#drawing people smoochin is HARD

[myfandomincolor]

I'm gonna have to part 1/part 2 this bc I got carried away (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

@dutifullylazybread posted this and I had to draw

Regency/Georgian Rolan is in my head now just running amok and y'all put Cravat Thoughts out there so here we are

(idk if it's cool to tag folks but Rolan Nation you know who you are and I will gladly tag you if you want)

Reference photo for the last panel!

[domirine]

You probably do a lot of life drawing seeing as how perfectly fluid your art always is so this ask might be redundant lol but,, i was wondering what kind of references you usually use? Do you just google similar poses, does it come from your mind, or do you have a go-to app to look through like pinterest?👉👈 i ask bc I struggle a lot with poses and usually when i look them up i end up drawing nothing bc its not. Ever good enough for me/what im looking for lol😔 still not sure how to even draw characters smoochin, rip

thank you, nonny!! i do a lil bit of life drawing, but man i really do feel the same way you do. while i'm happy to show some art when i get it done, the process can be a real struggle.

sorry this is gonna be long and all over the place lol hope it helps tho:

life drawing good: i recommend ditching the idea of finding the 100% Perfect Ref right off the bat. studying anatomy and life drawing (this site has a range of body types and fun poses) somewhat regularly, therefore growing my mental library so that i can try and make whatever pose is in my head happen later, has been more viable to me than spending hours looking for the Perfect Ref.

drawing a bunch of generic people skating without pressure of creating proper character art is good practice, and it primes me to then come up with a skating pose of my own.

ref hunting: i save pictures i might use as refs regularly in a browser folder - good refs, bad refs, boring refs - losing a ref standard can be helpful because at the end of the day it’s what you make with it, so it doesn’t have to be particularly mind-blowing to begin with. you don’t wanna reinvent the wheel or create the most never-been-done-before pose, you just wanna get a thing right.

pinterest is very good for poses, yes, though you have to know how to look for them - i.e. i found that typing out "dynamic pose" will not yield organic results, as opposed to looking up people in motion like athletes, boxers, skaters and such. for fighting, i recommend using photos or clips from (ideally staged lol) fights, as opposed to stock images where the models are standing for a while posing - the former preserves a lot of the movement. i also recommend looking up group photos from events or shows for interesting natural poses and people interacting.

best hot tip of all tho: what helped me most is to not treat references very religiously. don't be tied down by what's in your ref, or not finding the perfect one, because then you're focusing on accuracy and not necessarily on what you wanna communicate with your drawing. if you can't find what you're looking for in full, just use a part that you find interesting, and then bullshit the rest and revise accordingly.

idea-generating can be very hard but you can practice it like any other skill, because having a decent idea of what you wanna draw is helpful - you don't have to have the whole pose visualised 100%. it's the mood, body language and expressions, that i think are more important. looking at refs can help reveal your ideas and intentions, but i will not create them for you i’m afraid.

for example, speaking on characters smooching, i've drawn these using refs in   pretty uptight way with no ideas beforehand - and i find them painfully boring because they're not rly communicating anything aside from a anatomical accuracy (more or less);

i was being too intent on staying faithful to the reference, and they're looking kinda stale to me. the only one that was done without any ref, was the bottom left - which i like! bc it's got spice and it’s portraying some emotion.

but i wouldn't have drawn it if i hadn't already started on the others, so maybe another good tip is to trust the process and not give up mid-work!! drawing stuff you’re not proud of is still drawing stuff, and not everything you create is gonna be satisfying. things are gonna click here and there, but you never know when, so don’t give up on your ugly artsy ducklings!!

[photiniainsummer]

Dancing with the Dark

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You've taken to lingering around Dark's office late at night when he thinks he's alone with his old jazz standards.

Or so you thought, until one night you find the door open.

You've always wondered what exactly he does behind it...

It's listen to music. Get your mind out of the gutter. ;)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 6860

Author’s Note: No warnings - this is really all just tooth-rotting, tender, slow build romance. There is dancin' and smoochin', though. 👀 Also posted to AO3!

It wasn’t something you had intended to intrude on. The Manor is big, but not that big, and it just so happens that the quickest route to your bedroom means you have to pass Dark’s office suite. As your nights have gotten later and later, trying to keep tabs on Mark and the poor, scattered egos he’s made and dumped, more and more often have you caught soft, crackling music drifting out from behind your sort-of boss’ heavy office door.

At first, you mostly ignored it, noting it with a small smile and continuing to bed. It’s really none of your business what the shadowy man does in his free time, you figured. Plus, you all manage to live on top of one another, despite the Manor’s size, which puts privacy at a premium - who are you to deny him some when he can get it? But as time has passed and you’ve worked intensely together, the original enmity between you two has turned into a professional respect and eventually, you’d hazard, a friendly banter. At least, such as Dark is willing to joke around.

And so, tempted by your mutual softening, and maybe a little curiosity as to what kind of music your ‘leader’ listens to, you’ve found yourself pausing in your path to bed when you catch him playing a record. At first, you only stopped briefly at the top of the stairs with his office across the landing from you, taking a moment to appreciate a few bars of dreamy jazz. It was peaceful, almost magnetically melodic. But you quickly grew self-conscious in your eavesdropping, and, not wanting to seem nosy (despite the fact you definitely were being nosy), moved along to your room.

You crossed the landing to the bit of wall near his door, next, but kept a keen eye on the stairs behind you in case you needed to make a sudden retreat. For a week or so, you took longer, lingering there at the mouth of the short hallway to his office. You would take in a full song before you got antsy, concerned Dark might get up to make a late-night cup of tea and discover you. Even so, you had found it hard to pull yourself away from the lilting voices of his records - time seemed to slow, for just a little while, and you felt you breathed easier, deeper even, once you were back in your bedroom.

Finally, now, and most nights for the last month, you’ve let yourself truly relax just outside his door. He never leaves, not that you’ve seen, and so you’ve taken to resting in the shadow of the short hallway and letting the hypnotic drags of a brush across a snare, crooning voices over a string quartet wrap around you. Dark’s music is never truly jazzy, never truly swinging, and it soothes you like very little else can these days. It’s steady - you think that’s what’s so appealing about it - drawing you in at the end of a long day for a moment of reprieve, floating outside of time in the gentle shade of this corner of the Manor.

You’ve gotten used to it, to be sure. The sleepy, tripping dance of a horn greets you at the end of each long day spent combing through Mark’s videos, hunting for hints as to his next move. The quiet moments spent letting the gentle jazz unwind some tight thing in your chest have become just as much your routine as they are Dark’s - and you understand why he takes the time. Until you started lingering to listen, you were harder up for time alone than you thought with barely a moment to spend in your own head. Everything was focused on maneuvering around Mark, a seemingly endless game of cat-and-mouse that left you tossing and turning and jittering yourself into an exhausted unconsciousness each night. But now, you fall asleep faster, wake up feeling more rested having actually relaxed before bundling down under your covers. You had found a little corner of peace, thanks to Dark. And, perhaps, thanks to your damned nosiness, as the man himself had called it once.

Only occasionally as you lean against the wallpaper have you allowed yourself to think about the man behind the door. For all your collaboration, Dark is still a mysterious, calculating, and distant figure. It’s by his own making, too. He’s been content to work closely with you planning Mark’s downfall, but keeps his own cards so close to his chest you have to wonder if he can even see them now, so to speak.

Perhaps he knows them well enough not to need to.

You’ve learned not to pry too much about any of the egos’ pasts and what they remember of them, unless you’re just in the mood for awkward, dead-end conversations. Wilford doesn’t seem troubled in the moment, human bouncy ball that he is, but responds vaguely - even for him - before up and disappearing for a few days. Google spouts some kind of technical jargon about his assembly warehouse that you can barely keep up with, then focuses intently on changing the subject. The Host only gives you one of his polite little smiles and reminds you that your futures are ‘of a more pressing nature’ than his past is.

The only one you’ve totally avoided trying to bring up the subject with is Dark. Your first real conversation had edged on it, and his reaction - aura practically blowing all the lightbulbs in the room, crackling copies of himself writhing in rage - had been pretty clearly in the ‘not positive’ camp. You’ve not had the stomach to unnecessarily incite his ire, so most of what you know about him, you’ve put together yourself. A vague understanding of his blended nature, the people he was before, their relationships to Mark… But it’s all guesses and deductive work about people long gone from the plane you inhabit. Grasping at shadows and context clues to paint a portrait of how the being, who deeply dislikes the outsize attention his central role as Mark’s primary ‘villain’ commands, came to be.

Yet, you do know some things about what he’s like. That he doesn’t seem to need to eat or take breaks of any kind. That he’s single-mindedly devoted to stopping Mark in his tracks, and intensely methodical about the whole endeavor. Even when you think you’ve caught him reading something for fun, it turns out to be Mark-adjacent. It’s impressive, you admit, but also why hearing those strains of songs sung long ago, finding him doing something unproductive has captured you so. To think of him taking time for himself, doing nothing but enjoying some music… it simultaneously feels incredibly decadent and comforting. For all his hardworking exterior, there are quiet moments Dark takes to relax. Even more than his music, that soothes something in your heart you didn’t even know was tense.

Plus, good lord. The man listens to croony, moony, love-sick music late at night when the rest of the Manor has retreated to their own separate corners. How could you not melt?

