#I spent almost an hour trying to make the colors look cool but this is the best I could come up with ugh

[suchscary]

I like a guy who will stab a friend!

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[chantiepie]

💞ESPRESSO💞 Yoongi +18

Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You are the complete opposite of Yoongi... And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.

Words: 5k.

ko-fi ☕

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so

You liked pink, feeling the morning sun caress your skin as you went for your morning run. Your favorite coffee was with milk, you enjoyed pop music, your shoes were always soft and colorful, perfectly matching the delicate bows adorning your wavy hair.

Yoongi was the complete opposite. He preferred black. At night, he went out to drink whiskey, finding comfort in the smooth burn of the drink. In the mornings, it was pure coffee, without the addition of milk or sugar, just the invigorating bitterness to awaken his senses. Ink stained his skin, almost covering it completely, each drawing telling a story he kept to himself.

He couldn't understand where that attraction to You came from. He spent hours thinking about pink bows, something he had never done before. It all started three months ago, when you walked into the bar accompanied by some people he already knew. The moment your eyes met his, it was as if a magnet drew him to you. Throughout the night, even as he tried to disguise it, it was difficult for Yoongi to look away.

He mentally thanked his friend when he called his group to join them, even though there was no direct interaction between you.

After 10 minutes, he watched you, laughing at everything that was happening, engaging in lively conversations with the group.

After that encounter, things went from bad to worse for Yoongi. He was never one to get emotionally involved with anyone, preferring casual or no-strings-attached relationships. However, your presence stirred something within him in a way he couldn't understand. You were everything he avoided: outgoing, funny, sweet, the type of girl who seemed destined for a conventional life, marrying some heir who majored in business at Harvard and now works at a major Wall Street investment firm.

In that regard, he wasn't wrong. Yoongi, after that night, didn't make any advances since he discovered during the conversation that you were committed and that your boyfriend couldn't attend because he was tired, having recently been promoted. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think about you, even when he tried to keep his distance.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

The second time you guys met, during a game night, or as they call it when the real goal is just to drink, Taehyung asks about your boyfriend. Yoongi continues to pour whiskey pretending not to hear..You respond that he's not coming because he's been really busy lately and quickly try to change the subject by letting out your classic laughs. 'What a surprise,' Tae whispers while sending only an eye roll. You listen, ignoring afterwards. However, Yoongi realizes that something isn't right in your reaction.

During the small party, as he scans the room, most people are standing around smoking or chatting, and the lights are partially dimmed, emitting only a kind of light that slowly changes colors. He notices two shadows in a corner near the kitchen and quickly realizes it's you and Jimin talking. From the movements and body language, he can see your expression of disappointment, with a look of indignation that he can't ignore. It's not sadness, but rather a clear disappointment that hangs over you.

Min rises from the couch, deliberately ignoring the tempting gestures of the redhead seeking his attention. With determined steps, he crosses the room, passing by everyone without exchanging a word, and ascends the stairs towards the balcony on the upper floor of the house. His steps echo softly through the hallway as he approaches the open area of the balcony, where the night breeze welcomes him.

Upon reaching the balcony, Min takes a deep breath of the cool night air before reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He eagerly seeks nicotine, longing to find brief relief from the tensions surrounding him.

The glass door is open, inviting him to enter. He settles into one of the chairs, immersing himself in his own thoughts, when he notices someone approaching and sitting beside him. He recognizes the presence without needing to check.

"Can I have one?" The question is simple but loaded with meaning. Min needs no more than that to understand. Without uttering a word, he extends the cigarette along with the lighter, sharing the gesture in silent understanding

"Someone asked about you yesterday," Jungkook, a guy who recently started working at the same bar as Yoongi, said casually as the two of them organized the glasses to open the establishment.

Jungkook, the youngest among the staff, was still attending university, carving out his path for the future. The guy had moved to the capital in a rush, without having had time to plan properly. Now, he found himself dependent on his parents for expenses, which made him feel like a burden on his shoulders. Determined to become more independent and relieve the financial burden on his family, Jungkook began looking for part-time jobs or ones that were only on weekends, which led him to Hoseok, who introduced him to the opportunity to work at the bar.

The next morning was just another ordinary workday for Yoongi. As he organized the glasses, his mind wandered among the bar's tasks.

"Someone asked about me?" Yoongi asked, trying to disguise his interest, but his curiosity was evident in his tone of voice.

"Yes, it was a girl," Jungkook replied, grabbing more glasses to organize. "She seemed interested in getting to know you better."

A shiver ran down Yoongi's spine. Was it her? Was she finally showing some interest? He couldn't help but feel a mixture of hope and anxiety.

"Do you know her name?" Yoongi asked, trying to sound casual.

Jungkook thought for a moment before responding. "I think it was... Yuna? Yeah, I think that was it."

The excitement on his face quickly faded, turning into a bored expression. He remembered her, the redhead, she was very pretty, but his mind was already made up.

Jungkook noticed, but chose to stay silent about it, quickly changing the subject and focusing on Hoseok's birthday that would take place at the bar in a month.

I can't relate to desperation My "give a fucks" are on vacation And I got this one boy and he won't stop calling When they act this way, I know I got 'em

The third time he saw you... Well... He wasn't sure if he really saw you or if it was just his mind conjuring up your image. It was late at night, during his off-duty hours, and Yoongi was outside a liquor store, along with some customers who had become closer to him. The night was too hot to stay indoors, so he decided to accept one of their invitations to hang out. Let's just say it was just for drinking and smoking outside some liquor store downtown.

After many bottles, including one being accidentally dropped on the ground, he looked at a corner and there you were, or at least he thought it was you. You were wearing a blue dress that reached mid-thigh, adorned with a large bow of the same color adorning your hair from behind.

Suddenly, everything flooded back into his mind, as if a wave of memories hit him, turning into a tangled mess of soft colors, filled with smiles and shared moments, as if he were reliving a scene from a romantic movie. Among the flashes of memory, images of cute teddy bears and affectionate gestures emerged.

It seemed incredibly real, but it all happened so fast. He began to doubt his own sanity, something he had been doing for some time, and the idea of ​​going after to find out who that person was came to his mind. Under the influence of the adrenaline that alcohol provided, he began to seriously consider the possibility of acting, taking advantage of the fact that nobody he was with knew you. This propelled him to overcome his shyness and hesitation, especially in front of the common circle of friends you shared.

One of the friends, probably taller and louder, nudged him on the shoulder with a wide smile. "Hey, Min! What are you staring at so intently? If you keep frowning like that, you'll get more wrinkles."

Yoongi shook his head, trying to play it off. "No, it's nothing. Just... I think I saw someone familiar over there on the corner."

The friend laughed, patting the pale man's back. "Ah, okay, we get it. Let's focus on the bottles, alright?"

Yoongi just nodded, but deep down, the glimpse he had of the figure on the corner continued to echo in his mind, like a soft melody he couldn't forget.

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

"Please, Madonna is a queen," you declare to Jimin with conviction as you both enter the venue, amidst a lively debate about pop divas worthy of a Twitter thread.

"Not just a queen, she's a goddess, along with Cher, baby," Jimin backs up his argument.

The bar belonged to Yoongi, and it was a cozy yet stylish establishment tucked away in a trendy corner of the city. The entrance greeted patrons with a neon sign flickering with warm hues, drawing them into a world where music and conversation flowed freely. Inside, dim lighting cast a soft glow over plush velvet couches and rustic wooden tables, creating an atmosphere that was both inviting and intimate. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of iconic musicians and artists, adding a touch of nostalgia to the modern ambiance. Behind the sleek bar counter, shelves lined with an impressive array of spirits and liquors glimmered under the spotlights, inviting guests to indulge in their favorite drinks. As you and Jimin settled into your seats, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

The noise of the music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to prevent Yoongi from hearing your voice as you entered the establishment. His eyes locked onto you, dressed in a pink dress that hugged your curves irresistibly, outlining each contour with elegance. The suggestive neckline added a touch of boldness, leaving anyone who looked at you drooling with admiration. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a delicately made-up face that exuded confidence and charm. You seemed like a vision of pure sophistication and sensuality, and a subtle hint of jealousy struck Yoongi, though it was something he would never admit out loud.

Finally, it was Hoseok's birthday party, and the bar was packed, considering he was so sociable, seemingly friends with half the city. Yoongi didn't know even 20% of the people there, but he had let his friend invite whoever he wanted as a gift.

As a way to not make it too obvious that he had a crush on you, Yoongi kept himself busy with party duties. He served drinks, helped set up with Jungkook and Taehyung, who, by some miracles, actually started to pitch in... More often than not, they ended up hindering rather than helping.

As they worked on the preparations, Yoongi occasionally cast furtive glances in your direction, observing your movements and conversations with the other guests.

He found himself looking at you again, chatting animatedly with Jimin. You whispered to each other and glanced around, seemingly engaged in a private conversation that no one else could hear. His attention was soon taken when the music stopped, and he saw the guest of honor for the night on the small stage used for live music nights.

"I'm glad everyone's here and I want to thank you all, but especially Yoongi," Hoseok pointed to the dark corner of the bar where his friend was busy making drinks. When Yoongi realized that all eyes were on him, he felt a warmth creeping up his cheeks. But what really embarrassed him was noticing that you were watching him with your big eyes and a smile that made your face glow. "He provided this exclusive space for us. This party would have been impossible without you, brother."

He definitely wasn't used to being the center of attention, and the sensation made him uncomfortable.

As the party was in full swing, a sweet pop song started playing, and that's when he noticed the commotion around him. You were closer to him, and he didn't know how that happened, but something slipped from your lips as you stared into his eyes:

"Oh, he looks so cute wrapped 'round my finger."

You put the straw to your lips and gave him a slight smile. Before he realized it, you had vanished into the crowd.

But this empty space didn't remain so for long. Jimin, the guy he always saw you with everywhere. Something Yoongi suspected at first until he realized, through social media, that besides you being really friends, the guy with the big lips and cute smile had a girlfriend who strangely looked a lot like him. Jimin also got closer to Yoongi a bit before you showed up. He was friendly, not always, but had an aura of a playful boy.

"You got the message, right?" Jimin stopped in front of Yoongi and said this with a somewhat arrogant smile on his face as he nodded toward the upstairs, which not ironically was where Yoongi kept a second home when he wanted to escape from the world or felt too tired to go to his luxury apartment. The older man returned the smile, not wanting to show that he was lost.

"What are you two up to?"

"Why would we be up to anything?"

"You know you're always involved in something, right?" Yoongi raised his left eyebrow slightly as he questioned.

"Are we communicating in questions now?" Jimin repeated the act.

Yoongi remained silent, just waiting for the next response.

"Uh, I'm just getting things done here," he spoke again, pointing to Yoongi's house with his head. Jimin was already pushing him towards the stairs, not allowing Yoongi to think things through. "I need you to grab JK's bag, he left it there."

"Why is his bag in my house?"

"I don't know, just go already."

Yoongi climbed the stairs, trying to go unnoticed, a bit suspicious about what was going on. As he entered through the wooden door, he found the place completely silent and everything in place, the small living room and kitchen were in perfect order, with no sign of anything suspicious. He decided to turn back and return, but before he could do that, a loud noise coming from the bathroom made him freeze in place.

"That's a heavy door," the unmistakable female voice reached his ears, and in seconds, he understood all the strangeness that had occurred downstairs. You appeared in the hallway leading to the bedroom, perfect as always, but stumbling a bit with your tall white boots, most likely due to the force of the door.

Yoongi quickly turned around trying to leave the place unnoticed, but when he tried to open the door, it was locked from the outside. He mentally cursed Jimin for whatever the hell he was trying to do. He turned his gaze to you.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. Your surprised expression gave away that something was wrong, but he could see a hint of shyness glimmering in your eyes.

"Yoo-o-ngi?" You cleared your throat, still a bit incredulous. "Is something wrong? I needed to wash my hands. You know? Drinks, dancing, spilled... Jungkook told Jimin and that you authorized me to come here because of the bathroom line... Um, that's it, I guess?" It was like a meltdown, you spoke hurriedly in seconds, Yoongi barely caught on. That nervousness had an explanation.

What Yoongi didn't know was that you were enchanted by his figure, the way he remained mysterious, his large and firm hands holding the whiskey glass... Yoongi was far from the type of guy you were used to dating and attracting, but people like him were your ideal type of guy, the one you imagined before falling asleep or when watching a romantic comedy. It wasn't just a crush, you genuinely had developed an admiration for him in this short period of time. His organization and the way he fought for his goals were like a moment of silence in the daily chaos.

It was difficult for you to find a moment to talk to him because it seemed like the only thing he knew how to do was work. Besides, it would be strange to show up alone at his bar, right?

But it was becoming complicated to hide when you two met. Most of your friends had already noticed your glances, you weren't someone who could pretend. Now, in front of him, alone in a place illuminated only by the moonlight, it was difficult to hide.

"Jungkook didn't warn you, did he? I'm sorry, I-I..."

