#and I only had basic colored pencils

[yellobb]

A little Crowley doodle I made in therapy today :)

[dialovers-translations]

Found a new relaxation therapy - aka trying not to think about work 24/7 - which is to randomly generate 10 Pokemon and then draw them together on one spread in my sketchbook. 

Not really all in the same environment or anything, but just puzzled together across both pages with chibi versions filling the smaller empty spaces. :3

[themyscirah]

Philippus? Wym philippus this is a wholeass other woman?????? She's white?????? Guys come on now

ALSO cursed white Euboea in this same sequence.... homeboy she's Asian please stop

Joe Phillips I'm sorry but this is some shitty ass guest pencilling how can you not know anything abt what these people look like thats literally your job... you also just needed to read the issue before this to know?

Editors should have caught this one these are major Amazon characters

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

♡ ring pops, chocolates, proposals ! ♡

katsuki loves you throughout the years.

BOOM !! surprise extra on your foreheads !!! this is basically a lil extra to rpp from katsu n readers pov ! i thought it was cute n i hope yall enjoy it too <33 !! much luv xx

fem reader, slight anime n manga spoilers ! food (candy and chocolate), jealous katsuki, mentions of dicks bc katsuki calls someone one, katsuki n reader are in their 20s, reader loves rain, katsuki does not, proposal, kissinggg, reader likes romance (implied sligthly), katsuki does not (kinda), soft n emotional katsuki bc I LOVE HIM FIGHT MEEE!!! RAAHHH!!!, short n sweet, proposal, lmk if i missed sum else !! <33

"for you."

katsuki, age 6 stands in front of you. no more words are said from him as he looks off to the side, beet red face turned away from you with outstretched hands. and clutched tightly in his hands, a ring pop in your favourite color.

you beam, immediately taking it from him. "thank you, katsu !" you chirp, quickly popping the candy into your mouth. katsuki's shoulders relax when he sees you've taken the offering from him although he doesn't meet your eye fully just yet.

"do you wanna share ?" you ask sweetly, already reaching out your candy towards him seeing that he didn't have one of his one in hand. he furiously shakes his head, pushing your hand back towards you.

"no ! and this one's for you ! i already got one.." he insists, shoveling around in his backpack before the crinkle of a wrapper grabs both of your attention. he pulls out the bag of sweet ring pops and picks out an orange one for himself. showing it to you while his eyes drift away from yours. you smile, seeing that you can both eat candy together now.

"i-it's a ring. so..you're my wife," he states. your big eyes widen at him and his glowing red cheeks. you look back down at the candy you've been eating pressed around your finger. it's bigger than the rings you see on tv.

you like katsuki. he was a little rough sometimes, and he could be a little mean. but he always played with you and shared his coloured pencils. he'd sit in the reading corner with you and hold your hand when you'd go on field trips.

"oh, really ?" your face heats, he nods. "want you to be my wife, cus haruto's always lookin' at you..a-an' you're my friend. not his." he mumbles bitterly. you like haruto, he's nice to you, but not as much as katsuki. katsuki was your best friend.

"does that make you my husband then ?" katsuki gets red to the tips of his ears and his nose is practically pressed into the collar of his shirt but he nods anyways. you beam again, the taste of the flavoured candy still on your lips. " i like that !"

katsuki blinks at you, chubby little cheeks pulling into a smirk and he drops to sit down next to you roughly on the grass. finally popping his own ring in his mouth.

"then you're my wife, yeah ?" you nod and he grins, you hear the candy clack around his mouth. "means you're only ever gonna be with me." and you nod again happily because you like that, you like the thought of only being with katsuki, because he's your best friend ever.

"mhm !"

"..forever." he adds tentatively and when you nod again he snickers to himself.

wait till stupid deku hears about this.

valentine's day was fucking stupid. and white day was even stupider.

besides them being the corniest holidays ever, katsuki finds the whole concept stupid. why do you need an entire day just to grow the balls to tell someone you like them ? and the worst part is that some fuckers have the audacity to try that shit with you.

katsuki remembers when he'd started despising the stupid holidays. it was in his first year of middle school and you opened up your locker to see some chocolates and a hand written note.

it was cheesy. and fucking stupid. but you smiled about it.

you fucking liked it.

the bastard even had the nerve to walk up to you at the end of the day, when you're supposed to go home with katsuki and end up coming over to his house to do your homework together (so he could stare at you) then stay over for dinner and play some video games (so he could touch you, poke your sides to make you trip up and pinch your nose when you end up losing to him) or watch a movie (so he could hear you laugh)

you were supposed to be all his. but instead you reassure him that you'll be back in a second.

and katsuki's antsy and so annoyed his skin prickles, but he swallows it down and drags his feet towards the gates as he waits, like hell he'll leave you alone with some limp dick bastard.

he did feel better when you said you rejected the loser, and he felt much better when you still ended up spending the afternoon with him. but he couldn't stop thinking about it.

valentine's day and such was so fucking stupid in katsuki's eyes. but maybe you liked it ? you never cared much for romance outside of those stupid rom-coms you like, but maybe there was more to it.

katsuki couldn't admit it to himself then, but he hates the holidays because there's a whole day for him to grow some balls and ask you out. and yet he couldn't fucking do it.

until his first year at u.a. and you hand him a box of chocolates.

dark chocolate, you specified. "since i know you don't really like sweets all that much." you said. the slight tremble in your voice made him swallow harshly. it felt different than the chocolates you'd handed out to your classmates earlier (which he was absolutely not jealous about. at all.) and the sheer size of the box compared to the little baggies you'd handed spoke too.

these were different. these were just for him.

his bag feels extra heavy when he walks home that day, and he's never loved chocolate more than the day you'd made some just for him.

"the chocolates weren't bad." was all he'd texted you (he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to you properly on the phone that day lest you heard the shakiness in his voice.) but he knew what he needed to do.

and a few months later, white day rolls around and katsuki still thinks it sucks. it's a stupid holiday. but he spent the entire day making these stupid holiday chocolates for you. and his ears burn when he tells you that he only made these for you, because you're the only one he cares about enough to make some stupid chocolates for on a holiday he hates.

and you smile, so bright and pretty and so you. and katsuki feels like he's on top of the world when you shyly kiss his cheek, your hand in his grip on your way home.

he guessed he'll have to tell his mom about this..and maybe think about thanking her.

the day katsuki plans to propose to you, it rains.

and not even regular rain, a fucking downpour.

and due to prior experiences and feelings he’s had since childhood, he fucking hates rain.

but you love it. when you were kids you loved jumping in puddles and during morning time, you were drowsier and more prone to falling asleep when it was raining. when you got older, you'd always gasp happily when it started to rain, even though katsuki scoffed every time you did, mean mugging the window. he'd asked you what you liked about rain every year you were together, because it was cold, it made the ground sloshy and slippery and it made his quirk basically obsolete when he was younger and harder to use the older he got. there was absolutely nothing fun about that. and you'd always tell him the same exact thing.

"i like it 'cus i just do." you'd respond simply. he always raised a brow at you, but let it be. he couldn't change your mind about it and that was it.

with his proposal plans down the gutter, you're cuddling bed. you yawn in his arms, the tapping against the window putting you at ease. katsuki can admit it's not ear grating, but he'd much rather it just—not rain at all. and he wishes that so much more now, stupid fucking rain..ruining his fucking plans to fucking marry you..

"why do you like this shit so much ?" he asks you the question he's been asking you for years now as you lay against his warm chest. he doesn't mean to do it, only realising he's been asking you this practically all his life after the fact. and it makes him realise how long you've been together when you calmly respond the way you always have, cheekily smiling up at him.

you stick your tongue out at him "i like it 'cus i just do."

oh. fuck.

katsuki doesn't know exactly why that sets him off. maybe because the fact you've been together for two decades makes him emotional. maybe it's because throughout all these years your answer hasn't changed and you haven't changed and your feelings haven't changed for him. you still smile up at him, you did when you were kids when he'd asked you to be his wife with those cheap ring pops he'd begged his mom to buy. you did in middle school even when he thought you had a crush on izuku for a while and it made him act in such an embarrassing way he doesn't want to remember it, but he does anyway. you smiled up at him when he'd asked you out with the chocolates he'd spend hours working on, making them perfect for you. and when he'd told you to just move in with him because "you're basically here all the time anyway."

you've always been there, and he's always loved you. since the day you'd mesmerised him so much at six years old he had to talk to his mom about you.

katsuki absolutely fucking hates rain, and he doubts that'll change anytime soon, and it ruined his perfect proposal. but he can't hear the rain in his ears anymore when he abruptly flips you onto your back to kiss you. all he hears in the tiny giggles you let out when he smacks three wet kisses onto your lips before diving in for a longer one. i love you, they say. he can only hear your fingers sneaking into his hair and scratching at his scalp and the happy sigh you let out when he runs his tongue across your lips.

"m'breath stinks," you mumble drowsily, katsuki grumbles, pulling away just far enough to tell you "i don't give a fuck." and diving in again. you squeal in surprise. it's all he hears.

"fuckin' love you." he grunts against your lips, you hum, briefly able to pull away to catch your breath to tell him you love him too, and pulling him closer to you, the rustling of your sheets, yours and his, is all he hears.

"yeah ? you love me ?" he whispers, going to nibble at your ear. he's all over you, pressing sloppy kisses along your neck and you giggle, "mhm, love you." you sigh.

"fuck.." he breathes again, bringing his face back up to yours he presses his forehead to yours "fuck—so," he places another kiss to your lips, he gulps "so marry me."

and then you blink at him "what ?" you breathe heavily, softly chuckling. and the rapid beating of his heart is all he hears, but then your eyes go glossy and you whisper, voice broken and wobbly "..what ?"

he huffs to himself, his hands search for yours and intertwine when he finds them. like the day he'd pulled you over to his mom so he could ask her to let you come over to play at his house. like when you'd offered it to him when he took you to prom and you looked more beautiful than he could ever utter. he wonders how you'd look during your wedding. he's thought about it more times than he can count.

he takes a deep breath, not pulling away "i wasn't supposed to tell you like this, fuckin rain.." he scoffs. "but—fuck, i just—you've always been there, always been with me. since i was a snot nosed fuckin' brat and at times were you shoulda left my ass." he's forgotten the shit he wanted to say, simply blurting out what's on his mind. he feels a little bad, because kirishima had helped him with his speech, but his heart beats too hard to care.