Yet it’s impossible for you not to wonder what exactly he does behind his office door. It’s always firmly shut, and even with the proclivity toward psychic abilities in the Manor’s residents, you can’t completely school the curiosity it inspires. Listening to a couple croon about the stars or something equally cheesy from your spot out in the hall, you’ll often picture him relaxing in one of the high-backed armchairs situated near the heavy fireplace. Maybe he’s shut the door to his workspace proper, allowed himself some wine from the cellar, propped his feet up… Maybe he’s truly relaxing, thinking of something altogether having nothing to do with his work. It’s anachronistic enough to your steadfast image of him to be ridiculous, but you also can’t help but hope it exists in some form, protected behind the dark wood that muffles already-quietly trilling piano keys.

This is why, late one night, you’re stopped in your tracks at the foot of the stairs, already able to hear his music. You’d been just about to pull yourself up the stairs by the handrails, eyes bleary from staring at your screen all day when you’d picked out the dreamy march of brass. You’ve only ever been able to hear his records when you’re standing on the landing - is something wrong? Cautiously, you ascend the tightly winding stairs, your thoughts mirroring the spiraling steps as they scramble, chasing away any haziness.

Reaching the landing, you find dancing firelight spilling out across the thick Persian rug there, Dark’s door cracked shockingly wide. The sight is almost obscene, illuminating the spot that has been your shadowy cocoon. It’s only made more stark by the clarity of the music that lilts through the air. You have the keen, embarrassed feeling that you should not be seeing what you’re seeing, that you’re intruding, infringing on something private - even though all you can see of the office is a little bit of wall just inside the door. Even so, the sudden need to stop this, to preserve something personal, quiet, safe for Dark overtakes you. You’re spurred into action, crossing the space on careful feet. You move to shut the door, to right this obvious wrong, but as your hand takes the old brass knob, the music from within murmurs tender thoughts of lovers embracing after an age apart. Even with your goal so firmly in mind, you can’t stop your eyes from flitting over the sliver of his office the crack in the door reveals.

And, oh, what it reveals.

As if intentionally centered for your view, Dark is, as you’ve imagined countless times, tucked into one of the armchairs near the fire. His suit jacket has been carefully folded and hung over the back of his chair, his starkly white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a bit of the skin at his throat. More is revealed by the tilt of his head as he rests it back in the crook of the armchair’s wings.

You’ve never seen him so… undressed before. You immediately flush, embarrassedly shooing the thought away before it can become anything more than a passing observation. You’re thankful to see that his piercing eyes are gently shut, the breaths he draws steady and quiet. Even his aura is still, nonexistent except for his colorlessness. The dull ring that accompanies him, too, is almost completely silent. Whatever remains is drowned out by the softly crackling gramaphone to his side.

Although you know he doesn’t need to sleep, the tender image of him relaxed enough as to fall into it twists something so totally in your heart that it keeps you there, hand on the doorknob. You know you need to close the door back, and carefully, too, so you don’t pop whatever bubble of peace he’s floating in, but… It’s like having a dragonfly land on the tip of your finger, spotting a deer at the edge of your garden, catching the sun breaking over the horizon and truly beginning to dawn. How can you look away before it ends?

But you’re playing with fire in waiting for this moment to end, and, unfortunately, you get burned.

At least, it feels like you do. Suddenly, Dark’s head comes up, his eyes cracking open, and the cold heat of being caught scalds the back of your neck. You go to close the door, but it’s too late - his black eyes catch yours, and he calls your name. It’s gentle, a distant question, but it still makes your heart sink into some pitiful little depth of your stomach. There’s no way to play this off casually; he sounds truly awake. Either he wasn’t actually sleeping, or you’ve startled him enough to banish any hint of drowsiness from his voice. You’ve ruined this precious little thing, your knowledge of it revealed, and, gosh, you feel miserable for it. But you were called, and so you crack the door a little wider, an apology already on your lips.

“I was just going to shut it for you, I’m sorry,” you offer, quietly, as if trying not to interrupt the music still going at his elbow.

Dark doesn’t immediately respond, watching you with his usually piercing, contrasted eyes. Yet, they’re softer, tired - was he actually sleeping? The gramophone crackles like the low fire nearby. The record playing spins wobblingly, curled with age. The music is even dreamier unfiltered like this, giving the lowly-lit room a hint of unreality. Time seems to stretch between you, and when he finally speaks, his echoing, multi-throated voice only adds to the feeling you’re imagining things.

“...you may come in, if you would like.”

Something has gone horribly wrong. He, or another ego, is dying or has died, you’re certain of it. That, or Mark has figured out your plan to collect them and gotten to one first, maybe Yancy or the Captain, taking them out of the picture or scooping them up for himself. It’s the only obvious explanation your startled mind can offer for seeing Dark so markedly undone - his jacket, his shirt, the door…

Just as quickly, you realize how ridiculous the thought is. Dark wouldn’t look like a rather sleepy cat, cozied up to the fire with his music of choice, much less invite you so casually into his inner sanctum if things had gone to hell. No, there’d be more rending of reality or quick, tense words - a contingency plan thrown into action.

Which means you actually have to deal with being invited into his office late at night, a place you’ve hovered around and imagined for nigh on a month. You force yourself to respond casually, nodding as if this is normal for the two of you as you step over the threshold. He gestures for you to shut the door, and you do, gently putting it to rights before crossing the bookshelf-lined room to join him.

Like you always do. Obviously.

Once near the fire, you can see his aura is beginning to stir once more, the edges of him blurring with compelling darkness. In all the imagining you’d dared to entertain, you have never considered what his face would look like in these moments. His brow is relaxed, his expression open, and though his attention is fully fixed on you, it doesn’t cut through you or hunt for answers. He is merely regarding, the firelight only able to cast dancing shadows across his face for all its warmth. He’s relaxed. Relax-ing .

It’s, again, almost obscene. So much more than you anticipated. It’s one thing to imagine all that you have in theory, a different one to see it in truth, to experience it. And Dark, relaxing, is something you can barely take your eyes off of. He looks so much more like a person, undone after a long day of work, not quite ready to trip off to bed. With his aura so reserved, only mildly undulating at the very edges of him, you could almost dismiss it as a trick of the light, if not for how he absorbs and negates color.

Just a man.

Trying to stay casual, you prop yourself on the chair across from him, chin in hand, and you both watch each other for a moment. Both quiet. Both tired. Except your silence is tinged with subtle awe. At being invited in, at being here, at seeing him this way. It’s like the killer panther that typically stares you down from the shadows giving you a lazy, sun-warmed blink. As much as you try to treat Dark normally, there are moments when you can’t help being amazed - though it’s usually due to his eldritch powers and not him engaging in the simple act of sleeping.

Which begs the question - why leave the door open while he was so indisposed? Mild concern rises again, and you feel compelled to ask.

“Is everything okay…?”

You swear his eyes twinkle, amused. It’s hard to tell with the fire dancing like it is, his face remaining otherwise unchanged. You want to frown, wondering how loud your thoughts have been, but leave it.

“Yes... and no, as always. Nothing has changed, if that is what you mean. There is no need to worry.”

Coming from anyone else, it would be a formality. Your shoulders would stay hunched, your brow might furrow. But when Dark says it, when he speaks more quietly than you think you’ve ever heard him speak, it scatters whatever remaining fears his invitation had kicked up to the wind. You exhale. It is a comfort, but… It doesn’t explain why he invited you in. If you had really ruined his illusion of privacy, would he so readily let you walk over its remnants?

Suddenly, the answer is clear - so simple and obvious as to be startling. You speak before you can question the thought.

“Just want some company?”

Dark continues to watch you, but his gaze loses some of its lethargy. The panther stirs, considering. Weighing. Calculating. Heat rises up your neck ever so slightly - that will teach you to jump to conclusions.

But then he hums and gives an affirming nod. He gestures to the seat you’re leaning on. “Again, if you would like…”

Is that hesitancy?

You really feel like you’re dreaming as you settle across from him. He just wants company. He hesitated. He couldn’t even ask for it. Notably distant Dark, who never joins the rest of you for meals, for after-dinner drinks, who you rarely ever see outside his office… wants company. Although the chair’s winged back curls around you and radiates warmth absorbed from the fire, you find it difficult to relax as he continues to, turning his black-and-white gaze to the fire. Does he want conversation? Comfortable silence? How are you meant to parse what he’s wanting against the background of how surreal it is that you’re actually here?

But little things remind you that this is very much happening - the heat of the nearby fire, the music’s volume being slightly louder than you’d imagined. Although, you remind yourself, you’ve been hearing it muffled by heavy wood until now. It’s still relatively soft, just clearer up close. Your eyes fall to the gramophone piping it out. You’ve seen it in passing, but it registered about as much as the carved wooden globe on the mantle - furniture, meant as a finishing touch for the room. It looks like a true antique, though, its curved neck and ornate mouth lovingly maintained, polished to a shine apart from a few inevitable age spots. It’s close enough to Dark for him to operate without getting up, records tidily shelved underneath.

Your eyes edge back to the man seated so nearby. His slowly awakening aura is gently tugging at your attention, but he himself pays you no mind. That relieves you, somewhat, a silent answer to what his idea of ‘company’ is.

You realize, then, that you’ve never simply existed with him before. Throughout your time at the Manor, you two have only ever been in each other’s company to work or exchange information. There’s always been a goal, something to focus on, to accomplish. But now… there’s nothing. Nothing to do but exist.

Why does that suddenly feel so hard?

You must be thinking rather loudly, because Dark’s gaze slides leisurely from the flames onto you. He tilts his head, but not in that strange drifting motion it sometimes does, gravitating to some sick angle of its own accord. No, he’s just curious. You smile sheepishly, wondering if all your mental spinning has disturbed his peace, made him second-guess inviting you in.

“Too loud?”

Another amused flicker in his colorless eyes. “No louder than usual.”

So tired Dark has jokes , apparently. You give him a look. “Not exactly comforting.”

