#and i used the pencil tool for the first time so i could make a sprite of svanhildr

[chalkrub]

more svanhildr - trying new things, like a brave boy

[mintjeru]

i would like to award kaveh the highest honor i can bestow 🖤💚🤍

open for better quality | no reposts

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

[bedoballoons]

Just a random request at a random time.

Sumeru boys with an S/o that carries a small purse or something like that, and when they say they need something like if it's joking or genuine s/o is ready to pull it out of her purse and give it to them. Like she's that one friend that will have almost everything in their bag, like they were prepared for this

I've always wondered how so many things could fit in one purse, this is a adorable idea!! Thank you for requesting it and I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~The never ending purse~༺}

CW: Just some fluff! Fem reader!

(Includes: Tighnari, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Wanderer, and Cyno!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari watched you dig into your purse, his ears twitching with amusement, "What are you doing hmm? I feel like it would be easier to just get a pair from-" You cut him off mid sentence, holding a miniature pair of scissors up in victory, "Why get another pair when we already have one? I told you I had some." You winked at him, leaving him speechless while you went to work on cutting his loose thread that currently had him attached to a door, within seconds he was no longer trapped and you stood by him proudly.

"...why do you have scissors in your purse?"

"Just in case, I mean why not?"

"...Fair point."

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

When Alhaitham causally mentioned that he wished he'd brought one of his books to enjoy while you waited for your food, he didn't think you'd actually reach into your little purse and pull one out, it was odd to carry a book in the first place and...when did you get one of his books? "Thank you, for the book.."

"Anytime, I always make sure to keep a copy of one of your books, in case you ever forget to bring one and get bored."

"You...do?"

"Mhm!"

"That's...very sweet of you. Thank you."

𑁍༄Kaveh:

Kaveh chuckled, watching you with adoring eyes as you somehow managed to procure a mini sketchbook, colored pencils and even a eraser, from your small bag. Everything he had wished he had a couple moments ago was now sitting in front of him, ready to be used for the inspiration he had found, all because of you. "You know, you're the true inspiration here. Thank you so much, I'll never doubt what you have in your bag ever again, it's magic as far as I'm concerned."

You chuckled with a light blush painting your cheeks, "If I'm you're inspiration, does that mean I get a whole building designed after me?"

"Actually that's not a terrible idea.."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"What about a knife? Theres no way that bag of yours has a knife." You giggled at Wanderers persistence, he had really gotten so worked up about what you had in your bag and now he was asking for everything under the sun, which you somehow had tiny versions of....you even had a mini tool set in there, which included a pocket knife that you held up for him. "Care to try again?"

"What about another purse, inside of yours? Ha I bet you don't have that."

"Actually I do! I use it to hold bandages."

"What?!?"

𑁍༄Cyno:

"Cyno, you alright? You look a little down." You gently touched his arm, looking at his downcast frown, he had been fine just a few minutes ago... "Yes I'm alright, I've just somehow misplaced my tcg dice, meaning I'm unable to play the current round. You could even say they've dicecided I'm not allowed to play at all." You smiled happily at his joke and reached into your bag, after a moment of moving random other things out of the way, you finally found it! "Here you go Cyno! Tcg dice, just for you!"

"...how...you know what, I'm not going to question it. You're my saviour, thank you." He pulled you close and kissed your forehead, leaving you flustered as he ran up to enter the games.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[sunlightmurdock]

thinking about mechanic bradley and goody-two-shoes reader fooling around behind the backs of her rich upper class family & him accidentally knocking her up

sksksks bc I’m so picturing enemies to lovers for them, like maybe the office she’s interning at is next door to his shop and he’s always playing his music too loud for her to work and hitting her with vaguely naughty, witty remarks when she comes to scold him about it

Really, he loves her bossy attitude and is just dying to get his hands on her

One Friday night she has been ditched at the office with mountains of work to do and he’s working into the night, blasting the music over the shop speakers with little respect for the neighbours. So, in her classy office heels, she stomps over there to give him a piece of her mind and as you could have imagined — it doesn’t exactly go that way

Instead, she winds up being manhandled onto workbench, tools, pencils and parts flying to the ground, her hands tangled into his messy curls as he sucks feverishly along her neck. Her neatly ironed blouse torn open and her skirt bunched around her middle, her heels digging into the small of his back as he fucks her wildly.

Then, he fixes the button on her blouse with a safety pin and drives her politely back to her parents’ house. It’s far too late for her to walk by the time they’re done. Of course, she makes him park down the street though — she can’t be seen with a guy like him.

After that, he becomes her regular stress relief. You can usually find her in his bed in the apartment above the shop on her lunch breaks, ranting to him about those asshole bigwigs who never take her seriously as he kisses along her body.

Her parents don’t even notice when the lunch portions that she packs every day double in size, to be shared with Bradley once they’ve worked up an appetite. He’s no stranger to vegetables, despite his otherwise messy lifestyle — but he regularly wrinkles his nose at the weird, fancy lunches she brings him.

And now that she’s not walking home from work, she has an extra hour to kill before her parents expect her back — an hour that is often spent making out with Bradley in his truck.

They’re having so much fun that sometimes, they forget to be careful. It’s only once Bradley coolly asks her what kind of birth control she uses as he’s tugging up his jeans, that a cold feeling strikes her.

“… What do you mean?”

“I mean we’ve been fucking like rabbits for four months straight and you haven’t gotten your period. Do you take the pill for the full month or something?” He asks, grabbing his shirt from the bedroom floor and tugging it over his head while she sits, still naked, in his bed.

He takes the dumbfounded look on her face for her being surprised at his knowledge and just chuckles, “Not my first rodeo, honey. What, it’s not the pill? IUD?”

She just squeaks softly and buries her face in her hands, bursting into tears, making his face fall in realisation.

[madisockz]

Hello! I wanted to share my process of how I made my Easter Pony! She is my second ever custom and she made all the trouble I had with the first one seem like a walk in the park in comparison ಥ_ಥ Let's begin!

DISCLAIMER: Custom ponies like this one are not to be played with by children nor made by children. This pony was made with the use of nail polish remover (acetone) which is toxic. You need to wash your hands throughly after use and use in a well ventilated area. This pony was also made with sharp tools such as an xacto knife, sewing pins, rehairing needles, and an awl.

First, the concept art! Trial and error caused her to look a little different than the concept art but I still love the end result!

I wanted to start with a white base to give myself a clean canvas for dyeing so I got this G3 Breezie off Ebay for only $3. I decided to first remove her mane and tail which requires removing the head. If you know anything about G3 pony customzing, you know their heads are difficult to get back on once they come off. Even when you run them under warm/hot water. So to get it back on for dyeing, I tried trimming a little excess of vinyl off the neck ring with my xacto knife. It slipped and got me right under my nail! Bad omen for what's to come!

After getting her prepped (removing her mane and tail, cleaning her, using acetone (nail polish remover) to remove her cutie mark) she was ready for a dye bath! I used Rit DyeMore as regular Rit Dye won't dye the vinyl material that ponies are made of. This was my first ever time dyeing anything that wasn't fabric so I was thrilled when she came out this warm rich brown! So pretty!

