#easy large canvas painting ideas

[sankttealeaf]

artistic endeavours

pairing ; arthur morgan x gender neutral!reader

summary ; during a walk around Saint Denis, you find yourself drawing a rather interesting stranger's horse.

other info ; this is completely self-indulgent, because all i want to do is draw with arthur. first time doing any sort of 'x reader' and i had a lot of fun. it's so silly i love it. left the ending open ended because i thought of a part 2 if people are interested <3

word count: 2.5k

psst, part two is here: masterpieces

Finding inspiration for various art projects came easy to you while living in Saint Denis - the city was full of interesting subjects to study and draw, and whenever you found yourself in a creative block it didn't take much to reignite the spark. You had signed up to paint some pieces for a new exhibition at the end of the month, “The Beauty of Saint Denis”, a love letter to the city you currently called home, and so far everything had been going smoothly. Three paintings were complete, with another needing a few finishing touches. The issue was with your main piece, a large oil painting of the Théâtre Râleur at night. Something was missing and you had no idea what it was. With a few days left to go for all submissions to be collected by the gallery, you were running out of time to make this work. You were hoping that some of these paintings would be sold during the exhibitions, and you really couldn’t afford to give up now.

The room you used as your art studio was beginning to feel stuffy and small; the ventilation was poor and you had forgotten to open a window to let some air in when you first started this morning. Perhaps that was why you were pulling your hair out, trying to get something down on the canvas - the oil paint was starting to mess with your mind. You sighed, deciding that now was the best time to go for a walk, find something for lunch and not think too much about how close you were to starting this painting from scratch, not that you had the time to do so. You packed away your sketchbook, grabbing a few charcoal pencils and crayons too in case you saw something that sparked inspiration, and left. Fresh air would do you good, you told yourself. 

The city was busier than usual today as you stepped out onto the street, the midday sun warming you up immediately. Your plan was to walk around for a bit, just to see if anything felt interesting to draw, and then grab some food. The walk and air would do you good, even if nothing was drawn. You walked around slowly, pausing every now and then to take down some notes on people’s outfits, wondering if you should add a crowd outside of the theatre to make it look busy. The more you imagined it in your head, the more you decided it wouldn't hurt to try. You quickly sketched down a few ideas, before moving on, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself from those you were drawing. The last thing you wanted was for someone to get angry that you were doing that - it had happened more times than you liked to admit. You decided to loop around the docks, and then walk back around and stop off at that bakery you frequented a lot.

The docks were busy, but there was no surprise there. People walked about, carrying boxes and bags between places. There was enough going on here to definitely spark some form of creativity, and you hoped that something would be interesting to draw. You took a moment to scan over your surroundings, trying to piece together things that could work with your painting at home when you saw something. A lone horse was hitched outside the general store, and it felt like a perfect thing to draw. 

You took out your sketchbook as you approached the horse, careful not to spook it. The pattern was something you had never seen much of before, and it stood out to you the moment you saw it. Maybe a horse was missing from your painting? You began to quickly sketch out the main shapes of the horse, keeping it loose and soft to get the basic idea of how everything fits together. Once you had filled up a page on quick drawings, moving around to get different angles, you opened to a double page and began a more detailed drawing.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest thing,” you mumbled softly, taking a small step to the side to get a better view of her head. You took more time with this drawing, making sure to capture all the details you could, from the markings to the way her mane fell to the style of the bridle. A quick look at the horse and you could tell that her owner loved her a lot, she was clean and looked well fed, and if you knew what kind of treats she liked, you would definitely give her lots of them.

You found yourself getting lost in the piece, now moving on to giving it pops of colour. Your charcoal pencil was tucked behind your ear, and you switched out between two colours to try and match the shade of its coat. The more you thought about it, the more it would fit well in the painting of the theatre. You were excited to go back home to add her in.

"If you're goin' to steal her, you might wanna be a bit quicker at it next time." A voice spoke, taking you by surprise. You quickly turned around to see the owner of it - a tall, rather rugged looking man. The guns at his side made you weary, and you closed your sketchbook, holding it closer to you.

"Oh, no, I ain't in the horse stealing business, sir," you said quickly, taking a step back to put some distance between you, him, and the horse. "But if I was, your horse would be one I'd steal." The words left your mouth before your mind could tell you that it probably wasn't the best way to compliment someone's horse.

The stranger raised his eyebrow at you, giving you a once over. "Sounds like somethin’ a horse thief would say.” He let out a small chuckle to himself, and then shrugged. “You don’t look like much of one, anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong, you definitely didn't give off the same vibes as a horse thief, though you didn't know many to compare yourself to. You watched as he gave you a nod, walking around to the opposite side of the horse. 

"Definitely not going to steal her." You looked down at your sketchbook, giving it a small wave in his direction. "Just drawing her, if that's alright. She looked really interesting, and I've been facing a real bad block lately."

“Saint Denis seems to have a lot of you artsy folk around, huh?” He asked, as you nodded.

“It’s a unique city. I find that there are a lot of things to draw here,” you replied, opening up back to the page you were just on. “Lots of horses, too. None as good as yours, though.”

“You sure you ain’t trying to steal her?” He raised an eyebrow, and you were quick to shake your head again.

“I promise I’m not!”

“I’m just messing with you.” He gave you a smile. “You're some kind of artist, then?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only things I’ve got going for me right now. I came to Saint Denis to capture its beauty, and haven’t left since.”

“Beauty is a strong word for this place,” he replied, scrunching his nose up as he spoke, and you tilted your head to the side in confusion.

“You don’t like it?”

“Too crowded. Too… city-like.”

You let out a laugh. “Funny that, considerin’ it is a city.” You turned to a new page, deciding to get a closer sketch of the horse’s head. “I hope I ain’t keeping you or anything.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” he said, and you looked up to see him take out a brush from his bag, giving his horse a quick brush down. “I know how frustrating it can be when the thing you’re drawing leaves too soon.”

“You’re an artist, too?” You stopped, giving him a look up and down. He didn't seem like the artistic type from the outside, but you supposed looks could be deceiving. He looked to be the kind of person you would bump into late at night, looking for trouble. The guns on his sides didn't help with that much, but he didn't appear to be threatening. The way he looked at his horse was anything but threatening.

“I draw. Not a proper artist or anythin’.” He looked at you, and you gave him a small smile.

“I think anyone who draws can be considered a proper artist,” you said, as he shrugged in response.

You watched him for a few moments, before going back to your sketch, smoothing some lines out to give the impression of shadows and depth. It wasn’t your best work, but for a fast sketch, it was decent. The stranger had moved during your sketch session, and was now leaning up against one of the wooden poles that held up one of the various awnings on the store, hat tipped in front of his face. You paused for a moment, your pencil hovering over the page before the horse’s head. With a deep breath, you began to very loosely draw the man. You had drawn other people that day, so there was nothing weird about doing it again. But with the person so close, you could feel your cheeks warm up from embarrassment - all he needed to do was look up and catch you drawing him. But he didn't. 

You kept things simple, using few lines to give the impression of features, smudging other lines to use as shadows. A quick line behind him, and you had a very rough outline. You took a mental note of the colours he was wearing - a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the well worn jeans, the dark boots. He looked like trouble, and yet here he was, letting you draw his horse without a complaint.

The sudden rumble from your stomach brought you out from your drawing session, and you knew you had enough to use as a reference for your painting now. You did feel a little bad for keeping him waiting, and looked down at your drawing of his horse’s head. You didn't have any change you could give him to thank him for your time, but you did have art… With one quick movement, you ripped out the page. Closing your sketchbook and shoving it back into your bag, you approached where he was leaning.

“Sorry for keeping you around,” you said, as he tipped his hat back, looking at you. He straightened up, giving you a nonchalant wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s easier to draw things when they’re still,” he said. “You done?”

“Yes. Thank you. Uh, here-” You held out the drawing for him with a smile. “It’s not much, and you don’t have to take it, but… a token of gratitude, if you will.”

He looked down at the paper, gently taking it from you. You watched as he held it up to where his horse was, looking between them. “‘Ain’t much’? I can’t even tell the difference between the drawin’ and her!” He looked at you with a smile. “Thanks, uh…?”

You told him your name quickly, holding out a hand for him to shake. Between all the art, you had completely forgotten to introduce yourself. 

He took your hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “Arthur Morgan.”

“Thank you, Arthur, for letting me draw your horse,” you said, taking a small step back once you let go of his hand. You wondered if it would be weird to invite him along to the opening night of the exhibition, as you felt pretty confident now that you’d be able to finish the piece. You knew what it was missing now, after all. He carefully placed your drawing in his satchel, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. You rarely share your art with anyone, let alone hand someone a piece for free, and you weren’t too sure what had gotten into you to do that. There was something about Arthur that made you feel like you could share it easily. You stepped aside to allow him to walk by you to his horse.

Arthur gave you a nod, as he walked to his horse, unhitching the reins from the post. He turned to look at you. “There’s a lot of good places outside Saint Denis to draw at,” he said, pulling the reins over his horse’s head. “Lots of animals, too. Even more horses.”

“Maybe I’ll have to branch out one day,” you replied with a laugh. “Take a week long trip out to New Hanover, I’ve heard a lot about the landscape there.”

He seemed like a well travelled man to you, and you could easily see yourself going around to different places to draw landscapes and animals and people. Horses were expensive, so you would have to travel by train, and then find somewhere to stay… Maybe you would take his recommendation. You could always do with new focuses to paint whenever you got bored of Saint Denis.

You hadn’t told many people that your art was going to be displayed yet, and Arthur seemed interested enough in art. It wouldn't hurt to drop the suggestion, right? You searched through your bag for a small card that held the information for the exhibition on it. Your brain was telling you that it was strange to ask him to come along, but you pushed the thought away. It’s a public event, anyone could come, it didn't mean anything if you asked him to drop by. He turned to mount his horse, and you spoke up.

“If you’re in the area at the end of the month-” you started, making him look back at you. You took another deep breath to get you through this, holding out the business card to him, “the gallery downtown is hosting an exhibition, and I should have some art up on display there…” You hoped he understood what you were hinting at, as the thought of asking this stranger to see your artwork was causing a bubble of anxiety to rise in you. “Opening night is when I’ll be there, but it’ll be up for a week after that if you're still in the city.”