“To be fair, they are much quieter than when you arrived.” It’s almost a compliment - at least he’s not calling you loud anymore. Letting that be a comfort, you attempt to relax back into the chair. It, like the rest of the Manor’s furniture, feels straight out of a period drama with none of the damage of age. It’s still as soft as it was whenever Dark crafted this bubble of reality.

“It’s hard when you can’t control it - like I have noise cancelling headphones and can’t hear myself or anyone else.”

He hums. “You do not need to explain it to me.” Ouch. You look to the fire, taking the inside of your cheek between your teeth. When will you learn to keep your foot out of your mouth? Dark senses the sudden silence and mildly clears his throat. “I mean… Only to say that I understand you do not have the same ability. I do not hold it against you.”

His voice still has that quietness to it, a low, gentle undercurrent. It’s practically an apology, how he chooses his words. You shift, rubbing your finger joints with your other hand. You’ve been told it looks like hand-wringing, but it soothes you and the soreness there. “I think you saw it differently, when I first got here,” you hazard, just as quiet as you look back to him. Dark is watching you evenly, but something shifts in his brow as he recalls that first day. How different your tones had been, how differently you’d approached the other. You’re only feet from where that first conversation took place, and yet…

“...much was different, then,” he murmurs. “I was, perhaps… harsher than I should have been. I was unaccustomed to the sensation, not at my best.” He seems to stop himself there, closing something that was edging open before looking back to the fire. “I have grown used to it. The sound of your thoughts does not trouble me, but you have also improved at closing your mind. It is impressive, for someone unlike the rest of us.”

Good lord, maybe he actually is dying. You don’t think you’ve heard so many kind words from the man in all your months of living together. His gaze stays fixed on the flames, even as you stare at him, a little stunned. Silence draws out between you, filled only by tonight’s accompaniment. Yet, it doesn’t spark with nervous energy or prickle in pointed coldness. It crackles like ancient records warped with time, old oak burning to warm a place apart from the rest of existence. You settle deeper into the armchair, eyes turning from the shadow you’re keeping company.

He only barely catches your pleased little smile, finding it hard to look at you for too long.

-

From then on, Dark leaves the door open for you, although cracked much less wide than before. When you call it a night, you make your way through the Manor to your seat near his fire instead of right to bed. Although the weather of the world still reaches you, the place Dark maintains is always just slightly colder, so the fire’s warmth is never unwelcome. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you sit together in silence, but regardless of how chatty either of you feel, there’s always music curling underneath the moment. Dark doesn’t sleep like he did the first night, but he always has his coat off and that softer turn to his eyes by the time you arrive. It’s strange, at first, to see him switch so much between his work and leisure personas, and at first you wonder why he’s not always so relaxed. Surely things would be less tense.

And then you remember Wilford’s incessant gunfire, Google’s underlying objective, the weight of his very existence. Without his steady, cool glare, the Manor would be full of bullet holes, and they’d all probably be dead with Mark free to break reality to his whim. If Dark wasn’t so tightly wound, everything would come undone.

So you enjoy - scratch that. You let him be how he is, in each moment, without comparison. Sure, it’s nice to talk to Dark when he isn’t grinding out words from between his teeth, and seeing him undone has removed whatever distance might have remained between you, but to say you enjoy him…

Christ. Who are you kidding - you really enjoy him.

It really happens without you noticing, and it almost drives you nuts with how cliche it all is. Things just build up - he has a pillow placed in your chair just so for your lower back, you pull the smallest of smiles of him with a well-put observation (and find that his eyes crinkle the same way the other egos’ do) - until one night he asks you to dance.

He’s not quite so blunt as that about it, but it’s essentially what happens. You’re sitting together, having fallen into one of those comfortably quiet moments when a song comes on that you recognize. Not from your time lingering around Dark’s door, but from before you came to the Manor, vague memories welling up of a ballroom dancing class in undergrad you’d taken for fun full of sore toes and sweaty hands. You laugh, suddenly, startled at just how far away that moment feels. You try to cover it with your hand, but you continue to chuckle as something about the ridiculousness of it gets to you, and Dark watches you with some mix of amusement and concern. There’s a little of that predator’s intentionality there - searching for answers. You shake your head as you calm, dropping your hand but still smiling.

“Just… I know this song.”

“Oh?” Read: Continue.

“Well, I… Back in my first year at university, I... well, I signed up for this ballroom dancing unit. This was one of the songs we used, I think.” Dark inclines his head as something changes in his gaze. Your last little aftershock of laughter passes and you settle back into watching the fire lick at its grate, content to let it lie. But Dark continues to watch you. Feeling him still staring, you look back - very little of that soft turn to his eyes remains. He is a man focused. “What?” you eventually ask, shifting under his stare.

“I did not know you danced.”

You fluster, then, scoffing at the idea, eyes falling to the carpet between you. “I… don’t. Unless you count slow dancing, I guess. It was just the one class. Forever ago.”

He’s not content, fixated. But quiet. Considering. Weighing. Then…

“Would you like to?”

You look back quickly enough that you wonder if his aura pulled at you in tandem with your surprise. “Wh. I… Now?”

He nods, slowly. You just stare, trying to process the idea and coming up with no clear thoughts. Then he does something funny - he actually shifts under your scrutiny, gaze flickering away for the briefest of moments before returning to you. That alone is enough to stun you further, Dark looking practically shy, but he explains. “In my day, I was an avid dancer. I enjoyed little else outside of… work. I can show you how.”

You momentarily wonder which of his past lives he means before you find yourself nodding in agreement. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, this is… new. Dark offering so much at such little gain to himself, unfurling those cards from so close to his chest. Refusing now might mean they would never come away again.

“Can you?” Your voice is surprisingly dry, distant, but Dark doesn’t seem to notice, focused on the task now at hand. On you. He only nods and rises from his chair in a smooth motion before offering you a hand.

From experience, you know he leeches color from whatever he touches, even things in his vicinity if his aura is expansive and active enough. Yet, you’ve never had reason to make direct contact, and so you still watch in minor surprise as your hand loses its luster and gains a black-and-white cast when you take his. “It isn’t permanent,” he explains as you stand to join him. “It’s only… plants, that can’t handle it.” He sounds mildly embarrassed, and it clicks why you’ve never seen him in the Host’s garden. The future-sighted ego had probably barred him from the place years ago.

“Oh,” you reply lamely, and he ducks his head somewhat before leading you to the more open space between your chairs and the outer office door. There, he turns smoothly and you’re in position, having used his hold on your hand to subtly guide you closer. Your other hand lands on his upper arm, almost at his shoulder, and he gently shifts his elbow under yours to guide it to rest on top, near his collar. His own hand comes to rest higher on your back than you remember from class, almost on your shoulder blade.

It feels so proper, how you stand, how he holds you… Against the age-old music set to guide you and the Manor’s unchanged decor, you can almost see who he was before - the swish of a beaded skirt, the creak of a heavy cane - but then he speaks, heavy with shadow, and all you know is the darkness in your arms, here and now.

“Just a simple step. You remember a waltz?” You nod - did we dance this close together back then? “Good. Then you know to follow me. Stay relaxed...”

The idea of relaxing flies out of your mind the minute he guides you backward. All your mental energy is focused on not laughing in pure nervous surprise as he seems to get closer and closer before your muscle memory manages to kick in and you’re stepping back with him. You’re slightly out of sync, and he slows just so to catch up with you before he brings you back up to the pace of the song. “Relax,” he murmurs, dipping his head so much closer to yours than feels decent as he speaks, as if sharing a secret. “I have you.”

You certainly do, you think, immediately glad you’ve been practicing keeping your mind closed more often. With all the time you were spending with Dark in his off-hours, you had felt it was only fair that you didn’t overload him any further. That extra practice is coming in handy now as your thoughts swirl behind the dam you imagine holds them back from the general psychic public - your dance partner in particular.

True to his word, Dark keeps it simple, guiding you slowly around the open space, easily turning you in lazy patterns across the floor. And thank goodness for that - anything more complicated and you wouldn’t be able to balance it with how hyper-aware you are of everywhere the two of you touch, the feeling of his firm shoulder and crisp dress shirt under your hand, the skin of his palm against yours - softer than you’d imagined, with calluses inside his first finger from years of pen-writing.

All the same little anxieties bubble up, long-forgotten but haunting you now with a vengeance. Are you gripping him too tightly? Are you anticipating his movements too much? Is your hand getting sweaty, or is that normal? Can he hear you breathing funny? You’ve thankfully settled into a comfortable angle of faces, yours turned slightly to the left and down, eyes fixed firmly on the curve of his shoulder. You don’t think you could trust yourself to make eye contact just now. You can’t say how exactly Dark’s face is turned, though, so focused on keeping your eyes where they are and your thoughts in check that you haven’t looked - nor do you hear him speaking your name until he squeezes you ever so slightly.

You turn, bidden, and you’re practically nose to nose. His stark eyes are already watching you when you meet them, and it steals whatever shallow breath was in your lungs. Up close, you would think you would be able to discern a hint of color in his irises, find that they were really a dark, dark brown. But they are truly, completely black. And they watch you so carefully, thoughtfully, with barely any room to breathe between you.

Your face must betray how the proximity startles you, because you get treated to another of his small, almost imperceptible smiles. Up close. You can see how it pulls at his eyes, and you’re thankful now that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I… Yes?”

“You’re quiet,” he explains, after a beat.

“Do you… typically talk, dancing like this?” When did your throat get so dry? Dark chuckles, low and only for a moment.

“You can... But I was referring to your thoughts.” Uh oh.

“Oh…?” You try to sound normal, mildly interested instead of panicked, already floundering for what to say. Dark’s eyes flicker across your face, and you feel horribly exposed. As if, through the underbrush, you’ve just caught the gleam of a predator’s gaze.