"but m'glad you didn't. m'glad you didn't before and i'm glad you haven't now 'cus i love you so fuckin' much." you let out a giggle mixed with a little sob at his constant nervous cursing and it makes him smile lightly too.

"i know there are times where i've been a pretty shit boyfriend but..but i mean it, y'know ?" he sniffs a bit, and you shake your head "you've never been a shit boyfriend, suki. just a bit of a pain in my ass sometimes," you giggle but your eyes are overflowing with tears. he chuckles and fights back tears of his own with a sniffle again.

"yeah, major pain..but even still i—when i told you i wanted you to be my wife back when we were kids, i meant it. an' when that fuckin loser tried to ask you out on valentines day in middle school, i wanted to knock his fuckin' teeth in." he smirks, and you try to hide your laugh with a gasp "wanted to tell him you were mine."

"you're such a baby. i remember how pouty you were about it."

" i wasn't pouty," he rolls his eyes, his smile doesn't disappear. he wipes away a tear about to roll down your cheek before you can get his your shirt sleeve wetter then it already is "you could've just told me back then," you whisper, holding onto the hand on your cheek and pressing a kiss to his palm. katsuki feels his heart swell.

"i should've told you a lot of shit back then," he laments. he remembers when shigaraki put holes in him and the constant flashes of you on his mind. when he woke up in the hospital and you'd been there and he just couldn't tell you those three words. he'd figured that since you were both alive, he could tell you later when shit was less..messy.

except shit kept getting messier, and then when katsuki blew a hole into his heart he'd wished he could've told you how much he loved you.

but then he had gotten another chance, another chance to be with you. to be the best damn boyfriend in the world like he'd promised you he'd be, to make you happy, and he didn't care if shit got even messier, he didn't care to be scared. when he woke up with his mom and dad, a doctor and you. everything else blurred in his mind and despite your runny nose and your mix of how much you'd missed him and how worried you were but also scolding him on how much of a dummy he was, katsuki couldn't help but smile.

his mom still teases him about how the first words that he'd blurted out after waking up from his operation getting chastised by doctors were "fuck, i love you."

"but, i won't regret not telling you shit anymore. i won't wait any longer either," he kicks out of the sheets, reaching for the lowest drawer of his nightstand to pull out a little red box, grabbing you with him and placing you down right in front of him. he kneels down on one knee, like when he used to tie your shoelaces for you because you didn't know how to, and how he does to this day because 'you want to crack your head against the side walk so bad, but i don't wanna see that shit.'

he grabs your hand, and with a wobbly voice asks you "will you marry me ?"

and finally, katsuki stops hearing his own heart beat and hears the gentle tapping of the rain, still pouring, but it puts him slightly at ease when you nod and squeal out a 'yes !'

<33

[1-victoria-1]

Alastor x Child!Doe!Reader part 3

A/n: this is part 3 of the mini series of alastor x child!doe!reader, I hope you dear readers will enjoy it like the other two parts!

It was a very special day for you today!

It was your birthday! But while being alive you never got to celebrate it because either you papa (not Al of course) or your mama would be yelling at you or at each other and just basically not caring for you.

You didn't really tell anyone when your birthday was, you thought it wasn't important because of how your parents always reacted to it, but because of how much you loved your new papa and only wanted to celebrate it with him you told him about your birthday and its experience.

It would be a lie if Alastor said that he wasn't furious at your parents, he really thought at first your mother might be better than your father but it looks like he was wrong, he felt quite bad for his little doe daughter, so he thought why not make a small birthday party for you, just with the staff and Rosie, and he might consider adding Lucifer to the list because Charlie for sure tell her father.

Anyways, today was your special little day! And alastor was more then happy to pick out yet another cute outfit for you.

Today he picked out a soft red dress with ruffles of cores and black details on it, and he placed a black bet around you to make the dress look classy and of course black flats and gave you your miniature version of his staff.

He picked you up like always as you babbled to him with excitement to celebrate your birthday with him, not knowing the little birthday party he has planned for you.

When you both went down to the lobby, the staff and the ones who were invited (only Rosie and Lucifer) they yelled cheerfully "Happy Birthday!"

You were at first confused as well you only told Alastor about your birthday but you didn't pay much mind when you started to beam happily and giggling happily, of course you got kisses on your cheek as well as happy birthday wishes, and everyone got you a present and you were curious about them as you have never gotten so many presents on your birthday.

Alastor sat you down on one of the couches in the lobby and went to get the birthday cake and when he came back everyone, including him, sang you the happy birthday song to which you were happily wiggling in your seat which was just adorable!

You blew out the candles on the cake and were allowed to open your presents! Charlie got you a new coloring book with more pages to color and new color pencils, crayons and felt-tip pens! Vaggie didn't really know what to get you so she got you a plushie about which you were supper dupper exited! Angel got you some cute necklaces (and cute earrings if you have holes in your ears for earrings!) and also some bracelets, Husk honestly also didn't know what to get you so he also got you some new drawing supplies and paper to draw on, as well as some juice boxes which he only told you about as he had played them in the bar for you to take. Sir pentious gifted you an invention of his own which wasn't really smart as he only knew how to make war weapons and armory and he gifted you a gun..yeah alastor placed that away from you till you're old enough. Your favorite auntie, Rosie, gifted you a whole new wardrobe of mini versions of the outfits each staff member and the princesses and king and even she wore daily so you were just almost exploding from happiness! And last Luci! He gifted you a duck onesie and some rubber ducks as well!

To say the least you were literally vibrating in your seat from excitement and happiness which was adorable but you needed to calm down to eat the cake which resulted in Alastor picking you up and giving you your usual juice box, it somehow magically always calmed you down.

Then you all ate the cake and celebrated your birthday, after the celebration it was already late and everyone went to sleep but not forgetting to wish you happy birthday again and going to sleep, and you of course as well had your bedtime now, and oh how you babbled alastor's ears off by how happy you were and that it was the best birthday ever!

_________________________________________

A/n: i hope you dear readers enjoyed this part as well as the other two! Sadly it is a bit shorter then the other two but i didn't know what to add to this part, but anyways i hope you enjoyed it anyways!

And credits go to this wonderful person who gave me the idea of the duck onesie from Lucifer! : @whatthefucman

Have a wonderful day and night!

[campbell-rose]

Hazbin Hotel Redesign - Nifty

My girl, my baby. I'll be honest, I had so much fun figuring out her colors and a backstory

Niffty died in a hoarder house that she desperately tried to keep clean. I’m trying to go for ‘charlie kelly but he does his job’.  

In the show, Niffty acts like a child. I’m not the only one who got that, right? I saw her and how she acted and thought she couldn’t be any older than 16. I’ve seen on some places (like the hazbin wiki) that she is 22 but like, idk. In my version she died as a teenager. I think making her young helps contextualize how dumb she is, because in the show she really isn’t that bright – in my version she isn’t stupid, she’s a child. Specifically, either 14 or 15 in junior high. She is Japanese and lived in Japan all her life. She’s also from the 1970s instead of 50s. 

I’m assigning sins to each human in hazbin, and Niffty’s sins were Wrath and either Sloth or Lust – subject to change. 

I’m basing what led her to sinning and going to hell off what the show presents, and making Niffty in her human life a, for lack of better term, yandere. She had a crush on lots of boys in her school, but one boy in particular caught her attention. She began to stalk him, collecting things of his like pencils and pens and notes, which escalated to chunks of his hair and pieces of his clothes. She would take photos of him and constantly followed him. Niffty eventually became so obsessed with him, she began plotting to kidnap him and keep him in her basement. She tried but hit a road bump when things didn’t go as planned. She tried to explain what she was doing to him, and confessed her ‘love’, revealing she’d been the one taking his things and stalking him. He is, of course, horrified. Niffty, perceiving this as rejection, attacks and kills him in a fit of rage and hysteria but also sustains multiple stabs in the fight, which she succumbed to. She died in her house, surrounded by trash and roaches. 

Her house was a hoarder house due to her mother’s deteriorating mental health. Niffty is constantly cleaning and hates the filth she lives in. I think if an episode was to show her backstory, the state of the house could reflect her mental decline as her obsession becomes deadly – the roaches and bugs become numerous as she becomes so obsessed with that boy she stops cleaning. 

Now for her design, the spots of what looks like blood make sense – in my version of hell the sinner’s wounds that killed them never heal so those blotches are Niffty’s actual blood from where she was stabbed and that are constantly bleeding. I’ve taken some inspo from oni in her design with the tusks. Her clothes beneath the apron are her school uniform, mainly because I want to show she is a child underneath the cleaning lady job she’s assigned to. In hell, she’s a bug, which she hated in life. 

I’m struggling to fit her and Alastor’s connection in this. She still is under a contract with him, and he basically owns her as he does Husk and – since he’s an overlord – torments her regularly. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

Drawing each other (Slasher edition)

help im getting good ideas for writing but idk what fandoms to write it for so uhuh... i guess writing for the mains ones i write for! woo yeah! characters: jason voorhees, brahms heelshire, bubba sawyer, thomas hewitt, Michael myers notes: reader is GN, admin did a coin clip on whether or not the reader is an artist cws: none

JASON

sometimes sitting in the cabin all day can get a little boring, you were the one who brought up the idea of drawing each other

neither of you are particularly good at drawing but that doesnt mean the two of you arent going to have fun

hes a little embarrassed to show you his drawing of you, hes hesitant to turn the paper around to show you

you didnt have much access to many drawing supplies, a lot of what you already had was crayons and colored pencils stolen from the camp, as well as the paper

he doesnt care if the drawing doesnt look the best, hes in love with just about anything you do or anything that has to do with you

he keeps the drawing folded up and tucked in his shirt pocket!

BRAHMS

hes actually pretty decent at drawing, using that to spend his time when hes not watching you from the cracks in the walls

on top of that hes pretty confident in his ability

you, on the other hand.... i dont think he would make fun of your work, but its clear that theres only one artist between the two of you

keeps the drawing you make of him in his little hiding place in the walls

takes a long minute to look at your drawing of him, its hard to read what hes thinking in that moment

more than proud of his drawing of you, you likely have to remind him to hurry up.. hes going to spend a lot of time on it

will expect a compliment for his work- and dont think he wont compliment your work either!