He took the business card from you, reading it and flipping it over in his hand. “I’ll drop by if I can,” he said with a smile, and you felt your anxieties leave you. With a smile, he nodded at you, before pulling himself up onto his horse. “Been nice talkin’ to you.”

“You too, Arthur.” You gave him a small wave. “If you ever need a drawing partner, be sure to let me know!”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” he laughed, and you watched as he left, walking off down the street. 

Nothing would come of it, most likely, but the idea of going around with someone and drawing together filled your mind. Especially with the idea of travelling - maybe this was your calling? To travel and paint together with someone. You pushed that thought away, not wanting to get too attached to the idea, however lovely it may be.

You began your walk back home, eager to get out the paints. This was going to be one of your best pieces ever, and you were now looking forward to the exhibition instead of dreading it.

[imeternallylove]

Secret - S.Holmes; part one

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 1.5k

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part night | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue

Six years have passed...

You parked your small car outside your large flat complex, switched off the engine and reached around to shake the sleeping toddler splayed out on your backseat. "Zo-zo, wake up, we're here…" You murmured quietly, jolting your daughter till she stretched out and opened her wide brown eyes.

Zoe, your adorable five-year-old, moved her chocolaty hair back from her face and smiled out the window. "Are we going to live here, mummy?" She asked, innocently, turning to face you.

"That's right, little one," you winked, jingling the golden metallic key to your new London home in front of her glittery eyes and pleasantly surprised face at the key in your hand.

It had always been your desire to leave your hometown and move to the big city to become a painter, but when you became pregnant with Zoe, you traded one dream for another. Then, after seeing the comic strips you created for your local newspaper, a large budget from illustrating firm companies who have worked made you reached your another dream job, flower shop. You and Zoe had finally arrived for your new adventure.

Climbing out of the car, you checked on the small trailer tied to the rear of your car and then assisted Zoe in getting out, managing her happy bounces as you both entered the tall building. The elevator was out of commission, but your unit was only on the first floor. "Have you considered what colour you want to paint your room?" You already knew the answer, but it made Zoe enthusiastic about the flat and helped her forget about her homesickness.

"Every colour! Like a big rainbow!" She roared excitedly, wheeling you through the corridor until you reached the white front door of your new flat. Zoe grabbed your arm before you could insert the key. "I want to do it, please!" She pleaded, leaping up and down on your arm.

You smiled as you handed her the key and stood back to watch as your young child climbed up onto her tiptoes to reach the keyhole, peering at it intently. She squealed with delight as she unlocked the door and went inside.

"IT'S SO BIG, MUMMY!" From inside, you could hear her scream.

You removed your shoes and followed her into the open-plan living room and kitchen. It was already fully furnished, which was ideal for you and Zoe starting over, with dark grey velvet sofas, cream walls, and a new modern kitchen. It lacked a few finishing touches, such as photos and books, but it served as a wonderful canvas for painting.

"Do you like it, my love?" You asked, and your daughter swooped up into your arms and sat on your hip in one rapid movement. 

"It's fantastic! Mummy!” She shouted brightly once again, wrapping her arms around your neck and clutching you hard, her tiny head tucked into the crook of your neck.

This was it - your fresh beginning. The previous six years had not been easy: being kicked out of your home and moving in with your grandfather, trying to raise Zoe while working to support yourself. But waking up with your gorgeous baby tugging on your hair and seeing her toothy grin as soon as you opened your eyes was reason enough to keep going. You wanted Zoe to have the finest life possible. She was your whole universe.

You carried Zoe around the tiny flat, cradling her close to your body and grinning from ear to ear. Zoe was full of decorating ideas as you proceeded through the rooms, advising you which walls should be particular colours and where her bed should go in her room. The flat didn't yet have any of your stuff, but you knew that once they were there, it would instantly seem like yours.

"Welcome home, little one," you murmured as you stumbled backwards into your bedroom and landed pleasantly on your new bouncy bed. "Welcome back home." You started tickling Zoe after you were settled on the bed, enjoying how loud her giggles filled the room. It sounded like home right away.

Zoe sat up on your stomach, a troubled expression on her gorgeous face. "Where's Mr Snuggles?" It was rare for Zoe to be without her cherished fuzzy bear. "We can't move in without Mr. Snuggles!" She was hopping off the bed and racing out of the room in an instant, most likely heading back down to the car to grab her teddy.

"Home sweet home," you whispered quietly, giving yourself a minute of calm before shuffled off the bed to join up with your daughter.

"Mummy, are you sure Mr Snuggles can't come to school with me?" Your daughter questioned sweetly as the two of you approached Zoe's school's roadway. She was a little nervous because it was her first day.

You smiled down at her as you looked down. She looked gorgeous in her new school uniform, complete with a red and white frock and knee-high socks. You'd already snapped a million shots of her this morning. "But I only enrolled you in school?" You mocked. "Mr Snuggles will not have a desk or a peg to hang his belongings."

She looked up at you and began batting her eyelids. "But he really wants to learn, too," she pleaded, attempting to melt your heart with her charm.

'Like her father,' a small voice in the back of your mind muttered, echoed. 

For a brief moment, your heart slowed, as it did every time Zoe did something that reminded you of your best friend, Sherlock. She began to resemble her father as she grew older, from her inability to sit still or stop talking to the way her smile or laugh lighted up her entire face. She possessed all of his best attributes and wrapped them in a pretty little bow with some of yours.

You eventually caved, giving up to what she desired. "Okay… Mr. Snuggles can go to school," you sighed.

Zoe yanked her hand away from yours and began spinning in circles on the pavement, hugging her teddy and cheering joyously. "Thank you, Mummy," she laughed as she wrapped her arms around your legs.

You brushed your fingers through her unkempt hair and began rushing her down the street. Zoe's first day at her new school began in less than ten minutes, and you didn't want her to be late. "But he can only stay for today, deal, little one?"

She nodded enthusiastically, grasping your hand and nearly dragging you up the street to the school's gates. You should have guessed Mr Snuggles would calm her fears.

When you arrived at the gates, there was a constant stream of children racing inside the building, laughing and playing with one another, while their parents stood back and observed. You knelt in front of your daughter, adjusted the strap of her rucksack and looked her in the warm brown eyes. "Do you want Mummy to come with you to the classroom?" You said, caressing her rosy cheek in your palm.

"Don't worry, Mummy!" She exclaimed, shaking her head away from your grasp. "I'm a big girl!"

You exhaled quietly, thinking of how mature your daughter had become. At her last school, she nearly clamped herself onto your leg and refused to let go for half an hour. But there were no tears or tantrums this time. "Be a good girl today," you whispered quietly, kissing her on the cheek. 

With a heavy heart, you stood up and wrapped your arms about your body as your little one skipped through the school gates, pausing every ten feet to look back and wave at you before disappearing into the building with a bright smile on her face.

From the moment you found out you were pregnant, it had always been just the two of you. She was a big girl now, brave and confident as she skipped into her new school. You'd have to stop calling her 'little one' soon.

After ensuring that she was safe in the school, you returned the way you came and proceeded to your car. Today was more than just Zoe's first day.

You arrived early at your flower shop after managing the city's traffic: a tall grey structure surrounded by a hundred others that all looked the same. You decided to go to a nearby coffee shop and get a caffeine fix before your first day began. You quickly approached the queue, placed your order and then stood back to wait for your drink.

“Y/N?”

Apart from a few people you met when renovating the shop and a handful of neighbours in your apartment block, you didn't know anyone in the city, which is why you were astonished to hear someone calling your name from behind you.

In the end, it was the last person you expected to see. “Sherlock?” For the first time in six years, you faltered in shock, your gaze resting on your best friend.

"Hi there," he responded nervously. He's wearing a wonderful suit with a gigantic coat and a blue navy scarf, his curly hair is even curlier, and everything is exactly as stated in newspapers.

But there was no response from you. You watched the way he scratched the back of his head in many different kinds of emotions beneath your chest until he stepping closer and wrapping you in his warmth embrace.

Your eyelids closed as your ears completely caught his low sigh; all you realise is that his palm stroked your hair and you felt your head snuggle against his neck.

That's when you began hugging him back, as the air over you two appeared so tighten to breathe.

tag: @bunny-skz00

[smuttydreambarbie]

By Carynth's Light

Chapter 1: Painting Lessons

A/N: 18+ Nesta x Cassian smut with PLOT???

!! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT A Court of Silver Flames SPOILERS !!

One like and reblog = one kiss on the lips 🕺

Takes place 5 years after ACOSF on Little N's birthday :)

My idea was to show what I imagine is a bright future after Silver Flames for the inner family, and what that looks like for everyone from Nesta's POV. Blissful normalcy, family bonding, love, discussions of children, and moderate amounts of spice after a long day 😈 Let me know in asks, tags, or reblogs what you'd like to see next. AO3 and Fanfiction accounts currently under construction :)

15ish minute read. A little bit for everyone.

Thanks for supporting writers and reading!!

Chapter 1: Painting Lessons

Nesta swore quietly as she knocked her pallet of paint over, splattering the contents all over the white sheet covering the floor. She was inside her sister's art studio in Velaris, taking painting lessons from Feyre alongside 2 large rows of children. As the small crash sounded, her sister glanced over her painting and squinted in suspicion, jokingly, before giggling and going back to her work on what was sure to be another gorgeous piece of priceless artwork.

Nesta had been a Valkyrie on the battlefield, a queen on the dance floor.... but with a canvas and paint? A fool, compared to even the children around her it seemed. Feyre's dream of teaching art and bringing her passion to the few families of the Night Court had been such a comfortable transition after getting used to motherhood in the last few years. As strong as she'd known their High Lady to be, this beautiful display of passion was what made her an obvious choice for leader. Seeing her in her element was inspiring, and she hoped to reach that level of bliss someday.

It was Nyx's fifth birthday today and Nesta could hardly behold the sight of the beautiful boy who was growing up before her. His glowing blue eyes held that sparkle of wonder and power as Feyre and Rhysand's do, which shined below his wild black waves that went past his ears. She didn’t know many children, but he was her favorite.

He was a quiet, intelligent, and funny child when he was around his mother and aunts, but around his father and uncles that little boy became a whirlwind of speed and energy. Every year he grew older, Nesta grew closer to admitting that maybe she wanted her own sticky little face to admire, someday sitting next to Feyre's boy. At five, he had begun speaking tales of pirates and mighty beasts, no doubt the inspiration for our painting prompt today.

