soon.” 

I nod and silently pray he can stand by his word. I watch as he hurries back into my bedroom and climbs out the window without looking back. I should’ve studied his eyes longer. I should’ve held his hand longer. I should’ve memorized his face. There’s so much I should’ve done. 

“Get dressed.” Anita voices softly as she attempts to return to unpacking the groceries. “Before your mamá gets home with your brother.” 

“Anita, I’m so sorry,” I tell her as tears start to fall. 

She ignores me and goes about the kitchen putting items away.  

I step closer, pressing my hands on the kitchen table. “I love him...” I state like a confession. 

She shakes her head. 

“Riff said he’d try to end it quickly!” I try to ease her concern. “We’re going to tell Bernardo tomorrow!” 

She pauses, finally meeting my gaze with a narrowed stare. “And you trust him?”  

“With everything I have,” I state with full certainty

Her lips part, a torn expression coating her features. Her eyes start to appear glossy and she clenches her jaw. “If anything happens to Bernardo tonight, it’s him you’ll have to apologize to.”

A silence falls between us. Soon, she finishes unpacking everything and starts toward the door.

“Could I come upstairs please?” I rush out anxiously. “At least for a little while? I can’t stand to be here alone while they’re out there-” I stop myself, unable to say it aloud.

Anita nods slowly, meeting my gaze with a hint of sympathy. “Yes, of course, mi niña. I’ll make us some tea too, calm our nerves.” She offers me a weak smile and opens the front door.

“Hey Anita?”

She hums, turning over her shoulder.

“Thank you…” I express softly.

“We’re still family, Mija,” she assures me. “Besides, I could use the company too.”

I nod, a sense of relief slowly easing my mind.

While Anita heads upstairs, I go to change. I leave my window unlocked and try not to think too much about where Riff is headed. If I think about it all for too long, I start to feel sick. Each minute feels like hours and my hands won’t stop shaking. There’s a steady strain in my throat. All I can do is pray he makes it out of this unscathed.

_____________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @ilovey0us0 @elarasstardust @jin-neck-shaft @ashleysimmons  @septnephilim @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @emmamooney @puredicks @cxlpxrnia @mikefaistandarianadebosestan @i-am-fascinated​ @whisperofsong @livylululivy @ughkhag3yama @ameliamonster​ @peterporkpie @queen-ofbrooklyn​ @idga-fudgeicle​

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

------

                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

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a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​