I read online that dyed ponies will leach dye onto other ponies if they touch, so I wanted to try and prevent this as much as possible with some matte sealer. Lesson #1: Even though she was dry, the matte sealer reactivated the dye! The smallest touch left a print! :(

I pushed forward! And tripped immediately after! I thought, "Surely matte Modge Podge will seal her just that much more" and to my dismay, the Modge Podge kept every brush stroke I made when it dried!! She looked like a leather hand bag! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ I learned later you can buy matte Modge Podge spray online but all I had was the type you brush on to your surface.

Thankfully, with the help of sixteen cotton balls and a q-tip with acetone, I managed to remove all the sealer but she was no longer that nice rich brown. Oh well I still loved her!

And whoever said the paint will protect the eyes from the dye has clearly never dyed a dark pony! Her eyes were so brown after this lol

Painting, adding of polymer clay easter themed confetti, and adding her 3D chocolate bunny cutie mark went great! It was all going well until the eyes.

I had never fully painted pony eyes before so the first attempt was pretty bad. Not even my multiple attempts at glitter and using clear nail polish as a cheap gloss on the eyes could save them.

It was so bad that I almost didn't take any pictures but when I went to seal her head, this weird white powder covered half of her face?? I had never seen this before and it freaked me out thinking I just ruined her. I managed to get it off with a cotton ball and some acetone but her paint was fully damaged.

Turns out this was caused because I didn't shake the can of sealer well enough. I needed a break....

While I took a break for a few days, I decided to watch tutorials on how to paint doll eyes and learned that it's actually pretty common to use high quality watercolor pencils; either Faber Castell or Derwent (which is what I ended up buying).

When I came back, I made the hard decision of removing all the paint and decorations from the head and starting over. Hours of work gone but it was so worth it! 🩷 Removing the paint with acetone ended up making her head lighter than her body so I had to redye her head lol. This time I mixed Derwent pencils with acrylic paints for her eyes.

Time for the hair! I've never done curls before and my original plan was to buy curly hair online but it's so hard to find in the color and curl size I wanted.

So my second idea was to buy small curlers to use on regular nylon doll hair bought from ShimmerLocks on Etsy. But when I tested them out on poor Flower Bouquet it looked so bad ಥ_ಥ

I discovered a Youtube channel you may know called Dollightful where in one of her Stock Box videos she used yarn that she unraveled to make super cute tight wavy hair for a doll. It was a perfect solution! It looks so good but omg it was tedious haha! I used it for her tail too; sectioning off the colors hoping they'd stay separated (they didn't lol).

She's nearly complete! Time for small decorations! I tried so many different ears from air dry clay to stealing some from bunny decorations I bought at the store and nothing was working! But I had one last idea...

I gave these old Littlest Pet Shop costume bunny ears some use with a flat top sewing pin and some glue so now my pony has bunny ears! Yay!

I forgot it in the concept art, but I originally wanted to add flowers to her mane but I couldn't figure out how to do that without glue which I didn't want to do, too permanent, so I opted for some beads I had on hand. I didn't have any light blue so I made some with the use of acetone (nail polish remover in my case) and boom! Light blue beads! Then I washed them off so the acetone wouldn't damage anything :)

I used a gold topped sewing pin, a butterfly charm, a felt flower and two faux flowers to create a cute hair accessory!

Finally I sewed a hair tie to a puffball to give her a removable cottontail if I ever wanted to take it off.

And DONE! She looks so good after so much time and effort! I worked on this girly for two weeks I think? She actually had a partner I designed but I've run out of time to make her :') Maybe next year? 👀 🩷🩷

[taizi]

every high and every low

i wrote a tiny little something for @mangogreent, it isnt much but i hope you like ! happy birthday lake ! title borrowed from glad you exist by dan + shay (listen with your platonic nakamaship hat on and dissolve into seafoam with me)

read on ao3

x

Luffy’s body doesn’t scar easily. It’s one of the many facets of a frankly unhinged healing factor; his body shuffles micronutrients and vitamins around like a circus clown juggling pins, wounds healing so quickly and completely that there is rarely a trace left behind.

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule. The smiling pencil-mark curve beneath his eye is one of them. The cruel, gaping burn across his chest is another.

Sanji and Chopper have spent hours going over dietary needs and goals for everyone aboard Sunny, not just their captain. But it’s their captain whose food works like a miracle in his stomach.

If Sanji thinks too long and too hard about Totto Land—about Luffy’s trembling, emaciated limbs when he handed over a disgusting, ruined bento, the way his skin plumped up and shone with good health within minutes of a meal—there are very good odds that he’ll spiral into a fit of grief or guilt or panic no matter where he is or what he’s doing at the time. So he tries not to think about it, and instead loads his captain with carbs and protein and fiber at every opportunity instead.

Suffice to say, Luffy’s skin is largely whole and undamaged, only a few faint scars scattered here and there that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t really looking. His rubber body is a marvel, but it burns like a starving furnace, and sometimes it does him a disservice no one could have possibly seen coming.

“You don’t feel that?” Usopp says with a frown.

“Nuh-uh,” Luffy confirms blithely, watching the feather move back and forth across his arm. “If you pinch me or poke me with something sharp I will, but if it’s soft it’s like it’s not there at all.”

For a moment, everyone sits there and absorbs that information. Sanji can feel it settling over his nakama like a blanket of snow; cold and promising to pack in and be a pain in the ass to shovel through. Sanji has to readjust his understanding of the world, too. It takes him a minute.

The only touches that Luffy feels easily are the ones that hurt. That’s true for everyone, in a sense—but just because a slap might register louder and faster than a gentle touch doesn’t mean the latter doesn’t carry a weight of its own.

Sanji wonders, abruptly, if the last thing Luffy felt from him was the fight they had on Whole Cake when Sanji was desperate to free his captain of his obligations to a pathetic, useless cook—when he did everything in his power to drive him away.

Nami and Brook have joined Usopp in the game of poking Luffy’s arms and legs and squishy sides in the name of proving him wrong, finding a spot where he isn’t so thick-skinned. Brook’s phalanges drumming against his ribs make him giggle a bit, but how much of that is real feeling and how much is simply delight at all the attention and affection pointed his way?

It should be cute, but Sanji can see—and feel—it cutting everyone to the quick. Robin has closed her book, watching the scene without a smile on her face. Franky’s hands are unmoving around the great feathered monstrosity he and Usopp have been building at the table together up until this point, as if he’s forgotten he’s holding tools in the first place.

Enough is enough, Sanji decides, and sets aside his pride along with his bowl of red velvet cupcake batter and maryse spatula, moving around the counter with purpose.

“Got an idea,” he says at length and Nami scoots gamely to the side. Sanji keeps moving before he can get in his own way and takes Luffy’s round face in one work-hardened hand.

Luffy, who has been known to use his actual skull as a battering ram, usually fights with his whole chest and carries most of his injuries there, too. His face, aside from an unfortunate unsupervised incident with a knife when he was little more than a toddler with a highly questionable and often day-drunk role model, is unscarred.

Sanji brushes his thumb against Luffy’s cheek, where the skin lays very thin over sensitive nerve endings. His captain blinks up at him, brown eyes wide and trusting, every bit as if he’s looking at someone who has never hurt him before.