“The closer you are, the more clearly I hear them. Yet…” He pauses, turning you past a low table. “I can barely hear you at all.” Then his voice grows softer, somehow, and your throat feels like it’s never known water. “Where did you go?”

“I…” You swallow fruitlessly, dropping your gaze back to his shoulder, to safety. What can you say to explain the sudden, obvious gap without blurting oh, it’s nothing, I only just realized I’ve been falling in love with you for the past couple of months when you asked me to dance and now I’m trying not to lose it while you hold me. “I’ve… been practicing,” you try. It’s the truth, at least. But you still can’t meet his eyes, though you feel them keenly observing you. “Didn’t… Didn’t want to be shouting at you, from, well... this close.”

He’s quiet then, focusing on sweeping you steadily around the room. The song has changed, your pace slowing somewhat to match the new one, and he takes the chance to guide you through a slightly more complicated step, jettisoning words in favor of taking you through a lazy spin before you fall back into the same step as before. You think you might have dodged a bullet as you settle into the movement, your gentle contact not so new and mind-reeling as it was when you started. But then he speaks, and the echo of his voice almost covers his words for how low it is.

“I… enjoy hearing your thoughts. Hearing you.” Dark’s hand holds yours more firmly as the one on your back brings you close to his chest. He’s practically cradling you against him, and you turn your face towards his in the moment to keep from being trapped looking away. You’ve never seen him make the face he’s wearing now - so serious, brow pulled just slightly, intent, yet that searching intensity has faded. Earnest . “I… I enjoy you. Unless you want your privacy, you are free to… be open with me. If you would like,” he's quick to add, his signature phrase that feels so much like as you wish.

You’re grateful he brings you to an easy stop, even as the music continues behind you because dancing has become beyond your grasp. Your eyes flicker across his shadowed face, mind scrambling as the dam you imagine creaks dangerously within. How much is too much? You hunt for clues in his expression, his face betraying so damn little like always, but then - then - his eyes flicker ever so briefly to your lips, and your eyes perceive a slightly darker shade of gray unfurling across his cheeks.

So you let go.

You don’t drown him in it, of course, but you allow your mind to open slowly once more. He inhales a forcibly steady breath, eyes searching yours once more as he processes, weighs, and finally draws you completely into him, head turning just so to finally fit your lips together in a kiss that feels like crisp, refreshing relief and wood smoke under a winter moon. You breathe in, feeling how cool he is to the touch, how steady he is under your hands, your kiss, even as his aura constantly roils.

Dark drops your hand to cradle your head and draw you further in, your arm finds its way around his broad back. His lips leave yours and you’re already starting to imagine your next kiss before he interrupts and gives it to you, a low sound in his throat and his hand bringing a tilt to your head that makes you incredibly thankful for how he’s holding you up. You kiss, and kiss, parting and rejoining in soft pecks and long presses that make the old standards you’ve bonded over sound like both the truest truths and palest lies.

Eventually, though, he withdraws, letting you catch your breath, soothing you with small kisses trailing from your lips to your jaw and back toward the joint of it and your neck. He’s adoring and unhurried - though the farther down his lips descend, the less air you can properly draw in. He slows on the softer skin there, hand still supporting your head where you tipped it back for him, and inhales gently as if he, too, needs to be steadied. His voice is a distant rumble, as much in your head as it is spoken. “Is my music really so moony...?”

It’s so sudden, your thoughts laid bare against the hint of his insecurity. A laugh bubbles up and out of you, breathless waves shaking your body. You only hold onto him tighter, and he squeezes you back in turn. You can feel him really smiling down against your neck, the pull of his lips and rounding of his cheeks evident against your sensitive skin. Why had you even tried to hide?

“The fact that you could sing any of them while gazing longingly at the stars should answer your question,” you tease, and he’s laughing with you, settling into just holding you close. “...but I like it. It’s romantic.”

“It was not my original intent, but...what wonderful results,” he murmurs, kissing your throat once more before coming back up, letting you catch your breath properly. How does he make the cheesiest things sound good?

“Mine either,” you admit. His brow quirks above warm eyes.

“No? What, then, was your intent in imagining how I chose to relax?” he asks, a wicked tease coloring his tone. You blink, and then heat rises up the back of your neck, your ears burn. He knew?? The whole time?????

“You could…” Your voice is distant as Dark draws the back of his hand softly across your cheek, fingers trailing the blush rising there. His eyes dip to follow it, watching it unfurl under your skin with the most damnably amused smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Damn him. Damn him, of course he knew!

“You should know doors can do very little to stop me…” You groan miserably. “But I liked it. It was romantic,” he continues, echoing you. It has such buried mirth that it only serves to embarrass you further, so you worm your arms against his chest, trying to push him off. He only chuckles that deep chuckle and holds you closer, lips pressing to your temple. “And so kind of you to want to protect me and my little moment… Did I really look so deliciously undressed...”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” And here he had been playing coy this whole time! Letting you just dangle all your most embarrassing thoughts for anyone to see! You continue to struggle against him, if only to register your complaint. “You’ve completely ruined this, I hope you’re happy, you insufferable--” He dips and catches your lips again, humming and silencing your insults with his kiss. For all your indignant protesting, it’s impossible not to melt against him, your hands that tried to push him away stilling against his chest before sliding up to meet behind his neck. When he finally breaks your embrace, you huff softly. “I can’t believe you.”

He’s smiling, but sobers slightly as you hold each other, his eyes just taking you in. “...it was a comfort to me, to know I was not alone in my affection… despite all my hesitation in admitting it. I did say I enjoy hearing you for a reason, lamb.”

You’re melting, but then your nose wrinkles. “Lamb?” Dark tilts his head.

“Pet?”

“Why all the animal names?”

It’s his turn to huff, then. “It seems I am not as skilled as Wilford when it comes to terms of endearment.” Your nose wrinkles further, the rotating cast of gushy names the mustachioed man throws around only making you wince with laughter.

“Please, no, I know you can do better than those.”

Dark puffs up a little at that, somehow pleased by the implication. “I’ll have to put my mind to it when I’m fresh, then. But for now…” He draws back, taking your hand into his, the other sliding up your back and into position. “Shall we?”

“Gladly,” you murmur, and he leads you in an altogether different dance.

[multifandombitxh]

Being Aizawa’s Wife Headcanons

Someone requested this literal ages ago and I’m only just now getting to it lol so sorry

Aizawa’s one of those people who thinks marriage is just a piece of paper and a tax benefit.

Despite that, he would still ultimately decide to marry you, especially if it meant a lot to you.

Loves hearing you call him your husband but would never admit it

Loves calling you his wife, takes a lot of pride in it.

He really doesn’t want to have the “Are you married?!” conversation with his students, so he only really wears his ring in his personal time.

Unless you ask him to. He has a hard time saying no to you.

If his students ever do find out that he’s married, they’d hit him with questions every single day in hopes that he’ll spill the beans.

He does, once in a blue moon, talk about you, but tries not to say too much. He doesn’t want his students to take it too far.

All of his efforts are thwarted when you show up unexpectedly to bring him lunch.

If you’re shy, he’ll do his best not to draw too much attention to you and quickly usher you out of the room so you wouldn’t have to hear what his students have to say.

If you’re more outgoing, he’ll probably just slide down to the floor and let you have at it. Answer as many questions as you like; your hubby’s too busy snoozin’ to care.

In public, he’s always kissing your knuckles, your cheek, your nose, or your forehead. Just can’t control himself whenever he gets the urge.

In private, he’s more likely to kiss you on the lips (and enjoys it very much), but also kisses your shoulders, your neck, and your jaw. If there’s exposed skin, he’s smoochin’ it.

Not the type of husband to demand gender roles from you. He understands that marriage isn’t black and white; both parties have to put in effort when it comes to dishes, housework, bills, cooking, the like.

Is a Masterchef level cook don’t @ me

Seriously that man has SKILL

Likes having date nights whenever he can get the chance, which isn’t often. When he does have a night to spoil you, he goes all in. Whether it’s a home cooked meal and a back massage, an expensive dinner, or a night kissing under the stars on the beach, he doesn’t hold back. He wants those kinds of nights to be special.

Always trying to help you reach your dreams and goals.

He likes to plan out how to get you where you want to be. He’ll spend hours looking into your dream job, what education is required, where it’s located, everything.

He wants you to achieve all of your aspirations and wants to be by your side when you do it.

Never considered the idea of being a father until he married you.

His life was just too chaotic for a child, and his students were more than enough to keep him busy.

So unless you really want to start a family, he won’t bring it up.

He will definitely adopt several cats with you. There is no choice. He’s gotta have ‘em, especially if you don’t end up having kids of your own.

The cats are his babies now.

Always makes sure there are fresh flowers in your home.

Likes to ask you for your point of you on some of his issues; whether it’s about a certain villain, something happening at UA, or something more personal, he wants to know what you think.

Is 100% willing to spend the entire night laying in bed, talking about anything that comes to mind.

Cuddling and kisses are, of course, a must on nights like those.

While others might not expect it, he’s actually pretty funny when you’re alone together.

Has the laugh of an angel and a smile like the sunrise. The dude glows when he’s grinning ear to ear about something.

This became evident when he first saw you walking down the aisle on your wedding day.

He thinks back on that day often and fondly.

Never fails to put a smile on his face, remembering how he felt when he realized you were choosing him, and only him.

There are definitely photos from your wedding day hung up around the house.

His favorite is the one of you dancing together at your reception.

It’s hanging above your shared bed.

Speaking of pictures; he has a tiny photo of you in his wallet at all times.