"Y/N," Yoongi's voice echoed through the hallway, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes met in the dim light, sparking with palpable tension. You held your breath, feeling a wave of desire course through your body. Yoongi's intense gaze pinned you in place, as if you were ensnared in a spell. You could feel the electricity in the air, the attraction pulsing between them like an invisible current. Your lips parted, ready to form words that were never spoken, but the sound died in your throat. You couldn't decipher what he was feeling.

"Just shut up," that wasn't what you expected. "I think I know exactly what's going on."

The tone of voice used left you feeling flushed, it was embarrassing. You tried to ignore all the reactions of your body and began to think about the events. And when you realized the plot, all your eyebrows raised and your cheeks violently reddened in understanding.

Jimin had convinced you to make a move today.

"The plan is easy." He spoke with calculated confidence, as if conducting a masterclass. The images on the TV screen flickered, displaying a variety of suggestive outfits. "You throw him some charm, something subtle but not too subtle, it needs to be teasing but not overly, something like a discreet invitation," Jimin explained, sliding the slides skillfully.

"I'll choose the clothes that please me," you retorted, with a tone of disapproval.

"Your clothes already have a vibe of another reserved, so it's all right," he replied with a mischievous smile. "Continuing, second step: you'll touch up your makeup in the bathroom upstairs. You know how it is, at these parties the main bathroom always gets crowded. Are you understanding?"

"Yes, Professor Park," you replied, feeling somewhat frustrated. "But why do I need to touch up my makeup?"

"Think with me, Y/N," Jimin said, adopting a persuasive tone. "That will probably happen after a while. I want to make sure that, by the time he sees you and you talk, you look absolutely stunning." You trusted Jimin's guidance, even if the reasoning behind it didn't make much sense.

"So, I'll lead the conversation with him and keep him around. When you come back, you'll be ready. You'll throw the charm, disappear, and then come back triumphant," Jimin concluded, outlining the plan with unwavering confidence.

Your hand automatically hits your forehead. You felt a little humiliated, especially considering his strange reaction.

"Yoongi, what did he tell you to come up here?" You don't look at him, avoiding any proximity.

"Does that really matter?" He was in front of you, making it impossible to look away. He saw you biting your lips in a moment of pure impulsivity, and that aroused him to the true Yoongi, the guy who doesn't need to woo someone, he fucks without a care.

He leans towards you, his lips meeting yours. His lips were soft, but you could hardly feel them, due to the force with which he grabbed your waist with one hand and the other behind your head, pulling your hair slightly. Their bodies pressed against each other, seeking relief for the tension that had built up between them.

You moaned in the form of a sigh, and he let out a arrogant chuckle in the middle of the kiss.

"Y/N... We haven't even started and you're already moaning like this?" Yoongi didn't want an answer, but he leaned back slightly from your face, pulling your hair again, this time with force, forcing you to look at him. He took advantage of your stretched neck to lick it up to your ear.

"So needy," he put his tongue back into your mouth.

Suddenly, Yoongi returned to what he was before he met you. The arrogance was in the air. You could only moan and murmur.

When one of his hands slipped between your legs, you choked in the middle of the kiss, stopping in alarm, but that didn't discourage Yoongi, who continued to move his fingers lightly over your panties.

Your mouths were close to each other, but remained separated, so close that Yoongi could feel your breath hitting his lips. Some strands of saliva still connected you. The older man's movements began to get faster, his reactions were making you embarrassed, you were about to climax without him even having touched you properly. A finger slipped into your wet hole.

"Yoongi," you were in ecstasy, broken, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. You felt his breath close to yours, sighing, but without touching, it was a tease. Yoongi's hand slid to your jaw and held it firmly. He knew you were close by the pulsation of your pussy and the grip on his fingers.

"Yoongi... I'm going to cum, please don't stop, please," you whimpered as the tingling began from inside your belly, he kept up the pace; it was so wet there.

"Yes, fuck, cum on my fingers," that was enough.

And so you did, in small gasps and with tightly closed eyes, you melted over him, almost falling to the ground.

You barely noticed when he put you on top of the kitchen table and, with a gentle push, laid you down, pulling up your dress to your waist. Yoongi's large rings made contact with the warm skin of your belly, bringing more sighs.

Yoongi looked into your eyes asking for permission, receiving only a pleading look to continue. You threw your head back, completely lying down. It was only possible to hear the metallic sound of the belt being opened and a light sound of his pants falling to his ankles. Peeking, you came across the most promiscuous scene you had ever seen. Yoongi looking directly at your pussy still covered by panties, with his lips between his teeth, while he masturbated lightly. He grunted like an animal before approaching.

He pushes the panties aside and slowly slides into you, earning a dragged moan from you. He takes advantage of his position and, running his hand over the outside of your thighs, he pulls you closer, returning to vigorously swinging his hips towards you.

His breathing becomes heavier as Yoongi's gaze fixates on the action that is taking place. He is ignoring everything as if that were the only thing that mattered, just listening to the sound of their skins colliding.

"Don't stop," your voice comes out in a whisper, knowing that he is close to climaxing. The movements accelerate more than possible, and Yoongi's voice becomes a tangle of grunts and sighs until he buries himself deep inside you.

You feel every movement of his, every part of him inside you, an overwhelming sensation that makes your whole body tremble. Your breathing becomes heavy, your heart beats irregularly, and the heat between you is palpable, enveloping you in an intense aura of desire and passion.

The last thing you remember is him with you in the shower, bathing you while you played around like two idiots. The hot water running down your naked bodies, the laughter echoing in the small space of the bathroom. Shortly after, without even bothering to dry off, you both fall onto the bed, your bodies still wet, but your hearts filled with an intense and profound connection.

Jimin would be punished for lying.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Two men were inside a large black car parked in front of the bar across the street. The party had ended an hour ago, nearly 7 a.m., but they remained there for an important reason.

"Did it work?" The man with large eyes asks.

"Believe me, I don't give it five months for Y/N to show up with a grumpy mini-Min ready to cry on my shoulder," he says, taking another sip from the cold beer can, taken from Yoongi's special stock, but he knew he deserved it, as they had taken care of the place and closed after the party.

"Anyway, I hadn't even noticed... This... um... thing they have... Jimin, when you wanted to talk to me, I thought it was about Yuna," the other comments.

"Haha, that was a lie. She's obviously attractive. I just wanted to test him a little before leaving my best friend in his hands," Jimin says naturally, gesturing with his hand to support his own plan.

"Lie?" Jungkook turns his body fully towards Jimin, with his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his arms open in indignation.

Jimin puts his hand on his shoulder and follows his gaze to the second floor of the establishment.

"You know, a good cupid needs to ensure all possibilities." Jimin checks his phone one last time before leaving, and only one notification catches his attention.

"Your NETFLIX login is no longer available. Would you like to sign in with another account?"

A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

Hello everyone. Just popping in to let you know that next week I'll be posting the second chapter of Get This Man <3.

[kedreeva]

Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

[guccifrog]

°˖✧THE BAKERY GIRL✧˖°

ᵐᵃᵗᵗ ˢᵗᵘʳⁿⁱᵒˡᵒ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ : ⁿᵒⁿᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

summary : in which reader has a crush on one of her ususal customers and he finally makes a move

ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵖʸ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ // ⁱ'ˡˡ ᶠᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵘᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ

Kingston

Faye webster ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

ִ✮🍰୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆🍰✮

The sun had barely begun its drop into the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, when you stepped outside the bakery for a quick cigarette break. You were a student at the local art school, working part-time at the bakery to make ends meet.

As you lit up your cigarette, you closed your eyes and took a deep drag, feeling the warmth of the smoke fill your lungs. You exhaled slowly, watching the gray tendrils of smoke mix with the vibrant colors of the sunset.

It was on one of these evenings that you noticed him.

His name was Matt, a rich college student who seemed to have it all, He would come to the bakery every Monday and Friday and sometimes on weekends, always at this time, to buy something.

At first, you assumed it was for his girlfriend, as he would always buy something pink and frilly, but as the days went by, you couldn't help but wonder why he always seemed to choose this bakery, and why he always came at this exact time.

One night, as you were wiping down the counter, you glanced up and caught him looking at you. His eyes were low, almost piercing, and for a moment, you felt as though you could feel his gaze on your skin. And you quickly averted your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. From that moment on, you found yourself becoming more aware of him, his presence, and the way he made you feel.

As the days went by, you couldn't help but wonder what he was really doing here almost every evening. Was he seeing someone else? Was he married? These questions filled your mind, and you found yourself fantasizing about him late at night, his face engraved into your memory. You began to look forward to his visits, even if it was just for a moment of a stolen glance or a simple 'hey, how are you doing today?'

You took one last drag from your cigarette, throwing it under your shoe before turning back toward the bakery.

As you stepped through the doorway, you felt a flutter in your stomach as you caught sight of none other than Matt himself, standing at the counter, chatting with the cashier. His eyes met yours, and for a split second, you felt like the entire world had vanished, leaving just the two of you.

"Hello," he said, his voice quiet and smooth, as he waved you over to the counter. You couldn't help but smile shyly in response, feeling a wave of heat wash over your cheeks. "I'm sorry if I've been a bit…distracting, coming here almost every night. I just can't seem to stop thinking about this place, and the desserts you make." His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and As you stood there, a sudden sensation swirled in the pit of your stomach.

It was as if a thousand butterflies had suddenly taken flight within you, their wings beating in perfect unison.

'I know ' is what you wanted to say, but that just sounds creepy. Instead, you smiled and said, "It's alright, really. I'm glad you like the desserts." His smile widened, revealing a dimple on his cheek.

You spent the rest of your shift talking with Matt, finding yourself lost in conversation as the hours slipped by. You learned that he was majoring in business, but had always had a passion for writing and art, much like yourself.

As the bakery began to close for the night, you found yourselves outside, the cool air of the evening surrounding you. "I know that we don't know each other that well but…do you…do you want to get something to eat?" he asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

You felt a rush run through you at his invitation. "I'd like that," you replied, trying to sound casual, but not quite managing it.

You followed him to a small, cozy restaurant a few blocks away. The lights were dim, the atmosphere warm and inviting. The waiter led you to a booth in the back, and as you slid in beside Matt, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you.

As you scanned the menu, Matt leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear. "What would you like to eat?" he asked, his voice low.

Your heart raced at his closeness, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as you answered, "I'll have the salmon if it's okay." He nodded, still watching you closely, before looking back at the menu. "I'll have the same," he murmured, before handing the menu back to the waiter.

As you waited for your food, you couldn't help but study Matt's face. He was even more handsome up close, with his dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He caught you staring and smiled shyly, his dimple appearing again. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you realized you'd been caught, but you didn't mind. "Nothing important," you replied with a small laugh. "Just enjoying the moment."

The food arrived, and you both dug in, savoring the flavors. Conversation flowed easily between you, touching on everything from your favorite books and movies to your dreams and goals. You found yourself lost in his gaze, forgetting about the world around you as the hours ticked by.

And as the evening wore on, you grew bolder, leaning in closer to him, laughing at his jokes, and getting a little touchy. He seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his.

The waiter brought over the check, and Matt reached for his wallet, but you quickly placed your hand on top of his. "I've got it," you insisted, smiling at him. He looked at you for a moment like you grew a third eye "Well that's crazy," he said before quickly grabbing your hand and handing the waiter the check. "But thank you for offering." He smiled and you were too distracted by the fact that he was still holding your hand to even complain.

After dinner, you both decided to walk off some of your meal. The air was cool and crisp, the stars shining bright overhead. Matt looped his arm through yours, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. "Where to?" he asked, his voice playful. You glanced around, taking in your surroundings. There was a small park just a block over, and it seemed like a nice, quiet place. "How about the park?" you suggested, already beginning to lead him in that direction.

As you walked, you felt as if you were floating, unaware of anything except the moment you were sharing with this guy that you've been fantasizing about for god knows how long.

The park was beautiful, with well-manicured yards and all different types of flowers. You found yourselves sitting on a bench, gazing out at the fountain, the water dancing and sparkling in the glow of the moonlight.

You couldn't remember the last time you had felt this comfortable and at ease with someone.

The silence between you wasn't awkward, but instead felt natural, like you didn't need words to communicate.

After several moments of companionable silence, he offered to walk you home since it was getting late. You smiled and agreed, you both walked hand in hand back to your neighborhood.

And as you neared your house, you felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. You weren't sure if you wanted this to end, it all felt like a dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

When you finally reached your doorstep, you turned to face him, wanting to say something but not quite sure what. He must have sensed this too, because he leaned in and gently brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine. "I had a really good time tonight," he murmured, his eyes searching yours for the same honesty. You smiled softly up at him and nodded. "Me too."

You were feeling extra bold, so you got on your tiptoes and leaned in, giving him a small peck on the cheek. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment you wondered if you had gone too far, but then he closed them and leaned into your touch.