MICHEAL

you got the idea while doodling random stuff in your sketchbook, deciding to take this as a moment to do something together

he doesnt get it at first but hes... probably... not going to just walk away from you

a decent artist himself, he doesnt draw often but its clear he knows some of the basics of art

very quiet while the two of you draw but its nothing new

exchanging your drawings goes without a hitch, and hes sitting there looking at your paper for a long moment... he doesnt give much of a reaction... but you do notice him tucking the paper into one of his pockets

he doesnt care if you keep his drawing or not, however you sometimes find him looking at his art if you display it somewhere

BUBBA

hes not very good at drawing, he never really gets the time to sit down and doodle- on top of that he doesnt know what to draw most of time, when he does have the time and thought to try!

loves anything you make, you dont have to be a good artist either, hes going to take in every little detail of the art

is this how you see him?

if youve added additional stuff such as sparkles or hearts, hes going to be staring even longer... thats so sweet, you like like him?

of course he already knew you did, youre both dating but seeing stuff like that in passing always feels nice

very protective of the drawing out of fear that his brothers may tamper or destroy it- at best they (namely nubbins and choptop) may tease him

THOMAS

like his original counterpart, thomas doesnt draw all that often so he hasnt built up the skill... but that doesnt mean he isnt going to try to draw you how he sees you when you sit him down to do this activity with him

takes a long time to get all the details right, doesnt want to make you look off or worse, offend you if he messes something up

you can draw him with or without his mask, but its clear that you put care into the drawing, regardless of skill

loves it so much, hangs it on the wall in the basement so he can look at it while hes working... its like a little motivational thing for him! he protects his family, and youre part of it.. he does this for you!

a little hesitant to give you his drawing, but lightens up at your delight for how he portrayed you

[webslingingslasher]

hi j! what are cherry and peter doing right now??

comfortable silence.

peter's studying for an upcoming test and you're honed in on your current romance read. the main lead is cute, but nothing can top your peter parker fantasies.

'cherry?'

you finish your paragraph before looking at him, he's smiling a little too hard. 'you're so pretty.' you softly grin, feeling your lips curve up. 'and so is your handwriting.'

your eyebrows furrow at the odd compliment, you'll still accept it. 'thank you, lover.' peter clicks his pen a few times before finally coming clean. 'can you do me a favor? a really giant favor?'

you look down at your book and count the pages until the next chapter, you inwardly sigh and mentally commit before you bargain with him. peter's taught you there's give and take with love.

'can it wait three pages?' peter nods once, 'it can wait.' you give him a thumbs up and read a little faster for him, shutting the book with a satisfied smile once you reach chapter sixteen.

'what's the favor?'

peter turns back around, he looks guilty. he feels bad for asking. he holds up a blank piece of paper, you look at him for more context. 'we're allowed to use a cheat sheet for the test, one page only, front and back. i was wondering if you could do it for me?'

you pull a face, 'i don't know anything about what you're studying.' peter smiles and scrambles to pick up his notebook. 'no, no, i have it all highlighted. i just want you to copy it, i can't write that small and have it be legible.'

the task seems much more daunting than you expected. 'how much is there?' peter flips through the pages and lets out a deep breath, 'um, not much. just... basically everything?'

'oh boy.' peter took your boyfriend virginity and your real virginity, you can make a cheat sheet for him. it seems equal. 'pass it over, let me look at it.' once you have it in your hands you skim the highlighted areas, it would take some time and a dedication to splitting the sections to make it easier to read. you're already thinking of layouts.

'can i use my glitter pens?'

'absolutely.' the job just got easier. you nod confidently and agree to the ask. 'i can do that for you, petey. can i take it with me or do you need your book?'

peter rubs his lips together, he's staring at the holy grail that is super advanced something chemistry. he doesn't want you to take it but he's asking you for a favor so he's not sure how or if he can form the word no.

you do it for him. you're winning all the girlfriend awards today.

'nevermind, we'll keep it here.' peter visibly relaxes. 'but i need some markers, we're about to get real arts and crafty up in this bitch.' peter starts digging in his desk drawers, a box of markers tossed on the bed and a random textbook to follow as a makeshift table.

'i bet no one else's girlfriend is making their boyfriend's cheat sheet.' you start at the beginning and ask for more supplies. 'i need a ruler and a pencil. and the same color highlighters you used. oh, and that pen i like.'

peter's already collecting the tools, looking around his room for your bag. 'are your glitter pens in your bag?' you forgot you had them with you, the entire pencil case would be a savor right now. 'yes, but i left it downstairs.'

to peter, you're doing the biggest favor he's ever asked. he's willing to hunt and gather the supplies you need to make his life easier. 'on it. stay here and look pretty.' he's moving quick, you call out to him as he passes through the door. 'can you bring the whole thing, please?'

he doesn't respond but he comes right back up, pink bag in hand. 'where they at?' you point at the big pocket, your cherry printed pencil bag is handed over. (a gift from peter.)

'anything else? you want a coke, or a snack, or something?' you shake your head and start a header title for the first section, you're locked in. 'i'm okay.'

you highlight the title, there's another want brewing in your mind. 'actually...' peter perks right up, 'yes?' you pucker and tap your lips, your boyfriend is at your side and leaning down in seconds. three soft pecks, each one feels like an 'i love you.'

'you're sure there's nothing else you need?' he feels bad, it's a big ask. you've caught on and you're pushing him away gently. 'do you want me to do this or not?' peter nods quick and takes a large step back. 'i do, i just feel bad.'

'well, don't. and while i'm working on this you better keep revising, because you're going to bed at a decent time tonight, mister. and because you know how much i love the sound of your keyboard when you type.'

it's true, you've fallen asleep to the quiet clicking more than a few times.

peter bites back a smile. 'yes, ma'am.' you blow a kiss, 'good boy.'

peter revised, went to bed on time, and smugly showed off your work the following tuesday in class. 'see how organized this is, isn't my girl the best?'

peter passed with flying colors, he swears it's because of your cheat sheet and color coding. you tell him not to discredit his brain, he tells you not to discredit your work.

you compromise and accept the passing score with him because he swears it was built on teamwork. you think it's so you'll make him another the next time he asks.

and next time you'll be prepared with glitter glue. 

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[amerricanartwork]

Be careful, Riv! You may be fast, but one wrong move is all it takes to end up as someone's dinner!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Another colored pencil drawing from last week, made in about 2 hours during some free time I had. Despite it being a bit harder than I expected — mainly with getting the perspective right and trying to overlay my limited pencil colors to compensate for the lack of a color matching the greenish-blue I wanted for the water — I really like the way this turned out! Especially since it was pretty much a spur-of-the-moment thing, unlike most of my drawings which start out as ideas I've had for at least a few days prior.

It's also another piece taken from my in-game experiences (albeit much less frustrating than my last drawing of this subject)! One of the things I love about playing as Rivulet is the fact I'm fast enough to zoom past basically everything dangerous, but even so eel lizards are so fast in the water that they're perhaps one of the only creatures I actually still feel the need to be cautious around as Riv!

But anyway, hope you like this colored pencil piece; I'm definitely interested in using them to make more colored traditional art!

[yanderederee]

Library Kisses

a/n:I really wanted to write this idea with Baji in mind but I’ve rewrote it four different times and each time it comes out not good and the only person I can picture is Mikey so I’m giving into the Mikey brain rot okay?

now~ … part2 … part3 … part4 … part5

Manjiro Sano NEVER came to school, even more rarely class. If he did even bother to show up, it was usually to hang out on the roof for some cool air, or in the vending area for a nice nap with snacks nearby. No one could tell him where he needed to be, after all. And if they pushed too hard and annoyed him, he’d just leave.

That suddenly changed after he lost a serious bet with Emma and Shinichiro. The consequence? Attend all classes for Two Weeks.

Two weeks felt like forever, he admitted. The first day didn’t seem like it would be so bad, until he started actually paying attention to the teacher.

God, he thought. What a drag.

(Shikamaru—-?)

Manjiro was so far behind in studies, he had no idea half of what was being taught. So, before he let his temper rise, he simply stopped paying attention again.

This quickly became a problem.

Nothing interesting to keep his attention on, Mikey found himself falling into boredom. Irritation was bubbling yet again. Of corse, Mikey never brought anything with him. No paper, pencil, books, it was a random chance of luck that Emma was even able to find his school bag.

So with literally nothing to keep his attention, he started getting antsy. How long until this dumb lecture was over anyway? He glanced at the clock.

HOW IN THE HELL HAD ONLY 20 MINUTES PASSED?

He was absolutely flabbergasted. No way in Hell would he be able to handle this torture. Screw the bet, Emma and Shin could eat dirt for all Manjiro cared.

Yet…

“…sss…” whispered a tiny sound.

Manjiro would have ignored it had he not been eager for something to get his attention. He shifted his gaze to the direction of the whisper: the cute classmate who sat beside him.

You.

Before he could wonder what or why you were trying to interact with him, he noticed you holding something out to him.

‘..the hell?’ He looked down at what you were gripping in your hands.

It was a notebook. A very basic and boring one, had you not doodled little flowers and vines into the cover.

Cute.

Accompanied with the notebook was both a pencil and pen, both neatly held tight to the notebook.

Mikey looked up to gander at your eyes, which looked rather worried, brows knitted together with a soft considerate smile. You made the effort of motioning to the gifts once more, before he unconsciously took it without much thought.

You seemed to be very pleased by his acceptance, your expression shifted to relief, then a friendly thumbs up before letting your focus run back to the instructor.

‘Why did i even take the book?’ Well, either way it would serve as a doodle book of his own, if nothing else. The pen and pencil both roll off the notebook cover when he opened to examine its contents.

Gibberish, is all Mikey saw. Pure, number coded gibberish. To the average student, it would have looked like neatly worded mathematic notes, color coded and plenty. If he’d looked further, he’d find notes related to other subjects as well. But he really didn’t feel like it.

Thankfully, to keep his interest, a small little notecard was stuck as a bookmark.

Mikey glanced your direction again, amused when he noticed you were doing the exact same thing, but unlike him, when you accidentally made eye contact, you immediately break it to unsubtly pretend to have your attention up front again.

He grinned. You were cute.

Without his left hand never leaving his pocket, he managed to open the notebook with only his right hand, fingers nimbly spreading the book open to the bookmarked section.

He noticed some familiar words on this page. Matter of fact, a lot of the words written down on this section of pages were word for word what was being vocally spoken, when he took a second to listen.

Again shifting his attention, he noticed your handwriting on the bookmark, as well.

“I hope this helps! I don’t see you in class often, so I thought you could use these. Don’t worry about returning them, you can keep them if you want.