The crew present is watching raptly, their disquiet transforming into absurd, single-minded scrutiny. There’s a reason they’re not only living in the New World but thriving there—they’re good at adapting, at assimilating new information, at smacking the curveballs right out of the park on their second swing.

“Feel that?” Sanji asks.

Luffy tips his head curiously, just enough not to dislodge Sanji’s hand. Perfectly willing to sit still and be held when it’s his cook doing the holding.

“Kinda,” the boy says, the barest hint of a furrow forming between his brows. It’s the beginning of an epic spoiled sulk that everyone who loves him is intimately familiar with—because his nakama belong to him, and so Sanji does, and so his hand on Luffy’s face does, and it is rapidly occurring to Luffy that it’s not fair for all of those things to be true and for him not to be able to feel it.

Sanji can’t help but smile, always equal parts charmed and exasperated by the future king in a pout. He leans in and presses his mouth to the same place his thumb was, kissing the soft cheek firmly. He can almost see it when Luffy zings to attention, his overwhelming focus zeroed into that singular point of contact.

By the time Sanji straightens, Luffy is already beaming ear-to-ear.

“I felt that!”

Sanji returns to his dessert prep, perfectly satisfied with the changed world he leaves in his wake. Chopper is already clambering over the top of the table, scattering the bits and bobs of the engineers' project into an irremediable mess in his haste to bury his favorite human in fuzzy reindeer kisses, and similarly everyone else’s eyes are gleaming with promise.

Luffy’s rubber body is both a wonder and a menace, much like the golden soul it houses. But where it falls short and fails him, his friends will pick up the slack. Luffy is probably going to get his cheeks and forehead pinched and poked a lot more when he’s whining or complaining or elsewise being his annoying, incorrigible self.

But he’s also going to get kissed a lot more there, too.

[sanshofox]

Artists getting sad after the „who’s the artist, what’s your age“ trend thing on socials. They see many of them being a very young age with already good skills.

Here my try for words of comfort: consider the differences when you grew up and how the younger gens grew up. Nowadays there‘s easier access to tools, gadgets and knowledge with faster paced society.

With better developed internet you can find all kinds of references, tutorials, brushes and whatnot to help you developing your skills or to get a better understanding of how each skill works (if traditional, crafting, digital and more). And now you have all kinds of places to share your stuff on and be part of a community that share the same interest for art and even can give feedback. Artists now using the internet as a platform to earn money and showing their how-to’s. What I would have given as a kid and teen to have that through a „simple mouse click“.

I remember back then when not every household had internet and even if, it wasn’t stable nor fast. You only had a few sites to visit, that you knew were save to go on, and even less sites when it came to art. I remember one german art site and years later on deviantart (and both were in their very toxic era back then. Very closed off at times and tutorials being seen like a „do not reveal the secret to it“ magic trick kinda vibe).

It was hard to find out about stuff because we didn‘t have that global connectivity and marketing etc that exists now to discover things.

And also being „limited“ as a kid and teen on what you could use. Nothing that was right at hand was digital. So you couldn’t experiment with media types for example. So no vast library on tools that imitate all kinds of things, i.e. brushes in procreate. Everything needed to be made traditionally with what you had. I remember I had two of those how to draw anime artbooks (and back then it were two out of very few options actually), pencils and a few copics. You had to make the most of it.

Photoshop you had to use by mouse and was veeery costly (one software CD cost over 2k). I think wacom tablets weren’t a thing until my late teens?? 🤔

And please don’t take this as a rant, I am actually feeling rather nostalgic about it. Those how to draw anime books were hilarious when I think about them now haha. I think I still might have one?? 👀 And I still have those very first copic markers 🥰

It doesn’t matter how you started or what age you are comapred to others. That you keep on making art is what counts. Skill needs to be developed, but passion and creativity/imagination comes from yourself. Skill isn’t what keeps you on doing it, but the love for it is.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2

Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: Joel has you over to begin your mural for him. Two nights of painting, two nights of Joel making you dinner, two nights of him always looking at you the way he does, and one walk home under a shared umbrella. Chapter Warnings: None really, it's just soft Jackson Joel making you spaghetti and soup. You drop paint on your thigh and Joel watches you clean it up. Joel brings you a pillow for your aching knees. Words: 4,100 Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. A/N: Just a reminder that this is super soft. Definitely very little angst and conflict. Sometimes it's nice to escape with a big ol' comfortable Joel Miller blanket.

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Masterlist

Playlist

***

“Radio Cure” by Wilco. 

It’s Monday evening and you’re too nervous to begin the week. You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, stood in front of Joel’s house clutching your messenger bag stuffed full of art supplies. Three quick knocks on the door and a deep breath to steel your nerves. 

“Hi,” Joel greets you as he opens the door, “come in.”

“Hey,” you try to calm your smile when you see him grin down at you. 

"Let me show you the room where I'd like it."

Joel leads you into his home, to a makeshift studio of sorts right off of the living room. It's filled with various wood workings, half carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long work table. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist like you.

You love the space, it's so open and warm. Lived in and utilized, you're so happy places like this still exist in people's homes.

A couple of guitars well past their time sit leaning against a wall.

“You play?” You ask as you nod towards them.

“Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” a sad sigh escaping, “there’s a big hole in the side now.”

“Bad luck. Your stereo and your guitar?”

“Afraid so. It’s very quiet in my house.”

“They’re broken over there, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em, I’m sure I could easily repair one for you.” 

“Joel, you— that’s very nice, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things.” 

“Wish I could fix things. By the time I would be done with trying to repair something it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile making a dimple you’ve never seen before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny, I can see why Ellie likes you.”

You can feel a blush creep up your chest and bloom into your cheeks. “Where would you like me to draw the mural?” Your question used as a way to cut through the nervousness inside of you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window, I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

The wall is large and empty. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or colored that way from age. It’s a perfect spot.

“Good choice. Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?”

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You take the pencil resting in the chest pocket of your overalls out, place it against the wall, and begin to lightly sketch a bluebell on Joel’s wall. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body taking up most of the doorway. You urge yourself to focus on your art and not the fact that you can hear his inhales and exhales echoing against his walls and floorboards.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making my dinner, did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you say turning back to look at him, “but I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person, Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do, I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be cookin’, just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have in here.” You nod as Joel turns and walks down the hall. 

You go back to sketching as your mind floats around how everything already feels so comfortable with Joel, he’s been nothing but kind to you, nothing like the hushed rumors and stories that float all over Jackson about him. 

— —

“What a beautiful face,

I have found in this place,

That is circling all ‘round the sun,

What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck stick up as the music begins. It’s been quiet for the past half hour, the only sound is Joel moving about in the kitchen and your pencil against the wall. He’s playing your CD. You’re all alone and yet you still try to clear the grin that’s formed on your lips. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and walk to the kitchen to find Joel moving the pot of cooked pasta over to the sink to drain. You try not to stare at the way his biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt, the steam floating into the air around him, he looks like a dream. Domestic bliss, it’s the only way you can describe it, happening right in front of your eyes. 

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say as you stand in the doorway. You begin to rub your daisy pendant, you wonder when he’ll notice it’s a tell whenever you begin to remember the past. 