Even though he has a hard time saying it out loud, he would do anything for you, and loves you more than anything on the planet.

Yes, even the cats.

(But it’s a close call.)

[mhaverse-writes]

burning cold. (dabi x prohero!reader)

author’s note: oh, hi. uh, this is awkward. remember when i said i was coming back like months ago then i didn’t? good times, good times. well after a rough patch irl, i’m officially back! hope you didn’t miss me too much uwu. anyways, onto the story, i hope you enjoy! thanks for reading <3 - with love, rj

description: while working undercover at a club looking for a target, you run into the last person you wanted to see. the dangerous villain, dabi, who just so happens to be your very forbidden ex. though you’re trying to move on, dabi isn’t ready to let you go just yet.

warnings: cursing, suggestive content (some smoochin’ and heavy pettin’ ya dig?), dabi being massive a dick

                                             ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Hey, baby. You come here often?"

"Go to hell, Dabi."

From your seat at the bar, you take a quick sip of your drink before checking that your ear piece was off. You glance around to make sure none of your colleagues have noticed the poorly-disguised villain trying to 'pick you up,' but let out a tiny sigh of relief as they're too preoccupied with scouting for the target. Dabi chuckles, drawing your attention back to him, his smug face souring your mood the longer you look at it.

"If you're here to arrest me, you're doing a shit job at it," He idly runs his finger across the rim of his glass while resting his elbow against the bar and his head in his hand. His lack of caution with the fact that he's sitting next to a literal pro-hero isn't anything new, but it still annoyed you to no end. Did he see you as some kind of joke? Or he just knows you aren't going to do anything about it. God, the fact that he's so certain of his safety pisses you off even more.

"Shut up, I'm not here for you," Snapping with a bite that only makes his grin widen, you turn in your seat rather fast, spilling a little bit of your drink onto the floor. You ignore it, and do your best to ignore him as you rake your gaze across who you were really here for. Dabi turns as well, making a show of stretching before resting his arm behind you on the bar table. You feel your eye twitch, risking a look at him. He has his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"Your claws wound me, kitten." Though he's speaking in his usual lazy drawl, somehow it isn't hard to hear him over the vibrating bass of music pounding your ears. It also didn't fail to send a tiny chill down your spine at the sound of the almost nostalgic nickname. You do your best to quell it, but it's Dabi of fucking course he notices. His grin is nearly lecherous, but he doesn't speak on it, thank God.

"Why are you here anyway? How did you find me?" Curiosity getting the better of you (the whole summation of your relationship with Dabi, if you're being honest) you turn to meet his icy blue stare, scowling hard to make sure you didn't get lost in it.

"Maybe 'I'm not here for you.'" Dabi parrots, eyes not leaving yours as he takes a sip of his drink. Your first instinct is to call bullshit, but a nagging insecurity at the back of your brain envisions him with someone else. Jealousy churns in your stomach, ugly and rancid, before you bury it down in disgust. Why should I care? Your rational side argues. It's good that he's moved on, that way he'll leave me the hell alone. But you know deep down, you're lying to yourself. Though you're pretty sure you'd rather nosedive off a cliff before admitting that.

Either way, you've entertained this long enough already. Grabbing your drink, you down the rest of it before moving to stand. The muted surprise on Dabi's face-- though it's as simple as his eyes widening the smallest amount-- doesn't fail to bring you satisfaction. He may think you're willing to give him all of your attention, but you are more than happy to prove him wrong.

Dabi, however, obviously is not.

Before you can even think, Dabi's hand snatches your wrist and drags you backward, sending you careening into his chest. You scoff up at him. Was he being serious right now?

"What the hell do you think you're--?!"

Dabi's lips fall to your ear and you're barely able to contain a shiver. "Your little 'target,' is onto you, kit. Three o' clock." Eyes widening, you instinctively turn to look, but Dabi tightens his hold on your wrist and whisks you away, leaving you stumbling after him as you try to keep up with his long legs. He expertly weaves you both through the oblivious crowd, before bodily moving you into a tiny corner on the other side of the club. You try to check on your teammates, but your attention is snatched by Dabi as he takes up every inch of your vision, pinning you against the wall. His cold eyes twinkle with amusement as he takes you in slowly.

"Y'know, I really missed you, sweet thing," You would almost think he's sincere if it weren't for the way he isn't sincere at all. He dips his head down and presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. You can't help but whimper, kicking yourself mentally right after. You can't do this right now! Your target is not only suspicious of you, but the fact your team could catch you with Dabi at any second seizes your stomach with fear. You reach up to your ear piece to turn it on. If you request assistance, maybe you could scare Dabi off.

Your fingers graze only the empty inside of your ear. Panic bubbles in you, burning cold. You look up at Dabi, to find your earpiece clutched daintily between his teeth. No. You reach forward, but aren't fast enough to stop him before he crushes it with a flex of his jaw.

You're alone.

Alone with him.

"Aw, don't look so scared, kit." He spits the busted thing out. You don't have time to register how gross that is before he takes another step close, even closer, bowing his head until your noses brush. Dabi's eyes flick down to your mouth. Your heart stops. "I'll protect you."

His lips crash into yours and you can't help the moan that leaves from deep in your chest at the feeling. Completely losing all reason, you arch into Dabi, hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him flush against you. You feel him smirk against your lips and a small part of you argues that you giving into him is a bad thing. But honestly, can it be so bad when it feels so unbelievably good?

Dabi pulls away all too soon and you damn near whine, chasing after his lips fruitlessly. Leaning back to his full height, Dabi considers you while looking all too pleased with himself. You’re too blissed out to care. God, you'd forgotten what his kiss felt like, did it always knock the breath out of you so fast?

"Here's the sitch, hero." He says, calloused hands tracing your features. You melt into them, despite yourself. "I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t here for you. Thing is, the little snitch you're after has unfinished business with us. And you taking him in--well--causes some problems for me and my team."

That gets you. Snapping out of your stupor, you blink up at him, eyebrows creasing. Is this what this was? He was only trying to distract you? You dig your nails into your palms, cursing yourself for not seeing this sooner. If Dabi was here, damn well Toga or someone else could be here too. If Toga was here, you wouldn't even know who she was. What if she already took advantage of you abandoning your post and snatched up the target? Hell, she could already be halfway back to their base with him!

"You bastard!" Damn near snarling, you shove him back with all your might, face hot with embarrassment. "Is that why you cornered me here? To get me away from your fucking snitch?!" Dabi merely chuckles. God, you wanted to punch him right in his stupid mouth.

"No, baby. I brought you here because I missed you,” His thumb ran over your bottom lip, retreating when you tried to bite him. “And tell you to back off.” Though he's still smiling, all humor has drained from his voice, making your blood run cold. "I'd hate to have to dirty up that pretty little outfit of yours. I'll take it from here."

"Like hell you w--!"

"There you are!"

The voice of your superior sends relief and fear rushing in you at the same time. You whirl to face her, trying to mask the shame threatening to swallow you whole.

"S-starlight!" You squeak, standing at attention. You glance at Dabi, to find he's already gone, the dancing crowd overtaking where he once stood. Oh, thank God, you think, before freezing up again. He was off to get the target. You didn't have much time.

"Where did you go?" Starlight demands, her iridescent nails digging into your shoulders as she grasped them. "I was worried you'd been compromised."

"W-we're not alone, Star," You stutter out, mind still reeling from the feeling of Dabi against you. Despite the fact he tricked you, it didn't stop the way your body still tingled at the thought of him. Jesus, you were done for. "The League is here, they're after the target too!" You left out Dabi. You left out Dabi?! Fuck, you were protecting him!

"What? Did they hurt y--?"

"No, no, I'm okay. But we need to hurry before--!"

Before you could finish, the sound of screams ripped your body from the inside out. Oh, no.

You and Starlight rush into action, following the screams towards the middle of the dance floor, where a crowd had gathered. You noticed the rest of your team pushing against people as well, struggling to get to the middle. But you didn't have to get there to see what happened next.

Blue flames fanned out in a hot arc, prompting the crowd to back away even further, shoving you and Starlight back. Dabi emerged from the fire, clutching your limp target, a sweaty, plump, balding man by the collar of his shirt. God, was he...?

"Dabi!" Starlight shouts, pure energy bursting to life from her palms. She used a beam of hard light to propel herself up and over the crowd, aiming towards the man. Your heart drops. For Starlight, Dabi, or both, you're not even sure.

Before she can reach him, however, Dabi takes off, using his flames to scare the crowd away, clearing a path for himself. The fire begins to spread and everyone shakes out of their shock to replace it with panic. The people run in different directions, struggling to escape the flames. Starlight and your teammates attempt to fight the crowd and chase the villain, but you stay stuck to the spot, cradling yourself to find some sense of comfort. You knew they weren't going to catch him. You've lost the target.

And it's all your fault.

Sighing, you kick into gear, following Starlight and pushing against the panic and eventually making it outside. The chill of the night is refreshing, but does nothing to ease the weight on your chest. Though you knew Dabi was long gone, it hurt even more to see it. He had played you. Again.

And something tells you it won't be the last time.

[starfinite]

187 for the prompts?

187. “I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

(Coworkers!au) It’s smoochin’ time my dudes!!!

Starline’s running thoughts were put to a halt once the coffee maker in front of him spewed a squeaking noise. The hot bean juice started pouring into his mug. It kind of put him in a trance... He had began to stare at nothing for a few seconds until he forced himself to tear his gaze away; checking on the jackal behind him.

The one he had kissed just a few hours earlier sat at one of the empty tables. It was always hard to read his expressions with the metal mask over his face. But as Starline observed Infinite stare at a wall, the more he knew Infinite was probably still thinking about their kiss. Or maybe it was a really interesting wall... ?