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "thank you again for dinner." He smiled "Goodnight Matt," you said before turning the key in the lock and disappearing inside. You couldn't help but glance back out the window, watching as he walked away.

ִ✮🍰୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆🍰✮

taglist ✧˖°.

@mattestrella @littlebookworm803 @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @crybabycat1 @ducksturniolo @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @ilovemattsworld @secret-sturniolo @fuckshitslover @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @chrislapdog @therealcody1 @rodysuntiedtie

[cowgurrrl]

It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester. 

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her. 

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text. 

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work. 

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background. 

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare." 

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?" 

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk. 

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years." 

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable." 

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school." 

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed. 

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine. 

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz. 

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?" 

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says. 

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask. 

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least. 

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me." 

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing." 

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need. 

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head. 

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums. 

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little. 

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic. 

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look. 

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off. 

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say. 

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease. 

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night." 

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again. 

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket. 

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information. 

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back. 

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window. 

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

[soursugxr]

Your boy is cooking.

I’m so proud of how this patch turned out even if it does look kinda shitty, simply because I think it looks really good regardless. I hand painted the letters with an old ass brush and oil paint that got literally everywhere.

I’m 100% gonna redo the letters eventually. Maybe once I get my hands on some actual fabric paint/markers.

Y’all have no idea how long the barbed wire embroidery took :,)

So much back pain.

The initials are a few of my Discord friends :3

The back of this jacket is gonna be so much fun to make. I’m not sure if it’s like, too colorful? But I really like how I laid everything out. The plaid is gonna cover the really blank looking bottom corner, so essentially this design/layout is gonna be the entire back panel(?).

Five of these patches are old (clean) socks that I cut up, and one of them is part of the loop that was on one of my boots that ripped off when I was trying to pull it on, so that’s fun. Also one of them is the tag from an old shirt that I thought looked neat (I then spent almost an hour using a bent safety pin to painstakingly undo the stitches holding it on)

Also yes, I relocated the Mothman patch from the front bc I did a really fucked sewing job and kinda hated it.

Also also the patch I yoinked from that shirt tag is like, silk or some kind of silk-adjacent material so I’m gonna sew it onto some t-shirt fabric before putting it on the jacket. I realize that this could have been avoided altogether by just cutting the shirt, but I still really like the shirt and wanna keep wearing it.

I’m planning on getting a bunch of pop tabs to sew onto the shoulders of the jacket bc I don’t have studs or spikes (and I think it would look cool) so I’ll post an update on that when I get enough tabs for it.

[l0ves1ckf0ol]

hear me out! nevermore has a musical they produce for the spring. they they so happen to do Chicago, the reader is velma kelly and xavier falls in love with the reader while he is helping with set for the show.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT | xavier thorpe

"you're breaking character, xavier. "

also a bit of a disclaimer i only heard abt the summary and i have no time to watch the whole musical but imma just go with my common knowledge i have for this. SO MOSTLY ITSBJUST THEM AND LESS CHICAGO IM SORRY SHSGS

"damn! only got ensemble, what about you y/n?" enid groans, you smirk at her "i got velma kelly." you say a toothy grin growin on your face. wednesday frowned at the conversation, "remind me again, why are you doing this?" she sighs out to you, almost looking disappointed. "i may be the child of the poltergeist and yes i love to hide but y'know i have to try out stuff once in a while." you reply to her, "also it's because of principal weems. she said that i had to do this or else i won't be sleeping in my own dorm, i set one on fire by accident." you add as enid laughed, "you never try out these things, y/n. why the change of heart? also you could've spent beekeeping with me and ottinger rather than be in that horrific display of singing." wednesday wonders curiously, did she see right through you? "just trying things out, wednesday." you breathed out to her, trying to play it cool looking ahead of her to a specific long haired boy who was busy on his sketchbook.

-

you've never heard of a theatre within the school, but it certainly exists. it's just that it needs cleaning up. you were there for rehearsals, since it was a saturday morning everyone was either in jericho or lazing away in their dorms. principal weems was unsure if you were going to stay put in the school grounds but you stayed behind, truthfully. you suddenly begin to despise being the lead for this musical, the pressure was getting to you and you start to worry if you're going to screw up.

"okay, let's go again, lights-" you announce as you start pacing the stage, "camera- paint?" you notice xavier coming up to the stage with a small bucket of what looked like maroon paint. "sorry for interrupting, please continue." he says politely, walking over to the lousy background of the stage, it had a sickening yellow color to it with loads of crusty paint slipping off the cement. "wouldn't you be at jericho by now?" you ask him as he dipped his wide brush in the paint and started painting from below to above.

"nope, weems asked me this morning to make a good background for the musical, it needs to be barely noticeable because they're using cardboard cutouts as scenes. she said black but for interrupting my coffee hours, i'll go with maroon instead." xavier answered, "could've gone with neon instead to infuriate her more, no?" you offer, wiggling your eyebrows. xavier laughed, "then i'll feel bad." he replies. "you have a soft heart for someone who looks like they ate a piece of lemon." you mentioned to him, he looks at you for the first time he walks in the room with a downturned smile, if that made sense.

"well- don't tell anyone about that. that right there is my biggest secret." he jokes, shaking his head left to right with a scoff. "alright, it'll be our official secret."

- xavier's pov (?) -

xavier never thought of you, or even acknowledged you that much but for some reason, after that conversation at the theatre you were basically unforgettable. he said hi to you in the hallways, everything seemed so monochrome but when you walked in the same room as him? instant color. so whenever he was free, he would do at least something to see you. this had been going on for a good 2 weeks

a week before the final rehearsal, he brought wax because weems tasked him to wax the stage. as he was nearing the door your voice rang clearer and clearer. your beautiful voice. xavier sighs to himself, he was at a loss by now, he tried his best to sneak inside unnoticed but the poltergeist could spot a shadow moving a mile away. so you instantly stopped.

"xavier?"

"oh hey sorry, i came in here to uh... wax the stage." xavier mumbled timidly, finally getting up to his normal height. you frowned, "thought this school was rich enough for maintenance people." you told him, he was trying to find the answers, for a moment he thought you were about to catch him in the act. "or was this only an act of service to suck up to the principal?" he could almost sigh from relief, "um yeah, been failing ms. thornhill's class lately so." xavier lied, he was doing excellently in that subject. a firm "hm." said it all, you probably knew, you just didn't want to spoil the fun. while y/n was singing her lungs off, xavier was sure it had something to do with jazz, he wasn't familiar with the musical. he was pre occupied scrubbing the floors with wax, luckily he wasn't wearing his school uniform since it was after class hours, otherwise those sweet blue slacks were toast. you didn't leave until he finished, you had other plans, xavier was onto you. if you figured him out, xavier was dead to himself and his dignity, i mean he wasn't ashamed with liking you. you were amazing, he just wanted to be sure that he liked you. lies.

-

"you finished. now, walk me to my dorm will you?" you ask him as you picked up your things from one of the leather seats and went outside as he followed. xavier left the wax at the stage, he remembered to return it tomorrow. as you walked the only sounds both of you could hear were your steps against the cobblestone floor, this only happend for 3 minutes. "so uh-"

"do you like me, xavier?" xavier wanted the ground to swallow him up right now. he stops in his footsteps and you turned from your heel, with a raised eyebrow. testing him. for a moment xavier almost breaks but he endured "do i like you is the question, what do you think?" he said, now you were testing each other. "i think you have had a little crush on me, ever since you painted the maroon background at the theatre. i know the maintenance people here, and i know that weems would never leave out an assignment for them, especially since it's this heck of a theatre that has not been used for a decade." you point out to him, with a devious smirk on your face.

xavier tugged at his jacket and approached one step forward toward you, "we both know you're a lazy poltergeist, l/n. why do you have extra rehearsals every after rehearsal- alone in the theatre?" you scoffed at his accusation, placing a hand on his chest, leaning in slightly, this made xavier's stomach do a flip and made his knees weak. "since we both are onto each other, you and i know the answer." you whispered as you lean back with a teasing side smile, xavier sighs out through his nose, his cheeks could match the theatre background, a sign that he gave up. his slim hands went up to your cheeks, his thumb caressing it. his lips were practically brushing against yours now,

"may i kiss you?"

"you're breaking character, xavier." you smiled, pressing your lips on to his, giving him an answer.

[bomberqueen17]

Acid Dyes In Squirt Bottles: kinda a tutorial

So I bought some silk scarves with an eye toward dyeing them to use for giftwrapping for Christmas, and I'd idly meant to research techniques but suddenly realized I'm running out of time.

Almost all the tutorials on dyeing anything at all that I can find lately are for ice dyeing. Which is cool and I love that that's so trendy now. But some of the ones I've watched...

Well, see the point of ice dyeing is that powdered dyes often split into components and so you get really cool edge-effects where the different pigments in the dye penetrate the fabric differently because of the slow wicking action of the melting ice etc. I watched a tutorial where someone just had three primary colors, which are generally pure pigments, and did this, and I was like, you could have put those into squirt bottles and saved yourself about 8 hours plus all the time you spent making that ice. It did give a nicely feathered spectrum effect but the ice mostly did not contribute anything to the process.

But what I did learn from that tutorial was some advice on how to get acid dyes to strike in a cold low-immersion process. So I'm going to write up what I did, since that's what I was actually looking for, and every bit of information I can currently find is contained in overly-long videos that spend most of their runtime on irrelevant stuff.

Mostly this is for my own reference later, as I'm now old enough that I keep stumbling across things I've made and being like "wait I don't remember how I did this. I really made this? I have to have, nobody else lives here. How did I do this??" So anyway, overly-long and underly-technical writeup below the cut. Pictures to follow in a separate post.

What do I mean, cold low-immersion process??

Immersion is how most dyeing works. You make a dye bath, and you dunk your fabric into it. Low-immersion means you lie your stuff all out on some flat surface, maybe over a wire rack maybe over a sheet of plastic, and just put enough dye on for it to soak in. That's low-immersion, and generally is how you're gonna get multiple unmixed colors on one object.

and cold? Well, acid dyes, which work best on protein-based fibers like wool and silk, need heat to strike, or actually bond to the fabric. If you just dunk some silk in a dye bath and then rinse it, the dye mostly rinses out. You need heat to set it.

Let's back up a second-- acid dyes?? So there are two main types of dyes you use on fabric. Acid dyes are called that because you add some vinegar once the dye has soaked in, to get it to stick. (Yes, you need acid and heat!) The other kind, which you usually use for ice dyeing, is fiber-reactive dyes. Fiber-reactive are what you want for cotton, linen-- plant-based fibers, and some synthetics. (Nylon works with acid dyes for some reason, rayon needs fiber-based. I don't remember why but the Internet surely knows, it's surely very simple.)

So anyway. Fiber-reactive dyes are applied to fabric that's been pre-treated with soda ash and then set without much heat, though they do need to "cure" at a high temperature-- it doesn't have to be as hot as with acid dyes though. (A black plastic bag in the sun, an electric blanket lying overtop the bag they're in, that level of heat at most.) So they're the usual, traditional type of dyes you use for tie-dyeing, which is normally done on cotton t-shirts, and which very often is done with low-immersion methods to let you get a bunch of colors on there, are fiber reactive dyes. Many many many tutorials exist for this, including how to tie them. Very cool stuff.

I wanted that effect on silk though.

(*the alkali pre-rinse is fine for cotton and linen and such. alkali on silk is Generally Bad News. This is another reason people generally don't do fiber reactive dyes on silk. Silk shrugs off acid reasonably well but alkali is no bueno. Also for the record never ever try to bleach silk for any reason, that dissolves it. Now You Know!)

So. I did find this tutorial from Dharma Trading, about space dyeing. Remember when space-dyed stuff was trendy?? Many of you whippersnappers probably don't. It used to be cool and is probably what led to the invention of ice-dyeing, which clearly like A Person invented but I have no idea who and I bet finding out would be difficult so my ADHD ass is NOT going down that rabbit hole right.

So i tried that. I used aluminum foil instead of plastic wrap for the simple reason that my kitchen is currently torn apart and all my worldly goods in cardboard boxes but I had a roll of aluminum foil in the basement for some reason. I put down a vinyl tablecloth on my washing machine and used it as a work surface. And I found a broken old steamer insert and set it in an old aluminum pot that lives in the basement.

I mixed up squirt bottles of four colors of acid dye in approximately the proportions from the Dharma tutorial. I don't have measuring implements currently, see above re: kitchen (I'm planning on retiring a number of my measuring implements to serve in fiber arts, and keeping only the nice ones for the new nice kitchen, but that hasn't happened yet) so it was all very approximate.

And then I just lay each silk scarf out on the aluminum foil on the dryer and went to town.