“S’a pretty good song.” Joel turns toward you, his eyes moving to focus on your fingers moving along the petals.

“Thanks for putting this on, I missed hearing music.”

“When’d your player break?” Joel’s eyes still focused on your daisy pendant. 

“A little over a week ago at this point. I lived without a stereo for close to 15 years. Went through all of my 20’s without hearing my music while I was in the QZ, my CD’s sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you muse.  “When I got here and walked into my house the first thing I saw was a small boombox on the shelf, I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked. It had to be repaired a few times and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good and he let me know nothing could be done. I felt like I lost a limb.” You ramble sometimes, you know this, you always have. You like talking, especially when you’re comfortable. Joel makes you comfortable. 

“M’sorry,” Joel says as he begins to dish the pasta and sauce out into two bowls.

“Thanks, I still have other things to fill up my time so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel says as he places the bowls of food on his table, his eyes still not leaving you.

He’s always looking at you, watching you, as if he can’t look away. You’d do the same if you weren’t so scared he’d catch you. You sense Joel doesn’t care if he gets caught. 

You sit down at his table. The glow of the sunset filtered through the window sets everything in an orange tone. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden table top, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and onion from the bowl of pasta in front of you tantalizes you.

“This looks delicious,” you say as you pick up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria, she takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods.

You fall into a shared silence as you both eat. You can’t even think of the last time you had dinner with a man, let alone one that that cooked for you.

“This is my favorite song on your CD,” Joel speaks up as a slow and haunting song starts to play.

“Cheer up, honey I hope you can,

There is something wrong with me,

My mind is filled with silvery stars”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco. One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works… this is the only song I have now.” 

You sit back and close your eyes as you listen and mouth the words. 

“S’beautiful,” Joel says as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. “The song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he speaks his words out. So soft and deep, you wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD, please. You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands. “You’re welcome to come over and listen whenever you want. You can bring your other CD’s over if you’d like.”

“Goodness. I appreciate that.”

“Glad to help.”

“I”m going to go back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you take your bowl over to Joel, “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“‘Course.” Joel takes the bowl from your hand and deposits it into the soapy water.

You go back to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall. 

— —

“It really, really, really could happen,

Yes, it really, really, really could happen

If the days they seem to fall through you

Well, just let them go”

You hum along to your favorite Blur song, the eighth track on your CD.

“Did ya’ want another light in here?” Joel’s deep voice shocks you. You jump and spin staring wide at him leaning against the doorway. You don’t know how long he’s been there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Joel! Y—yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner and pulls out a work light as you turn back.

“This’ll help,” he grunts out as he plugs it in and turns it on. “It’s lookin’ really… nice so far.”

“Thanks, I love the process of beginning a large piece like this, it makes me so excited for what it’s going to look like when it’s all done. Breaking it down into small steps first and then once they’re all connected it makes one cohesive piece of art.” You’re talking too much again. 

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art, when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, choosing to focus on your sketches. You wish you could just choose to stay quiet sometimes. 

“Just going to be in the living room reading my book, lemme know if I can help.” Joel offers.

“Thanks.”

You hear him sigh as he sits down in his chair. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural, the chair he can sit in and watch you work. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him, you like it. 

You round each small petal making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes.

Sometimes you hear a page turn in between tracks, sometimes you hear a sniff or a throat clear, you actually wish there wasn’t any music so you could only hear Joel.

— —

“Okay,” you step back from the wall shaking out and stretching your overused hand. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and walks into the room. “It’s really beautiful,” he says as he stares at your preliminary sketch.

“Thanks, there’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him. “When do you want me to come back?”

“Tommy and I’ll be on patrol tomorrow until Wednesday night, Thursday works?”

“Yep. Same time?”

“Same time. I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“If you want to,” you say as you bend over to pick up your bag. “I’m going to head home. Close to my bed time.”

He watches as you blink your tired eyes. His mouth forming a half smile as he watches you hide a yawn.

Joel accompanies you to his front door. “G’night. See you Thursday.”

“Good luck on patrol. Good night.” You walk out of his house without looking back at him. Joel’s watching you again, you can feel it. 

You go home with the wood smell of Joel’s workshop permeating your clothing and your skin. You sleep in your shirt because it smells like his home. 

— —

Thursday, you find yourself at Joel’s in your overalls again. Though today you’re wearing your oversized flannel for warmth and shielding yourself and your box of paints under an umbrella from the pouring rain. Joel opens the door before you’re able to knock.

“Come in, was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain,” he says as he grabs your umbrella and closes it.

“Thanks, it’s awful out. How was patrol?” You step into Joel’s house and take your flannel off.

“Same as usual.” Joel takes your jacket from you and hangs it up on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you say as you walk into Joel’s woodworking room and place your paints on the floor.

“That your book?” Joel asks nodding to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?” Joel asks. 

“Go ahead, find something to play. It’s your stereo. Don’t tell me what you pick, I’ll be surprised.” 

You love hearing the soft thud of the page landing as Joel flips through it.

“Don’t recognize most of these names.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

You roll out your brush holder, picking out the brushes you’ll need.

“Rock, country, little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you,” you joke. 

“Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.”

“I stand corrected, Texas.”

“Hmm,” he grunts as you begin to lay your chosen paints on the countertop. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” fishing your palette out of your bag.

Joel leaves the room with his chosen CD as you squeeze dollops of green out on to the palette. 

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat begins to play as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this song in over 20 years,” Joel says as he walks back into the room. “Liked The Rolling Stones.” 

You kneel on the floor to begin painting green stems. Slowly and smoothly raising your body up to finish each stem tip. You feel Joel’s gaze follow you. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says from the doorway.

“It’s my favorite thing to do.”

“Can tell.” The gentleness of his voice causing your skin to prickle. “M’excited to see how it’s going to look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with his exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you twist your torso to look back at him with a smile, paintbrush in hand as a large dollop of green drops on your exposed thigh. Joel’s eyes dart down to the blemish on your leg, his eyes widening as you grab your paint stained rag and wipe the paint off. He quickly realizes how hard he’s staring and strides away. 

— —

“Hey, it’s pretty nasty out there, d’ya want that work light again? Sky’s gettin’ real dark,” Joel asks interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, thank you,” you answer as your focus remains on the the petal you’re working on.

You hear Joel pull the light out, the same small grunt as yesterday leaving his mouth as he bends over to plug it in. 

“You been kneeling on the floor like this for long?” he asks.

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here.”

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not concerning about such simple things like your personal comfort, Joel’s worry for you making you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really, I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he pressures.

You take the pillow, sticking it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say as you wiggle back and forth on the fluffiness. 

“Welcome.” 

A large sigh leaving his pursed lips grabs your attention, and you turn to look up at him. His eyes look down at you, meeting yours, the hazel flecks glowing in the golden light supplied by the work lamp buzzing in the corner. He sticks his tongue out to wet his supple lips, you let your focus move down to watch. He reaches a hand out towards your cheek, and places his thumb on it, the rest of his fingers cradling your chin in his hand. Your lips part as you inhale deeply, a chill taking over your whole body. The music from the stereo beginning to sound like its playing underwater as all of your other senses dull themselves so you can feel Joel’s touch.