"Don't forget, my loves. While drawing your beasts be sure to include the ground and sky behind them," Feyre announced from her place in the center of the room facing us, partially hidden behind her large canvas. She then stepped out and paced behind us, donning a paint covered set of what seemed to be men's clothes; a paint brush poking from behind her paint-splattered ear. Rhysand's tunic and trousers, Nesta realized.

Feyre was an image of comfort and pure, unintentional beauty. She gazed lovingly at our art as she spoke, "Does your beast have hair, feathers, wings, a tail, or something else magnificent? Does it exist to conquer battles or rescue lost souls? To paint or create music?" She had given us the task of creating a beast, whether real or imaginary, that brought us joy. An easy task for a bunch of children... And Nesta. Nesta had painted a mighty purple beast, made of circles and triangles with her amateur, but naturally artistic skill. Feyre nodded in approval as she passed.

Finding happiness and a family was not something Nesta saw in the cards for herself at most points in her life, but as Nyx and Cassian both glanced up at her from their places in the row at the same time, she breathed out a breath of disbelief at this life she had made for herself. Her family was by her side to celebrate another day conquered.

Another year triumphant.

Next to Nesta sat Cassian, Rhysand, and then her nephew. All 3 boys, with hair black as onyx, perched on the same size kids chair, all busily painting, everything from their exposed wings to their toes already covered in a rainbow of paint from a previous paint fight. Colorful little gargoyles, she laughed to herself. Nesta, thankfully, had swapped her seat with the only other big chair, besides the one her sister now sat upon, as they had arrived.

"My mighty Pegasus shall defeat you, traitor!" Nyx shouted suddenly to his father, wielding a paint brush as a mighty great sword. He brandished the weapon at Rhys. An orange-ish oval with several sticks and circles protruding from the figure laid upon his canvas. On the top of the oval, there are two more longer ovals. Wings, Nesta realized.

"A mighty Pegasus indeed, my son. But it is no match for my Beast of the Night!" Rhysand countered, laughing and striking the side of the boy's paintbrush with his own. A black blob monster was painted onto his canvas, a blue sky that he had just begun at Feyre's recommendation was scribbled behind the beast. He made a clang, clang, slice sound with his mouth as they erupted into a sword-brush battle, splattering paint in every direction. Feyre peered up from her painting again and looked upon her family with such pride. Cassian beamed.

Nesta and her mate's eyes locked as she donned that disbelieving smile on her face, drinking in the scene.

For Nesta was truly happy. She couldn't quite grasp her mind around the level of peace and preparedness she had felt at that moment. In the comfort she had found around her sister and brother, her friends, and her lover.

It was at that moment, she decided that she wouldn't drink her contraceptive tea the next day.

She decided that she'd let Cassian know after the lesson that her family would be perfect no matter what, but she wasn't afraid or unsure anymore about the idea of it changing. As she looked upon the small boy's face, she grinned a large smile again. Out of character at one point in her life, now an easy and welcomed movement.

+

A few hours later, Nesta and Cassian finally made it home to The House of Wind. As they entered from the brisk outdoors, they removed their jackets and set them in the coat rack inside the hallway.

"You look so beautiful covered in all that paint," Cassian whispered into my ear as he grabbed her waist from behind, locking his arms around her waist. Still walking, gracefully following behind her in a slow saunter, he continued, "but I think it's time for a bath."

Nesta was almost tempted to sprint to get to their bedroom at that idea. He bent down to put his head on her shoulder, and they continued their walk for a moment before Nesta spun in his arms, now walking backwards. She looked into his eyes and placed her hands on the tops of his large arms as if they were dancing and let him lead her through the large home. Seeing him with the people he loves like today brought such a joy to her heart, it almost ached. His sweet smile, his belly laughs, and his callused hands rubbing my knee from beside me where he sat. Always making sure that I know he is still there, unable to stay more than a foot away from each other if helped.

You four are always touching, stop being so in love and gross, Mor had once commented, the memory flooding her mind. As she walked into the family's River House: on one couch, Feyre and Rhysand sat leg to leg with their entire sides touching as they held hands in the middle. Nyx lay sleeping in Rhys's free arm, still only a babe. The mated pair of daemati whispered sweet nothings to each other in silence as usual. The other couch held Nesta and Cassian, sprawled sideways along the long and plush couch. Nesta cuddled in his lap reading a romance novel, her small body fit into her large mate's napping arms like a puzzle. A soft blanket lay over their legs. Soft music filled the room. A picture of absolute relaxation from all parties.

Jealous, Mor? Rhys laughed, pulling Feyre's hand up to his mouth to kiss her fingers gently.

Jealous, disgusted, and absolutely on the way to cry myself to sleep over witnessing this? Yes, she laughed, secretly proud of us all for giving ourselves a moment of happiness together-

"Where'd you go?" Cassian mumbled into my hair, almost making me jump. She had been daydreaming during their walk to... Oh. The kitchen. She had been thinking so deeply she didn't even realize where she stood. His pit stop was undoubtedly for the cookies he now held in his hand. Realizing she was deep in one of her daydreams, he came back to stand in front of her, towering over her small frame. He cupped each side of her jaw in his hands, "Tell me where your mind is adventuring off to, my love," he whispered only inches away from her lips, tickling the tip of her nose with his. He set his forehead upon hers.

"Mor." Nesta said, without explanation. She then realized what she had said by Cassian's snort. He pulled back to laugh a loud cackle at the ceiling. Recapturing her face, he put them eye-to-eye as he smiled so widely it made Nesta's chest hurt.

"Mor?? You could be fucking me, The Great Night Court General, your MATE, right here in this kitchen and you're thinking about Morrigan?" He boomed, laughing even louder than before, still holding her by the shoulder as he composed himself.

Nesta blushed, he knew she had fantasies of others joining their bed, but she had not intended those experiences to be with Mor. Her words came out wrong and he knew it, but of course now he had that thought in his head. She started, "First of all, no. To all of it. At least for now," Nesta winked, "Second, I meant I was thinking of something I realized today and once when I spoke to her," she finally expressed.

"What did you realize?" He asked as he slowly pushed her up against the counter, one hand on her waist and the other slowly making its way up the side of her neck. She hadn’t realized he had cornered her like a rabbit, eyeing his prey with that spark of lust dazzling through those dark eyes.

"That our family can never be large enough and I can never get enough of being around your stupid gorgeous face," she confessed into his lips, only a breath away. "That this place of peace we have found has led me to say to you that... I'm ready. I'm ready for the rest of our life, for our adventures, and I'm ready to plan our own child's birthday party someday."

Cassian's seductive face froze, as if the realization of what she said hit him like a tidal wave. A few unmoving and heart-wrenching moments passed as she watched the understanding and meaning of what she had admitted fill him entirely, and then she swore by the gods that a tear fell from his eye as he spoke with a soft voice, hands going to her shoulders, "Nesta Archeron... are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Today was my last dose of tea, Cassian. I am."

With that confession, he grappled her entire body into his arms, spun her around, and bounded to our room with great and huge steps, cackling as they went. He showered everywhere he could reach with kisses and smiled at her as if he had just won the greatest prize he had ever been offered. A champion among men, he had decided.

He playfully tossed her onto the plush bed, removing her shoes with silence and laughter between them. Unable to contain their joy, they could only touch and fawn over each other like it was the first time again. They exchanged hot and heavy kisses for a while before Nesta pushed him off, causing him to grunt in frustration.

"Since we can't officially start until tomorrow, why don't you remind me what the Great General of The Night Court does to satisfy his mate? How an Iliryian fucks the one he calls his woman?" She spoke in her deepest, sexiest voice. Such a change from her no-bull attitude and demeanor that everyone else gets.

His cock throbbed at her dirty words, her obvious effort at riling him up working. She pulled him down again from where he peered at her, grabbing him by the hem of his pants, and all he could do was obey. Whatever his mate wanted of him, she could have. His body, his mind, his seed. All of him was hers just as all of her was his. After a few more moments of frantic kisses, his hands grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her against him so that the hard tent of his pants was against her sex. He grumbled a sound of what seemed to be pain and pleasure into her mouth, and then ground into her hips as he gripped the fronts of Nesta's thighs with both hands. Hard. Hard enough that there would definitely be bruises. She smiled up at him and his primal state.

Seriousness covered his face, pure male intent plastered there. They had woken up this morning and had their fill of each other, but after a long day of fantasizing about him and his babies... She needed his more-than-considerable length in her hands, her mouth, and filling her. His wings expanded above them in excitement before they fell, weightless over their bodies onto the bed around them. Nesta glanced up at them with mischief in her eyes and ran her entire hand from his back, along the thin membrane of his wings, down to the bottom that lay beside her. He moaned and shuttered at her touch, never getting used to how bold she was with wingplay.

In an act of what can be described as true love, they both moved at the same time. Her, reaching for his pants to unfasten them, while Cassian was reaching around, skillfully untying the front of her dress. He smirked his quickness before he paused and then suddenly yanked it from her body in such a rush it left her dizzy. When he looked at her almost naked body, a bright red corset looked back at him. The small pieces of fabric pushed her bust upwards in a way he had never seen before and showed off every glorious curve of Nesta's body. She had heard about the lingerie store in town from Feyre but had never been before Gwyn pulled her in earlier this week.

Underneath him, her fingers crawled up and down his chest as she spoke. She could feel the heat enter her cheeks, so she focused on his heavy breathing as she said softly, "I figured you might enjoy these on as much as you would love taking them off... so I picked up a handful on my shopping day with Gwyn," his entranced face moved slightly as one corner of his lips curled into a lustful smirk at that.

"The fact that we have been together for five years and I didn't carry you into that store myself has me beating myself up a little bit," he laughed into her neck, "because, boy was I missing out."

Sick of speaking, their mouths finally found each other's again as they removed all of their clothing, only the soft moans of the two of them filling the room like a great symphony. She reached down and found the length of him, taking his large cock into one of her hands, slowly stroking the top half. Cassian's massive size would never not be shocking to her, the thought of which caused a flash of heat and moisture between her legs. The thought of him throwing her around and slamming his full length into her as she likes was almost debilitating on its own, so she put her other hand onto her warm opening and rubbed as well. Cassian looked down between their bodies and watched as she pleasured the both of them to the same rhythm, before looking into her eyes and shaking his head lightly, straining between a laugh and pleasure sounds.