If you need help catching up, I’m apart of the tutoring program the school offers!

My name is Y/n L/n, I hope we can get along:)”

That’s all you wrote.

He starred intently at your handwriting for sometime. It was a hell of a lot more legible when what he could do, and while you used rather simple kanji, it still took him a minute to register them. He really Has been gone from school a while.

Manjiro found himself smiling without permission. It was kind of touching, the kindness of a stranger who genuinely looks out for others without gain.

For the sake of your kindness, Mikey did attempt to follow the lesson one more time, with the notes at his ready.

Unfortunately, he still didn’t really get what was going on. What even subject were they talking about? Social studies, geographics, English literature? He gave an exasperated, loud groan before slumping back in his seat. He found himself falling back into irritation.

Trying to calm himself for the third time this class period, he noticed the same soft whisper that caught his attention the first time. Quicker to respond this time, Manjiro lugged his head towards your direction again. He felt his smile wanting to surface again when he was met with your worried expression once more.

You seemed to want to say something, but obviously were worried about the consequences. So, immediately after meeting eyes, you gave a “wait a sec” kind of gesture, and started scribbling on a similarly decorated notecard. He waited for you patiently, unable to do much else anyway.

Soon, you began reaching your hand out to give him the notecard. However, Manjiro wanted more than your written attention. So, before you could react or slip the note on his desk, he reached out to take the note from your hand. He didn’t just reach out to take the note however, purposefully, he outstretched his delicate looking fingers a little further, and trailed his finger tips along the back of your hand. Slowly he offered a very gentle squeeze before his hand pulled back, finger tips trailing a path from your wrist to your nail beds.

The touch was brief, but accidentally intimate. So much so that your breath hitched from the unexpected action. No one seemed to notice. Manjiro did, but no one else. Probably.

This all but lit a fit of flames in his gut, a giddy feeling irrupting before he could even read the note. Eagerly, he scanned the card.

“Don’t let the material get you down! You can catch up in no time. Hang in there!”

This time, your handwriting was a little more messy, quicker. Still, it was cute, he thought.

Giving up on the lecture entirely at this point, he finally let go of his bored sitting stance, and retreated his left hand from his pocket to maneuver the notebook and two note cards on his desk. Grabing the pencil you’d also lent him, he began to scribble something under your handwriting of the second notecard.

“Thanks”

Is all he wrote. Honestly, he got nervous halfway through writing, and gave up after he finished only the single word. Nerves slowly got to him when he noticed a pair of eyes peering at him secretly. Your gaze felt like burning on his skin when he thought about it for too long. Ignoring your gaze this time, he knew you had the upper hand when his peripheral sight caught your big smile.

…

Once the bell had rang for break, all the students seemed to jump up to leave. Manjiro was still doodling in the back of your notebook. You were packing your things neatly as you usually do, glancing at the delinquent next to you. Finishing up a few last strokes, Manjiro lazily held the book up for your appraisal.

Doodled rather… poorly, was his name, and ‘Tokyo Manji Gang’ in different fonts… as well the face of the Doriyaki mascot. (?)

You didn’t seem to hide your amusement, openly giggling at the childish doodles and gave a thumbs up. He liked that. Manjiro grinned at your approval and shut the book, resting his head to look at you with a new intensity.

“Y/n, right?” He asked. You nodded, not seeming too phased by his intentionally intense aura.

“Nice to officially meet you, Manjiro.” You greeted back with a chirp. He blinked at you a little wide before letting out a quiet laugh. “Isn’t it normal to use someone’s surname when addressing them for the first time?” He asked. No, he never minded it. Of corse not.

The middle schooler was used to many names.

Boss.

Captain.

The Invincible Mikey

Mikey.

But the only ones with the privilege to call him by his given name: Manjiro. We’re limited to his only siblings.

. . . .

And apparently, you too.

It was amusing. No stranger DARED utter his given name, out of fear of disrespecting the great Mikey….. yet here you were.

God, he loved the way his name sounded, coming from you.

Manjiro.

He didn’t even realize how smitten by it he was. Not until he realized you were starting at him inquisitively.

Shit, what did you say? He forgot entirely.

…

The following few weeks consisted of Manjiro Sano following you around, more or less.

Out of everything school had to offer, he swears up and down that the only thing that caught his interest was you.

It was a well known fact that Manjiro Sano was a delinquent. Big Boss of Toman. Dangerous beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Mikey never acted in public how he normally would around the founding toman, it wasn’t known how childish and goofy he was.

Manjiro don’t too much trusting. Too many mistakes. He found himself treading lightly, yet he couldn’t back-peddle from wanting your attention.

He monitored you closely for the past week. He took note of your reactions, your ideals, how you treated others. He wrote down your favorite manga, silly irrational fears.

It didn’t take him long to realize how others treated you either.

People walked all over you, yet you didn’t bat an eye about it. It’d be really annoying if you did things for people just so people would like you. People definitely saw you as a pushover.

You rolled with the punches, so to speak. Any vile attitude aimed at you seemed to go unnoticed, as you maintained composure effortlessly. You never gave anyone a reason to bad mouth you either way, but snarky remarks about being a pushover did become a class commodity. It was easy to pick on the one who never fought back.

Yet Manjiro knew it wasn’t out of kindness or seeking compensation for your good deeds.

“Why’d you stop to help that guy pick up his lunch? He was cleaning the mess up just fine, you didn’t need to help him.” Mikey pouted, originally irritated because you broke from his side to do this task.

You finished washing your hands, drying them on the dry cloth Manjiro held out to you. Replying with a shrug, “Why not? He looked like he could use the help. If he didn’t want it he could tell me to buzz off, but it doesn’t hurt to offer some help.”

Manjiro rolled his eyes. “Might not hurt, but it’s inconvenient as hell,” he mumbled. You gave him a stern look, raising an eyebrow. “Inconvenient how? Were you gatta be so urgently?” You joked, confusing your classmate further.

You laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Think about it, if you were havin’ a bad day and dropped your stuff, you’d be pretty pissed off right? Even if it’s one little act, things like that help get you through the day,”

“Nothing wrong with trying to make the world a little bit of a nicer place.”

That’s when Manjiro Sano’s knew you were his darling.

You were so soft with him, and he loved that about you. He loved when you beamed at him with pride for whatever academic achievement he mastered…

You were different.

You were perfect- Manjiro declared.

Three weeks finally pass, and Mikey hadn’t missed a single day of school. Maybe a skipped class or two, but he always showed up on his sweet babu, if not to tease you and pick up the notes you made him before snacking on the roof.

Mikey has been holding back ever since that day. Keeping his darker impulses at bay time and time and time again.

He held back every time you got too close, and your clothes brushed up against his more than a casual encounter.

He held back every time you looked him dead in the eye, asking him if he was okay.

He held back when the little pinch of pain in his chest made him want to croak out the truth: Not really…

Mikey held back the tears, the words and feelings he suddenly felt so comfortable expressing.

Because it was you who asked.

Each and every time he held back from making you his darling. He wanted you to hold him so desperately. For you to fill that empty space he’s always had.

A part of Mikey knew that if you found out just how much he loved you, you would start to fear him.

You too would start walking on eggshells around him, run away after high school and abandon him.

…Or you would bend to his command one day, and he hated the thought of it.

He hated thinking about your trapped form, scared to speak the wrong thing.

He hated thinking he could make you into that person.

Ha hated the thought of you hating him.

…he didn’t want you to have that choice.

…

And there you were, listening to him whine.

“Come’onnnn Y/ncchin!~ it’s so boring hereeee,”

You glance down to your left, seeing your classmate’s practice packet still blank. “Well, if you can answer those for me I’ll take you out for Taiyaki; my treat.”

He loved you so much. You always knew how to motivate him.

However, he already knew you would treat him to taiyaki, even if he didn’t get the answers right, or if he even did them at all.

“Buuu~ not this time Y/nchiin! Bribe denied.” He huffed, anticipating your reply.

You matched his huff, crossing your arms. He loved the way you looked when you pouted.

“Maybe I’ll just stop tutoring you then!” You threatened weakly.

“No chance, you want me to graduate so bad.” Mikey snorted a laugh.

“No more leftover bento bits,” you warned testingly.

“You’d never let poor little me starve…” he batted his eyelashes.

“…”

He grinned with triumph.

“Fine, what will it take for you to try to pass ONE class?”

“Mm~” Mikey hummed, glancing over the material to appraise it.

If Manjiro were honest, he could get rather good grades, actually. With repetition, and your good habits, he was actually learning really quickly. But he couldn’t let you know that. He liked when you babied him through some things, just to impress you beyond comprehension moments later.

The praise…

Oh, Mikey thought. That’s it. He wants your praise. He wants you to tell him how awesome he was, how cool and dashing he could be, how smart he was. How much you loved him-

“How bout if I can ace this whole packet, you have to grant me one favor?”

The deal went just as you would have thought it would. He feigned having trouble on the packet of questions, so not to seem overly suspicious.

Yet true to his plan, you now owed him one favor.

“Fine, what favor do you want from me?” You chuckled while rolling your eyes.

Your first line of thought went to,

‘make me homemade taiyaki!’

‘let me cheat on the final!’

‘wax my CB250 !’

… not, “stay still, unless you really don’t want to.”

His voice was a whisper, and you’re immediately caught with your guard down.

Manjiro gently weaves his left hand under your hair. He tilts your head slightly, enough so he could achieve his goal, any resistance on your end being considered with mindful touches. He wouldn’t push you past your comfort. He couldn’t stand if you looked at him with fear in your eyes, too.

Your breath hitches, giving way to wind the excitement his actions gifted you.

Your breath continues to be shaky, yet obeying his favor, you sat still.

Both of you took a few seconds to get your racing hearts back under control.

It was futile, but the nerves to act finally snapped after Mikey and your eyes’ caught each others. The mirrored look of excitement was all Manjiro could stand. The accepting bat of your eyelashes.

Manjiro Sano didn’t hold back this time.

Still gentle, Manjiro quickly closed the gap between your awaiting kiss.

Seconds pass. Two very soft sighs can be heard.

Followed by Manjiro’s lip clicking sweetly against yours when the kiss naturally deepened.

This was heaven.

The feeling of you so close, so accepting, so gentle to him.

Mikey wanted to caress you into a deep hold, may so that the heat and desperate banging against his chest would finally feel heard. He wanted to feel your heartbeat pulse against his lips.