“Thank you again, for doing this for me,” Joel tenderly says. “Been thinking ‘bout how nice it’ll be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course Texas,” you stutter. Your eyes still focused on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts at you, head slightly nodding. 

L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as he pulls his hand away. 

“I got it.” Joel turns and quickly walks out of the room.

“You just have to skip to the next track and it should work!” You shout as your skin still tingles from where his hand rested silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house falls silent.

“Dinner’s ready,” Joel says rapping on the doorway shocking you out of your art trance. “You got a lot done, s’looking really good.” The shared moment the two of you had just an hour ago seems far away from Joel, so you try to do the same. 

“Thanks,” you say standing up from your bent over stature and placing your paintbrush in the jar of water.

“Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

— —

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup.”

“Any soup makes me happy.”

“Good,” he says putting a bowl down in front you. “This one I actually made, Maria didn’t hafta take pity on me for this meal.”

It looks delicious and smells divine. Joel’s set the table for you. A tattered cloth napkin folded underneath a soup spoon, a glass of water to the side, you notice the coffee stains have been wiped up. 

You take a bite, the warm soup sliding down your throat, perfect for a chilly rainy day, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really, really delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it, haven’t cooked for anybody ‘cept Ellie in years.” 

“You did boil me spaghetti earlier this week too.”

“Hmph,” he chuckles, “right.” 

You and Joel quietly finish your dinner, hungry from your full day of work and painting. You should be nervous in this situation but the way Joel handles himself in front of you, as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home makes your nerves quiet themselves.

“What was your favorite food before …everything?” you ask as you sit back in your chair.

“Don’t really know, maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays, I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. God, I miss Mexican restaurants. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d get Mexican and I always thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He gives you that same look he gives you, as if he could listen to you talk for hours. Nodding along with a half smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday, if we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order, definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna.” 

“I miss those too. I miss just being able to have cheese whenever I want so much. What we have now isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods, “kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.” “Isn’t that the motto of these times? ‘Not the same but good enough.’”

“S’a good one,” Joel pauses, “you’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you push a strand of hair behind your ear feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You stand, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. 

“You seem to be almost finished in there,” he grabs the bowl from your hand and deposits it into the sink.

“I am, I think I only have a couple more hours of work left.” 

“Don’t want to keep you any longer tonight, know you got work tomorrow and know it’s a lot being down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, they’re aching. When do you want me to finish it?”

“Tomorrow at the same time, if you want.” 

“That works, might be a little late. Fridays are always busy for me, with the end of the school week.” 

“‘Course. I’ll be here, so take your time.”

“Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too I can take them ho—” 

“S’fine, don’t mind at all,” Joel interrupts as he puts his hand against your back, “I’ll walk you home, s’getting late and it’s still raining.” 

“No, I’ll be okay, I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care. I’m walking you home, it’s pouring.”

He grabs your flannel from the hook, grasps the shoulders open and holds it out for you as he gives you a small nod. You smile as you walk forward and turn, sticking your arms in each sleeve, and putting it on. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the closeness.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away from him to grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to d—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to, I want to,” mild annoyance tinging his voice as he shrugs his jacket on and picks up your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” 

“No, never got one.” Joel opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him. “S’a nasty storm today, I think it’s going to be just as bad tomorrow.” 

“It’s good for the crops and the water reserve at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella over you. 

Rain pelts Joel as he holds the umbrella over you as you turn onto the road.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here, there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say moving closer to his body.

“Y’sweet,” he faintly murmurs as he moves the umbrella over both of you. You almost think you imagined it, being able to barely hear it above the pitter patter of raindrops landing on the nylon atop your head. 

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could walk slower, elongate your time next to him, stay under the security of the umbrella, next to his broad body you feel safe..

“That’s me, right there,” you say nodding your head towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks as he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em, allergic.”

“That’s a shame.” 

“Hm.”

Underneath the safety of the awning of your front porch, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thank you again, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“See you tomorrow,” Joel says as he peers into your eyes before turning around to leave.

You watch him leave your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to nod at you before continuing down the road in the dark rain. Joel Miller just walked you home.

A/N: Oh soft Joel, you're too sweet and thoughtful. Next chapter is a little shorter, but for good reason, there may or may not be a finished mural and a first kiss. :) Thank you again for reading!

[lilacmingi]

MY MUSE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Word count: 840

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem reader (all my imagines are fem reader but there are no gendered terms in this one)

Note: I enjoy drawing and painting, so this might be a bit of a self-indulgent drabble haha

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Art supplies sat neatly on the table in front of you, each one ready to use. Pencils, sharpeners, erasers, and blending tools were laid out before you. Anything you could possibly need was within reach and at your disposal.

Hyunjin's sketchbook sat across from yours lying open on a blank page, his supplies lined up tidily beside the book. Your setup looked very similar; your pencil case was positioned beside your sketchbook, your own sharpener right beside it, as well as your eraser.

Hyunjin had some time off and so the two of you had planned to have a night of drawing together.

You watched as he grabbed his plastic headband and put it on, pulling his lengthy onyx hair away from his face, displaying his perfect features. He then grabbed his phone, humming to himself as he scrolled through his music library perusing the different genres and selecting a song to play before taking a seat across from you.

He gave you a gentle smile. "You ready to get started?"

"I am." You nodded.

You opened your sketchbook to an empty page, unzipping your pencil case and pulling one of them out. Unsure of what to draw, you sat idly for a few seconds, twiddling your pencil while waiting for inspiration to strike. That's when your eyes landed on the man sitting before you, already hard at work sketching across his page.

Your muse.

The tip of your freshly-sharpened pencil hit the page and you got to work, sketching out shapes and rough outlines, glancing up at Hyunjin every few seconds to make sure your draft matched the model.

The ball of your socked foot tapped against the carpet, matching the rhythm of the relaxing indie song that played from Hyunjin's Bluetooth speaker as you allowed yourself to get immersed in your work. All of your focus was zeroed in on the masterpiece in progress. The sketch was coming along well, though there was a couple times you had to keep erasing the lips and redrawing them because your sketch just wasn't doing justice to the real thing.

You loved this. Sitting peacefully while drawing with your loving boyfriend and listening to music was something you've been wanting to do with Hyunjin for a while. Even though there were no words being exchanged and you were both sitting in silence while concentrating on your own artworks, it was still absolutely perfect. One of the many things you loved about Hyunjin was being able to be in his presence and not having to say a word. Wether that be drawing, cuddling, or watching a movie. Just having him there was enough.

Your sketching ceased for a few seconds as you swapped out your pencil for one with darker lead so you could begin shading and darkening the lines of your drawing.

No more than thirty seconds later you were back to work, dragging the sharpened edge of the lead along the faded lines you'd roughly sketched out earlier.

"Relax, love." Hyunjin chuckled, pressing his thumb between your brows to smooth out the creases.

Your face relaxed under his touch as you let out a soft chuckle. "Sorry."

"You're really focused, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"That's cute." He murmured, his eyes lowering to your sketchbook which you were quick to cover with your hands.

"No peeking."

"Alright, alright." He chortled, picking up his pencil once again and proceeding with his sketch.