Infinite suddenly locked eyes with Starline. The platypus’ fur at his neck prickled a bit. His face grew hot at being caught staring. The coffee maker’s chime sounded- indicated it was done. Starline let out a nervous cough as he quickly returned his focus back on the mug. He silently cursed at himself for making that awkward move. “You could have said something witty. ANYTHING really,” he thought.

Instead, Infinite spoke.

“May we kiss again?”

Starline turned to him again with a blank look. He replied, “... Come again?”

The jackal stood and made his way over to the platypus’ side, he had a slight limp to his walk due to the past fight’s injuries that still linger. “I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right,” he said quietly. “Can I... Can we try again?”

He had to process that request a bit... Then he understood. Both of their snoots were on the elongated side. So mobian couples would usually have some adjusting to do if they were to kiss properly. A small amount of head tilting here and there. The kiss they had earlier probably felt a bit odd on Infinite’s end, which is why he wanted to try again. (A/N: this is a callout post cuz drawing mobians kissing is HARD. >:T )

Infinite backed off from Starline’s silence. “Apologies... If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I don’t mean to-“

“No!!” Starline blurted. “No, I uh- Yes. We may try again-“ he started to go off topic “- ‘May’ would be the correct term, by the...” He trailed off as he watched Infinite lift his mask to have it rest on the bridge of his nose. They were still in the break-room, so Infinite isn’t comfortable with fully taking his mask off. Oh how Starline longed to see that face later, as they both knew he was one of the few people Infinite is comfortable enough with seeing his face.

Infinite drew closer, reaching out to gently and even floating a few inches off the floor, to rest a clawed hand on Starline’s shoulder and the other against his cheek. He tilted his head ever so slightly and leaned in. Starline felt his own tension melt away, taking a soft hold on the other’s hips, closing his eyes, and meeting him halfway.

The break-room was silent again. But this time it smelled like coffee.... And had two defeated villains kissing in it.

Starline drew away after some heatbeats, but still held the jackal. He felt warm all over just like earlier. “Was that uhm... better?” He asked.

“A bit,” Infinite replied with a small shrug. “But I’d still like to try another...”

The platypus raised an eyebrow at that. Again? Was that kiss odd for the other as well? “Alright,” he said before sharing yet another kiss. “Any better??”

“Hm... I’m still not sure,” Infinite said, now with a hint of amusement in his voice and a clear smile on his snoot. “Maybe a few more, if you will. Then I’ll let you know.”

At that point, Starline began to catch on. A bamboozled platypus he was. They squinted at him. “My coffee is getting cold, Finny.”

“There’s microwaves for a reason, Docotor.” Infinite leaned in again. “Coffee can wait.”

[saywha413]

More bad writing by me :D 

I imagined a proposal scenario for our favorite gays

I included the entire past fic, so you can skip it if you’ve already read it.

Also posted on archive of our own, so you can read it there too

20-year-old Goh was sitting at his desk, working hard (or was he hardly working 😏). He was writing a bunch of notes from his research on eevee and their evolutions. While he was proofreading it, the memory of his boyfriend, Ash Ketchum, asking him on their first date popped into his head…

It was a gorgeous day in Kanto. The sun was shining, the pidgey and spearow chirping, and the aerodactyl in Cerise Park sleeping. Professor Cerise let all the researchers have the day off, so they were all in Cerise Park. Chloe and Chrysa were watching an improvised game of soccer by the Pokémon and talking about the latest Pokémon Food Contest, Ren and Professor Cerise were hanging out with Goh’s other Pokémon. Suicune even appeared, it sensed something special was going to happen today and wanted to see it. Goh and Ash were sitting (closer than just friends would be) above all the others and talking. Eventually they fell silent and just watched the others. “Hey Goh?” Ash asked out of the blue. “Yeah?” Goh turned his head from the scene below. “I know we’ve done lots of things together, and even done date-like things, but never really gone on a date, so will you go on a date with me?” Ash gushed. He noticed the huge blush on his and Goh’s faces when Goh responded, “Of course I will!” He tackled Ash with a hug. The two research fellows were completely unaware that all the people and Pokémon in Cerise Park had witnessed what just happened. “I should go get cleaned up,” Ash stated. “Ok, I’ll pack a lunch or something…” Goh walked to the kitchen while Ash dashed to their shared room. Chloe, seeing an opportunity to tease them, followed them inside. She walked into the kitchen and greeted Goh who was making sandwiches for him and Ash. He got some donuts and drinks, as well as Poké Food for all their Pokémon. “You excited for your date?” Chloe teased, a huge smirk on her face. “What?!” Goh’s face turned bright red. “No I’m not.” He stated. They had been friends long enough to know he was lying instantly. “Stop teasing me!” He shot a glare at Chloe. She just laughed it off, teasing Goh was both easy and fun.

As Chloe walked up the stairs to Ash and Goh’s shared room, she wondered how she could tease Ash. His dense brain probably wouldn’t understand any of it. She knocked on the door and was answered with a “Come in!” She plopped on the bottom bunk and calmly stated “You and Goh make a cute couple.” Ash blushed a little and responded with “Thanks.” “Where are you taking him on your date?” Chloe innocently asked. “Oh. I don’t know.” Ash shrugged. “You don’t know?!” Chloe deadpanned. “I figured Goh would know what to do and where to go…” Ash packed up the last things he would need and said bye to Chloe. Chloe rushed out to Cerise Park and asked all the Pokémon and researchers, “Who wants to follow Ash and Goh on their date?” She was met with a various amount of grunts, roars, and other Pokémon noises. Chrysa agreed, she wanted to see the date for herself, but the Professor and Ren politely declined. Soon Ash and Goh left with the lunch and their main Pokémon (Pikachu, cinderace, lucario, sobble/drizzile/inteleon). They didn’t notice the two girls following them and the dragon or the ghost or all the various other Pokémon. The research fellows walked to the Cerise park and set out all the food, even the food for the Pokémon, and they let the Pokémon go free and walk around. They didn’t notice that Professor Cerise and Ren had left earlier or that suicune was still there, just watching from a different spot. Ash, being Ash, was shoveling food into his mouth while Goh was eating at a normal pace. Ash was so focused on food and Goh was so focused on Ash that they didn’t notice Chloe peeking at them from behind a tree, or that lucario and the others had come back to see the date from behind a bush. Soon there were only a couple donuts left and all the sandwiches were eaten. Ash took one and turned towards Goh. “Do you want some?” He held the donut close to Goh’s mouth. In response, Goh blushed and stuttered out, “A-are you sure?” Ash just smiled, so Goh took a bite while still blushing. They (again) were so focused on each other they didn’t notice Chloe or Chrysa squealing because of how cute it was. “Where do you want to go next?” Ash asked Goh. “I don’t know, just walking around is fine.” Goh commented and Ash agreed, so they left the Pokémon in Cerise Park unaware of the big group following them now.

While they were walking Goh spotted a vulpix, which he didn’t have, and ran up ahead and tripped. Just before he landed on his face, someone caught him. Goh looked up and it was Ash. “Are you ok?” Ash was holding him bridal-style. “I’m fine. Thank you for catching me.” Goh was blushing very hard now and Ash (behind dense) didn’t understand. He put Goh down and they kept walking. Soon they passed a clothing store. “Come on,” Goh insisted. “Let’s check it out.” “But we look fine!” Ash protested, but it was too late. Goh dragged Ash in by the hand. The store was empty at this time, and the cashier was playing something on his rotom phone. (Note: I know nothing about clothes and wear pjs all day so this part will sound a little weird) Ash was looking through the Pokémon clothing section, maybe he could find something pikachu or the rest of his Pokémon would like, then Goh called him over to the changing rooms. “Try this outfit on,” he insisted. Ash went in and soon called out “Are you sure this will look good?” “Just show me!” Goh pushed. When Ash came out again, he was wearing a simple black t-shirt and some blue jeans with a belt that had a small lightning-bolt shaped buckle. “So, uh what do you think? How do I look?” Ash glanced very nervously at Goh. “You look handsome.” Goh immediately responded. This caused Ash to blush even harder than he was before. “Now you pick me an outfit!” Goh jumped up and down a little. “Ok! Give me a couple minutes.” While Goh waited he was staring out the window and swore he saw a dragonite and a girl with magenta-colored hair on his back. “Is that Chloe and Ash’s dragonite?” Goh thought to himself. “Nah it can’t be.” he dismissed the earlier thought, not knowing that it was right. “Ok I’m back!” Ash handed a small pile of clothes to Goh. While Goh was changing, it was his turn to ask “Are you sure this will look good?” Ash replied, “I’m sure it’ll look great!” When Goh came out he was wearing a dress with a pikachu and scorbunny pattern. (But the pattern is pretty small if you want to draw it) “How do I look?” Goh asked, more flustered and nervous than Ash. “Beautiful.” Ash simply replied. They stared at each other for a while and had their fingers laced together. Right when they were about to kiss, a voice from outside the changing rooms yelled “You better not be smoochin’ in there lovebirds!” This made the lovebirds research fellows even more bright scarlet than they already were and Chloe, Chrysa, and the Pokémon laugh outside.