Manjiro Sano wanted to be gentle.

But he couldn’t help how his muscles tensed and grabbed you harder. How could he, when you just let out the cutest fucking moan. The craving of your submission suddenly became more appealing, Mikey felt himself coming to life again.

He pushed your lips deeper, the force of his grip and encouragement to mimic his lead allow the kiss to deepen once more to something more recognized as making out.

He couldn’t stop. You were losing breath, and he could feel you try to initiate a pause, but damnit, he couldn’t stop.

It started getting hard to breathe without gasping for air, but your whines and accidental moans were damning you more than you realize.

Manjiro. Couldn’t. Stop.

Again, he pushed the kiss so you had no other choice than to breathe your cute noises into his waiting mouth, tongue darting for a taste.

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer into his embrace, making it so you were standing on one foot while your other knee rested just between his thighs.

Fuuuck, he thought. You’re so warm, all of you. But warmest of all, was the heat you were generating with friction and arousal. All he had to do was hike his knee up just a little. Just a little bit. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the animal he would become after hearing what your siren like moans would turn him into.

So finally, Manjiro held back.

He pulled back, panting without much issue. Assessing your face, your eyes… your lips.

Your lips were just barely swollen, rubbed into a pretty red tint (with his help).

A thin, barely noticeable line of spit lay unattended, from his unfortunate retreat.

He wiped it gingerly, looking back into your eyes with a hooded gaze.

“A…are you.. sure?” You softly croaked out.

“About what..?” Manjiro whispered back.

“I dont… like joking about these types of things…” you continue, face becoming redder. “S-so if you’re messing around, I’ll get mad…” you warned, again, weakly.

You were so soft with him.

“And what if I’m not messing around?” Mikey asks you point blank, his intense stare once again peering into your very soul.

There’s a short moment of silence.

And suddenly, it’s your turn to gently brush against his also swollen lips. Rather than a kiss, it felt more like a binding.

Manjiro Sano vowed to you that very moment. And this was a seal of your acceptance.

That was all he could ever ask for.

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Xavier Thorpe - Believe Me

Warnings: Threatening Thing (JUSTICE FOR THING), mention of reader being hurt (no gore, no b!ood), overall just love and tension (ENJOY!)

Words: 1.4 k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS

Context/Trope: Reader sneaks into Xavier’s room to find out about Rowan, he catches her. Basically, reader is an Addams (not like Wednesday) and with modified storyline with cheesiness.  

I saw Xavier coming back from his run, hair wet, skin dewy, earbuds in his ears, his sweaty shirt clinging to his chest.

Dear, what a sight for my sore eyes.

He walked back into his room, slamming the door behind him; Thing slipped into his room before the door was closed. I heard another door slam; probably his bathroom door, which means; perfect timing for me to go find out all of his secrets.

I opened the door silently, shutting it quietly behind me.

His room looked like a normal boy’s room. Poster/paintings/drawings on his wall. An artist has to show their talent somehow. Thing looked for anything that could lead me to find out if there was anything about his dear ex-roommate, Rowan.

The one who tried to kill me two times.

[Flashback]

I got out of the infirmary, after that humiliating fencing experience, only to find out that it was raining.

Wonderful. I mean truly, this is quite uplifting.

I opened my umbrella, walked toward my room when I heard a vibration coming over me. I looked up only to find the statue of a gargoyle being tipped to fall on top of me.

This a peaceful death, I thought.

“Y/N!” I heard the familiar sound of a boy taking me by my waist and pushing me to the ground.

Everything was black after that.

[Xavier’s POV]

“Y/N!” I saw Rowan using his telekinesis to try and kill her. I took her by her waist just in time before the gargoyle hit the ground.

I had placed one of my hand under her head, hoping she didn’t break anything. I was almost on top of her, my heart beating out of my chest, tears prickling my eyes.

Please don’t let her be dead, I thought.

“Y/N?” Can you hear me?” I took her face in my hand, placing her gently in my lap.

No reaction.

I gently pressed my ear to her chest, hoping to hear something.

A heartbeat, another one. Thank God, thank whoever is out there.

I picked her up delicately and led her once again to the infirmary. The nurses told me she was okay, that she would’ve been killed if it wouldn’t have been for me.

“Please be okay, Y/N” I whispered. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I have.” I sighted, reassuring myself that she was okay. She will be okay.

She woke up minutes after my words.

“Y/N. Take it easy.” She sat up slowly from the bed, looking straight at me.

“That thing was about to fall on me, correct?” I nodded; she touched her head slightly with her hand.

God she is so beautiful. Her long Y/H/C hair that covered her face slightly, her pale yet sometimes rosy complexion. Her dark clothing, yet fits her so right. God, I am totally in love with her.

“Thank you, Xavier. For not letting me die.” She smiled at me.

No way. I’d never thought I’d see the day when Y/N Addams would smile at me.

“Anytime.” I offered a warm smile back, and we kept talking for a little while, still with my heart beating out of my chest, but in a good way this time.

[Present time, Y/N’s POV]

I looked around the place, finding an empty bed.

Rowan’s, I thought.

I looked under the mattress, not finding anything. His desk, empty. Everything was gone. Not even a single hair was on the mattress or the pillow that was left behind.

I switched my sight over to Xavier’s side.

Maybe there’s something that Rowan hid in there, I thought.

I looked on his desk where colored pencils and pens were spread out on the table.

His sketch book was the also, his initials carved on the leather cover.

X.T.

Such pretty details. I opened it, finding drawings of raven, spiders, sharply detailed drawings.

A cello appeared too. My face was the next page. All my features were correct, as if he drew this with me two inches from his face.

Another drawing of me, sleeping in the infirmary had me shocked.

Was he obsessed with me? Is he like Rowan? My thoughts were rattling through my head.

I was so in my space that when I turned around, I was face to face to the boy in question.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” He was very close to me; hair dripping wet, a hoodie on top of him and pyjama pants hanging on his hips.

I tried to get a logic and sane explanation out, but the stupidest thing came out instead.

“I came here because I thought Rowan might’ve hidden something that could’ve led to him to try to kill me.” I nervously fidgeted with my fingers behind my back, which is something I never, ever do.

“I don’t think there’s anything in my sketch book that might help you, Y/N.” I could practically smell what soap he used to clean his body, wash his hair.

“Right. I should go.” I tried to go but he trapped me by his desk with both of his arms on the desk.

“Tell me the truth, Y/N.” He tilted his head so that he was leveling with mine.

“I did tell you the truth.” I could feel my heart beating out of my chest.

“No, I think you’re here because you have something to tell me. Something that isn’t about Rowan, or the Nightshade or of what Thing found out.” Thing crawled out to be in Xavier’s sight.

He bent down to my ear, whispering slowly in it.

“Are you here to tell me that you like me?” He pulled back, still trapping me by his arms.

I could fell my cheeks heat up, my legs felt shaky and everything about me wanted to scream yes to him. To make him kiss me, touch me with his hands, to embrace me into his scent and make me his.

“That is in your dreams, Xavier. Or shall I say in your drawings too.” His face broke out into a smirk.

“What if I said that I liked you too, Y/N.” My eyes widened up, every part of me that was filled with anxiety left my body.

“I wouldn’t believe you.” I lied.

He bent down to tilt my head up to look up at him. He came closer to me, his lashes practically brushing my cheek.

“You don’t believe me? I’ll guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

His lips met mine, a fire exploded in my heart, my brain, my everything. His lips were soft yet so passionate and kind. His damp hair tickled my cheek as I wrapped one of my hands by his neck, the other one in his hair. His other hand traveled down the valley of my back, caressing my upper back down to my waist. He pulled me closer to him, feeling the softness of his shirt yet the hardness of his body underneath.

We both pulled away to breathe and look at each other.

“Do you believe me now, princess?” I nodded repeatedly.

He smiled and leaned his forehead against mine, I lifted my head up to kiss him again and he gladly accepted. I pulled back and looked at him.

“I’m sorry I barged in your room. I should’ve just asked you.” He rubbed his hands down my back.

“Do it again. I don’t mind.” I laughed a little, he did too.

I checked the time only to notice that I had to go meet Enid in our room.

“I have to go. Enid emergency.” I still looked in his eyes. Beautiful green eyes.

“Manis for her and Thing, got it.” He kissed me once again on the lips before we both pulled away from each other.

“So, you like me right, like this isn’t to get information out of me?” He asked, half joking.

“Yes, I like you, Xavier. Though I could still get information out of you anytime I want.” I winked, leaving his room as he was smiling and I walked back to my room.

Thing followed me from behind, all excited about his manicure.

“If you tell anyone what happened, I will rip out your nails.” I snarked, he shook slightly in fear before swearing he wouldn’t say anything.

I guess I did not fall in love with a psychopath.

[ikroah]

I pushed my soul in a deep dark hole, and then I followed it in, I watched myself crawling out as I was a-crawling in. I got up so tight, I couldn't unwind, I saw so much, I broke my mind… —“Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was In),” The First Edition (1968)

It Keeps Right On A-Hurtin’ #28 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding VII

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Transcript:

Notes

Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to type those words? "End of Volume 2?" We have been on Volume 2 for just over three years. Obviously it's unfair to compare it to the breakneck pace of Volume 1, because... I got burned out (I got better), I got divorced (I got better), and most importantly, I've spent all three of these years overhauling my approach to art, which is to say, I got better. My canvas size doubled because my initial naive approach of "smaller pages means less art, which means faster art" was holding me back: I wanted more art, and the subjects of too many panels had gotten flubbed due to what was basically a pathetically low rendering distance. I revamped my approach to coloring entirely, leaning into a vibrant, saturated, and faux-comic halftone style that I vastly prefer to my more grounded, gradient-driven work beforehand. I changed IKROAH's font (Unmasked!), I changed Agnes's appearance slightly (she's far less gaunt, which was an early design choice I've thrown away, plus I think I'm much better at drawing her consistently now), and so much more. Comics are a time-consuming artform and while a lot of what made this volume take so long was out of my control, and well worth not pushing myself through, the total reinvention of how I actually make comics was the single best thing to come out of Volume 2.

It's a lot of lessons and groundwork that I'm very eager to take into Volume 3, which I have spent every single one of these years viciously impatient for. Now, it's finally here. See you at the cover reveal.