"You always know how to make me feel good, baby," he spoke, hot breath against her ear. She loved it when he called her pet names, which he claimed was a trophy due to her previous distaste of them. "Good girl," he said softly as he placed his hand over hers, still rubbing up and down on her clit together. After a minute, their fingers were partially intertwined together as he suddenly removed them from their current home between her legs and pushed her hand quickly and roughly above her head with a smile.

"Oh god, Cassian. I want you inside of me. Right. Now." She stated, unashamed of how much his closeness turned her on. He filled her body with a craving she could not satisfy with even hours of masturbation. In response, he lifted her other hand and captured both beneath his right hand above her, so her arms were straight on the bed. When he had both of her arms pinned, he decided he would repay her for her initial want to please them both. His body sank down as he kissed her eyebrow, the corner of her mouth, her chin, her neck, her collarbones, and then... Her breast. He placed a small kiss right above her nipple before taking the entire nub into his open mouth and suckling before nipping, not giving Nesta an inch of wiggle room under his heavy weight. She squirmed and could do nothing but moan his name and nothings in the form of expletives about what he made her feel.

Obviously feeling the heat of needing a quicker release, he looked down at her eyes, pushed her bent legs aside, grabbed a floating ankle, and growled, "You're mine," as he took his cock into his hand and slammed his entire length into her. She screamed a moan of pleasure and dug her nails into his back and bicep where she had reached and clung, tearing at his skin. He slowly pulled backwards before doing the same slamming motion again, always pulling out in a slow-motion slide. Had he wanted her to find release right then and there? She was so close she had to close her eyes and breathe as he picked up the pace. His hands went over her breasts as he stood up, now fucking her with her legs in the air at the edge of the bed. He grabbed her ankles in each hand and put them, so her feet were on each side of his head, where he then drew a few of her toes into his mouth. Cassian did not have a foot fetish per say, but he needed the feel and taste of Nesta in his mouth as he felt his climax roaring to the front of his mind. She had no complaints.

They had both been so uncontrollably horny the last half of the day that they both knew their first joining of the night was going to be hard and fast. Lovemaking could happen later, because for now? Now was the time for them to fuck like rabbits. Now was the time for Cassian to prove to Nesta that she was his, body and soul, forever. So, they did just that and didn't stop until the sun rose the next morning, coating their bodies with the warm glow of the golden morning sun and the salty sheen of sweat as the new day rose through the window beside them.

To be continued...

[happyandticklish]

Personal Canvas

Notes: For the request by @moooochaaaa and vaguely based off this piece of art I found [prompt for day twenty-five]. On a sidenote, Will absolutely draws/doodles on Mike in his spare time and no one can convince me otherwise.

Summary: Mike volunteers to let Will use him for art practice, but he has a hard time staying still. 

“Stop moving. You’re messing up the drawing.”

Will huffed in annoyance, sitting back on his heels as he observed his most recent mess-up. A line curved messily down Mike’s chest, a large splotch over his ribs from when Mike jerked away. It wasn’t too bad. Fixable, if he cleaned it up in time. Still. This was the third time he’d had to fix one of Mike’s mistake, and from the way Mike kept shifting, he was certain it wouldn’t be the last.

A faint dusting of pink fell on Mike’s features as he glanced away. He moved his arms back above his head from where they had been crossed protectively over his chest seconds before. “The paint’s cold, is all. I was startled.”

“Three times in a row?” Will asked doubtfully. Mike frowned, his lips thinning into a straight line like they did when he was embarrassed. The cute gesture was making it hard to be annoyed at him. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s okay, I know it’s a weird idea—”

“It’s not weird,” Mike insisted, knocking his knee into Will’s side in reproach. “It’s cool. I like the idea of being your human canvas. After all, you spend so much time with your paintings, I was starting to get jealous.”

“Ha,” Will said dryly, rolling his eyes, but a smile slipped onto his face nonetheless. “Fine. Just stay still then.”

“Roger that.” Mike faked a salute and settled back into the mattress, closing his eyes and doing an excellent job of pretending to look at peace despite how obviously tense he was. Will dipped his paintbrush back in the palette besides him, careful not to get any paint on Mike’s sheets, before continuing the field he had been working on.

Mike’s fingers curled into the pillow above him as the paintbrush touched down, his face scrunching up. He stayed still however, and so Will forged on, carefully flicking the spikes of grass against his skin. It wasn’t his best work by any means, but skin was a lot harder to work with than paper or linen. He worked his way across his ribs, switching between them to fill in different patches. Every once in a while, he’d stop to add a flower or a tangle of thorns in, and a smile would tug suddenly at Mike’s lips.

Everything was going fine until he went in to color in a daffodil. He squiggled the paintbrush inside the petals, sweeping over the edges to fill in the lining. Or at least that’s what he attempted to do before Mike starting squirming again with a choked giggle.

Will pulled back, raising a brow at the mess of paint on the mattress and then at Mike’s grinning face. “Okay, what is it, genuinely? Because I know the paint’s not that cold, it’s been sitting open in the hot sun, so what—”

“It tickles, okay?” Mike mumbled, suddenly gaining a vested interest in the pictures adorning the walls. “Your paintbrush.”

“I—oh.” His lips quirked up in a slight smile before he could stop it. “I didn’t realize you were still ticklish.”

“It doesn’t exactly go away,” Mike mumbled; it was clear he was hoping they could both simply brush off this new piece of information and move on with their earlier plans. However, with Mike spread out like he was, bare skin vulnerable and within easy access, Will had no such intentions. “It’s not gonna be a problem, I promise. I can hold still.”

Will snorted at the notion, to Mike’s irritation, but eventually simply nodded to Mike’s arms, which had darted down a little in their earlier struggle. Reluctantly, he pulled them back up, allowing them to rest above his head, still tense with a nervous energy now running through his veins. He looked like he wanted to flee, but he was trapped, both by his own words and by Will’s gaze, which bored into him with subtle intensity—a challenge.

Will brought the paintbrush back down, landing on a tulip this time, and Mike bit his lip as he colored in the area at an agonizingly slow pace. Will pretended to be pre-occupied with his task, though he watched him carefully, moving off of the tulip and onto a tower he had just decided needed to be added to the scene, climbing up the length of his sides.

Mike jumped when the cold brush landed on his hip, arms trembling as it dragged upwards. “You’re doing that on puhurpose!”

“I’m being as careful as I can,” Will replied simply, and he could see the doubt flickering in Mike’s gaze as he tried to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not. “Look, I’m almost done; just try to bear with it a little longer.”

To his credit, Mike did try, but with each quick, calculated flick of the brush over his sides, his resolve crumbled more and more. The grin screwed tighter across his face, and Will could hear the soft huffs of held-in laughter as he darted higher up his ribs.

“It can’t possibly tickle that much,” Will said, arching a brow in skepticism. He circled the top of the tower, an ornate design that had Mike gripping the sheets. “This is barely touching you, and I’m not even trying to make it tickle.”

Not technically true, but true enough for his point to stand. Mike shot him a dirty look, but it wasn’t very convincing when combined with the smile wobbling across his features. “Y-Yeah, why don’t you try it then?”

The paintbrush dotted under his arms to the accompaniment of a whimper from Mike. “You don’t have the art skills to pull this off.”

It was clear Mike wanted to snap back some indignant reply, but he favored against it in the interest of retaining his dignity. Will had chosen to fully take up residence under his arms now, and it wouldn’t have been surprising if they had received the news that Mike was undergoing sudden, premature labor from how hard he was breathing. His whole face was tightened, his eyes squinting shut and mouth frozen in a helpless smile that inched minimally wider by the second.

Now that the tower was finished, Will had moved onto clouds, big, fluffy ones that required swooping arcs over taut skin. Though he had teased him about it before, Will had to admire Mike’s ability to stay still through all this. It all looked so vulnerable, the way the paintbrush easily dragged over his skin, skin that was held open and exposed despite how ticklish the whole procedure looked. Mike’s words came back to him and Will shivered at the idea of this being done to him.

Perhaps it was out of that empathy that he finished quicker than he had planned, planting a hasty tower over his right side that Mike couldn’t help but giggle for as Will rushed to complete it. By the time he was done, it looked almost as though Mike’s face was painted as well from the blotchy red blooming across his cheeks.

Mike sat up slowly, careful not to crack the paint as he moved. He let out a low hum of approval, raising an arm to observe the scrawly tower depicted there. “That’s… actually not bad.”

Will jostled his leg with his own, but he was grinning as well. “Hey. Of course it’s good. I told you I’ve been practicing. Although,” he added, reaching out to poke Mike’s lower stomach. “This flower’s a bit messed up because a certain someone wouldn’t let me finish it.”

Mike batted his hand away with a yelp, continuing to keep his arms hovering protectively over the area even after Will had moved away. “You were doing it too lightly! Anyone would have moved.” He paused, eyes glinting with an idea. “In fact, seeing as you’re so confident, why don’t I try it out on you? I bet you can’t sit still half as long as I could.”

Will hesitated. A part of him knew full well that even a minute of that brush on his skin would have him caving, but a larger, more dominant part of himself knew he couldn’t say no to Mike. Not with those eyes boring into his and that competitive grin facing him down.

He held out his hand for Mike to shake, tilting his chin up with a confidence he didn’t feel. “You’re on.”

Several minutes and many messy splotches of paint later, Will crumbled as predicted, but it was almost worth it to see the way Mike’s face lit up when the first beginnings of laughter slipped out, securing his victory.

Anything was worth it to see that smile, even if Will had to pay for it in the end.

[thelazyecrivain]

Fluffbruary - Day 24 (Art)

Day twenty-four of @fluffbruary, using the prompt "art"

This is a sequel to His artwork written for the first day of fluffbruary!

Read on AO3

French Version

---

John enters the shop and is greeted by soft music, paintings of all styles hanging and posed everywhere. Two young people were talking behind the counter, stopping their conversation when they noticed him. The young woman stepped aside to let the young man do his work. 

"Hello, how can I help you?" 

"John Watson, I had made an appointment."

The young man searched his notebook in front of him before he came across his name and the time he had booked.