Ash and Goh left the clothing store wearing their new outfits and walking back to the Cerise Lab. They were (again) holding hands and chatting about random things. “Do you remember that time we were on that slowpoke island?” “I’d rather not think about that.” When they made it back it was almost night and the sun was setting. “Do you want to watch the sunset with me?” Ash asked, though it was kind of unnecessary because they were already walking towards a bench. When they sat down, the research fellows spent more time losing themselves in each other’s eyes than actually watching the sun set. Their fingers still laced together, they brought their faces closer. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ash gently asked, almost whispered. “I think we’re thinking the same thing…” Goh whispered back. When their lips met it it invoked a new feeling into both of their hearts: love. They held that position for a minute, but that minute drifted into two, then three, until they broke it to breathe. “I love you Goh.” Ash kissed his cheek. “I love you too Ash.” Goh kissed him on the lips again. Both the research fellows knew that this was only the beginning as the journey continues… 

(The people and Pokémon in the lab saw the kiss, Chloe and Chrysa were fang irking and Ren and the Professor both were a lil surprised but not a lot. The Pokémon all had different reactions)

He blushed remembering that day, but his thoughts were interrupted by a small sound. “Meww!” He jumped up and woke his sleeping Pokémon, cinderace, inteleon, and thwackey. “C’mon guys!! Mew is in the area!!” Goh ran through his lab and grabbed a single Pokéball. When he checked himself in the mirror, he remembered when Chloe insisted on braiding his now very long hair (she had cut hers recently and missed braiding hair) and he wasn’t sure if he liked the braid. Ash had come in and commented that it looked good on him, and now Goh has Chloe braid it every day. He looked at his fingernails, which were painted the same shade of blue as his eyes today, and remembered something similar had happened with those too. Chloe had cut her nails too short and insisted on painting his instead. He, again, wasn’t sure if he liked it, but Ash did, so he kept repainting his nails. The last spot his eyes fell on was his earrings. He had a small red stud and a keystone earring the same shade of blue as his eyes that Ash had given him(I tell you I really like “Hiding in Public” by Negira1239… The earring bit is my favorite :D). He shook himself a little, what was he doing? He had to find mew! He and his 3 Pokémon ran towards the entrance. “What are you doing?” His lab assistants Chloe and Horace looked at him with confusion, they weren’t used to seeing him run around like this. That was more of an Ash thing. “I heard mew and I’m going to catch it!” “With that?” Chloe pointed to the single Pokéball in his hand. “Yup. Okbye!!” He sped out the door before they could ask any more questions. 

When he reached the forest behind Cerise Lab (It’s actually in Galar, they named it after professor Cerise) mew stopped and looked at him, as if to challenge “Come on! Throw that Pokéball!” He simply stated, “Look mew. I don’t want you to stay in a place you’re unhappy. So,” He held the Pokéball out to mew. “If you want to join me, you can. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Mew, who was touched by the speech, placed its paw on the Pokéball and then 1, 2, 3, “Mew was registered to your Pokédex!” Goh jumped up and cheered with cinderace, while he received high-fives from inteleon and thwackey. Too bad Ash couldn’t be here to see this, he had to battle someone….This gave him an idea! “Come out mew!” Mew popped out and Goh asked it, “Can you teleport me and my Pokémon to Wyndon Stadium?” Mew obliged and in a flash, they teleported what would have taken about an hour or two to walk. He put mew back in its Pokéball and entered. (Note: In my universe Ash swaps all his Pokémon, except pikachu, around to better combat your team. He also switches between singles and doubles. This makes him the hardest champion and, some people even say, the hardest trainer to beat in the world. Also, all his old Pokémon evolved, like bayleef to meganium and bulbasaur to venasaur, etc. For instance, you have a charizard and flareon, he uses samurott and blastoise. He also uses megas, z-moves, AND g-max, but only one per battle.) This time, Ash was in a double battle with dracovish and samurott against a centiskortch and mudsdale. “Use fishious rend on centiskortch!” Ash commanded. “Dodge it!” The challenger tried to combat it, but centiskortch was too slow and got knocked out. Then, Ash commanded samurott to use its signature move on mudsdale and quickly finished it. The challenger was upset, tears forming in their eyes, but those tears quickly faded when the champion held his hand out. “Thank you for the battle,” he commented while shaking their hand. “You have impressive talent and great Pokémon, I’m sure we’ll face off again soon.” The challenger shook his hand with a new, confident, expression. “I’m sure we will!” Goh ran over to his boyfriend and shouted “ASH! I CAUGHT MEW!” Ash hugged him around his waist and spun him around. “I knew you could do it!”Ash congratulated. Then Ash kissed him. (on the lips) The crowd and announcers and people watching from their homes gasped. They knew that the champion was dating someone, but he was very private about it. People had predicted that he was dating the performer Serena or gym leader Misty. Some people guessed he was dating the Island Kahuna Kiawe or Gladion, who people weren’t sure what he did, or maybe even Professor Gary. No one had ever thought of the regional professor of Galar.

“Come on! I have something to show you!” The champion dragged the professor away, by the hand, leaving all the Pokémon behind. “Can you watch our Pokémon? Thanks!” Goh called to the bewildered challenger still on the pitch. Ash took Goh to a secluded part of the park nearby, where no Pokémon or people other than the 2 of them were in sight. “Goh.” Ash stopped walking and turned to face him. “We have been friends and boyfriends for a long time. You are the most important thing to me, and the love of my life.” Ash got down on one knee. “Goh, will you marry me?” Goh, who was blushing madly and had happy tears in his eyes, enthusiastically tackled his fiance with a hug and responded with, “Of course!!” Little did they know, all the legends and myths were watching over them, and Dialga knew they would have long and happy lives. Together.

[cinnacorn]

OCtober day 5: Kiss

first time I’ve tried to draw people kissing. turns out it’s heckin’ hard!!! also tried to experiment with backgrounds and use a different brush to shade. I love how the sky turned out but please do not look at that railing.

here is fable and kiyoshi. they r smoochin.

[pacificwanderer]

Idk if I’m barking up the wrong tree with this, but I really hope the VF fight scene isn’t rey and ben fighting each other. Idk, I feel like we’re past both of them just blindly, or at least carelessly, attacking one another. It feels like a “two steps forward one step back” scenario imo. With the way daisy’s worded it, it really does sound (to me) like they’re fighting against each other, not with, and I’m a bit disappointed with that, ngl. What’re your thoughts, if any?

Hey Nonnie,

You’re barking up the right tree lol. I’ve kind of ranted about it here and I still feel the same. I get why it would make a great sequence and why they’d want the two Force users fighting, but I’m still having a hard time buying into their motivations for it considering all that’s happened between them (and how many chances they’ve had to kill each other). I can see them being hurt and pissed off, but... yeah, I honestly think there’s more going on in the scene and I also don’t think it’s from the third act at all (if it was filmed in November, and they filmed in sequence as Dom said, then it would be possibly middleish, but we’ll see, I guess). Basically, if they’re going to spend the entire movie hating each other until the end, keep it because snooze. We didn’t even have that with Va//der and Luke, and Va//der was way fucking worse, like they’re not going to sell me on hate here LOL. 

Anyways, no shade or hate for anyone who’s into it and I’ve read some great breakdowns on why it’s possible/why some people want to see it but, for me, I’m just meh about it lol. Working together? Sure, I’m into that. 

But like just... No one is ever, ever, ever, ever going to be able to convince me that Ben wants anything other than her to join him. Just. Ever. Rey I can see being pissed and maybe needing to swordfight that shit out; she’s got more darkness in her than some people like to think she does (and is remarkably quick to anger, which is fine, I like that about her), but Ben? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I dunno. OOC man, too OOC for me. And, at this point, Rey could have already killed him. Easily. If they’re fighting, it’s because of hurt feelings and Force drama, not with any real intention to kill. They could have done that already like 10 times over.

But if we get some sweet ass anime-esque, Ben Solo drama with like him on his knees: “Do it. Nothing is easier than killing a monster.” And obvs Rey not being able to do it and queue drama, crying, some heartache and then smooching:

Or it ends in a draw and they both disengage ^^^^ AND SMOOCHIN’. I’ve used this gif twice in one week and I don’t regret a thing. Like, I can see Ben beating Rey in a saber battle, but like not being very threatening about it? More like, okay, now that that’s done, can we talk? YES UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUW I have a Ben Solo Problem. ANYWAYS. Does that answer your question? I’m conflicted? It’s complicated? hahahaha. 

I’m a super fucking huge huge huge romance fan, like there’s never going to be enough romance for me ever, so whatever is the most romantic option, that’s the option I want. 

[tumblunni]

My brain for literally no reason: Herbiboy and Ben Tover are dating

I COULD COMBINE MY LOVE FOR THESE TWO GREEN BOYS AND MAKE THEM EXTRA DOUBLE CUTE TOGETHER!!!

Smol man and long man are the greatest of marriage

Like i dunno why but i just randomly headcanoned my herbiboy oc as gay and my ben tover as a hopeless romantic blushyman whose big quest in life is to find a perfect fairytale love. I have no idea how that is connected to 'cowardly slenderman' but from experience my headcanons tend to not make sense very often, lol

So itd be EVEN CUTER if shy herbiboy comes out of the closet due to a friendship with a fellow shyman that blossoms into feelings. And Ben finds his fairytale prince in an unexpected place! Reach into your local hedge and find a dating opportunity, i suppose??