I learned to be careful and sparing with the amount of dyes, to keep them from pooling underneath the material-- silk scarves aren't very absorbent. Any excess dye pooling on the aluminum foil will of course spread and get muddy. So what I wound up doing was working from right to left (on my left was the laundry sink), and doing my lightest color on the right and my darkest on the left, and then when I was done, I used an eyedropper to apply white vinegar to lock in the pigment, and then I picked the whole works up very carefully and tipped it to the left and let everything extra run off into the sink. So having my, say, fuschia run across the back of what was supposed to be a dark purple section didn't lead to any notable color contamination. One colorway had bright lemon yellow in it, and I was incredibly careful not to let any smudges or drips touch that-- kept it on the right of my workspace, propped up slightly. The yellow draining across the red and purple of that colorway didn't cause a problem, but I did wind up with a fingerprint of darker color in the yellow area (I think that's what caused the blot anyway).

Anyway, once the dye was all applied, and I'd let it drip into the sink for a moment, I then folded up each scarf into its own packet, careful to still keep the lighter end upward, and put it into my busted-ass steamer basket which made this easier because one of the legs has fallen off it, see, so it tilts anyway, that's why I retired it, and put the lid on and steamed each packet for about half an hour to 45 minutes.

At the end of that I pulled each packet out (there were overlaps, where I'd put a second packet in halfway through the first one. Most of the Strict Rules About Steaming Silk don't apply to this process because drips aren't a problem, dips in temperature that might lead to uneven mottling aren't a problem, this is just meant to be pretty color splotches with random patterns so literally none of the intimidating stuff you have to do to achieve perfection are a problem here), I let it cool off a bit and then unwrapped it and rinsed the scarf. Not much color came off them, and I was able to reuse the foil, which it's not that I'm being eco-friendly so much as that I only had the one roll of foil with not much left on it and this was the last day I could really do this, so. Not very scientific, but in the end I really was very thrifty LOL. Yes! I was being eco-friendly, that's why i'm like this.

I then let the scarves dry on my drying rack overnight, and came back the next day to collect them. I brought them all back to my mother-out-law's to wash them in her washing machine since mine is currently not properly hooked up (additional nightmare, love it)-- I figured this wouldn't be messy in her impeccable laundry room and I was right, very little dye to rinse out. Gave them a wash with dharma's professional detergent, then a rinse with milsoft, then an extra rinse, and I've now let them dry again, ironed them, and have them in a plastic bag with some perfume because the detergent smells kind of awful LOL. I'm letting them sit like that for a day or two and then I'll get them out and package them up for gifts.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

A little danger, pt. 9

A little danger - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sky of Eraklyon x mind!fairy

———— PART 9 ————

Stella: So, tonight’s split into two events. The mixer is where the alums and the students chat, and then the banquet itself, which is just alums and VIPs.

Y/N: Why am I being told this?

Stella: Because you’re part of both events.

Y/N: No.

Stella: You know that’s not a word in my vocabulary.

Y/N: I refuse. That should be somewhere in there, or did Solaria not teach their heiress anything?

Stella: I’ll need your support. I can’t be left alone with Bloom and my uncle.

Y/N: Knowing Bloom is going to be there only reinforces my previous statement. Besides, Sky would kill me if I agreed to this.

Stella: If you come, I won’t tell Rosalind you snuck out of campus with Sky.

Y/N: You wouldn’t dare!

Stella: Don’t underestimate my desperation.

Y/N: Fine! But I’m not happy about it.

Stella: I don’t need you to be happy, I need you to attend.

Y/N: What can you tell me about your uncle? Is he on our side?

Stella: Yeah, he sees people for who they truly are. And he’s not afraid to say it. There’s no love lost between him and Rosalind.

Y/N: I hope you don’t mind if I do some digging about that myself.

Stella: Like…digging through his brain?

Y/N: Perhaps.

Stella: Just don’t leave him like a zombie.

Y/N: No promises.

Sky stands nervously outside Y/N's front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t keen on spending the evening in his suit, the tie choking him to death for hours, but Y/N seemed excited for it and it’s the first time she’s been excited about anything lately. Sky wanted everything to be perfect. 

Drawing a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

After a moment, Y/N answers the door, looking stunning in a gorgeous blue gown. The dress hugs her curves in all the right places, and the color perfectly complements her complexion. Sky's jaw drops in amazement as he takes in the sight of her.

"Wow," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "You look incredible."

Y/N blushes at his words, feeling a heat rise in her cheeks at the way Sky is looking at her. She had spent hours getting ready, making sure every detail was perfect, and it was clear that her effort had paid off.

"Thank you," she smiles up at him. "I'm almost ready, I just need to grab my purse."

As she turns to grab her bag, Sky can't help but admire the way the dress moves with her, the fabric flowing gracefully around her legs. He had never seen her look so elegant and sophisticated before, and he couldn't wait to show her off at the dinner. No one will come even close to her beauty, he’s certain of it.

"You look like a movie star," he says, grinning at her. "I feel like the luckiest guy in the world to be going out with you tonight."

Y/N laughs, feeling her heart swell with affection for Sky. She’s so glad that she agreed to go this evening, to officially show the world that Sky’s hers, just as she’s his. Most know of their entanglement with each other, but very few can guess just how deeply they care for one another.

"Thanks," she says, slipping her arm through his. "Shall we?"

Sky nods, feeling a surge of excitement as they step out into the cool evening air. 

“I knew you’d be dashing in a suit, I didn’t realize you’ll be this handsome though,” Y/N smirks as she senses the rush of emotion in Sky. Some people call it butterflies, but for a mind fairy, it feels a lot more like bees buzzing when they find a flower and they’re trying to perform a dance to invite other bees for a feast. 

“Considering how you look tonight, I had to be worthy of you”, Sky presses a butterfly kiss to her temple before he leads her to the door.

They arrive at the event and Y/N can feel her heart beating faster in her chest. She's a bit nervous, aware it could be the night they finally get rid of Rosalind. Stella’s plan is risky, especially when it relies on Bloom doing what’s necessary, but at least they’re doing something.

Sky squeezes her hand reassuringly, and she beams at him.

Together, they step into the grand room, and immediately all eyes are on them. Y/N can feel the gazes of the other guests as they look at the pair, hand in hand, entering the room together.

The room is filled with elegantly dressed guests, and the decor is lavish and opulent. But Y/N is only focused on Sky, and she can feel his eyes on her, a look of pride and affection in his gaze.

As they make their way through the room, Y/N feels a mix of excitement and nervousness. But Sky's calm presence beside her makes her feel more confident and secure.

As they move further into the room, several people stop to compliment Y/N on her stunning blue gown. She blushes, feeling a bit self-conscious, but Sky beams with pride at her.

"Thank you," he says, his arm still around her waist. "I’m glad you talked me into coming tonight."

Y/N smiles at him, feeling her heart swell with affection. “Well, I needed arm candy and you delivered.”

Chuckling, he nods. “Always available if you call.”

“Where have you two been?” Stella’s smile is frozen and Y/N doesn’t need to use her powers to know how fake it is. 

“Do you really want to know?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows, making Stella grimace.

“Eww! No!”

Giggling, Y/N winks. “So, what’s with the panic and the fake smile?”

“Bloom decided she wants to go by herself.” Stella waves at a guest on the other side of the room, gracious by anyone’s standards. Yet Y/N can sense her dread. It wrapped itself around Stella’s mind, twisting and turning with each passing second.

“She did what?” Sky frowns, scanning the room for signs of Bloom, making Y/N sigh. 

“She did what she always does, which is fuck up.”

Stella’s eyes widen before nodding reluctantly. “Uh, hold that thought.” Setting off after Beatrix, Stella left the two alone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Sky furrows his eyebrows, squinting as if he doesn’t believe his eyes.

Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N tries to follow his line of sight. “Gonna need some context, babe. I can’t see anything.”

Huffing, Sky begins to make his way across the room. With her eyebrows raised, Y/N grabs onto him, pulling him to a stop.

“What is happening?” She hisses, looking around to make sure no one’s paying them any mind. The last thing they need now is to make a scene.

“Stay here”, Sky tries but the glare he receives from her is answer enough. Grabbing her hand, he slows down so she can walk with him and once he arrives at his destination, a quiet gasp leaves her lips.

“Nice enough to make up for burning my house down?” A tight-lipped smile appears on Saul’s face.

“Ah, your house wasn’t that great”, Andreas chuckles.

“What the hell”, Y/N looks at Saul, her confusion palpable as she processes the sight before her. She had been under the impression that Saul was on the run, not hanging out with the very man who was out to get him. Her mind races with questions and concerns, her brow furrowing as she tries to make sense of the situation.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re all family, aren’t we?” Andreas grins, staring at Y/N. 

Staring right back at him, she didn’t hold back. Diving into his mind had left Andreas stumbling back, unable to blink as Y/N rummages through his memories. She focuses all her energy on trying to penetrate his mind, leaving no stone unturned as she searched for Saul, finding the two agreeing on working together and Rosalind giving Saul full pardon. Y/N knows finding more details can be beneficial, but as she concentrates harder and harder, she begins to feel a splitting headache forming at the base of her skull. The pressure in her head builds, and she can feel her temples throbbing with pain.

Y/N tries to push through the discomfort, desperate to understand what's going on inside Andreas's head. But the pain only intensifies, and she can feel her vision blurring as the headache reaches a crescendo.

Finally, she has to give up. The pain is too much, and she can feel her mind screaming for relief. 

With a small grunt, she breaks eye contact. Closing her eyes, she turns her head to the side, feeling Sky’s arm around her. She’s pulled closer to him, her temple leaning on his chest. Swallowing thickly, she opens her eyes slowly, focusing her vision with a few blinks. 

“Did you just”, Andreas begins and she smiles faintly.

“You thought you could train yourself to withstand a mind fairy?” Y/N licks her lips. “Maybe it would have worked on a weaker fairy, but not me.”

“Yet you seem to struggle past the surface”, Andreas reaches out to touch her arm, but Sky steps in front of her. 

“Think again”, Sky speaks, almost like he’s challenging him to try, to give him a valid excuse to punch him.

“I’m glad you’re not on the run anymore”, Y/N tells Saul. “Just wish you would have told us, instead of catching us off guard like this.”

Nodding, Saul sighs. “We’ll talk later. I can’t stay here until the pardon is official.”

Wrapping an arm around her, Sky leads Y/N away to a quiet corner where they can stop holding their breath.

“You tried to read his mind in public?” Sky whispers, agitated by her recklessness.

“Pardon you, I succeeded.” 

“This isn’t a game”, Sky frowns, his eyes alight with anger as he grabs her wrist. “What if he had reported you or arrested you? I can’t fucking lose you”, his eyes fall to his tightly wrapped hand around her delicate wrist. Releasing her, he rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe I grabbed you like that. I’m sorry.”

Leaning her head on his arm, she smiles softly. “It didn’t hurt. I’d make stop and let me go if it did.”

“Please do.” Sky’s eyes are misty as he continues his earnest plea, “I fully support you taking my mind for a joy ride if I hurt you.” 

Nodding, she realizes something. All this time, she was so focused on her own feelings and her loss of control, but this is the first time she sees that mirrored in Sky. She knows he’s been suffering ever since Andreas came to Alfea, but she never understood just how much it affected his control too. There’s an edge to him, a temper she never paid much attention to before as it was rarely directed at her.

Her cell phone vibrates.

Aisha: Looks like you three will be tied up during dinner.

Y/N: What about Bloom?

Aisha: She’s been invited by Rosalind. Good luck.

Y/N: Rosalind plus Bloom equals a disaster. Are you sure you don’t need my help? Stella will understand.

Aisha: Flora and I are on it.

“Apparently, Aisha and Flora are going instead of Bloom.”

Sky raises his brows. “Are we happy about that or not?”

“Always better to have a few cool heads on super-secret missions”, Y/N shrugs. “We should go before Stella kills us.”

They arrived just in time for the dinner to start. Sky is between Stella and Y/N who sat next to Bloom. Andreas and Rosalind are seated across from them, and a man, one she presumes is Stella’s uncle.

Y/N takes a deep breath and reaches out to place a hand on Sky's knee, feeling it bounce nervously up and down. She gives him a reassuring smile and squeezes his knee gently.

Sky looks at her, his eyes slightly widened with anxiety. Y/N can feel the tension radiating off him, and she knows that he's nervous about this. She wants to help him calm down, but she doesn't want to draw attention to his nervousness and make him feel embarrassed.

She leans in closer to him, her voice soft and soothing. "Hey, everything's going to be okay," she says. "Just take a deep breath and try to relax. We’ll be out of here the first chance we get."

Sky nods, his eyes still locked on hers. Y/N can see the gratitude in his expression, and she knows that he appreciates her attempt to calm him down. She gives his knee another squeeze and then leans back in her chair, trying to appear relaxed and nonchalant.

In truth, Y/N is nervous too. But being there with Sky makes it easier. She feels more grounded and centered when he's around, and she knows that they can face anything as long as they’re together.

As they continue to sit at dinner, Y/N can feel the nervous energy in the air slowly dissipating. Sky's knee stops bouncing, and he starts to relax a bit more. Y/N can see the tension in his face easing, and she knows that her small gesture of support has made a difference.