"It's for a portrait."

It wasn't a question but John nodded.

"It'll be with Nell." He explains, pointing to the person he was just talking to. Nell held out her hand and John shook it. 

"Hello, John. May I call you John?" Nell asked. She knows how to put people at ease, her easy smile and casual posture. Used to professional relationships, John struggled to answer her question but managed to return her friendly smile and answer. "Very good, John. I'm Nell, I'll be the artist who does your portrait." She said before accompanying him to a room at the back. The room is large, paintings but also decorations everywhere, the white floor mottled with paint, a blank canvas placed on an easel, and a seat in the middle of the room. "Before we begin, I would like to point out that I use the pronouns they and them. I would ask you to respect it. And what are yours?"

John looked at her, blinking, completely lost. The young wom-  person? understood his lack of understanding.

"Do you use she/her, he/him, they/them, or some other pronouns?"

John understood. "He. I use he/him." It's not every day he gets asked this kind of thing. John feels old in front of these young people and their new things. He's probably only ten years older than they are, but it feels so big now.

Nell smiles, "Great. I have a few more questions for you before we start." John wonders what their questions are, and they smile as they see the panic on his face. "Nothing incomprehensible, I promise." They laughed. "I just want to know why you want to do this portrait, in what context. If as a gift, to whom and why. If you have an idea of what you want to do, if you have a particular request. Something I absolutely must put in the painting. Tell me and I'll tell you if I can make it happen."

"Oh, um. It's for an anniversary. I've been with my... boyfriend for two years." He hesitated. It seemed so childish to say boyfriend. "My partner." They nodded. "We met in a museum, and I've been telling him ever since that he's my work of art." He said, blushing. Nell smiled tenderly. "So for our one year anniversary he gave me a painting of his. Our two-year anniversary is in a fortnight and I'd like to do the same."

"That's lovely, it's rare to get a gift like that."

John shrugs. "He kind of made it clear to me that's what he wanted."

"John Watson, you are the most beautiful piece of art."

"As I understand it, I have to have my portrait done for next year." 

"I hoped so." 

John smiled at the memory. 

"Do you have an idea, a wish for your portrait?" Nell asks, cutting him off in his reverie.

"Not really. I don't know much about art, I trust you."

Iel nods, then runs their eyes over the various settings, a look of concentration on their face. "Here's what I propose. A single background, no scenery. Just you on the painting. I'd like it to look like it was a spur of the moment shot, no posing. Nothing superficial."

John found it hard to imagine. He doesn't have a visual memory. Fortunately, Nell knows how to help him understand. They pull him to the middle of the room, in front of the easel, and sit him on a stool. They put him in profile, turning his face to the blank canvas and asking him to look away, not at a fixed point. He tries to follow their instructions and this seems to convince Nell as they nod, satisfied, and take out their phone to take a picture.

They showed him the picture and in the picture he looked serene, looking at something in the distance. It looks natural. John agreed wholeheartedly.

They set him up properly, told him to keep his coat on so that it would look like the picture was taken outside, and also to make his face stand out more easily with the dark colour of the clothing. Nell even had the idea of setting up a light above him to give a shiny effect on his blond hair.

"For the style of the painting, you asked for something realistic. What I'm proposing is that we keep this style, but that we can still see that it's a painting, that the brushstrokes look soft to the eye, almost smooth." Nell explains while showing him another painting in the same style.

John agrees, trusting them completely with this kind of choice. They are the professionals, not him. Nell told him that if he needed a break, to eat or drink, or if he started to cramp, he should not hesitate to ask, and they started to paint.

They talked from time to time, the other man - named Marvis - sometimes coming to see them, bringing things to Nell or John, talking to the doctor to distract him and make the time pass more quickly. He told them about his meeting with Sherlock, and they both gave an "awwww" in unison when he told them about the gift he had received the year before, showing a picture of the painting. He put it as a wallpaper, saving him the trouble of carrying the painting with him always

After five hours of painting, John is finally able to move, Nell promising to finish the details within a week and that it will be ready for their anniversary. John thanks them warmly and goes home, eager to give it to Sherlock.

***

"Sherlock?" Calls John as he walks into the flat. He's just spent eight hours nursing colds and coughs and all he wants is to spend the evening with his detective and celebrate their two years together.

"In the kitchen!"

John smiles, smelling the good aroma coming from the kitchen. He walks in to find the table set like a five-star restaurant, Sherlock at the stove with an apron around his waist, protecting his aubergine shirt. John's favourite.

John comes up behind Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head against his shoulder. 

"Did you have a good day?"

John mumbled a reply, letting himself be rocked by the movements of his shoulder. Sherlock turned in his arms to face him.

"I was looking forward to going home." He said as he slid between Sherlock's legs to press himself against him. They were almost the same size this way. "But I didn't expect to find this," he gestured to the table and the small plates Sherlock had lovingly prepared, "and to see you in an apron. I think it suits you very well. It hugs your waist." He said suggestively, sliding his hands against the fabric to support his words. 

Sherlock smiles, "Should I keep it?" Sherlock teases. He knows John likes his shirt

" Certainly not, we can't see your shirt!" He slides his hands down his back, finding the knot and removing it. He keeps his eyes in Sherlock's, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. He can see Sherlock's eyes shining with mischief, letting him. 

No sooner does the knot come undone than Sherlock removes the apron and tosses it haphazardly behind John. John laughed as lips cut him off. John tightened his grip behind his back, hands encircling his face. Slowly they kissed and when John wanted to deepen the kiss, Sherlock pulled away. John wanted to wipe the grin from his lips.

"Later." Sherlock promised with a wink before pulling away from him. "You have to taste what I've done. I didn't spend three hours cooking for it to end up in tupperware at the bottom of the fridge."

John shook his head, unable to stop his smile from forming. He settled down and together they enjoyed the food.

It was after dessert that John stopped Sherlock with a hand on his arm when he wanted to start clearing away.

"I have a surprise for you." 

(continue after the cut)

Sherlock said nothing and watched him go off to his old room to get the gift. He widens his eyes when he comes back down with it, John having no doubt that he's already deduced what he's getting him. It's pretty obvious, and John isn't even disappointed that he's figured it out before he's even unwrapped it. 

"Did you really do it?" Sherlock breathes. He stands up, walking over to him.

John nods his head. "It took me a while to find an artist with a style I liked."

Sherlock says nothing and begins to unpack it without further ado. Two weeks after posing for Nell, John came to pick it up and didn't hide his amazement at the work the artist had added after their meeting. Sherlock shared this wonderment when he saw the painting.

John is depicted as they had discussed with Nell, a black background, all in a realistic style while showing that it is a painting. Exactly as they had concluded.

Sherlock stares at it for about thirty seconds, before balancing the painting against a chair and thanking John appropriately.

"It's beautiful." He sighs between kisses. "You're beautiful."

John can feel his cheeks turning pink. He slowly pulls him towards the bedroom and Sherlock gets the message.

"The table..."

"Tomorrow." John growled.

Sherlock didn't need to be told again and pushed John convincingly towards the bedroom when he abruptly cut off their kiss. It took John a while to regain his composure and he wanted to grab Sherlock to keep him against him as he left.

Sherlock took the painting, and brought it with him to the room. John understood what he wanted to do. He watched him set up the painting next to his own with a tender smile. When it was finished, Sherlock returned to his side, his arms around his waist, his head resting on his shoulder. 

"What are we doing next year?" John asks, trying to keep control of his body as Sherlock begins to kiss him on the neck.

"We could do a painting of the two of us." Says Sherlock in the crook of his ear, making John shudder. "Or..."

Sherlock didn't finish his sentence, and John, curious as to what he meant, turned in his arms, attacking his neck in turn. "Or?"

"What do you say we get out your military uniform again?" 

John steps away from him, seeing that Sherlock is serious. He flashes his most seductive smile. "It'll be your wedding present."

"We should get married soon, then. I can't wait to get my present."

John laughed and regained possession of his lips, both falling onto the bed as Sherlock hit the bed

"In return, I want a painting of you only with your dressing gown. Nothing else."

"Deal."

(tell me if you wish to be tagged !) @topsyturvy-turtely @missdeliadili @mxster-jocale

[shutit-haha]

Paint over it

This is an idea I got based off of a fan-faction I wrote about him. Comfort, implied trauma, might be a little OOC.

You freaked out when you had first saw it. You were just patting yourself on the back yesterday for all the progress you had made, and how you were doing really well. Yet there it was thin as wafer paper, bright as the sun. Your eyes shot to his, "don't look." You jumped up from the couch hands reaching out to cover the hologram your mind was projecting.

"The fuck is it?" His scowl had gone deeper, though you knew it was only because of concern.

"It's bad," your voice was so fragile. Your body was trembling and you kept moving around to keep it out of his view. Your quirk allowed you to project things from the mind's eye, this meant fantasies, memories or dreams. If you made physical contact with a person you could project whatever it was they were seeing inside their head. This though, was completely on accident. You hadn't realized the memory had triggered your quirk. "It's so bad, please don't look. It's awful." Your words were rushed and mumbled.

It clicked. It clicked fast but he still hated the fact that it hadn't clicked just a second sooner. He'd seen this response before, knows the body language by heart. "I'm not looking," his words were gentle and he had closed his eyes. "I don't think you should look either," his large hand blindly reached for you.

"I can't not look Katsuki it's in my head," you grabbed ahold of his hand. Instantly the man pulled you towards him, roughing you up on accident. When you slammed into his chest it had damn near knocked the air out of you.

"Don't think about it."

"You know that's not how that works," you sighed.

"Hey, what's that thing you do with your paintings?"

"What," you snorted. His face was all scrunched up, eyes still closed because he had already declared that he wasn't going to look. His left hand held firmly on to yours and his right hand was struggling to find your waist.

"That thing you do when you don't like them," he huffed.

"Throw them out?"

"I mean yeah you could try and do that with this but," his hand found your waist. "That other thing when you keep the canvas."

"Oh when I paint over them?"

"Yeah that. Paint over this."

"Oh yeah," this was certainly amusing. "How?" He looked like a grumpy child, you kissed his nose.

"Tryna think, but your fuckin distracting me." He grumbled while he pulled you closer to him. "What's a nice memory of us? Your favorite one."