Original Pencils

Something that I have been working a lot harder on with my art lately is inking: actual inking, not merely "outlining" and figuring out the rest by the seat of my pants digitally. I've come to realize that the fewer steps of my production process that I try to do digitally, the more fun it is to make art as a whole, and inking was something that I was very intimidated by for the longest time. What happens if I mess up! It's permanent marker, after all! But after all the practice that I've done, I'm really happy with how bold and confident the shadows are on this issue, and they're perfect for how moody and dramatically lit the whole thing is. You can compare the pencils to the inks to the final products and really see how I planned out the overall composition.

Transcript

INT. LUCKY 38 PRESIDENTIAL SUITE, VERY LATE AT NIGHT. The lights are all off in this luxurious, distinctly pre-war abode. It is almost empty.

RADIO: Welcome back to the program, folks. This is Mr. New Vegas—and I hope I'm not coming on too strong. We've got some news for you, coming right up.

The only real light in the suite comes from the glowing screen of the Securitron VICTOR, standing in front of the private elevator.

RADIO: Tops Hotel owner Benny has been killed by an unidentified assailant. According to his fellow Chairmen, shots were heard in his private suite, and his body was found inside. They are urging all visitors to please keep an eye out for suspicious individuals and behavior on the New Vegas Strip. The new head of the Chairmen, Benny's former right-hand man Swank, consoled mourners: "If I know my pal Benny, he's swinging with the Big Cat Upstairs as we speak. Or he's chasing some angel broad with cans as big as her halo!"

RADIO: In other news—

In a guest bedroom off to the side, ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY is sound asleep. Her belongings are neatly folded on the dresser, except for the cocktail dress that she was wearing, which has been thrown onto the ground.

RADIO: —refugees at Bitter Springs are giving startling accounts of the legate known as Lanius, who is said to be Caesar's top field commander. One refugee told us the legate took over an underperforming squad of troops by beating its commander to death in full viw of everyone. The legate then ordered a tenth of his own force be killed by the other nine tenths. And you thought your boss was a pain!

RADIO: You know, I think all news, whether it's good or bad, brings us closer together. Don't you?

Directly across from the elevator, across from VICTOR, are the shut doors to the master bedroom.

RADIO: These headlines, brought to you by Vault 21...Vault 21! Everything is better when you experience it...in a vault.

Inside the master bedroom, AGNES SANDS sits on the edge of the bed, wide awake. The RADIO plays from her PIP-BOY, which provides a slight amount of light in the dark room.

RADIO: Gonna play a song for you right now—it's about that special someone, that you can only find once...in a "Blue Moon."

"Blue Moon" begins to play from the radio. AGNES's head remains lowered in rumination.

Suddenly, the radio broadcast cuts out.

SFX: KZZRRRSSHHTTZ

RADIO: Has your life taken a turn?

A NEW VOICE speaks on the radio. It's dreamy, seductive.

RADIO: Do troubles beset you? Has fortune left you behind?

AGNES remains in thought.

But then: she lifts her head.

And she looks over at the radio.

RADIO: If so, then the Sierra Madre Casino,

The PIP-BOY displays: 11.09.81, 4:13. <<Signal Unknown>>

RADIO: in all its glory, invites you

AGNES listens.

RADIO: to begin again.

AGNES is now somewhere else.

EXT. MOJAVE DESERT. At sunrise, AGNES SANDS is perched atop a ridge somewhere in the desert. Her overcoat billows behind her, and her shoulder-mounted flashlight beams straight ahead. She looks manic. In one hand, she clutches her duffel bag, full of every belonging she has. Her other hand is wearing her PIP-BOY, and the radio broadcast continues:

RADIO: Come to a place where wealth, excitement, and intrigue await around every corner. Stroll along the winding streets of our beautiful resort. Make new friends...or rekindle old flames. Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert, under clear starlit skies. Gaze straight on into the sunset from our scenic Villa rooftops. Countless diversions await. Gamble in our casino, take in the theater, or stay in one of our exclusive executive suites that will shelter you...and cater to your every whim.

Below the ridge is a pile-up of wrecked shipping containers. One of them opens up toward the surface like a gaping throat of metal. It leads somewhere, deeper into the earth.

RADIO: So if life's worries have weighed you down—if you need an escape from your troubles—or if you just need an opportunity to begin again—

The source of the broadcast signal is coming from INSIDE.

RADIO: —then join us.

AGNES descends into the container, revealing a makeshift staircase of sheet metal that leads into darkness.

RADIO: Join us, let go, and leave the world behind...

The signal from inside the tunnel is now audible. It overlaps with AGNES's PIP-BOY...

RADIO: Join us, let go, and leave the world behind...

Until she sees it.

RADIO: ...at the Sierra Madre Grand Opening.

A pre-war, art deco type radio, sitting on a metal pedestal. It speaks to her.

RADIO: ...at the Sierra Madre Grand Opening.

AGNES stares at the radio, bewildered.

She barely notices the HULKING FIGURE about to grab her from behind.

RADIO: We'll be waiting.

END OF VOLUME 2

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 5 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: pff, this was a long one, enjoy babes. A heads up in advance, I’ll be taking a break in the first week of April due to my exams 🫶

W/C: 4.558

part four

"Come in here and bring your laundry hamper!"

"Just a second, dad!"

I jump out of bed, leaving my phone on the other end of it, and grab the pink hamper. I hold onto the handles tightly as I make my way out of my room.

I see him standing over the washing machine in the laundry room. I enter quickly, the both of us starting to sort out the dirty clothes and putting them in the machine accordingly.

"Did you finish packing?" My dad asks, glancing at me before grabbing the laundry detergent and fabric softener out of the cabinet above me.

"Yeah, just a couple basic things. It's like a 2-3 day trip."

He pours the blue liquid into the cap, checking the measurements before pouring it into the designated compartment. Doing the same thing with the fabric softener.

"Really? No fancy dress or anything?"

I look up from the washing machine, a sheepish smile forming on my face. I watch him shake his head in disbelief, a smile on his face as he turns the machine on.

"When I sent you abroad- I thought your aunt would raise you exactly like I would. But I forgot she probably raised you to love dressing up like her. You know, she used to terrorize me in my own room growing up, only because I had bigger windows and thus better lighting for when she did her makeup.." He shakes his head, chuckle leaving him as he reminisces.

I laugh at him, the smile on my face bigger now.

"I think packing something proper is very important. It worked out pretty well last Saturday when we went for dessert in Girona."

"Just stay safe when going out. It's a dangerous world, honey." He says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I purse my lips at his words, remembering what had happened just a couple nights ago. He didn't know about the entire debacle, but since it was already dealt with, I didn't see a reason to bring it up.

"When are you getting up?"

"Not super early, like around eight? The match isn't until Tuesday, so no early flight."

"You know, it's almost twelve, right? Go to bed already, and don't go on your phone." He tuts, scolding me and pushing me towards my room.

"Alright, I'll go to bed."

"Goodnight, I love you." He says, kissing my forehead before he makes his way down the stairs.

"Love you too!" I shout as I watch him walk away while I stand in front of my bedroom door. The silence of the house surrounding me when I’m left alone.

The team had finally wrapped up training for the day. We had arrived in Napels that morning, and they had trained hard until late in the afternoon.

This left us with some free time for the rest of the day, until we had to prepare for the match tomorrow.

"You've been doing your makeup for about 40 minutes now." I hear Luis complain, lying flat on his back on top of my bed.

"I could be meeting my future Italian husband out there! Come on, let me look cute for tonight."

I darken up my eye makeup, coloring my waterline with a black pencil to contrast my white dress.

I then drench my face in setting spray, fanning it dry with a random brochure, I found on the nightstand.

"Besides, you're wrinkling your clothes, stand up. I can't have you looking bummy! What if you find yourself a pretty lady?" I wink, struggling to hold back a laugh at the unimpressed expression he sends me.

I finally stand up from the chair, smoothing down my dress in front of the mirror, and adjust the slit a little.

"We can go now!"

"Are you drinking?"

"No, not feeling it tonight." I mutter, eyeing the delicious-sounding food on the menu.

I look up, watching Luis flip through the menu.

"I'm going to order a pizza."

"Why pizza?" He asks, looking at me.

"We are practically in the birthplace of pizza. Are you judging me?" I ask, raising a brow at him.

"Just get it, I'm not judging you.." He raises his hands as if to surrender.

"You're so mean when you're hungry." He mumbles, closing his menu.

"Just appreciate the fact that I dragged you here. Look at how beautiful the view is.

I turn, admiring the view behind the glass panels of the restaurant. The Vesuvius mountain and the water are absolutely breathtaking, especially right now during sunset.

He sighs at me in agreement, looking around to find a waiter for us to finally order our food.

I watch him order for the both of us, getting distracted by the view, and turn towards him when the waiter leaves.

"If you get hammered, I'll leave you here.."

"So, now you want to find an Italian girlfriend?" I ask Luis bewildered, watching him walk - no stumble in front of me.

The drinks he ordered were good, so good he felt inclined to ordered multiple of them. I didn't keep count, but he definitely had more than his limit, which made him the drunk mess he was right now.

"Of course, you're my best friend. We should each find a person to marry!" He slurs, walking towards the docks.

I sigh deeply, looking down at my heels, before jogging up to him, clutching onto his shirt tightly.

"You're going to fall into the water!" I shout, trying to hold him back from the edge, but he shouts in protest.

"It's fine, maybe one of these hot people will save me from drowning."

Oh my god

I look up to where he's pointing, seeing a group of people on an expensive-looking catamaran. I'm way too distracted to realize my grip on Luis has loosened, and watch him leave. I see him greet the partying people loudly. I close my eyes in embarrassment, wanting to jump into the water out of shame.

Who even parties on a random Monday evening?

I surprisingly hear someone shout something in what sounds like Italian. I turn my head, eyes searching as I turn my attention to the person.

My eyes meet the eyes of a tall, brown-eyed, beautifully sun-kissed man. His blue linen shirt halfway unbuttoned.

He looked like, and definitely is trouble.

I hear him say something again, and my eyes widen when they go back to Luis, who looks like he's having the time of his life with two girls.

"English?" I hear the beautiful stranger ask.

I nod, watching him walk towards the dock and then, interestingly enough, reach for my hand.

I would never leave Luis alone on this boat full of strangers. Therefore, I reluctantly grab the guy's hand as he pulls me onto the boat.

"Hi?" I greet, raising a brow. Quickly smoothing my dress down.

"Hello, and your name is?" He asks, eyes roaming up and down my body, definitely checking me out. The Aussie accent practically melting me on the spot, making it difficult for my jaw to stay closed.