Also i headcanon Chummer as Herbiboy's adoptive uncle/mentor figure because they both nom the leafs. And Blazion is Herbiboy's well intentioned but oblivious friend who causes chaotic hijinks from his attempts to help. Cos canonically Herbiboy fuses with Blazion to evolve into Jerkass Flirty Straightman Time. I'm imagining blazion trying to support his shy friend to find love and just COMPLETELY missing the fact that this dude doesnt date women because he is not attracted to women. "Hey protagonist person, help me get ladies to like my friend!" *cataclysmic shenanigans of poor leaf man trying to escape from dates while not offendibg his well intentioned hetero wingman* I'm imagining in this reinterpretation Herbiboy woulld actually evolve into Carniboy when he becomes confident in his own sexuality. Like *giant rainbow explosion of bishieness* HEY BEN UR ONE HOT MAMA *finger guns* *suddenly poofs back and is super embarassed* Like jekyll and hyde if hyde was ur subconcious charisma for smoochin dudes. And probably he transforms back and forth by eating meat/salad and theres goofy scenes of people trying to toss cabbages at him to save him from doing something reckless in his brave smoochman form. And 'oh no we need to fight a boss, quick rub some kfc in his face'. And loads of close calls of Carniboy very almost confessing to Ben but turning back at the last second, like classic 'will they wont they' but with people tossing corb cobs like baseballs. Also once him and Ben actually start dating he probably gets better control of his powers and can change forms by smoochin!!!

Also to add to Good Plots Of Motivational Gay Rights Yokai Time, maybe Ben's dreamy romanticness cpuld be very fairy tale/knight and damsel type thing? And he's always going off on goofy fantasies about how X reminds him of Y fairytale and then a cutesy imagine bubble of him as the main character. Lots of disney princess cosplays! I just feel like drawing Ben in different outfits would be super cute cos he has such a silly character design, yknow? The little mermaid but LONG! Soooome dayyyy my priiiiince will come~! *twists into spirals with every high note* Also itd be cool to design a modern era type costume for him, for when he wants to hide as a human. Cos aside from being stretchy he could mostly pull off a disguise? Goofy shenanigans of wiggle man trying to be short and normal cos like.. I dunno, the protagonist needs an older friend to buy something from the store. We need to be taller for this-hey i know the perfect guy! Like just as a random example they need to acquire a lighter to relight Blazion's hair after he got caught in the rain. And Ben is like I MUST DO FAVOR FOR FRIEND OF MY FRIEND BECAUSE I HAVE SUCH CRUSH ON FRIEND! Super important mission to be do the normal humann thinge! But he gets distracted daydreaming about the hypothetical future of herbiboy being so grateful they go on a super adorable date, and he blushes so hard he grows 50 feet tall and bursts through the ceiling

Also i just think Ben Tover would give great cuddles, he's like one of those cats that wrap around your shoulders but in the form of an entire man. U just see a tiny herbiboy head poking out of this giant pretzel of hugs!

Oh also randonly ive decided that Ben's backstory is that he's a half human half yokai, however he was adopted and never knew who his real parents were. So it was pretty traumatic for him to slowly realise he had weird supernatural powers when he thought he was a real human. He probably started his cowardly excusemaking cos he was always paranoid about hiding his powers and always panicked so much his excuses were terrible. And because of this everyone in his village easily found out about Ordinary Dude Ben in fact Not Being That, and he had to run from a terrifying mob of everyone he once trusted all trying to exorcise him as if he was dangerous just for the way he was born. For a long time he hated himself and tried to surpress his yokai side, looking for some sort of cure. But through the help of his friends he's able to accept himself and also regain faith in the idea that humans and yokai can coexist and theres still a place in both worlds for him, yknow?

Also randomly his dad is Azure Dragon cos i was like 'okay what other long yokai are there..well i guess a dragon'. IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE AND ALSO NO SENSE AT ALL! So thatd also make Draggie his estranged little brother, and they could have a sweet moment of reuniting.

Man my headcanons are weird

[nightmaredaisy]

Commissions open!

Hey everyone! 

These months to come are going to be a little rough on my bank account between school, medical expenses and personal projects, so if you are interested in my art, want to support me or simply want a cute picture of your faves smoochin’, now you can get all of that!

Gray tones : Lineart - 20$ / Cell shading - 25$ / +background - 35$

Simple color : Lineart - 30$ / Cell shading - 37$ / +background - 47$

Full color : Portraits - 25$ / Shaded - 47$ / +background - 57$

No added costs to the base price up to 3 characters per drawing, +20% base price from 3 to 6

What I can draw:

-NSFW -Anthros/Furries -OCs (included OC/Canon) -Monsters -Mild gore

What I cannot draw:

-Real people in NSFW scenes -Minors in NSFW scenes -Hateful messages (racism, sexism, homophobia etc.) -Scat, ero gore, other hard kinks that make me personally uncomfortable (feel free to ask) -Complicated backgrounds or machinery

I reserve myself the right to refuse a commission if it goes against my terms.

If you are interested, hit me up on Tumblr dms or at nightmaredaisy[@]gmail.com

Prices for additions are negotiable Other examples of my art can be found HERE!

Thanks for reading!

[cat-boots]

hey, looking way back through your tumblr, you used to post some depressing and morbid stuff, but now everything you post is way funnier, sillier, and straight up happier! was there anything that happened in the past couple years that changed your outlook on stuff? any sort of advice gleaned from your experiences that you'd be willing to share with other people?

whenever I was sad I used to lean hard into it, thinking that if I needed to be sad right now let's just get it over with.but at some point I kinda changed my art direction to be more of a source of fun and happiness for myself and others who might see it and hopefully feel the same. I just had a sudden moment where I was like, instead of drawing a lizard with her limbs flying off, lets draw her dancin and smoochin someonethat isn't to say I don't explore the sad stuff anymore tho - Low Power is a character I draw when I'm feeling down sometimes, and my characters don't have perfect lives or always treat each other nice, but yeah.I think for me it was sort of like "dress for the job you want" situation. I realise that's not for everyone tho, and I'm definitely not saying "hey, if you're sad, why not try being happy durr durr dur!"but cheerful art can cheer me up, so it's what I focus on and what I enjoy seeing

[drawnbymani]

ANSWER ALL OF EM

well I already did 7 and 18, but the rest are fair game so LET’S GO

(but I am gonna put this under a cut because wow it got long)

1. Do you prefer traditional drawing, or digital?

Mm. Neither? I do most of my sketches/pencils traditionally, but a lot of my finished stuff is digital. They both have their uses.

2. How long have you been drawing?

A long-ass time.

3. How many art classes have you taken?

A few. Art classes in middle and high school, and I’m currently a studio arts major.

4. Do you have a DeviantArt, personal website, or art blog?

I do have a dA, but I hardly update it. The thing you are reading right now is on my art blog.

5. What’s your favorite thing to draw?

Big toothy critters. Bonus points if they got extra eyeballs or are maybe melting a little for undisclosed reasons.

6. What’s your least favorite thing to draw?

H A N D S

8. Do you draw professionally, or just for fun?

Both! Or I will soon, anyway.

9. How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

About an hour or two, give or take?

10. Are you confident about your art?

I... honestly don’t know, ahaha. I’m pretty critical of my own work (as is any artist, I suppose), and it can be really hard for me to see what people find distinct or appealing about my work. But I like my own art more and more these days, so I guess that’s a kind of confidence.

11. How many art-related blogs do you follow?

Many.

12. Is it okay for people to ask about your process?

It is absolutely okay! Talking about the how-tos of art is one of my favorite things.

13. Do you prefer to keep your art personal, or do you like drawing things for other people?

Mm, both, maybe? Most of my sketches don’t really see the light of day, so to speak, because they’re practice/me thinking through a concept/they’re kind of embarrassing/etc. But at the same time I like doing gift art, requests or fandom events from time to time.

14. Do you ever collaborate with others?

Not very often. I’m doing a collaboration right now for the Victuuri Big Bang, and I sometimes do art trades, but that’s about it.

15. How long does an average piece take you to complete?

Dunno, never really timed myself. I wanna say 5-6 hours, ish.

16. Do you draw more today than you did in the past, or do you draw less?

Definitely more. There was a long period, a couple years back now, where I rarely drew outside of class work -and when I did it tended to be kind of stiff and stale. Now that I’m less depressed and in a better environment I draw more frequently.

17. Do you think you’re justified in giving other people art advice?

[shrug] I mean, I can tell you about color theory, and give you some pointers on things like Photoshop or Illustrator, but that’s about it. I’m still learning.

19. What is the most difficult thing for you to draw?

H A N D S

And kissing. Kissing being a pain in the ass to draw is the entire reason this blog isn’t wall-to-wall drawings of boys smoochin’.

20. What is the easiest thing for you to draw?

Good ol’ fashioned body horror.

21. Do you like to challenge yourself?

Sure. How else will I get better?

22. Are you confident that you’re improving steadily?

For the most part, yes. Sometimes I wonder, but I keep my sketchbooks, and it’s hard to argue with the evidence.

23. Do you draw more fanart, or more original art?

Original, overall. Been doing a lot of Yuri!!! on Ice fan art lately though.

24. Do you feel jealous when you see other people’s art, or inspired?

Both. There’s, like, a little jealousy (or despair) at first, but I usually come back and try and pick apart how they did their thing.

Also, sometimes, there’s nothing that gets you going quite like spite.

25. Do you like to draw in silence, or with music?

Music, and Let’s Plays.

26. For digital artists: what program(s) do you use?

Clip Studio for lines and color, Photoshop for color correction, re-sizing, and the handful of things Clip Studio doesn’t do well. I also use Illustrator for vector stuff and tattoo design, sometimes.

27. For digital artists: how many layers does a typical piece require?

Simple stuff usually caps at around 5-6 (base sketch, lines, color and adjustment layers), complex pieces can be 10 or more.

28. For traditional artists: what medium do you like most?

Pencils, ink, oil paint and ceramics.

29. For traditional artists: How do you usually start on a big piece?

Pencil sketch for large drawings and oil paint. For large ceramics, I usually just... take a big-ass hunk of clay, do some preliminary shaping, then let it firm up a bit before doing additions/carving/hollowing/etc.

30. What inspires you to not just make art, but to be a better artist?

Having fun, drawing things that I want to see, making other people happy/feel safe/feel represented.