You thought about it, there were so many to choose from. "They're all my favorite memory."

"No, pick one."

"Don't force me."

"Pick!"

"Ok, ok." You could tell the image you had projected was changing. Although you couldn't see it, you could see the different lights flickering across his skin. Dark shadows and then blue light, burst of orange and red, back to that dark place and then there was a flicker of hot pink. Your mind fixated on that one. "I picked one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you turned around to look at it. "You can look." It was pink and grey in certain areas. You lay near a windowsill starring up at the stars, while talking to him on the phone.

'I luv you.' You spoke into the phone. The two of you were on facetime, his eyes just barely closed from exhaustion. It was easy to get him to do things while like this.

'I luv you too.' His lips were a little pouty, the hood of his sweater flattening out his hair a little.

'I luv you.'

'I luv you too,' he repeated back to you again.

You broke into a fit of giggles, 'you make me so happy.'

He scuffed, 'shut up.'

'I'll just take my luv you's then.'

'You can't. None refundable.'

"That's the worst fucking memory," Katsuki grumbled. You only leaned further into him.

"You were so sleepy and handsome."

"I'm always handsome."

"Better when your mouth's shut," and then quickly before he could speak you kissed him. The image in the background flickered out, your quirk having deactivated finally.

[guttersniper]

@inrovina + @holyrots said: marco and victoria have prepared a stocking for mutt — knitted by victoria — to open in the morning. it is filled with an assortment of wrapped gifts within, including candy, a new paperback, a hat and a deck of playing cards. that isn’t all. later, after a hearty meal with the whole family, marco presents mutt with another gift — a new pair of sturdy boots, custom made to fit the kid like a glove. “look here,” he says, pointing to the opening of the boot. on the inside, a name is already sewn: mutt. “they’re all yours.” victoria smiles at them both before handing mutt the next wrapped gift — a warm winter coat with fleece lining. “and this is to match, to keep you nice and cosy while the snow’s falling outside. we were hoping you could wear it later, if you’d like to join us for a walk in the park.” an annual tradition, back when it was just the two of them. they’d like mutt there with them too, now.

xeno makes a beeline for mutt the second he bursts into marco and victoria’s apartment. “mutt!” there is a big wrapped gift in his arms, an all-too-obvious shape. “please, please you gotta open this now — you have no idea how hard it is to keep secrets from you — i mean, shit—“ he sets the large present down (it is clearly a big canvas, but in all actuality contains a set of multiple canvases in varying sizes) and pulls the next present out of his backpack. “these, as well.” inside the snowman wrapping paper is a set of acrylic paints. “ta-da! and there’s me. well, i just mean—if you want lessons. or. anything. like, we can do art workshops. together. or not. hey, do you like them? is this okay? did i get it right?”

wesley makes a quieter entrance into the apartment, closing the front door with stitch at his heel. he waits to approach until xeno has chilled out and finished with his energetic gift giving session, scurrying off into the kitchen to say hi to marco and victoria. wesley comes over to mutt with a tentative smile on his face, careful to not overwhelm. “hi, mutt. i’ve got something for you, too. one of them was impossible to wrap. the other you can open later, if you want.” he offers up the first present — a small potted houseplant. “for your room here, i thought. it's propagated from one of mine.” the second present, the one successfully wrapped, contains a framed photo: it’s a photograph wesley took, of mutt with xeno, marco and victoria, none of the subjects aware of the picture being taken. it’s a family portrait.

give mutt gifts!

to say that this is a new experience for mutt would be an overwhelming understatement. his thanks are simple, bewildered by the length of the gift-giving session. one thing after another. when he thought it was over, another came his way. it makes his own gifts to them feel small and paltry by comparison.

having a room that belongs to him, that is the oddest of all. he still has trouble referring to it as that. as he held up the coat against his body in the privacy of his room, testing to see how it would hang on his body for the second, third, maybe fourth, time, he wondered how he was going to tell them, in an understandable way, that he can't just get rid of his old coat and boots like that.

it isn't that easy. there's still some use in them. he'll use them until he absolutely can't any more. it is nice, though, and just as new, that he's got these replacements. doesn't have to worry about going out and finding them. he'll take good care of them until then, but he'll wear the coat out, today, so that they can see him in it. not for his ego, a word that doesn't even sound right when associated with him, but for their sake.

he promised xeno they'd paint together sometime. mutt likes that, the idea of doing something alongside a friend. not being pressured to talk or feel like they should do the same thing. just existing beside each other, doing their own things. knowing that the other person is there. maybe even enjoying his company, if such a thing could be true.

he's already started the book -- mass-market, small but thick, regarded as classic historical fiction -- when wesley approaches him. his skinny scarred-bruised legs are under him, socked heels pressing into the sinew of his thighs at the back. the house is quieter, though a soulful christmas tune spins around on the record player, and he can faintly hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen. the book folds over his thumb, then he decides he needs to set it aside. he tucks the scrap piece of paper he's using as a bookmark inside.

his voice comes out low and faintly hoarse as always. he smiles in his toothless way, hesitant but genuine. " thank you. " the wrapped gift will be opened later, again when he's left alone. the pot is placed on the empty windowsill, angled just so to get proper sunlight.

marco calls for them. stitch runs to gather them, panting excitedly. mutt stands after putting his old boots back on. pulling on his new coat, he can't remember the last time he had something that fit so well. " c'mon. "

[robcognitivepersonality]

The Mastermind & the Promoter

How I get along with ESTPs as an INTJ

First, let’s toss all that is Chad about ESTPs and start from zero. Extraverted Sensing is gathering local detailed data at high fidelity and intensity. Like a high resolution camera which you have a long range control of the hue and contrast settings. Introverted Intuition is recalling global holistic data. Working together, Ni/Se users compare the details of reality against their vision. ESTPs take a step further by “painting” their holistic Ni canvas and materializing it onto the Se real world.

You traveled far and studied about everything that could be relevant to your vision. With Introverted Thinking, you’ve built from what you’ve seen as a guide to a utopian dream, a philosophy, or a set of ethos. With Extraverted Feeling, you believe these are the life principles everyone should abide by. Fe/Ti users are students and teachers of ego management. ESTPs take a step further to influence others by becoming the living proof of their own ideas.

You’re constantly picking up micro expressions, reading body language, researching deep convoluted literature, or analyzing theories. You can amplify the details out from both the physical and the conceptual. It’s not uncommon for ESTPs to have many advanced degrees, speak multiple languages fluently, and excel at just about any hobbies they’re passionate about. So instead of being the dumb jock the MBTI community has made you to be, I see ESTPs as the most potentially gifted out of all the types.

"Well, my legs may be too small for my body, but my head is too large, although I prefer to think it is just large enough for my mind. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind... and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow." - Tyrion Lannister, from A Game of Thrones

That’s the thing about ESTPs — y’all make it look so simple. Your NiTi understands that life can be overwhelmingly complex, yet you see that it works around a few thematic factors. And as long as we respect and make our moves based on those factors, it all becomes easy and intuitive. Let life happen, stay on course and we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Our energy is best spent on the now; focused towards our goals.

Like many ideas though, it’s easier said than done. You look into people’s eyes and you see how it can be complicated for them. People have many reasons why they’re not working on their goals. Of course there are some considerable excuses. But it could be a lack of confidence, fear, confusion, anger, or just plain laziness. Your SeFe sees those emotions and pulls them right out to the surface to deal with them.

Through my SeTe, I see that we live in a cold and over-complicated machine that sucks the souls out of us and programs us into mass manufactured drones. I see that many of us get bogged down spending our lives on unwanted obligations, unhealthy habits, and unfulfilling jobs. I try my best to navigate through it and be free and happy. To stay pure with ourselves and live as sincerely as we can. We both want that.

‘Free and happy.’ I was camping during a summer vacation on one of the tiny islands in the Philippines where I could walk around the perimeter in a half hour. There was one shack where a family lived to upkeep the island. I watched the kids all day playing tag on the beach, swimming as far out as they can, driving dad’s boat, carrying big smiles without a weight of burden. I asked myself — when did I grow up? When did things get so complicated?

"Yeah, fuck politics, man. Yeah, like literally that’s feckless. I’m telling you, I’m on my ‘kindness conspiracy’. As long as I’m kind to people, like if we live by an ethic of kindness, if we foster trust amongst each other, it will matter less what corporations and politicians say, because we’ll be able to trust our society’s cohesiveness." - Dave Chappelle

As a kid I couldn’t wait to be a grown up. I didn’t think too hard about it, I just wanted to be a big grown up like Mom and Dad. I did well in school, got a good job, and made lifelong friends. I’m grateful that I got to pursue my passions and cross a lot of my goals off the bucket list. Yet with all of the money and possessions I have, I really longed for that pure weightless joy these kids had. Don’t get me wrong, I’m living a good life. But I guess it really is just complicated.

I gotta admit. When you try to pull out my Introverted Feeling, I feel manipulated. As an INTJ, I’m possessive about my emotions. Only I can deal and experience them, I don’t outsource the control of them to anybody. I feel very seen when your darty eyes are pointed in my direction. I feel you weeding through my bullshit. I feel you are testing me for who I am as a person.

It can easily be a tug of war, until I take a moment and remind myself it doesn’t have to be. The ESTPs I’m close with are all good natured and genuinely curious. In the back of their minds, they understand we mean nothing in the scale of the universe. And they’ll ask “So what are you gonna do about it?” Without beating around the bush, I’m challenged to answer how I’ll be using my limited time on this Earth.

Having NiFi, I’m constantly contemplating how to attain the most self-realized life possible. I have this sheer curiosity for what I’d find out in being the best Me, the truest Me. But I honestly have no idea what it means to be all that I can be. There’s no standard nor proven roadmap to this. I come up with my own plans, constantly considering the rules of my environment and consulting my feelings. That’s what’s complicated. Without any instructions, I spend so much time in my head trying to figure life out.

"Money is a tool — it’s the means, not the end. Inspiration is the metric that dictates whether or not a project is a success. It’s more realistic than trying to aim for radio play, or trying to satisfy an A&R, or the other gatekeepers on these platforms. I don’t even know how to create with those things in mind. But if you tell me the goal is to inspire? That makes my job a lot easier." - Nipsey Hussle

So when you ask what I want to do in life, I want to look back during my last years saying to myself that I did pretty good. I want to be happy, stay healthy, see my parents enjoy their retirement, help out in the family, grow old with my friends, and do good in society. I’m afraid of how naïvely simple that all sounds. I can’t underestimate how difficult reaching these goals can be. In today’s environment, it seems logistically impossible without an abundance of time, money, and luck. Having only one shot at life, I have to do my due diligence to figure out how to best accumulate these resources.