“At least Sky was lucky enough to be raised by Saul. Talk about the blind leading the blind”, Stella’s uncle laughs, drawing Y/N’s attention. She tried to drift off for most of the conversation, but the moment Sky’s name was mentioned, her mind couldn’t let it go.

Stella chuckles, “Uncle Arthur!”

“Oh, come on. Now, you know it’s true!” The man turns to Sky, “I mean, no fault to you, but if you and my niece had stayed together”, he drifts off with a mock gasp, “…scandal!”

Sky’s knee is bouncing again. He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way he clenches his jaw.

“Granted, you seem to have landed on your feet. First, you dated the fairy who transformed, and then you landed the one that is quite possibly the strongest fairy in existence.” Arthur chuckles once more. “Well done.”

“I didn’t realize we were discussing our dating histories at the table”, Y/N smiles politely, but her attention was elsewhere, focused on the thoughts she was picking up from Arthur's mind. It wasn’t a struggle like it was with Andreas, with Arthur, it was like a floodgate had been opened. His thoughts were swirling around in her head, and she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was off.

And then, it hit her like a ton of bricks. 

"I know what you're doing," she said, her voice cold and steady as she chained his gaze to herself, implementing a thought in his head, so this part only he can hear. "You're cheating on your wife, and it's not okay."

Arthur looked like he had been caught red-handed, but he seems to have understood her warning. Sky is off limits.

Unlike Y/N, Bloom spoke up. “Tone it down.”

Trying to laugh it off, Arthur glances at Y/N. “Everybody’s so delicate.”

“No, you were being a royal dick,” Sky states.

“What did you say to me?” Arthur raises his voice ever so slightly as Andreas laughs heartily. 

Y/N gives him a pointed look, forcing Arthur to pipe down and this time, everyone seems to have noticed the exchange. 

“Don’t talk to my friends like that.” Stella pipes up. “Every comment out of your mouth has been a thinly, or not so thinly, veiled insult. And you’re drunk.”

Perhaps that’s what made it so easy to enter his mind.

“Your mum was right. You’ve changed. A shame, considering you really wanted that gem out.” Arthur stands up, marching away from the table as Stella looks down at her hands in her lap, too embarrassed by his behavior to face anyone.

“You can still have the gem taken out”, Y/N whispers to her. 

Shaking her head, Stella sighs. “Not like that.”

Looking at Rosalind whispering with Bloom, Y/N focuses on their conversation. She doesn’t have to hear them speak as most people think about what they’ll say moments before they speak the words in existence. It takes no effort to harness those thoughts, drifting from them so easily. No one guards the thoughts they’ll speak openly.

“He’s an absolute prick, but I need him.”

“For the vote?”

“This room is full of people who want to see me fail. I'm cryptic because every move I make has to be bulletproof or they will pounce. 

“They all love you”, Bloom states.

“Nobody really loves the powerful ones. You'll learn that soon enough, just as your friend Y/N did.” Exhaling sharply, Rosalind smiles. “Luckily, fear works too.”

“Yeah, you have a knack for it.” Bloom remarks.

“I have to have a little fun. But there’s one thing you need to know is true. You are my star pupil, Bloom. Transforming, taking down the Burned ones, that’s just the beginning of your story. A story I’m lucky to witness.”

Scoffing, Bloom glances at Y/N, nearly catching her in the act. “You and I both know I’m the star pupil because the other contestant isn’t willing to play your games.”

“And yet, you will be the one to shape the Otherworld and I’ll be on your side. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have cryptic business to attend to.”

Rosalind leaves, Andreas following her closely. Sky lets out a loud exhale as if he’s been holding his breath this entire time. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding faintly, he rests his arm on the back of Y/N’s chair. “Are you?”

Pursing her lips, she tries to keep a smile at bay but it’s nearly impossible. “You’re with me. What more can I ask for?”

The phone vibrates again, but not just Y/N’s this time. Sharing a quick look with Bloom and Stella, her eyes shift to Sky. 

“They’ve done it.”

Bloom and Stella rush to meet the girls, only Stella pausing. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Give me a second.”

Inhaling sharply, she takes Sky’s hands in hers. “I’ll never force you to a fancy dinner again.”

“Was this dinner not a part of the gala?” Sky’s eyes widen slightly. 

Feigning innocence, she smiles. “Maybe not?”

Lips parting, his eyes narrow at her. “You’re lucky I love you”, Sky grins. He reaches over, taking her hand, his thumb stroking the back of it gently. 

Feeling a flutter in her stomach at his touch, Y/N can feel her cheeks darkening. They both lean in simultaneously, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. Her heart skips a beat as his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer.

Resting his forehead on hers for a moment longer, their lips part. Neither move, their eyes remaining closed in this silent declaration of love they share for each other. 

Finally pulling away, Y/N can see the adoration in Sky’s eyes. What she’s done to deserve it is beyond her, but she’s grateful. 

“What do you think the girls found?” Sky asks, but Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know. However, Bloom and Rosalind are far too comfortable with each other for me to trust them. I think she knows I would never cooperate with her, so she’s focused on Bloom fully.”

“Bloom’s capable of making her own choices.”

“Is she?” Y/N questions. “Her previous choices were all disasters. For all of us.”

Licking his lips, Sky sighs. “Let’s hope this time will be better.”

Frowning at her phone as it vibrates once more, Y/N takes a quick look at the messages only to realize she’s already missed a lot.

“Stella’s trying to vote Rosalind out.”

Standing, Sky helps Y/N to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Arriving a little late, Y/N and Sky sneak inside and stand to the side.

“After torturing him in her lab, after stealing his magic, Rosalind let that student die in her office.” Stella’s claim left everyone in shock, muttering loudly. “Devin deserved better. Solaria deserves better.”

Rosalind walks in, her head held high. I hate to break protocol, but there may be a few minor inconsistencies with Her Highness's theory.”

And right from behind her, a student walks in. 

“Devin!” Stella gasps. 

“About a month ago, my friend Mayor Quinn called me. Two fairies, recently released from their studies at Alfea, went missing in Blackbridge. They were found days later, catatonic. Bitten. I offered my help. But until we found answers, he swore me to secrecy. He didn't want to cause panic.”

Taking Sky’s hand in hers for support, Y/N ignored his eyes upon her.

“I have to admit, I was stumped until I borrowed a text from the Royal Archives, with Arthur's permission. In it, I found an ancient creature called a scraper, a native of The Realm of Darkness. It feeds on magic. I realized that's what had happened to those poor fairies.” 

Rolling in a large tank, Rosalind pulls the cloth covering it.

“What the hell is that”, Y/N whispers, her eyes wide. Y/N stands frozen, her eyes still locked on the creature. It is unlike anything she has ever seen before, with a slimy, scaly exterior and rows of jagged teeth that gleam in the dim light.

As she watches, the creature stirs, its eyes blinking open and fixing on Y/N. She feels the weight of its gaze, and a shiver runs down her spine.

Taking a step back, she is unsure of what to do. The students are gasping as the creature chitters.

The creature moves again, its body shifting in the tank, and Y/N can see the power and strength that lie beneath its slimy exterior. She knows that this creature is dangerous, and she is terrified of what it might do.

A low, guttural growl emanates from the tank, and Y/N takes another step back, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She tries to keep her wits about her, but the fear is overwhelming.

“I've been studying a scraper here at the school since we captured it. It wasn't until Devin was found that I got the answers I needed. I was able to bring him back from near death. All thanks to Benjamin Harvey's daughter, who discovered an amalgam that was able to revive all three fairies. I probed their minds and the picture became clear. The scrapers were being called upon by a Blood Witch.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N allows Sky to pull her into his side. Wrapping an arm around his middle, she lets out a shuddered breath. 

“Our old foes have discovered how to steal our magic. If Blood Witches continue using scrapers, fairy magic, therefore fairies, will cease to exist. Clearly, despite my efforts to keep my investigation secret, some of you sensed danger and took action.”

Glancing at the girls, Rosalind then turned her attention to Y/N as she spoke. “Your courage will be needed in the coming days, as we face our real enemy.”

She expects her to take part in this fight. Rosalind’s intentions are clear – she couldn’t control Y/N before, but this will allow her to certainly try. As the moments tick by, the tension in the room mounts. 

Y/N doesn't know what will happen next, but she knows she is in deep trouble. The creature's eyes continue to bore into her, and she braces herself for whatever comes next.

“Thank you for joining us here. Students, for now, you are dismissed.”

Y/N didn’t have to be told twice. She bolted out the door, dodging the girls expertly as she ran to the lake. 

Sky followed her. Y/N can sense him near and for once, she doesn’t get the urge to push him away. She wants him closer.

“Blood witches?!” Y/N shouts, running a hand through her hair. Pacing, she shakes her head. “I don’t know how to stop hurting people around me and she’s going to try to weaponize that!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Sky stops her. “I won’t let anyone force you into anything.”

“That’s the thing!” Y/N chuckles dryly. “She won’t have to force me, I’ll feel obligated to help the fairies.”

Cupping her cheek, Sky presses a kiss upon her forehead. “Breathe”, he reminds her. “Breathe.”

Y/N can feel the weight of expectations that are surely to fall on her shoulders to stop the scapers and Blood witches. She is not ready for this. Her own powers are still not fully under control, and the thought of using her unstable magic as a weapon terrifies her. Y/N’s powers are unpredictable, and the consequences of using them could be disastrous.

Y/N bites her lip, her mind racing. She wants to help, and she wants to be brave, but the fear is too much to bear. If she loses control of her magic, it can go terribly wrong, and innocent lives could be at stake.

“I don’t want to do it”, she whispers. “I wish everyone would leave me alone.”

“I know”, his voice is soft as are his hands running up and down her back. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

Shrugging off his jacket, he wraps it around her shoulders and pulls her close.

“But you need rest tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep after this”, her bottom lip quivers.

“I can help with that”, he teases, eliciting a quiet chortle.

Walking toward the dorms, Sky knows she can feel his worry too. Amid all the chaos in both their heads, Sky can feel the weight of his own worries and fears. He can see Y/N struggling, and he feels helpless.

He doesn't know how to help her or if he can protect her from the dangers that lay ahead. The creature is unlike anything he had ever seen before, and the thought of Y/N facing it is a nightmare waiting to come to life.

Sky’s meant to be her specialist, her sworn protector, yet he doesn’t know how to help save her from creatures that he’s never encountered before. It won’t send him running scared, he cares not for himself, only for her. 

No matter what, Sky will protect her. No cost is too great if it means she gets to walk away from this fight unscathed.

PART 10

[lostinwildflowers]

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: On a quieter day out in the fields, you suggest cooling off in the creek. Arthur isn't so sure about it until you get a little... wild.

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: me not knowing anything about RDR2 but trying my best, fluff, suggestive themes, mentions of undressing, implied feelings and thoughts, some mutual pining

A/N: Hey y'all!! This is for my lovely dear and amazing bestie @bluebellhairpin for being an absolute sweetheart. I know about 0 things about RDR2 but I tried my best so please be kind😅 -Birch<3

It was an unusually warm day out in the west, the trails rocky and red with the stain of the harsh dirt. The landscape was ethereal, with large mountains diving into deep gorges on either side, opening into the wide valley where you were riding.

The valley was your current home, with fields of wispy green grasses and low-hanging brush. There were trees near the edges of the fields, and large pines that had been there for generations.

It was a warm day, and a windy one too. The sun was beating down on you and Arthur, making a sheen of sweat build up on your brow.

The wind whipped through the valley, making the only sounds audible those of the trees and grass rustling, and the faint whisper of a creek trickling in the background.

The sound of your horse walking underfoot was almost mute to you, as hours spent in the saddle made you accustomed to the four-beat walk of your horse across the rough terrain.

Bourbon, your trusty bay stud horse, was also enjoying the day. His neck was low, walking quietly behind Boadicea, his black tail flicking off flies casually. The sun beating down left his brown haircoat curled with sweat on his neck and under his mane, but he didn't seem to mind.

You reach down and pet him on the neck with your free hand as you mumble, "Just a little longer, we're coming up on some water soon." Arthur was just ahead of you, determined to lead until he was sure it was safe enough to take a break.

The call of a hawk overhead snaps your eyes to the sky, your straw cowboy hat blocking most of the sun's bright rays. Your (colored) eyes lock onto the conglomerate of crows and hawks circling in the sky, your brows wrinkling as you try to locate what they're hovering over.

"Arthur," you call wearily, "There's some birds up ahead, might need to be on the lookout for bears."

You see him just wave his hand in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes before you kick Bourbon into a trot, veering off to the side of the small deer trail where the two of you had been scouting.

You sit deep into your saddle as you climb up the small hill, squinting as you look for the kill the birds were waiting for. Bourbon looks attentively ahead, his feet shifting nervously under you as your gaze locks onto the carcass of a dead cow elk in the dip below you.