The supplies which had once been laid out neatly were now scattered across the table, each one being dropped without a care as to where it landed. Neither of you had time to gently place down each item once you were finished with it, you were far too focused on your sketches. An unknown amount of time had passed since you first sat down, both you and Hyunjin getting lost in your craft. You were so engrossed you didn't get a chance to see what he was drawing.

"Alright." You huffed out, pushing your hair away from your face. "I'm finished."

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment as he quick scribbled his signature at the corner of the page.

"Me too." He announced.

You held your masterpiece to your chest, not wanting him to see just yet.

"Are you ready?" You asked.

He nodded and you flipped the page around.

Hyunjin's brows raised as he took the paper from you so he could look at it closer.

"You drew me." He stated in awe.

"Of course I did. You're my muse."

He chuckled softly, handing you his drawing.

To your surprise, an image of you sitting and drawing was portrayed in shades of gray pencil lead.

The both of you were drawing each other without even knowing.

"You're my muse too." He mentioned.

Your eyes gazed over the sketch in awe, admiring his seamless shading and the way he captured your features so well. He truly was blessed with a talent for art.

"You made me look so beautiful." You murmured softly under your breath.

"Because you are beautiful, darling."

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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[balkanradfem]

So I decided to learn to knit! I've never before found a way to ethically and cheaply get yarn. I found a little ball of yarn outside at some point, as one does, and saved it, but beyond that I didn't have any other tools. Then I saw a video showing how you can take a thrifted machine-knit sweater, and undo it back into yarn, and then just knit with that. Incredible, since I have a full box of old sweaters, I just need to figure out which ones are easily undone.

So I grabbed my little ball of found yarn, and then I needed some needles. I looked up what I could use instead, and found there's plenty of alternatives; pencils, chopsticks, wooden sticks for barbecue. Looking around my room I realized I had some very long paintbrushes; I tried to use them, and immediately realized they need to have a pointy end. I grabbed a pencil sharpener and sharpened them; only this made them very rough and splintered. I needed to sand them down, but I had no sandpaper, and then I remembered that recently someone gave me a flat tool that removes dry skin from feet. I sanded them down with that, and it actually worked, they worked perfectly like knitting needles. They're even the same size.

The knitters probably already know this, but if you start knitting for the first time, especially if it's winter and you're under a blanket, some ancient human instinct will activate and you will feel that you are doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing and everything is well and right with the world. Creating fabric is a powerful thing to do, in a society where everyone needs fabric to stay alive, and go outside, and I like having this power to myself.

I found out there are two basic types of stitches; knit stitch, and purl stitch. I liked the knit stitch better, on the basis that purl stitch had 'bad vibes'.

It knew before that most fabric will be woven, or knitted, or in some cases, crochet, so I got little curious, and studied each layer of clothing on me, and every single item of clothing was knit, and it was all a purl stitch. I got fascinated by this, wondering if this is true for most clothing, or if I just somehow prefer knit things on me because they're nice and stretchy. Looking into other fabrics, I could easily tell that all of the sheets, pillowcases and kitchen cloths were woven, and that they were much sturdier and less stretchy for it.

I looked at stuff in my closet, and found that I had a scarf, hat, and pants that were woven, but in very soft and warm fabric, and they were very sturdy and non-stretchy as well. I then wondered what was the logic behind it, and is there a traditional type of things that will be woven, that isn't just bedsheets and cloths?

I tried to find a video on youtube detailing that stuff, but no female-made video was found, so I'm now downloading several women-written audibooks on the topic of history of textiles. I think we should just take the power to make textiles back to us, because back when women were the maker of the cloth, it was just something we 'did out of the goodness of our hearts for our families' but it was also environmentally friendly, practical, sustainable and a beautiful, powerful craft. Now that m*n decided it's something to make money off, they created fast fashion, tons of waste and environmental damage, new types of slavery for workers, and the clothing isn't even practical anymore, it's made to fall apart.

So, back to my knitting, I have to say it's not happening very fast, I thought by the end of the day I would be done with that little ball of yarn and be able to tell how much fabric it can make, nope, did not happen, in fact I've been working on it two days and by this time I've barely made any progress. Apparently the 'purl stitch' is faster, well, I'm still refusing to do it. Boo purl stitch. The yarn I found outside is some of the worst quality yarn I've ever seen, not only it's different in thickness everywhere, but in some places there are 3-4 different threads distangled from each other, and it confused me so much while knitting that I kept adding stitches on the brush unnecessarily, until the entire thing could barely fit on one.

One thing that surprised me was how incredibly soft, stretchy and comfortable the fabric feels when made. I genuinely expected the fabric to be as horrifying as the yarn quality, nope, it's nice and comfy I absolutely love it.

There is a movement in online spaces for being mindful of environment when purchasing clothing, and making our own wardrobes, which is absolutely delightful; seeing people gain new respect and fascination for clothing, sewing and textile making, and then doing it themselves and becoming non-dependent on capitalism, it's the change the world needs. I didn't think I would try to join in, because I get so much discarded and unwanted clothing from others, I wouldn't need to buy any ever, but I did get fascinated by looms, natural fibers, and women doing all that work, that I can't resist trying it out.

[berry-s0da]

AI “art”

Yesterday I argued with an idiot that thought giving directives to an AI makes you as much of an artist as someone that is actually capable of creating art. It’s extremely worrying that our youth is so incapable of understanding this topic, too self absorbed on their own rigid conception of reality and utterly detached from the real world and the importance of the people you share it with, of consequences, of tangibility. They don’t know how to define art, such a core concept for our species, they are unaware that it’s an exclusively human practice a machine cannot produce by itself or for them.

Some of Oxford Language Learner's Dictionary definitions if you want tangible sources for something that has existed for longer than any piece of technology;

Definition of an Artist: a person who creates works of art, especially paintings or drawings.

3 definitions of Art:

1) the use of the imagination to express ideas or feelings, particularly in painting, drawing or sculpture.

2) the skill of creating objects such as paintings and drawings, especially when you study it.

3) an ability or a skill that you can develop with training and practice.

(defining a piece through words could turn into literature, writing is an outlet for creativity and imagination too, the problem is that they want to claim a graphic piece they had no part on as their creation…which makes no sense for obvious reasons. This might blow your mind but you actually have to be involved in the making of a piece in order for it to be an artist. Writing a brief description of what you want the AI to make for you is not a form of creation, it’s a directive for a machine to do what you can’t)

If you don’t have mental resources, talent, skills, capacity of handling different tools, mediums and techniques then you are not an artist (and that’s okay), but you could be if you tried. Writing a prompt is not making art, everyone with enough mental capacity can come up with a concept for a piece, people that commission artists do that and that doesn’t automatically make them artists.

An AI won’t do shit the way you request it even if you say it does. An AI makes an interpretation of the request but asides from mild guidance, you have absolutely nothing to do with the process or the final “piece” (Frankenstein monster of already existing pieces, taken with or without consent).

An AI without regulation isn’t a new medium or something comparable to the fucking Industrial Revolutionjust, specially considering it isn’t a new, easier way to do the same task (like with an art software). It’s but a shameless way of reusing or straight up stealing pieces produced by the same artists you deem to be now useless and outdated. What you call the future is nothing but plagiarism, the usage of things that already existed in a much higher quality, a wonky replica that is only valued because it’s free for your cheap ass.