As you’re focused on me trying to answer, I realize what you’re doing is checking up on my ikigai — a Japanese word which doesn’t exist in other languages that essentially means ‘a reason to get up in the morning’ and ‘a reason to enjoy life’:

The word ‘ikigai’ is usually used to indicate the source of value in one’s life or the things that make one’s life worthwhile (for example, one might say: ‘‘This child is my ikigai’’). Secondly, the word is used to refer to mental and spiritual circumstances under which individuals feel that their lives are valuable. There is a difference between ikigai and the sense of well-being. Ikigai is a more concerned with the future: for example, even when one feels that one’s present life is dark, possessing a desire or goal for the future allows one to feel ikigai.

Ikigai gives individuals a sense of a life worth living. It is not necessarily related to economic status.

Ikigai gives individuals a sense of a life worth living. It is not necessarily related to economic status.

Behaviours which make one feel ikigai are not actions which individuals are forced to take, but they are spontaneous activities which people undertake willingly.

Ikigai is personal; it reflects the inner self of an individual and expresses that faithfully.

It establishes a unique mental world in which the individual can feel at ease.

- Noriyuki Nakanishi, Department of Public Health, Osaka University Medical School, “‘Ikigai’ in older Japanese people”

ESTPs have an intuitive sense of this concept. You understand that the sum of small joys in everyday life results in a more fulfilling life as a whole. Ikigai is all we need. As long as we keep it pure and close to us, everything’s gonna be alright. And to do that, we must live in the moment. Having faith for the future means to enjoy the now, to enjoy every little thing and everyone we come in contact with. As someone who’s so future oriented as I am, I appreciate you for reminding me that.

I have no philosophical idea why we try to be happy. Maybe it’s tied to our will to survive. Whatever it is, I just know it feels beautifully good. To feel like those kids in the Philippines, to live each day like that and eventually to fondly look back. We’re given a chance to live, we should see how special that is. For you to teach me that, you’re a gift anybody would be lucky to have.

[more-than-a-princess]

"So, I know that your administrators would not want you to wear this," Tsubasa said, holding out the green denim jacket for Sonia to take, "so my advice would be, don't get caught, huh?" They laughed, lightly shrugging. There were tons of factors at play that their processing unit hadn't calculated for, but Sonia seemed to sometimes push back just enough upon the expectations of her programming that the cyber angel assumed that if she wanted to wear it, she'd find some way to do so. And, if she preferred the idea of just hanging it up somewhere to look at, well, fine with them.

Virtually every square inch of the jacket was covered up with buttons, pins, and patches displaying all manner of horror and occult iconography, from famous slasher characters to horror manga panels to unsettling symbols of knowledge best left forgotten. The part Tsubasa thought was coolest, though, was admittedly the one they had the least personal hand in. After some consulting, they'd bought all the patches and buttons and affixed them themselves, but the large painted backpiece was beyond their abilities. Instead, they'd handed the jacket over to one of their club friends who worked as a tattoo artist with some ideas. Thus, primed with canvas sealant and nano protector so it wouldn't come off in the wash, the jacket's back featured a unique, gristly, darkly romantic scene all worked around the words MADONNA OF DARKNESS in bold, eye-catching font.

"I really did try to come up with my own access code but I kept coming back to what you told me before, and I think your classmate kind of nailed it on the first try," Tsubasa explained with another laugh. "Nothing I could think of was anywhere near as fitting." For her, or as a cool thing to put on a battle jacket. Plus, their area of expertise was digital, cybernetic things, which wasn't quite Sonia's thing. "I did ask him first, just to make sure it was cool. It worked out - he's super easy to talk to." Why had everyone told them that Tanaka-san was so hard to understand, and hard to have a conversation with? Well, whatever. They grinned. "So, happy birthday, Sonia-san! You don't need a jacket to be totally cool, but I hope you like it anyway, huh?."

Sonia's Birthday Asks 2023 - Accepting until Monday, October 16!

The days leading up to the fall holidays in Novoselic were always stressful, but perhaps being half a world away made them even more so. She'd just returned from another business lunch, finalizing details for a campaign to support international study between Japan and Novoselic, when she found Tsubasa outside her dorm room door with a gift. It had come with a series of apologies regarding the mess, but she had shown her friend in, hoping they wouldn't mind the various trunks and valises open and half-stuffed with items to take home. Members of Novoselic Castle staff were arriving in the morning to help the princess with her packing, after her father couldn't contain his laughter at watching his daughter attempt to pack her own suitcases. He'd commended her efforts, but ultimately it was safer to have professionals finish the task.

A mess Sonia had only added to once Tsubasa had presented her with their gift. Her blue eyes had lit up, admittedly far more than when discussing the series of launch events for international studies, as she quickly shucked her brushed wool coat in cherry red onto a pile of of skirts before taking the green denim jacket carefully, in awe over the various adornments that her friend had taken such care in selecting for her. She'd slipped it on right over her coordinating cherry red shift dress, the combination of green denim and soft red wool making the Princess of Novoselic look like a punk-meets-prep Christmas display. Naturally, Sonia adored it.

"Those are words I tend to live by," She grinned, turning in front of her full-length mirror for both herself and Tsubasa to see. "I have an entire room connected to Novoselic Castle's underground corridors for my occult collection, and my family does not bother entering. Truth be told, I wonder if they fear it might be cursed!"

She laughed. She could only hope, even with her replica haunted dolls and antique texts describing various exorcisms. Pins and patches of those too had made it onto the jacket, Sonia beaming as she took in the horror manga panels, the slasher film icons. "This is so very beautiful and detailed, Tsubasa-san," She told them, turning to face them finally. She'd advised Tsubasa find somewhere to sit, though there was mostly only her desk chair and a small corner of her bed not being occupied with the contents of her upcoming trip. It was almost silly: she had an entire closet and then some at home, and her mother hated the 'trashy' Japanese fashions of Shibuya that she'd explored with Anzu some time ago. Still, she insisted: at least she could wear them when she wasn't working. Just like the jacket. "Thank you very much for this gift, I love it!"

Upon their mention of the 'access code,' Sonia glanced over her shoulder to where the back of the jacket was reflected in the mirror. Moving her hair to over one shoulder so the panel could be in full view for them both, she smiled before raising an eyebrow at the design. "The amount of blood, and candlelight, and roses is stunning! And the...ah, lovers, seem to be passionately entranced with one another." She did not mention aloud that one character, a woman, had long golden hair and a blush over her cheeks while the other, fitted with feminine curves but a sterner expression, pale skin, and darker features, was, to Sonia, unmistakably a woman as well. Ensuring her family would disapprove of her being in possession of, much less wearing, such a piece even more. 

Well, they'd simply have to cope with her new item that supported gothic LGBTQ romance.

"Ah, you spoke with Tanaka-san!" Sonia exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. She was always pleased when he made new friends and, for the first time in a long time, her heart did not ache at his mention. "Yes, he is a wonderful person and I do not doubt he elicited a positive response at his old nickname for me to be utilized here. Most do not find him approachable, but you are like me then and find him easy to talk to. But truly, am I really 'super cool' in this jacket? I have never been cool before!"

Glamorous, yes. Refined, of course. And a bit (a lot) nerdy: but cool? Sonia Nevermind had never been cool, but she could surely trust Tsubasa's opinion: they were the walking personification of coolness. 

[alinasartsandthings]

Tips and Tricks For Beginner Artists

I want to preface this by saying two things. Or maybe couple more.

One: This is my first ever blog post that I have written. There will be mistakes. I am still figuring out Tumblr Blogs. Deal with me. Thank you <3

Two: I am by no means a professional artist. I am still a student. I have been doing art for little over three years now and I am writing these to share my experiences as an artist that is self-taught. Also because I struggle with the mental aspect of art. I want to share and help people that are where I once was. I wish I had found somebody to give more personal, down to the bits advice to get me into the world of digital art. I am writing about what worked for me and how I did certain things. Enjoy.

(I am largely a digital artist. This is centered around digital mediums and methods. )

This blog post will be more helpful for people that are self-teaching and just starting art.

Regardless of why you want to do art, you need adequate tools to do it.

My first and current graphic tablet is One By Wacom in Small (ought to be replaced soon). I still use it and it serves just fine. It has no buttons on it, plain design. Wacom has excellent support and works smoothly. It was also a good budget decision. If you have a tablet that comes with a pen, work on that. Keep in mind, if you are intently buying a graphic pad or a tablet for purpose of art, buy something that you won't regret too much if art doesn't work out for you and it ends up collecting dust. It is easy to upgrade once your needs require it. Research what graphic tablets are out there and what would work best for you. There is a wild variety to choose from.

Now to the art program. Finding an art program to start on is not at all hard now. There are so many, each with its own quirk. I used Krita since forever. It is very professional, much like Photoshop but also easy for a beginner to grasp. And entirely free. Find an art program that you are comfortable in. Procreate, MediBang, Clip Studio Paint, Paint Tool SAI, Photoshop are only some of the choices.

Possibly in another post I will get more into Krita and how I use it as I am very fond of it.

Set Up Your Canvas

Here I am not going to go way too much into depth on this as it can vary greatly depending on what tools you use and what program but I want to stress the importance of having a workspace that works with you, not against you. Some of the best tips I have gotten for this are:

Set your canvas to a a medium gray color, somewhere in the middle of the gray value scale. Looking at a plain white canvas is daunting and quite inconvenient when you're starting off.

Pick your resolution. Usual choice is 300 dot per inch (DPI). Size of your canvas depends on your screen/machine/program. I usually go between 2000-2500 as my PC is past its prime and doesn't handle things well without sounding like a rocket about to take off. Research what your machine can do without lag.

I will give more advice on using brushes in another post but just going to say, using plain black color is usually bad idea. At least it was for me. It amplifies mistakes and leaves little room for fixing. Instead, try using a gray color somewhere between black and your canvas color. Medium value blue and red also work fine as sketch colors.