You can hear a gruff call from Arthur behind you, but you ignore him as you spot a thin coyote chewing on the exposed and worn bones. You turn your head and say, "It's just a 'yote, we should still stay aware though."

When you turn over your shoulder to see if he heard you, Arthur is waiting at the bottom of the small hill, a frown on his face as he grumbles, "Well, I was gon' tell ya we could see that kill just up ahead. But you ain't never listen to me."

At that, he turns and heads back up the trail, aiming for the sound of the faint water in the distance. Your gaze trails after him, and you feel hot, your pearl snap shirt feeling heavy against your skin. And it wasn't because of the sun.

Bourbon was still dancing under your feet at the sight of the wild dog, and you scan the small field again to keep an eye out for any other large predators. Where there was one, more would certainly follow.

You see, Arthur and the rest of your crew were getting ready to move camps, with your current spot only being for overnight as you headed south slowly toward Valentine.

Dutch and the others were still north at Colter, so you and Arthur were out trying to find the best way to get south without being noticed. Thus, you had to spend some warm hours in the saddle, locating the best resources and safest places to travel while staying stealthy.

You and Arthur both decided to just take your horses and leave the wagon for now, as you didn't think it would take you very long. You see, you were a master of the land. You knew every type of plant, the color of every rock, bird, and meat, and which berries were safe to eat. You were a true survivalist, and that's why Arthur kept you around.

It wasn't the only reason, but Arthur definitely saw your strengths in the group, which led him to his current predicament- being alone with you. Not only were you an asset to the group, but you were also gorgeous.

After leaving Eliza, he was set on never showing emotion again, rather keeping to his business and leaving feelings out of the mix. But when you showed up, with Dutch smiling and talking to you, he knew he was going to be in for it.

With your braids of (colored) hair and gleaming (colored) eyes, Arthur knew he wasn't going to be able to make it work. And what was worse, is that you were sweet. Just a truly kind-hearted individual who cared deeply about the others around you.

As you gazed out across the valley, you didn't catch Arthur's glance toward you, noting the way your hair curled around the edges of your hat. Even the way your tan and burgundy striped pearl snap shirt clung to every part of you, he knew that you could seduce a man.

He hated the way he felt toward you because he knew he had messed up in the past. He knew he couldn't do that to you, you were too good for the life he lived.

You turned Bourbon to follow him back up the path as you grumbled, "That sucker thinks he knows better than me 'bout what's out here." Little did you know, Arthur heard you and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lip at your sass.

"Water's up ahead, Y/n/n," he calls over his shoulder, the nickname flowing off of his tongue before he could stop it. He feels a pang run through him as silence fills the air, but he doesn't dare turn around to look at you.

But you were just taking a drink from your canteen, and you froze in place at his words. Bourbon stops as your body stills, and Arthur just barely rides out of sight as you process what he said.

Y/n/n? Is he alright? Whatever, I need to refill my canteen, you think to yourself. You shove the bottle into your pack on the back of your cantle, petting Bourbon on the neck as you trot up the trail after him.

"Lookin' pretty clear to me," you state breathlessly as you break to a walk next to him, panting from the heat of the sun. Your (colored) gaze lands on his face, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at seeing his handsome features.

Even with sweat on his brow and grime on his hands, he never looked better. He had cuffed his sleeves and rolled them up his forearms, exposing the thick muscle.

His hair was longer, and while tangled from the wind and not having been washed in a few days, it still looked soft. His eyes were always masked with emotion so you could never tell what he was thinking, but over time you've learned some of his small intricacies.

You could see the water up ahead, and you shoot Arthur a wide grin as you cut Boadicea off with Bourbon, sliding in front of him as he yelled, "Aye! What're you thinking woman-" "Just live a little, Arthur!" you call over your shoulder, loud giggles falling from your lips as you rush up to the widening creek.

You swing your leg off of your horse, stepping down onto the ground, the thin leather of your shotgun chaps brushing against the red dirt. You pull your reins down from Bourbon's neck, giving him a gentle pat as you grab his halter from your saddle.

You pull his bridle off and slip his halter on, hanging the bridle over your saddle horn before leading him to the water. You can hear Arthur behind you, and when you turn around to look at him, you catch his eye.

He's still sitting on Boadicea, watching you intently. You crack a crooked grin and hum out, "You see something you like, Arth?" You laugh as a frown covers his face, and he turns to get off of his mare as you snicker to yourself.

This is how it usually went, you did most of the talking, and you laughed at his reactions. Bourbon happily drank from the stream as your eyes scanned the banks of the water on the other side, no predators in sight.

Arthur leads Boadicea next to Bourbon, also having slipped her bridle off and letting her drink. Your giggles settle down as you let out a happy sigh, combing through Bourbon's black mane as he finished swallowing.

Once both horses were content with their levels of thirst, you lead them to a nearby tree, loosely tying them so they could nibble at the grass.

You turn around to tell Arthur to fill up his water jugs, but your mouth closes at the sight of him. He had undone the top few buttons of his shirt and was crouched down by the edge of the water. In his right hand was his hat, tucking it close to his chest while his left hand dipped into the water, scooping it up to splash on his face and neck.

Heat flooded over you, almost like a wave of nausea. In an instant, your chaps were way too warm, and you go to start unbuckling them. You feel almost itchy after having looked at him like that, so you try to focus on getting your chaps off.

You unsnap the sides and sigh at the feeling of what seemed like cooler air rushing into your slightly damp jeans, before unclasping it at the belt.

Arthur watched you from the corner of his eye, and he felt his throat drying up at the sight of you. He swore it was just the heat from the sun coming down stronger, but he couldn't deny it. You looked good.

Once your chaps hit the ground and you could take a breath again, you say, "We should refill the water jugs." Arthur nods and stands up with a quiet, "Yeah, go 'head and grab 'em."

You nod in return, turning your back to him to grab the canteens and jugs off of the horses' saddles. In his head, Arthur fought everything in him to not glance at the curve of your waist and hips.

You had this natural sway about you, and as you bent over to grab a bottle you dropped, Arthur cursed to whatever higher power there was that he couldn't tell you what he was thinking. A moment later you appear in front of him, a soft smile on your lips as you hand him a couple of the bottles, your arms completely full.

"Sorry," you mutter as one bottle slips from your hands again, and you reach down to grab it before all of the bottles tumble to the ground. A few choice words fall from your lips, and as you grasp at one, Arthur's hand grabs at it too.

For a moment, all you can think of is the feeling of his rough hand on yours, and you cease motion. You look away from the bottles to meet his eyes, and you find he's already looking at you.

"Y/n/n," he whispers, so close to you. You can feel his warm breath hitting your face, and despite the heat of the day, you can't bring yourself to care.

"Arth..." you reply, butterflies erupting in your belly at the intensity of his gaze. You're snapped out of the moment when Bourbon starts coughing behind you and you feel even more warmth across your face as you snatch the bottle and stand up.

"Sorry Arthur, I'm such a clutz," you say neutrally, grabbing another bottle before heading down to the water, glad your straw hat covered the expression on your face; horror.

He doesn't reply, but he throws his own cowboy hat on the ground behind you before grabbing the other bottles and crouching down to fill them. You could practically feel the heat waves and tension kissing in the air, but neither of you said anything.

You finish filling the bottles and carefully take them back to the saddles, putting them in the packs and taking a deep breath. What on earth is wrong with me? What did I think he was gonna do?

You try to brush it off the best you can, hanging your hat over the top of your bridle on Bourbon's saddle, doing the same with your chaps. As you try to cool off, a mischievous idea comes over you.

Arthur had put his canteen back on his saddle and had reached into one of his packs to grab his leather notebook. He plopped down on the other side of the tree from where the horses were, quiet as could be.

You do your best to ignore him, and as you get to the edge of the water, you start taking off your boots. Then your socks. Then goes your belt. And right as you start to undo the buttons to your pearl snaps you hear Arthur.

"What're you doin'?" It's a simple question, no malice in his voice. You smile but don't turn around to face him. "Cooling off," is all you say in return as you undo another button.

"Y/n/n, you better watch yourself," you hear this time. It's a little more firm, but you still don't turn around. A second later, you let the material of your shirt float down your arms before it joins the pile of clothes on the ground.

You don't see it, but Arthur's blue gaze is locked on your figure. He wants to look away, he wants to give you the privacy you deserve, the respect you deserve as a lady. But he can't.

"Y/n..." you hear again, but this time it's lower. Deeper. And more... well, intense. You keep going though, undoing the buttons to your jeans and shimmying out of them.

You're left in just your undergarments, and you can't help but feel the air whizzing around you. It feels electric from the burning of the sun, but also because you know he's watching you. Taking in every freckle, dimple, and curve of your body.

He's never seen this much of you, and you aren't sure why you felt so bold, but you take a cautious barefoot step forward and into the water. You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips as your toes submerge in the cool water, and a giggle follows a moment afterward.

You take a few more cautious steps, and you don't hear anything else from Arthur. Once you're about waist-deep into the water, that's when you turn around.

And for once, Arthur's eyes aren't on you. A pang hits you in the gut. You aren't sure if it's disappointment, relief, or what, but all you can think of is how foolish you feel at that moment.

That's until you realize what he's doing. You had seen him grab his notebook, yes, but you didn't know what he was going to write. Except he wasn't writing at all.

His thick fingers were wrapped around a small pencil, where you could see him scratching out long, smooth strokes. Your brow furrowed in confusion at his movements, and that's when his eyes meet yours.

"Turn back around," he calls, the faintest smirk on his lips as he chewed at a toothpick he had kept in his shirt pocket. You cock your head and reply, "Ya see something you like?"

The words you had said earlier hung heavy in the air for a second, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you awaited his response.

"Maybe I do," is his response. You blink in surprise and swallow thickly at the implication of his words. Yet, you do as he says, and turn back around.

You reach down into the water with your hands, letting the dirt run off of your fingers and into the creek. You then splash a little on your face, brushing the hair out of your eyes and letting the water cool you and your mind down.

You'd never let yourself be this vulnerable in front of Arthur before, but now you just couldn't stop yourself. Something about being with him, out in the fields with your horses put you at ease.

A few minutes go by, with just the sound of the birds tweeting and the water crackling over rocks hanging in the air. You peer over your shoulder, and when you look at Arthur, he's watching.

The notebook he had been sketching in sat closed on his lap, and a wave of embarrassment ran over you. He'd just been sitting there, admiring you. Not in a creepy or predatory type of way, but simply a man enjoying the beauties of the world around him.

You turn to face him, but as you do so, you completely lower yourself into the water, wetting your hair down to the scalp. When you straighten up, you stay submerged with just the points of your collarbones showing.

"Thinking about joining me?" you ask quietly, a chill running up your spine, but not because of the water. This elicits a laugh from Arthur, a sound you don't get to hear very often.

"Darlin', you're testing me," he chuckles, looking down and flopping the notebook from his lap to the ground next to him. A wide grin slips onto your face as you reply, "Am I? I think you might just want to cool off too, Arth. It's been a warm day."

His gaze every so slightly darkens, and his jaw clenches. It was taking everything in him to not jump up, run over to you, and tell you everything he wanted to do to you. Yet he simply takes a deep breath and says, "Someone's gotta keep watch."

You nod and stand up straight, the water pouring off of you, and you see Arthur's eyes travel from your face, down your body, and back up. You don't say anything as you walk out of the water, heading straight toward him.

He stands up the second you're completely out of the water, and once you're standing in front of him, he takes a deep breath and tries to be respectful with his gaze. Pieces of his dirty blonde hair fall out of place as he looks down at you, and you can't help but feel exposed under his watch.

"Someone's gotta keep watch, right?" you whisper. He nods once as his eyes rake over your face and he mumbles, "Right." You also nod once, taking another half-step forward so you're practically touching him.

"How's the view?" you ask quietly, your eyes blinking slowly up at him, a shaky breath falling from your lips. Arthur locks eyes with you as his right hand gradually comes up to sit on your waist, his fingers gentle and warm against your now cool skin.

He reaches up to his mouth to pluck the toothpick from it, throwing it in the grass behind him without breaking eye contact. Then, with that same hand, he brushes a piece of hair out of your eyes, slicking the wet lock behind your ear.

"I've never seen anything this gorgeous in my life," he whispers. You swallow thickly as you continue to gaze up at him, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest.

You couldn't think of anything smart to say, so all you can mumble is, "Well, is that so?" Arthur smiles lightly as he catches onto your nerves and he whispers, "Yes ma'am. The most beautiful view I've ever seen."

You find yourself leaning into him, your eyes half-lidded as his grip on you tightened. You can hear one of the horses snort behind you, and as your eyes flick to the noise, Arthur's hand moves to cup your cheek.

His touch brings your gaze back to meet his own blue one, and once again your name falls from his lips, "Y/n, I-" He pauses, his grip on you still firm, but his eyes uncertain.

"What is it, Arth?" you whisper, your features softening. Arthur could hardly speak, with you in his arms, the day warm and your skin cool, he didn't think he could move.