“Good artists have nothing to worry about, only shitty artists will disappear” im sorry you have to find out this way but every good artist had to be shit first. We reached a point where we are unaware of periods of time any artist needs in order to grow and develop. This logic is baffling because if only good artists are worth of being respected and having stable jobs then we’ll eventually run out of artists, which is not only silly but impossible. This is but an excuse to avoid the obvious issue that represents stepping over people and making it seem as a fair, natural process.

Finally, If you wanna draw, learn to draw first, nobody stops you but yourself. If you wanna paint learn to paint, if you wanna sculpt, learn to sculpt, if you wanna be an artist then get your ass to work. Not everything is laid out for you in life, you actually have to put work into something, as shocking as it sounds. There are people that draw masterpieces holding pencils on their mouths, you have no excuse other than self pity for being useless, being jealous of those that can actually make things and, ultimately, the unreserved, unapologetic disinterest in those affected by this monster y’all wanna have fun with.

[femslashfeb]

HELLO ALL

TLDR

No reblogging from the blog this year - posting prompts tomorrow the 31st

For the past few years I've very much struggled with reblogging everyone's activity in the tag. So this year I will not be doing so.

(OR maybe I will? I just don't want to commit)

Even if I knew how to make a bot that reblogs - a lot of people still use the unique tag to tag outside challenges. So I've always had to hand submit. However it became too stressful for me and for the past few years I ended up avoiding it until later weeks or even months.

If you noticed I didn't finish reblogging last year so- I've just given up on that.

Honestly I've struggled a lot with depression for the last 7 years or so. It's been harder and harder to find my way back to tumblr. It doesn't help that my phone can barely handle the amount of apps it already has.

My main account @puff-pink hardly ever updates because of my big sad. And I don't know if I'll ever get back on the horse in the same way I did before.

Some of you know me as an artist, and tho I still churn out subpar art for my day-job I've struggled a lot to make art for myself during my depression. Partially because one year I overworked my hand - and still deal in continual wrist aches. Even the weeks I don't pick up a drawing tool.

I intended this challenge for myself and maybe the small fandoms I was in at the time. But it took off among writers and creators of all types across all fandoms.

One year I even tried to tally the most popular fandoms but there were honestly too many to keep track of- and I stopped after the first three pages of submissions.

I don't claim to have invented the concept of FemSlash February. Before I started the prompts I swear I had heard the phrase somewhere. Tho not sure where. Perhaps it had been amongst my friends on Skype. Back when I had online friends and Skype(I'm still not sold on Discord🤷‍♀️).

However that January I thought it would be fun to partake in a challenge of some kind. But scouring tumblr and the general internet. I could only find half hearted efforts on fanfiction sites from years past.

I'm so proud of all my Sapphic creators on here that have partaken every year. Even if I've never shown favoritism or awarded anyone. I do notice those that actually complete the challenge AND those that keep coming back each year(looking at you H20 writer(I don't remember your username but there's a mermaid writer that's a writing machine)). I truly am proud of you especially in my shriveled state of creativity. Thank you for your efforts. For your hype. And for your love of women of all kinds across all the universes.

Each year I'm surprised to find even more categories I never thought to include. From mood boards, to doll photography, to ofc the classic art and writing. May your pencils forever be in union with your sister mediums.

On that note. There is a strict NO AI GENERATED ART or writing this year.

Not that I could physically stop anyone who does use AI. But I do not want that sort of thing associated with this challenge. It's become scarily good in 2023 to the point it can't always be identified. So I simply ask for the honor system when it comes to AI generated creations.

That being said. If you've made it to the end of this post:

Prompts will be posted tomorrow.

I usually prefer to give yall more of a buffer, but I've been busy. Both with Big Sad, rescuing some feral cats, my own life, errands, chores and work.

If you're still here- here is a preview of the first three days.

FEB 1 - black

FEB 2 - spring

FEB 3 - cake

The 14th as usual will be some sort of Valentine romance type theme(haven't decided specifically yet) and as always there will be a Rest Day.

Expect some repeat prompts. In the past I tried to avoid them but idc anymore.

It's also a Leap Year this year so expect one extra prompt to throw off the symmetry of what's normally 28 days.

Thanks for coming back this year. And thank you to those that still check on this blog.

❤️🧡🤍💜🩷

Keep loving girls

-PuffPink

[neverniko101]

could we please please please get a tutorial for how you did your animatic🥺 i have been trying and failing to learn i think i’m just brain dead at this point and your animatic was in the style i like :U

Absolutely! I typically use Toon Boom Harmony for animation & animatics, but I've included a little tutorial for procreate, too.

It’s a bit of a long post, so right under here ⬇️

First, I do a little sketch with a rough pencil tool to just plan out timing and movements

Then, I go over it with a darker airbrush tool

I use the tweening tool to smoothly move between frames, but you can just manually copy/paste them if your program doesn’t do that. I have the drawing move in the direction the character would be moving, along with adding one ‘bounce’ frame that extends further then I want the farthest drawing to be

And here’s the finished gif! Silly inky boy

For Procreate (using the animation guide)

It’s similar, but you have to copy & paste and move each frame yourself.

Here’s one movement with the bounce being the orange frame.

Here’s back and forth

All in black

Gif with colors

Gif with black

Hope this helps!

Ink by Comyet.

You can use these gifs for things if you want lmao, they took 5 seconds to make

[canmom]

rn attempts to use AI in anime have mostly been generating backgrounds in a short film by Wit, and the results were pretty awful. garbage in garbage out though. the question is whether the tech can be made useful - keeping interesting artistic decisions in the hands of humans and automating the tedious parts, and giving enough artistic control to achieve a coherent direction and clean up the jank.

for example, if someone figured out how to make a really good AI inbetweener, with consistent volumes and artist control over spacing, that would be huge. inbetweening is the part of 2D animation that nobody especially wants to do if they can help it; it's relatively mindless application of principle, artistic decisions are limited (I recall Felix Colgrave saying something very witty to this effect but I don't have it to hand). but it's also really important to do well - a huge part of KyoAni's magic recipe is valuing inbetweeners and treating it as a respectable permanent position instead of a training position. good inbetweening means good movement. but everywhere outside KyoAni, it mostly gets outsourced to the bottom of the chain, mainly internationally to South Korea and the Philippines. in some anime studios it's been explicitly treated as a training position and they charge for the use of a desk if you take too long to graduate to a key animator.

some studios like Science Saru have been using vector animation in Flash to enable automated inbetweening. the results have a very distinct look - they got a lot better at it over time but it can feel quite uncanny. Blender Grease Pencil, which is also vector software, also gives you automated inbetweening, though it's rather fiddly to set up since it requires the two drawings to have the same stroke count and order, so it's best used if you've sculpted the lines rather than redrawn them.

however, most animators prefer to work in raster rather than vector, which is harder to inbetween automatically.