He was the definition of trouble.

But I needed to get my mess of a friend off this damn boat and leave.

"y/n, yours?" I ask, pretending to be more interested than I am, sneakily glancing at Luis.

"I'm Chris. You're not from here, are you?"

Obviously not

"No, I'm actually from Valencia."

A white lie, he didn't have to know anything about me.

"Valencia, Spain? What are you and your friend doing here?"

"Visiting, for fun." I lie again, giving him a smile.

"Really? Having fun so far?" He smiles, his pearly white teeth blinding me.

"Yeah, a lot of fun." I reply, my brows raising in fake interest.

I watch him chuckle, his plump lips curling up. His arm going up to run a hand through his blonde locks.

"Care for a drink, then?"

As beautiful as this man was, I wasn't naive enough to accept a drink from him. Especially, since we were in a totally different country.

"I'm fine, actually. I'm leaving tomorrow, so I'm trying to not drink as much."

"Oh, you probably came to watch the Champions League game then?"

Got me, kind of.

I immediately pull a sour face, pretending to be disgusted.

"Of course not, I have better things to do than attend a Real Madrid match. If it wasn't for Valencia, I'd be for Barcelona anyway.."

That one physically hurt to say.

"Oh- don't get mad now." He teases, putting his hands up, his smile getting wider.

I had to leave hastily, at least before this man got me into his bed.

"You're fine. I'm just trying to get my friend and leave. You alright with that?"

"Let me get your number first. Don't think I'll forget you after tonight." He says, handing me his phone.

I was curving the man left and right, and he still wanted my number?

"I don't really give out my number. But I can give you my Instagram handle?"

"That's fine." He says, clicking on his Instagram.

I watch his screen, my eyes accidentally catching the number of girls on his explore page.

No way, this man was looking for something serious.

"Oh, I'll type it in. If that's alright?" I say, reaching for his phone. He nods, handing me the device.

I quickly type in my username, pressing follow.

To snoop a little further, I go back to the explore page, seeing more ass and boobs than I had prepared for. Pretending to be unfazed as I clear the Instagram tab and hand his phone back to him.

I mean, their bodies were amazing, but why the hell was he following them?

"That's it. Here you go. My phone is dead, so I'll talk to you later?" I say, fidgeting with my handbag. My social battery was dying even faster than normal tonight. 

I watch him nod, his eyes on me, as I immediately make my way to Luis, who's now sitting with a random girl.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt, but we have to leave."

I grab onto Luis' arm, using all my strength to get him up. Noticing the amount of shot glasses and empty beer bottles in front of them.

How the hell did he manage to do that so fast?

Idiot.

"Wait, do you want his Instagram?" I ask the girl. She hesitates before nodding looking at us confused.

"Okay, well, let me spell it for you."

I spell his username quickly, turning away.

"Yes, that's it. We're not a thing, by the way- he's my brother. Bye!"

Another lie, but maybe it would help him in the long run.

"Let's go, come on." I groan, dragging Luis back to the hotel.

It was doable until he started leaning his body on me, making me slump partially. My heels beginning to hurt my feet more than ever.

After a good ten minutes of struggling, we finally enter the elevator of the hotel, his body weight starts to pile on me. Arriving at our correct floor I drag him out, a huge sigh of relief leaving my lips as I recognize some of our Real Madrid players.

"Help." I mumble, watching some of them recognize the fact that I was half-suffocating.

I watch Antonio, Aurélien, and Jude, of all people, walk towards us, getting drunk and passed out Luis off of me.

"Thank you." I sigh, fixing myself, watching Antonio comically throw Luis onto one of the seats there.

"What happened to him?" I hear Brahim say as I try to catch my breath and I readjust my grip on my bag.

"Long story."

"Let's put him to bed first." Antonio says, making me nod. All of our eyes moving to a passed-out Luis.

"So, he got into a random boat?" Federico asks, looking at me.

I nod, trying to hold back a laugh while I drink my water. The cardigan I had retrieved from my room keeping me warm as we sat in the sky lounge.

"I would've partied." I look up at Cama, shaking my head.

"They were strangers, come on! But- one guy did approach me." I say, sending him a smug look.

"So you had some fun!"

"Look, he was cute. He offered me a drink, but I refused."

"That's it? Come on..”

"Why are you all up in my business?" I joke, being half-serious, hearing some of them laugh.

I finish my cup of water, beginning to stand up from my seat.

"It's getting late, I'm going up to my room. Don’t make it late, you guys need to rest well!" I say, waving after they send me off with kind words.

I press the elevator button, crossing my arms as I wait for it to arrive. The doors open a few seconds later, and I step in. I raise my head in surprise when I see an arm hold the doors open. Surprise turns into irritation when I notice Jude step in.

"Why did you follow me?" I ask, playing with the clasp on my bag.

"You know, not everything is about you." He mutters, a fed-up expression on his face. I sigh, closing my eyes in impatience, as I lean against the elevator wall.

The elevator makes a noise, and I check the floor number, getting out, hearing him follow me.

I start rummaging through my handbag for my room-key. Finally, fishing it out as we walk up to our respective rooms.

I arrive at my door, hearing Jude walk up to his own, his room interestingly enough being across from mine.

I go to scan my card but freeze, realizing my door is open by a small sliver.

"Why is my door open?" I mumble to myself, trying to subdue my instant panic.

"What?" I hear, seeing Jude walk up to me from the corner of my eye. His eyes darting in between me and the door.

"You left it open, probably." He responds, not an ounce of concern in his voice.

"You think?"

"Yeah, since you're so good with doors-"

"Okay, stop right there." I mutter, pushing the door open further. I flick the light on, looking around cautiously.

I hear him scoff at my behavior, and I turn around to look at him.

"Can you check the room?" I ask, trying to sound as nice as possible.

"No." He deadpans, giving me a bored look.

I hold back a string of cuss words, stepping into the room as he stands at the doorway.

"Stay here at least, before I get murdered."

"Would be a sight." He mutters, voice laced with humor. Though, I found it difficult to see this situation as funny.

"You're not funny. Are you aware of that?" I ask, punching into the curtains to check if anyone's hiding behind them.

"Find anything, detective?"

"Shut up." I whisper, going to open the bathroom door, hesitating for a moment.

Adrenaline starts pumping through my veins. I try to take deep breaths to prepare for a fight.

"What if someone's actually here?" I whisper, my eyes wide, as I turn to look at Jude.

I watch his expression harden, his jaw tensing as he looks at me.

"What do you mean?!" I hear Jude whisper back. His voice is hushed and more low than usual.

I take off both of my heels, ready to bash the possible intruder’s head in with my heels.

"Call security." I whisper, preparing to fight. I watch him take out his phone, before he raises his head again. His expression darkens for a moment before it changes into something- else...

"What are you doing, idiot? Come here." He says, and I can almost make out a vein popping out of his forehead.

All of the sudden, he makes his way over to me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of my room. Shutting the heavy door behind me, his hands coming up to my shoulders.

"What is wrong with you? You don't even know if they're with a weapon or anything!" He shouts in a hushed voice, his Brum accent more prominent than ever.

I continue staring at him, my lips parting in realization.

Damn, I was such a shallow thinker in times of crisis.

My mind turns blank, not acknowledging Jude's presence anymore. I can only hear him sigh and mumble something as security from both the club and hotel arrive at my room.

"Could you take her somewhere else, sir?” I hear someone say, feeling my wrist being pulled abruptly by Jude.

I follow him blindly, but I try to look back at my room. Wanting to see if someone would actually appear out of my room.

"Don't look." I hear, looking in front of me again as I’m brought into the hotel room across from mine. Nicer and bigger, definitely his.

"Sit down." He orders, pulling my wrist again and making me sit on one of the cushioned chairs.

I oblige without protest, too dazed to react in a snarky way. The silence in the room feels like hours when only being about ten minutes. It is finally cut off as Jude's phone starts ringing loudly.

I hear him speak for a few minutes before he hangs up. I watch him walk towards me as he sits in the chair next to me.

"No one was there, they checked the cameras as well. You left the door open."

I cringe, realizing my own initial mistake. A shudder runs through me as he explains.

"Oh, great!" I mumble sarcastically, feeling embarrassed, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress. Only now realizing I was barefoot, my heels probably fell out of my grasp when he pulled me out of the room.

I get up when he finishes explaining, walking up to the door. Pulling my soft cardigan closer to soothe myself.

"Where are you going?" I hear Jude ask. I turn and look back at him.

"Back to my room." I say, suddenly feeling the day's exhaustion take effect. My vision becoming blurry as I feel an ache make its way to my head.

This day alone probably took five years off my lifespan.

I hear him sigh as he walks up to me. Feeling him put his hand on my right shoulder.

"What?" I ask, looking him up and down. Trying to shrug his hand off of my shoulder.

I watch his jaw tense again, his grip on my shoulder getting tighter, though, not getting to the point of hurting.

I open my mouth to speak again, as he doesn't bother to answer my question. Unfortunately, I’m stopped by a sharp pain shooting through my head.

I groan in pain, placing my hands on my temples as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" I hear him whisper, his other hand making its way to my left shoulder.

"I'm fine..." I dismiss, taking his hands off my shoulders. I reach for the door handle, pulling it down and stepping out of the room.

I tap my card against the sensor hurriedly and open my door, turning to see his door across the hallway already shut.

"Doesn't even care to watch me go inside." I mutter, ridding myself of my clothes and taking a much-needed shower. Trying to wash off all my stress and embarrassment.

When I'm done, I make a beeline to my bed, closing my eyes and forcing myself to sleep. I shift and turn, groaning in frustration as I turn my pillow around for the nth time.

It's like my sleep was robbed of me within minutes. My thoughts keeping me up. I check the time, realizing it was almost two in the morning.

I begin getting fully paranoid, my stupid brain making up the craziest scenarios imaginable.

I bury my face deeper into my pillow, forcing my brain to shut up. Finally, managing to fall asleep, too tired to keep my anxious walls up.

"You look like a truck ran you over."

"Shut up." I snarl replying to Jude. Trying to ignore him further as I continue eating my food, Luis sitting across from me at the breakfast buffet.

I had gotten maybe five hours of sleep. My three layers of concealer weren’t doing its job today. It had creased within minutes of application.

I roll my eyes as he sits at the table next to us, probably to annoy me further.