He sighs, his eyes shutting for a few moments before they reopen, and when they take in your face again, he knows.

"I love you."

You don't even blink at his words, you don't change anything about the way you stare up at him. And for a moment, Arthur thinks he's messed up. He thinks he's read the entire situation wrong, that is until giggles start falling from your lips.

A snort escapes your mouth, and he doesn't seem to find it funny. You lean into his chest, belly laughing, and Arthur doesn't know what to do, so he just holds you closer to him as he mutters in your ear, "What's so funny?"

Giggles are still coming from you as you straighten up and say, "I can't believe it took me taking my clothes off for you to tell me that." Arthur groans and goes to release you, but you stop him.

Instead, your hands find each side of the collar of his shirt, and you pull him down into a sweet, wet kiss. The droplets of creek water are still running down your cheeks, but neither of you seems to mind as you pull him toward you.

Arthur goes to wrap both arms around your waist, changing the angle of the kiss to deepen it. His nose brushes against yours, and he can't help but feel like he'd finally died and gone to heaven.

You're the one to pull back first, with a wide grin on your face. You flatten the collar of his shirt before you regain eye contact with him and say, "But I love you too."

His lips come crashing into yours again, pulling you flat against his chest. A small moan escapes your lips as he kisses you, but you could care less. All you were thinking about was the feeling of Arthur against you, and how you never wanted it to stop.

This time, he's the one to pull back, and when you flutter your eyes open to look at him, he smiles. You smile back and quickly lean in to place a small peck on his lips.

It's quiet for a moment before you ask, "What was it you were drawing?" He sighs with a chuckle and replies, "Oh darlin', just the best view I've ever seen."

You giggle once as you lean in and whisper against his lips, "Oh really?" He chuckles too and closes the kiss with a small 'uh huh'.

Needless to say, you weren't getting back to the crew until it was pitch black out, but the feeling of Arthur's lips against your own made any question in your mind lay to rest.

And rather than setting up with the rest of the group for the evening like normal, you found yourself laying next to Arthur instead.

[dazeddazai]

She was alone, as per usual; lights out, tables cleaned, bottles set in rows. Only the moonlight peered through the half tinted windows, filling the room with a cool, waxen glow— coating the wood in pale translucence as if strained through melted silk.

The bar had been closed for quite some time; dust hung in the air uninterrupted, save for at the corner of the room where Makino sat, eyes downcast, teetering on the edge of fatigue. The better part of her judgment implored her to make her way up the weathered staircase and into her bedroom, near forgotten, but she stayed seated and silent— drifting off to the sea salt breeze.

The table in front of her lay empty, with the exception of a clear water glass. It bore, in its wake, a single white snowdrop and a pale yellow marigold. The snowdrop had long faded— spine curved and threads snapped into split ends; it lay on its last life, drinking from the glass in earnest— the final breath of hope, undistilled. 

It had been a year since she had seen him last— the promise of return etched deep into her lips as he had bade her goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he had whispered in earnest, “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”

But as soon as he could had turned into weeks, then into months, and still Makino sat into the late hours of the night, lashed glazed with sleep-coated tears.

It was hard not to worry when she knew of the danger that lay in the shadows of his journey. The perilous exploits of the infamous few drew the attention of the masses— making for rowdy conversations amongst the bottles of dry mead— and though she tried to tune it out, the name of the man she longed for was no stranger to every household on the island.

Before long, Makino could no longer read the paper without feeling a hint of restlessness. Dread clouded her thoughts and overtook her mind, and soon, to preserve her faith, she did away with the news all together. Instead, she reread his letters and thumbed through the memories that he had left behind, tainted with the ink blots of forgetfulness and frosted over with the scenes of her own imagination. 

She spent days— weeks, even, in her head, all at once— so much so that she could barely make out the reality of everyday life. Customers came and went in flashes of sound and color, but she barely registered their presence until they were slumbling from the bar, a drunken farewell lost upon their lips. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

Makino started and looked up from the table. Her breath caught in her throat. 

Shanks stood in the doorway, relaxed and charming- a relic of the memories that she had been living in for almost a year. She stood up, almost knocking the chair to the floor. She wanted to run to him, to embrace him without a single care in the world, but she could not will her body forward- scared that if she moved too close, he would vanish into thin air. 

Instead, she composed herself, and after a brief hiccup in time, she spoke.

“Where were you off to this time?” She asked, trying to squash the unintentional shaking of her unpracticed voice with an uneven smile. “Somewhere dangerous along the Grand Line, I’d imagine.”

Shanks returned her smile and shook his head.

“Visiting an old friend. Making sure that my affairs are well in order.”

“Well in order for what?”

He didn’t answer but instead turned to face the bar. 

“How is everything over here?” He asked, “Does the old man still come around to visit from time to time?

“Sometimes— when he’s not busy.”

“And the boy?”

“He looks more like you with every passing day.”

“That’s nice,” he replied, and Makino felt a lump form in her throat. 

​​"Could you just hold me for a while?" She whispered. “Just once, before you leave?”

Shanks smiled soft— gentle and contrite.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” 

“I miss you. Everyday.” She said, and then there were tears tumbling freely down her cheeks. “I miss you so much that I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” He replied, voice husky. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“Won’t you stay? Just a little while longer?”

“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to.”

“I love you.” She whispered, her voice breaking upon the last syllable. “I’ll always love you.”

Shanks gazed at her, eyes soft and clouded—

“I know you will.”

“Will you ever come back?”

He paused before answering. Then, reaching out and grazing the snowdrop, he said-

“I think today has to be the last time.”

As he spoke, Makino noticed that the snowdrop had finally fallen from the stem. It lay, wilted and white- now no more than a relic to be brushed off the table and onto the floor. 

“What if- what if I’m not able to let you go?” She said, her voice smaller than it had ever been. 

Shanks didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and began to make his way towards the door. 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He said simply, “Come for me whenever you’re ready-” 

Then, before she knew it, he was gone just as quickly as he had come.

Makino awoke slowly to the moon shining through the open door. With all the effort that she could muster in her neglected body, she pushed herself up and began to make her way to the staircase. She could barely remember what she had dreamed about last, but she could feel the trail of stale tears, etched upon her cheeks.

As she walked past the bar, all she saw was a blur of stained glass mixed with molten light- a light that cast its gaze upon a single cockled paper, stained in salt, breaking the news of what she had feared so long ago.

[melestasflight]

for the prompts (pick whichever, the prompts sound really cool and i couldn't decide on one!): feanor & miriel + 'some fair dream' or elrond & elros + 'met never again until many ages were past'?

Holiday Silm Prompt fill for @sesamenom. Let's start with Fëanor & Míriel. 😍

some fair dream

When the stone bursts into greenness beneath the light of the early Mingling, Fëanáro finally lets the song die down in a slow decrescendo between his lips. His voice is hoarse from singing. All through the silver hours, he has been holding steady the notes of flowing water and supple green leaves, imbuing their freshness into the dense core of the polished jade.

Now, as Fëanáro turns the stone between his fingers, its light spills from his hands and bathes the walls of the workshop in brilliant hues of green dancing like shadows beneath the canopy of a tall tree in the breeze.

In moments such as these, his heart almost stops beating in anticipation. To know if he has succeeded in his purpose, to taste, at last, the fruit of his long labor. He waits patiently for the stone to open and reveal the life that it now carries. The images form themselves slowly, emerging as small seeds and then growing to unfurl their stalks before his eyes. 

He sees things long withered and broken renewed again – a statue of Nerdanel’s that fell and shattered across the floor when their boys were little now standing whole again, a patch of flowers in Findis’ gardens that did not take to the soil bursting in color as they were meant to be, a smile upon Finwë’s face that has not been seen in many long years. 

Fëanáro looks in awe as these images unfold before him, each one clearer and more palpable than the last, and then he can no longer hold back. He searches deeper into the green stone, pouring into it all the desire of his heart. ‘Let me see her, just once.’

The jewel obeys its creator and summons Míriel’s image at last. Fëanáro has no memories of his mother in life but he knows it is her. Hers are the fingers that swiftly move between threads finer and more delicate than anything the hands of any Noldo have created. Hers the silver tresses that shine as Telperion’s leaves in its zenith. Míriel hums as she labors, wholly absorbed, her voice laving against Fëanáro as rippling water.

‘Mother,’ Fëanáro whispers, letting his voice travel along the current.

Míriel looks away from her needle and meets Fëanáro’s gaze. ‘My little spirit of fire,’ his mother responds as her lips stretch into a smile. 

For a long moment, mother and son look upon each other as in some fair dream, content to do no more but know that they are simply there, together.

As Telperion gives way to Laurelin, the light filtering through the windows of the workshop slowly shifts, slipping away from Fëanáro’s hands. Míriel’s image in the stone disintegrates and the dream fades. He is left alone with the stone, its green now subdued and muted as the lichens trailing along the tree trunks in the north.  

Fëanáro slides a glance across the shelves on the wall where many of the jewels he has created over the years stand as brilliant as Varda’s stars in the sky. They are beautiful, praised across Aman for the skill of their creation and the fineness of their form. But they all lack something. They are all dead.

Suddenly, Fëanáro feels the many hours of labor weighing on him. Looking upon his reflection in the windows, his own gaze appears dimmed by the lack of tree light in his workshop. That same light he has spent so long attempting to preserve into an imperishable form. And he has failed, yet again; the green stone he created is lifeless in the absence of light. But he cannot find it in himself to regret its making. The jewel is still warm in his palm and Fëanáro believes he can still hear Míriel’s humming radiating from its polished surface.

Outside, Laurelin’s blooms open joyfully, bathing the gardens around the workshop in soft gold. I shall try again, Fëanáro thinks to himself as he opens the door and steps into the tree light.

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to drop me a note/kudo on AO3. It makes my day!

[bedrockbones]

Tommy goes to the aquarium :>

I wish you would write a fic where... ///not accepting theres not that much world building here except that i imagine the mers here are being rented by the aquarium. not in a fucked up way but kind of like how restaurants and partys will hire "mermaids" irl but in this world, mermaids actually exist lmao big noodly boys with sparkly tails. kids love em and its an easy job. just swim around for a few hours and show off some tricks also tommy is supposed to be in like. elementary school on a field trip

The mer was doing something really cool. Tommy just knows it. He can hear the crowd's oo's and ahh's and the other children giggling and shouting. Tommy wants to see so bad but he knows better than to try and join the group.

He pouts on the other side of the room, barely catching a glimpse of the long, sparkly tail rolling in the water.

There's supposed to be three mer today, but only the blue one has been seen. He's really friendly. Tommy saw him for a little bit and he knows a lot of tricks.

If only Dream hadn't come on the field trip. Tommy doesn't even know why he's here! He spent all week up to today talking about how stupid mer are and making fun of Tommy for being excited. But now he's plastered right against the glass with his stupid friends.

It would be better if Tubbo was here, but his friend had gotten lice and wasn't allowed to join. Tommy had promised to tell him all about the mer, but how can he when Dream would push him away if he tried to join?

Sighing, Tommy watches the fish swim by. There's no one by this side of the wall, everyone wanted to see the mer while they could. At least that means no dumb employees were around to scold Tommy for tapping on the glass.

He taps out random rhythms, not thinking too much about it. The sound of his nail tink-tink-tinking on the glass is nice. Tommy likes it.

He stares at his finger, cheek leaning on the cool glass. With his ear pressed to it, Tommy's tapping sounds so much louder. It's sort of cool-

Tink-tink-tink.

Tommy jerks his head away from the glass. That...wasn't him. It almost sounded like someone else was tapping as well, but when he glances around there's still no one nearby.

Only he hears the tapping again. Tink-tink-tink.

His eyes snap to the sound and-

and-

He can see his own reflection on the glass. He can see his eyes widening so, so big. So big he can see the whites of his eyes all the way around. They're almost as white as the mer's teeth.

He's grinning. Needle-like fangs fill his mouth and Tommy's belly kind of swoops to see them. The mer's rises a little bit more off the cliffs edge, emerging from one of the holes in the rocky wall. His tail is a deep, dark black but as he swims into the light, a shimmering green starts to spread.

He's so pretty.

Pretty and scary. Tommy has never seen a mer so close. Not a real one. He's seen pictures and videos but this one is looking at Tommy. This one is alive and real.

Tommy glances around, expecting to see anyone else notice the mer, but he's still alone.

Tink-tink-tink. The mer is tapping again.

Tommy looks back to him and the mer waves with a webbed hand. It's so human-looking. Except for the scales and green color of course. Tommy hesitantly taps the glass again. The mer copies his pattern and Tommy smiles.

They go back and forth for a bit. Tapping little patterns back and forth. It ends when the mer suddenly blows a bunch of bubbles at the glass. It makes Tommy laugh.

[batemansluvrr]

What is love?

A/N: I’m so sorry for making y’all wait. Take this one-shot as an apologize.

Inspo: Shades of cool — Lana Del Rey

WARNINGS: This one-shot contains smut, please do not interact if you feel uncomfortable or you’re a minor.