AI video interpolation tools also exist, though they draw a lot of ire from animators who see those '60fps anime' videos which completely shit all over the timing and spacing and ruin the feeling and weight of the animation, lack any understanding of animating on 2s/3s/4s in the source, and often create ugly incomprehensible mushy inbetweens which only work at all because they're on screen so briefly.

a better approach would be to create inbetweens earlier in the pipeline when the drawings are clean and the AI doesn't have to try to replicate compositing and photography. in theory this is a well posed problem for training a neural network, you could give it lots of examples of key drawing input and inbetween output. probably you'd need some way to inform the AI about matching features of the drawing, the way that key animators will often put a number on each lock of hair to help the inbetweener keep track of which way it's going. you'd also need a way to communicate arcs and spacing. but that all sounds pretty solvable.

this would not be good news for job security at outsourcing studios, obviously - these aren't particularly good jobs with poor pay and extreme hours, but they do keep a bunch of people housed and fed, people who are essential to anime yet already treated as disposable footnotes by the industry. it also would be another nail in the coffin of inbetweening's traditional role as a school of animation drawing skills for future key animators. on the other hand, it would be incredible news for bedroom animators, allowing much larger and more ambitious independent traditional animation - as long as the cheap compute still exists. hard to say how things would fall in the long run. ultimately the only solution is to break copies-of-art as a commodity and find another way to divert a proportion of the social surplus to artistic expression.

i feel like this kind of tool will exist sooner or later. not looking forward to the discourse bomb when the first real AI-assisted anime drops lmao

[randomgooberness]

👀 Gordon amputation HCs? (If you don't mind talking about them!)

Y;HES

ok disclaimer: I am not an amputee! I am not a medical professional! I am not a prosthetic maker! I am not an engineer! I am simply an autistic writer and artist who has had a webcomic with an amputee character for 5+ years and I have done my research- but PLEASE if you like these headcanons and use it as advice for writing amputees I would also suggest listening to other sources, too!

The prosthetic:

-the arm ends about maybe like five inches under the wrist- which makes it just enough to get basic prosthetics going. Something a LOT of people don't consider is how much space you need to get robotics in there!

-This is the case for everyones(?i have yet to see otherwise) headcanons whether they know it or not but he specifically has a myoelectric prosthetic- which in itself is an EXTREMELY high-tech one! What it does is it detects electricity(YES! YOUR MUSCLES HAVE ELECTRICITY IN THEM!) from the muscles under your skin and amplifies them to be movement!

I would actually HIGHLY suggest people do research into these prosthetics because they are SUPER cool but also not as good as you think they are! That being said:

-He cannot feel with it and has to guess how hard he has to grip something! There's research for prosthetics like this, but they're extremely faulty and- if anyone wants to correct me on this that's fine but I'm pretty sure- it would need Constant upkeep and repairs, ESPECIALLY if it could feel like a normal hand.

-at first he only used it when he went out and when he was doing something that might need two hands Because of this- he didn't really wear it much around the house. Not to mention like...he went from losing it, to an immediate gun arm, to suddenly having a prosthetic- whiiiich. Isn't good for the psychological part of a traumatic amputation! So yeah he didn't really like it all too much at first. Don't get me wrong it was a great tool and he appreciated it over no hand especially because he could actually properly articulate the fingers but...it also just. Was jarring.

-eventually, he and Dr. Coomer teamed up to make it more adaptable, and by that I mean a fucking pirate-ass thing where he could swap out his hand for other things like forks or electric screwdrivers or like. Anything. They like to get together to make new hands on the weekend. It's enrichment. With these add-ons he wore the prosthetic more, but sometimes he just. prefers taping a fork to his limb and calling it a day.

-^this hc is based off of adaptive devices that people make to work with whats left of the limb instead of trying to replace it! They range from other robotics to something plastic and/or 3d printed that just holds a pencil in place. From what I've researched they tend to be more liked than clunky fingers you cant feel lol

-IF THERE IS ANY ADVICE YOU GLEEN FROM THIS: please please please he doesn't sleep with his prosthetic on he SHOULD NOT SLEEP WITH HIS PROSTHETIC ON. DO NOT SLEEP WEARING YOUR PROSTHETIC- this also goes for just chilling out ect. Do you "chill out" in your jeans with a belt on?

-I've said it a few times already but I DO want to encourage other people who draw art or write fics that it's OKAY if his prosthetic doesn't work like a perfect, new hand and in fact is more realistic and something that should be done more often! It's very common to want to write off an amputees disability with "ok now they have a prosthetic they're all better <3" which isn't true at all and it really IS worth it to do some extra research- I might just have an engineering and medical special interest so it might just be me but its SUPER fun to learn things and it makes it more interesting writing how a character interacts with their disability!

The amputation/specifics(WARNING FOR TALK ABOUT GORE, OBVIOUSLY):

-I usually write/draw it being a combat knife because that's specifically what he mentions was used, but realistically it would've been something that could get through the suit itself. Either way, it was a really slow and painful process. Fun fact- while this is like...a debate in the medical field, the forearm is one of the most painful things in the body to break!

-Continuing from that last part, there ARE a lot of nerves in your forearm(ever hit your funnybone? yeah. yowch), as well as TWO bones. Arms and hands are SUPER complex so injuries are...just As complex!

-In the full VOD in act 3, Gordon mentions his suit cauterized it- which if you dont know what that is- it's basically Burning A Wound Shut. I can see this being the case, actually- seeing as the suit itself detects specific things in the body being injured- electricity IS a way to cauterize something. I want to point out that cauterization, however, is AGONIZINGLY PAINFUL and is SUPER DANGEROUS, even when controlled! He's SUPER lucky he didn't go into shock and die in his sleep lmao.

-Oh speaking of sleep. I said this in another post but it was sunset when they betrayed him- and daytime when he woke up. So he was asleep in the garbage compactor for hours.

-It's implied because he keeps talking about how he's still bleeding, but yeah even with the suit cauterizing the wound it wouldn't be fully shut. So he'd be bleeding a lot- ESPECIALLY if it didn't want to kill the nerves in his arm(which makes prosthesis easier in the future, via the myoelectric method I mentioned earlier).

-Because of this Tommy(and later Dr. Coomer and Bubby) had to make him make-shift wrappings and have him lean on them a lot. He lost a Lot of blood and by the time they found a fully functioning medical station it wasn't able to just...give him more. It could give him iron and such but yeah this guy has anemia.

-this is just a really funny note but in act 4 when he's leaving Darnolds lab in the VOD he goes "well I guess I'm able-bodied again!" NO YOU ARE NOT THAT IS GUNHAND. But anyways because of this statement, I think for the first few days after being without his arm hes like. oh im not really disabled though even though he is like. stereotypically disabled. sir

-Phantom pains and nightmares are. A nearly nightly combo.

-Whether they're triggered by something or not, phantom pains in general suck so so so so much. Just so much.

-He actually took a Long time to go to a doctor for his issues. Gordon. Buddy. Look Me In The Eyes. you can get medicine for your pain. you can take physical therapy. please . He wasnt even trying to like...tough it out like part of him was but it was mostly that he just. didnt know and forgot.

-it took him a really long time to trust Benrey touching where his hand used to be, but once they grew close post-rescas him and Tommy became Gordons go-to for phantom pain/itch help. slap my dumb arm thank you

Aaaand thats all I can think of at the moment! I might add on if I have any like. Sudden crushing things I need to say about him and my amputation hcs!