“Someone get this weirdo away from me..” I say loudly, closing my eyes in prayer.

I hear Jude scoff, following it up with a laugh.

"Were you born insufferable, or do you practice in the mirror before going to bed?" I ask, poking at my food.

I hear him chuckle again, which makes my blood boil even more. I glance at Luis, seeing a grin forming on his face.

"You too?"

I had told him everything that had happened last night, him feeling embarrassed but finding it hilarious at the same time.

He did promise he'd make it up to me.

"Don't forget how I dragged your ass from the dock to the hotel. I could've easily left you there."

I threaten, looking at Luis as I shove another spoonful of food in my mouth.

I see Jude open his mouth, but I stop him with a hand as my phone rings. My dad calling me right at the perfect moment.

"Oops, sorry, too busy for whatever you want to say."

I realize how immature I sound, but I digress. I get up and answer the call. Chatting to my dad about the past few days.

I signal for Luis to stop filming, patting his back to commend him for his hard work after the final whistle is blown. A nice 3-2 putting us on top of the table.

"They played really well."

I hum, posting the last social media post and turning to him.

"Right, if they keep playing like this, we'll definitely end up at the top of table C for sure."

"We'll go far. That's without question."

We make our way inside, trying to rush to get inside on time.

"Hugo is saying to interview both Frederico and Jude." I mutter, rereading the text message.

"That's fine, let's just wait here until they're ready." He says, both of us waiting in front of the changing room as they pile inside. Tired expressions on all of their faces.

"By the way, have you seen this one guy that's working here? He's so cute for you." I hear Luis say, looking up at him confused.

"Which one?" I ask, fidgeting with the cable of the camera.

"I'll show you when I see him." He says, and I give him a look.

"He better be cute, since you're making me wait."

"Alright, that's it." I announce, looking at Jude. Finally wrapping up his interview.

"Thank you." He mutters, with less attitude this time. Probably way too tired to have a petty fight with me. I wasn't disappointed with that, to be honest. I couldn't stand speaking to him anymore.

"See you on the bus, man." I hear Jude say, giving Luis a handshake as he begins walking away. My eyes follow him, piercing into his back.

"See, that's the guy I was talking about." I hear Luis say, my head snapping towards the direction he was looking at.

"Which one-" I begin, shamelessly looking at the guy.

"What? No, are you serious?" I ask, appalled by the person he’s shipping me with.

"Yeah, he's cute for you." He mutters, giving me a smirk.

"You might be hungover still. Let's just get into the bus, please."

We pack our equipment up, starting to walk towards the team buses. Successfully helping fellow staff with the multiple suitcases and bags and stepping up into the vehicle.

We greet the players we make eye contact with, the both of us walking along the occupied seats until we finally find two empty ones next to each other.

"I'm tired..." I mumble, leaning my back against the seat, closing my eyes as I get comfortable. Leaving my phone on my lap.

"I can see that." I hear Luis reply, and I open one of my eyes to give him an offended look.

"How sweet of you." I reply, trying to take a quick fifteen-minute nap. Running around for more than two hours with five hours of sleep was not for the weak.

I was part of the weak.

I hear the sound of a notification, surprised it could be heard through all of the chatter and banter of everyone in the bus.

"Was that your phone?" I ask, leaning my head against the window.

"No, it was yours." Luis answers.

"Can you read it for me? You know my password."

I feel my phone being removed from my lap, a second of silence from Luis before he starts laughing uncontrollably.

"What?" I ask, getting curious.

What could be that funny?

"It's a DM from a Chris on Instagram."

"Who the fuck is Chris?" I ask, finally opening my eyes to take my phone back. My eyes roaming around the screen, reading a short message with a 'view once’ photo.

"Thought you repped Valencia?"

I read the message out loud, looking back at Luis, confused. Then I look at the profile picture.

"Oh my god! It's the guys from the boat!" I shout, embarrassed when I realize I was being louder than necessary.

"The one you talked about?"

"Yeah- wait, what do you think the photo is?" I ask, starting to feel squirmy.

"A dick pic." I hear Luis whisper.

"Who got a dick pic?"

I hear someone ask, looking at the row behind me. Jude peeking his head in between our headrests.

"Not you, so mind your own business.." I reply, moving my phone out of his view and returning to my conversation with Luis. Ignoring the daggers he’s sending me with his piercing gaze.

"No way, gross. He looked desperate, but no way."

"Well, click on it."

"No, now I'm scared. Why would you even bring that up?"

"Just squint."

I huff, leaning back against the widow, squinting as I press on the photo.

"Oh-" I exclaim, taking a deep, relieved breath.

Thankfully, it’s not an explicit picture, but a photo of me at the stadium we were just at, prematch to be specific. From the angle, you could tell the photo was taken from the stands.

"Wait- what the fuck? He was there? Ew, why did he take a photo of me?” I say, showing Luis the screen.

I watch his mouth fall open. He reaches over, taking my phone from me and screenshots the photo.

"That's why he sent that message. You lied to him about yourself, right?"

"Of course I did!" I say, snatching the phone from his hand.

"What do I say?" I ask, looking at him with a questioning look.

"Do you even want to speak to him?"

"Well- I'm bored?" I give him a grin, his arm coming to push me.

“I can’t stop you, but you said he looked like trouble, so ignore him..." He advises, squeezing my arm.

I nod at his words, taking them in. I swipe to press the mute button on the chat, and turn my phone off.

[laudanine]

How to make a back-patch: Hancock edition

Hey guys! So the tutorial for the Hancock patch is here! So the standing rule on this patch is "you can use my art and make your own, but you are not permitted to make money off it." But man, make your own, go nuts!

Steps 1 to 5 are mostly about how I made the image itself. Steps 6 to 9 are about making a patch once you have your final image. Skip ahead if you need!

So here's the supplies I personally use for these patches -

Tulip fabric paint, black and white

Talc powder

Charcoal powder

Tracing paper

Paintbrush

Fine-tip squeeze bottles

Fabric

My computer

Tape

A thumbtack

A pencil

And to be clear, these are NOT the only options. I've done this with black or white acrylic paint instead of fabric paint, it works fine. If you don't want to bother with the squeeze bottles you can use a paintbrush instead. If you don't have talc powder, cornstarch would work. If you can't find powdered charcoal, you can crush some up like I did, or use graphite, or literally whatever. You get the idea.

If you're going to be using the fine-tip squeeze bottles, now is the time to put your paint (fabric or acrylic) into the bottles and thin them with water to your level of comfort. You WILL need to test the paint on some fabric first, to be sure you can apply it evenly and that it flows well. If you're going to use acrylics, I highly suggest you add a drop of retardant to the mix ALONG with water.

2. I find my images for the figure I'm drawing. Yes, we're tracing: this ain't fine art and we're not gonna be snobs. Here we have John Hancock from the game and John Hancock IRL Danny Shorago.

3. I trace my images! You may notice my two reference images are the same pose! I'm gonna trace the first one by taping my paper over my computer screen and drawing LIGHTLY.

When I had the basics for Danny's proportions down, I left the paper where it was and moved the image of Hancock underneath the paper and traced what I needed from that image. That gets me this double-layer image.

4. I decide which of these lines I want to keep. Even with the faces for John and Danny lined up proportionally the shoulders and neck length of the two figures are pretty different. I decided that I wanted to go with narrower shoulders, and free-handed in the ruffles for his shirt.

5. Now I merge the two faces. I have to get the skin texture from John onto the face I have, which is mostly Danny. I kept up a whole screen of reference images for this process so I could decide what I wanted to pull from where.

And I leaned hard into the skull for his cheekbones and nose. You can see I actually used a colored pencil to outline those skull-like elements before I chose my final lines, and used another piece of my own darn art to add a chin scar I just really like. It is NOT a bad idea to trace a SECOND COPY of this image AT THIS TIME. Your image will be getting really dirty and messed up in the future, so unless you want to start over, you should make a spare copy (spoiler: I didn't do that and had to do this whole thing a second time to make a second patch...)

6. Align your fabric and your tracing paper up and tape first the fabric down THEN the paper on top, separately.

7. Poke holes! Use your thumbtack to poke holes along the lines you're trying to transfer. The way I'm doing this patch most of the image is white lines on black fabric, with SOME black lines on white for his face, neck, and shirt. For that reason, my transfer process is gonna be in TWO parts, one to lay down the white portions and then later to put the black lines ON TOP of the white areas as needed. I don't have a photo for this step: poke holes, you know how to do that.

8. Apply talc/powder to the image and use a paintbrush to gently brush the talc over the surface. You can use the brush perpendicular to the surface to GENTLY push the powder into the holes from the thumbtack holes.

9. Peel off the paper GENTLY. As you can see, I didn't even poke holes for the lines in his face, just the outlines for what's going to be painted in white. What you have is a little connect-the-dots to apply white paint to.

10. Apply white paint and allow to DRY COMPLETELY.

11. Once the white paint it TOTALLY DRY you're going to repeat steps 7 to 9, poking holes in the locations that you want to have BLACK lines appear. For me that's the details on his face and shirt. Instead of talc, the powder I used was crushed vine charcoal. You can see I'm starting to apply the black paint along the lines of black spots of charcoal.

12. Add, like, words and stuff! Also clean up, and fine tune, etc. You did awesome, and if it didn't turn out, well you DEFINITELY made a spare copy like I suggested you do in step 5, right?!?! Right.

Some notes:

This process also works on tee shirts if you want, but definitely use the fabric paint and not acrylics or the paint will flake off when you wash the clothing. Instead of taping the shirt down, I suggest you thumbtack it to a board or to some thick cardboard to keep it still while you work.

If you don't have a computer/screen you can trace on then print the images you want to work with and tape them to a window to use as alight-box.

You don't need to use the charcoal, honestly. If the design is simple or you're feeling like a BAMF, you can skip the black paint and the black powder and just use the negative space of the black fabric instead.

Tracing, and I cannot say this clearly enough, is not cheating when you're not tracing someone else's art. Trace a face. Trace a figure. Trace a landscape. I don't care. If you're tracing any image, you're going to need to do a lot of work to make your shitty traced image (my step 3) into something that looks like art (my step 5). That act of work, that's making art. Congratulations.

If you made it this far and REALLY want to donate money to me over this, don't! Maybe donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund instead at pcrf.net because that'd be SUPER cool.

Hope some or all of this helped someone somewhere be a cool punk badass like everyone's favorite Mayor.

[scoutsbabygirl]

I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.