You were returning home, sadly, because you knew you would have spent another evening with Patrick. In the last few days, He did nothing but fuck you, tell you how to dress at those parties with his co-workers and buy you more and more skirts ‘cause he loved them. You sighed when you reached the door of his apartment and finally decided to come in. You hanged your lustful fur that your “boyfriend”gave you on your birthday and walked around the house trying to find him. “Hello Y/n, I bought you a very fancy dress for this evening, you really should try it. It’s in the bedroom.” Your fiancée surprised you while doing stomach crunches. After nodding, you decided to do as you were told, since you were exhausted because of that annoying day’s work. It was a red, long, with a large side slit dress. At first, you thought that time he decided to satisfy you, but after realizing red was Patrick’s favorite color too, the little smile that had formed on your lips slowly disappeared. Bateman appeared behind you taking off his ice-pack. “Tonight we’re going to Barcadia with Bryce, Van Patten, Courtney and Evelyn.” You turned to see him and you almost fell at the magnificent sight. He had messy hair all over his unique features. “Alright then, I’ll be ready in an hour. Is that okay with you?” You asked with a trembling voice. Bateman just chuckled in response and made his way to the bathroom. That amazing dress was just waiting to be worn and you couldn’t resist that temptation.

You did your make-up by wearing a bordeaux lipstick and adding some layers of mascara. That day, you really felt pretty. Hoping he would notice the stunning way you looked, you knocked on the bathroom door and waited for a response. “Patrick!” You called him impatiently. “What is it Y/n? I’m busy right now.” Bateman grunted making you shiver. “Uh.. Nevermind i guess.”

You felt so stupid. You knew he didn’t care, in fact, you were asking yourself why the hell you even thought he would compliment you. You mumbled something and made your way to the living room. You sat on the couch and started caressing your thighs nervously. You adored those black stockings, the delicate fabric, the dark color, everything of them made you feel confident, but of course, Patrick had to ruin everything. You couldn’t take it any longer, you had to tell him. You didn’t want to be his fuck-doll or something like that, you were sick of being a sort of sex-toy. You wanted more than that.

“Looks like we’re ready. C’mon Y/n, we don’t want to be late. Right?” You stood up and reached the door without answering him. You quickly stepped outside the apartment and waited for him to lock the door. Patrick gave you an arrogant look that seemed more like a “You’ll pay for this attitude of yours.” You decided to not care for the moment, you were going to spend another banal dinner with his awful friends after all. After arriving at the cab, you got in avoiding Patrick’s cold gaze. He didn’t seem angry though, it seemed like he was enjoying the way you were ignoring him. You threw your head back as soon as you felt the soft fabric of the seat. The night had just started and you were already sick of that shameful situation.

“Man, you really got taste. Look at her.” A man at the table complimented you with a smirky smirk in his face. He was staring at you like you were a delicious prey and he was the predator. Bateman seemed to notice that, in fact, he moved his big hand to your curves and held you tight. You tensed at his unexpected touch and timidly moved the hair strand behind the ear. Van Patten chuckled at Patrick’s reaction while he was taking a seat. Your “boyfriend” looked at you and showed you your seat, right next to his. You nodded and did as you were told. “So, what’s the hot girl’s name?” One of Patrick’s co-workers asked you. You didn’t want to answer because he was clearly drunk, but you did. “I’m Y/n.” You smiled at the guy, who seemed intrigued by the deep V-neckline of your dress. “Does Y/n have a surname?” The man demanded again, in a flirtatious way. “Oh David! Leave Bateman alone!” Evelyn, Patrick’s ex-fiancée, interrupted him. “He’s the boy-next-door!” She kept teasing your boyfriend. You noticed how pissed off he was, though he tried to not show it.

After thirty minutes you decided to go to the bathroom to clear your head. If you really wanted to leave, you had to take that opportunity and run as fast as you could. You knew it, but still there was something that didn’t let you. And that “something” were his strong arms holding you tightly from behind. “P-Patrick! What a-are you doing here?!” He just pulled up the hem of your long dress and looked at your delicious curves without giving you a proper answer. “W-wait a minute!” You pushed him away finally convincing him to listen to your miserable words. “God Y/n, what is it?” He asked sick of your “boring” attitude.

“I’m serious Patrick! We need to talk about us! Uh.. Us? I don’t even know what we are! What are we Patrick? Tell me! I’m so tired of this! I don’t want to be a fuck-doll or something like that for the rest of my life!” You took a break to catch your breath. “Don’t ever tell me “I love you” again, because it’s not true! Where is this love? I can’t feel it.. I can’t touch it!” You kept screaming about how horrible he was making you feel. Tears came streaming down your face, but he still was speechless, he was probably trying to formulate a sentence while thinking about what you just said.

“What is love for you, Y/n?” Patrick asked looking almost disappointed while passing an hand trough his slicked-back hair. You wanted to tell him the way you felt, you loved everything about him, not just his Greek-god body, you wanted to spend your entire life with him. You know he didn’t felt the same way, or at least, you thought he didn’t, but when he grabbed you by the waist and forced you to look at him, you noticed something different in his eyes. “Y/n, I don’t understand you. Do you really want to love me? Do you want to love a fucking-evil-psychopath?” And that was the question that made you kiss him passionately, you couldn’t do nothing but demonstrate how you wanted him so bad. “It’s not a question of a “want” anymore, it’s a need, Patrick.”

“We’re going home, now.”

When you two finally reached the door of his apartment, Patrick pinned you against the wall and attacked your inviting neck while caressing your tempting tights. You kept moaning his name, the things he was doing to you made your legs weak. You moved your hands to his messy hair searching for something that helped you take all he was giving you. “Mm-Hm! P-Patrick.. A-Ahh!”

“God Y/n.. You’re such a naughty fucking girl.. So desperate for my touch.” His hands made their way to your soaked-wet panties. “Already wet for me? Wait.. For me or for Van Patten? Tell me Y/n, can he fucks you like I do huh? Can he make you wet like I do?” He teased, murmuring in a so-fucking-hot way to your ear while rubbing your sensitive clit. “You better answer Princess.” His hand was moving faster now, making you whimper and scream for him. “Ahhh! N-nobody can make me feel good like you do, Daddy! Nobody!” Patrick laughed like the psycho he was and wrapped his other hand around your neck. “Oh my sweet Y/n.. You’re being so obedient for me..” Suddenly your Daddy removed his hand from your needy cunt and you were mentally begging him to come back.

He went to the bedroom but you didn’t follow him, because you knew, he had something in his mind. Your legs were practically shaking and your hungry, succulent pussy was getting impatient. Patrick came back with a pair of handcuffs smirking. You couldn’t deny you were a little scared, but after all, it was Patrick-fucking Bateman.

“Hands behind your back.” He ordered getting closer to you. You did as you were told and smiled at the feeling of his hot voice on your neck while he was handcuffing you. “On your knees, brat.” You asked him for a pillow but he didn’t want to, that was a punishment after all. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me.” After about five seconds you finally decided to open your mouth and obey to his orders. He then spat, making you close your eyes at the feeling of his saliva on your tongue. “Swallow it.” After swallowing, he smirked and you got up and Patrick took you to his bed.

“Oh, Y/n..I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He disappeared between your legs, starting to kiss your inner thigh. Your back arched, you were a total mess. Patrick started using his tongue too, teasing and sucking your delicate clit while you were screaming his name, he looked up at you, trying to catch your eye. “Darling, look at me while I devour your sweet little pussy.” Bateman said almost on your pink lips making your body shiver. You finally met his gaze and God, that magnificent sight almost made you cum. His beautiful messy hair and his warm tongue that kept giving you long-wet licks. “D-daddy.. I-I’m about to.. Ahh! I’m about to cum!”

“Go ahead then, cum. Cum all over Daddy’s face.” Your legs began to shake even more, till you squirted on Patrick’s face. You were exhausted, but it seemed like Bateman wasn’t done with you yet. In fact, he spread your legs wider and positioned himself between them.

He slowly slipped his huge cock gracefully into your dripping cunt, kissing your mouth hard, pushing into you with long fast strokes. “Yeah.” Patrick says, moving on top of your delicate body. “A-ahhh!.. O-oh my God..” You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress a moan, failing miserably while he kept fucking you, kissing your earlobe, your collarbone and your nipples.

“Fuck! I’m going to cum.. Yeah Y/n, you heard me. I’m going to give you my sperm.” Patrick groaned moving his hips even faster to reach the orgasm. “Y-yes, Daddy! Give me all of it!”

After shooting his warm sperm in your vagina, he laid next to you, exhausted, hugging you from behind, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. “Patrick..”

“Yes, love?” You blushed at the unexpected pet name, searching for his big hand before grabbing it. “Do you really love me?.. Or you just want my body?” At your question, he moved on top of you, caressing your cheeks. “I really do like ya, Y/n.. You’re my innocent girl.” Patrick kissed you on your soft lips before falling asleep, using your beautiful breasts as a pillow.

[sundaysplayzone]

Commonly Asked Questions.

I get asked the same 3-5 questions all the time, so I thought I might make this new lil pinned post to help everyone out! But first, I want to thank you all for visiting my blog!

Do you take requests?

No, I do not.

Are your commission open?

Yes currently! Honestly now a days they’re almost always open. You can check them out on my website HERE!

Are you okay with gift art?

Of course! I would be flattered! If you’d like, you can find most of my characters here on toyhouse (I promise to update it soon!)!

How do you get the retro/vhs effects on your art?

I actually made a tutorial on that here! But honestly at the end of the day it’s a lot of “I plug this picture into several different apps and video editing software.” I wish I could give you a simple answer, but there is no easy way to do it that’s the same every time. I rarely if ever do it the same way back to back. Some colors look better when edited in Photoshop, some in Photomosh Pro. I pay almost $100 a month to have access to all of the software I use to make these effects because it’s part of my job. But luckily you can find so many free tutorials and apps out there, you just need to be curious and try new things!

What do you use to draw?

Another vague answer whoo! Sorry, but I use so many things to draw! But usually it’s sketch/ink/color/shade in Paint Tool Sai, and then move it to Photoshop to add the background, effects and details. I also use Procreate and Clip Studio from time to time. When it comes to traditional, it’s usually standard cardstock or a mixed media sketchbook. Then I draw and color with microns, copic pens, jelly rollers/gel pens, prisma colored markers and copic markers. 

Did you draw the backgrounds in your art? And if you use screenshots, where do you get them?

In the majority of my pictures, I use screenshots from old cartoons. I get these screenshots from the shows themselves. My friend is kind enough to set up a program that takes snapshots hundreds of times during the show. Then when the episode is over, they send them to me. I then spend HOURS, going through thousands of images and delete all but the good pieces. A majority of the time they take a lot of editing to be usable. I have to clean them up, remove character and scale the images.

This isn’t always the case however! I do often draw my own backgrounds! If you ever want to know, feel free to ask!

As for the more aesthetic/abstract backgrounds, I make those myself! I spent far too much money buying licenses and rights to use tons of different patterns and vectors. With those, I love recreating authentic backgrounds in the style of those seen in the 80s and 90s!

I see you draw a lot of Transformation/Chubby/(insert common movie trope here). Are you a fetish artist?

No, I am not a fetish artist. Do I draw art that might be someone’s fetish? Do I take commissions from people with a fetish for this subject matter? Yes, of course. But people need to realize, furry characters alone are a kink to some people. For me the difference is in how it’s drawn. And I personally do not draw my art in a way that sexualizes the piece.

I love drawing transformation scenes, people being swallowed by a monster, extra big tummies, but not because it’s something that I find hot. I just like drawing fun scenes. I get bored of just drawing a character standing in place all the time. I like drawing wacky scenes! 

A lot of my love for these come from cartoons. Edmund getting turned into a cat in Rock a Doodle. Hercules getting swallowed by the hydra. Kaa hypnotizing... everyone xD It’s just a story telling tool and sometimes it’s fun to draw! I’m not into hypno but I do like drawing big, colorful eyes. I’m just whatever about tf but I love drawing the swirling magic effects and the character changing from human to animal. It’s just cool to me!

In short, when I draw these things, it’s like I get to draw scenes from cartoons and movies in my style. It’s so wonderful to attempt to emulate some of the effects and details they used in movies from my childhood. It’s not about the hand changing into a paw for me, it’s the magical sparkles and how it’s so bright and vibrant compared to everything else. Where you see it go from hand to paw, that’s what I love drawing about tf art! Or being able to exaggerate the body and make a character look weighty by making them really round. Getting to draw a comically big mouth, giving a fun and interesting perspective shot. I think that stuff is so neat! Because it’s art!

I don’t care if it is someone’s fetish. I’m not drawing it in a way that’s sexual. Heck, it even says I wont in my TOS! Everything is G-PG here in Sunday’s Playzone! I’m not here to make that kind of content. It’s okay if adults have fetishes, and so long as you and others aren’t sexualizing my art, all is well!