Start Comfortably

There is no point looking at all the masterpieces that ArtStation and Instagram has to offer and setting it as your short-term goal. A biggest downfall you can have is from starting too big.

Instead, focus of doing small things. Sketch a lot. Sketch basic shapes. And draw what you love. Art is a craft of heart, at least for me. Detaching yourself from that will make art will like a chore, a cold labor that you do not enjoy.

Ahem. Anyway.

One of the best exercises I have found is to just draw lines. This you can do on paper too as it is an excellent way to warm up. Try to make a straight line. Go not too fast nor slow. Make as many as you need until you get it straight. Do the same for circles. Make them as round as you can. Your hand is the biggest trickster. It does not cooperate with your mind as well as you want it to.

Sketch, sketch sketch, get yourself comfortable with it. Everyone does sketches, one way or another. Of course, you are free to try an entire piece but it can be very discouraging when it turns out nothing like you expected it to be.

I will make a post just on the ways you can practice as a beginner.

Find Inspiration

The biggest foe of artists is lack of inspiration and an artists block. I know it was mine. Finding inspiration is way easier when you are starting off as you often want to draw everything. There are plenty of places where you can get inspiration on what to draw. Pinterest in my all time favourite. You can also look at Instagram, ArtStation, your favourite shows, camera roll, world outside. Jot down what you want to draw when you get an idea and save it for later.

Find Artists You Love

This goes for everyone, but especially if you want to get into business of art. Having artists that inspire you and whose art you enjoy seeing is a must. It feeds your creativity and helps you develop your art style in the long run.

Don't compare yourself to other artists

Often, artists you see that get most views and likes have been in it for years. Do not go into art expecting that it will look perfect right away. Art takes time. A lot of it, often. Those artists whose works seem perfect have spent countless hours on sketches, studies, classes, lessons. Stressing over why your art is not good at the very start will not allow you to move on and better. Instead, appreciate and enjoy little what you created. Everyone's art journey is different and what matters is the road, not the destination

You don't have to be a natural

I never was exceptionally good at art growing up I did have an affinity for all things creative—I had passion for it, but my skills weren't out there. Majority of artists aren't naturals. In my opinion, passion and will is more important than natural skill set. Skills can be taught but without passion and will to learn, you won't get anywhere in art.

Your journey is unique

Everyone learns things at a different pace. What works for somebody, might not work for you. We all have different minds.. That is why everyone's art journey is so unique and interesting. When I started off, I was doing things exactly as I saw others do them and it resulted in frustrations because it wasn't turning out the way I imagined it would. Beginners are inclined towards this and that's alright. But it is important to realize that there is no law out there on how you have to learn the craft. Do it in a way that is most comfortable.

For example, I have quite an attention deficit. I cannot focus on a subject for longer than 15 minutes tops. So watching hour long lessons on Youtube or reading books on the subject didn't cut it for me. I either broke it up into smaller bits and only took what I needed in the moment or looked for compact, one-slide lessons, usually with examples, to tackle a subject. Rather than being told what to do, I needed to be shown how to do it. This might not be a good way for somebody, it really depends and comes down to you. You know yourself the best.

Now for the more practical tips

Outlining

This might be a controversial one out there, but I was never a strong believer in outlining. While it can be fun and it is helpful in beginning stages, it eventually stunts your growth. Instead of simply just outlining, look at how the things work and why does it look the way it does. Break down shapes and study them. Of course, there are instances where it does help to do it and I am not saying that you shouldn't do it, I just never did it. In my opinion, training your hand and mind to follow references is much better way to study and improve.

Use References

Do it. The best of artists use them or have used them for a large portion of their art journey. Do not see reference images as a cheat for artists. Drawing from mind is difficult and not something I would suggest to somebody starting off. Instead, find several references—for poses, shapes, color palette. The more references you have, more you will learn. I use Pinterest for this mostly. As I get can very easily distracted, I usually prepare them couple of hours in advance or a whole day before and store them so I can use them in the future whenever I need.

Don't just look at at the image and completely try to mirror it. Improvise. That's how you learn. Study it. Draw over the reference and then draw next to it. Do it as many times as you want and do it on several references. Sometimes it is enough to do reference thumbnails to effectively improve your art for the day.

Learn from Other Artists

I will make a special post on what artists I watched and learned from and how the self-teaching process looks for me. Regardless of how you study art (art school or not), it is important to find as many resources and sources as you can. Do not focus too much on narrowing it down to a specific thing. Look for lectures on basics that will prepare you for any course you might want to take, especially if you are self-taught.

Practice. Practice. Practice.

This advice I got from listening to my favourite art podcast from Adam Duff LUCIDPIXUL and it gives you this comparison.

If you spend a year reading fitness magazines but never go to the gym, are you going to get fit? No.

Try to make a routine and set the time when you are free to draw. More you do it, faster you will progress and develop your skill. No matter how bad it looks to you, just draw. You don't even have to complete it. Just sit down and put something on the canvas or paper. If it doesn't work, store it and move on. You learned something and will be better next time. It only looks bad if you didn't draw anything.

I hope this tips got to you and that you find them as helpful as I did. Happy drawing!

____________

I am a self-taught digital artist from Serbia. I hope to help people by sharing my art, process and advice that has and still is helping me.

[artemiseamoon]

Be The Shark Or Get Eaten

Lady Crimson (my oc) ft. Sharon Carter | oneshot

Warnings: criminal underworld

An: one of my many long standing drafts, collecting dust. This was inspired by TFATWS, specifically life in Madripoor. My oc came to mind instantly. I’ve said before Sharon Carter annoyed me in the movies and seemed like such a filler character. But I did like her in this. She went from blah to interesting to me. I’m also soft for art x lesbians /queer women and morally grey women. So yeah. I didn’t expand the idea behind this yet, so just sharing as it it. I have 147 drafts 😩 I hope to clear some out over the coming months.

Madripoor wasn’t for the faint of heart. Morality, a sense of decency, and any aversion to excess is best left on the other side of the bridge. If you want to do right, if you want to be good and play by the rules, Madripoor will eat you alive.

Madripoor’s underbelly is run by crooks, masterminds, manipulators, smugglers and those willing to do whatever it takes so survive. Be the shark or get eaten.

The city is full of criminals, every type you could imagine. But it’s not always the best place to hide, despite it being known as a criminal safe haven. Some in Madripoor will do anything for a big pay day.

The rate of captured bounties in the city is high. The only way for a wanted person to survive, and not get caught, is to outsmart everyone else and create a believable and fool proof identity. Just as important as that; don’t get close, to anyone. Privacy = survival.

Friends in high places helps, sometimes, but no one really is your friend in Madripoor. At least not in the underbelly, the high rises, the well off crowds. Even in a crowd, everyone laughing, hugging and enjoying themselves, it’s still every woman (man, person) for themselves.

One of the best things a person could do is align themselves with the big bosses and the Power Broker, but even that, didn’t come with guarantees, not long standing ones anyway.

Club Lilith, Friday night

Lady Crimson made her way through the dance floor, observing the crowd as they drank and danced. She took ownership of this place 4 years ago, and it’s still the hottest club in town. Madripoor is full of places to party, and of the top 10, half belong to her.

Over the last 5 years, her name has become synonyms with nightlife, parties, and the most elite gatherings. What started years ago as underground parties has now grown to an empire.

Lady Crimson is one of the top 12 wealthiest people in Madripoor. In a city of people making their riches by illegal means, it wasn’t an easy ranking to get.

Making her way to the third floor, she stepped into the waiting room of her office to see a familiar face. In the far left of the room, a large canvas. The three men leave the room after the blonde signaled to them.

“I’ve been here for 16 minutes.” She tops off her drink at the bar.

“I was busy,” Crimson grinned, her eyes darted to the glass, two fingers of whiskey, “you helped yourself I see.”

“I don’t have time to wait.” Sharon, drink in hand, walked over to the canvas. “ the Guillaume, hand delivered as requested.”

Crimson sauntered over to it, taking her sweet time. Standing before it, her smile widened as she took in the imagery.

“You have grossly overcharged for this, Carter,” her eyes briefly leave the painting. She makes eye contact with Sharon, who is already watching her. “It’s criminal,” a sly foxlike grin lingers on her lips, “bad girl.”

Sharon grinned in response.

“I’ll forgive it,” Crimsons eyes return to the painting, “I’ve been searching for this for many years,” she hovers her hand over the painting. The silver bracelets stacked on her wrist jingled, “well worth the inflation.”

Sharon sipped her drink as her eyes wandered. Yes, the Guillaume is a breathtaking piece, Sharon was almost tempted to keep it for herself. But it’s not what has her attention.

Lady Crimson is hard to ignore. Tall, athletic, a beautiful face with striking green eyes. She could often be found decorating herself with dark heavy makeup, leather, crushed velvet, and sheer fabrics. Her look is best described as goth underground meets high fashion. She liked wigs, and often had a different hair color each time you saw her.

Crimson, like most smart people in Madripoor is mysterious, and keeps herself that way. No one knows anything about her, where she came from, or who she was before coming here 10 years ago.

There’s something fox like about her, and from the very first meeting, it drew Sharon in. There’s also a clever quality to Crimsion, and a look in her eye like she know more than anyone else around her.

She’s also one of the people who seem completely unintimidated by Sharon’s rise in the ranks and title as Power Broker. It’s Madripoor, someone always wants what you have, challengers come left and right. Sharon had seen plenty, and there will always be more to come.

But Crimson didn’t care about that, or display any interest in taking the role for herself. She just liked to test Sharon. She’d be late on purpose, make Sharon wait, challenge her prices. At first, it frustrated Sharon, now, through she won’t admit it, she finds it entertaining, maybe even looks forward to it.

Sharon didn’t care who anyone was, as long as she got paid and kept her status. She can’t recall the last time she even found herself curious about a person, and their real identity.

Crimson took a step back from the painting. Her eyes are still glued to it when she speaks,

“If you ever get your hands on an Acacio,” her eyes meet Sharon’s, “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

Sharon put the empty drink down. The small raise of her brow gets Crimsons attention.

“You have one?” Crimson walked over to her.

“You’re mistaken.” Sharon slid her hands in her pockets, her eyes locked on Crimsons.

A wide jokers grin lights up Crimsons face, she steps into Sharon’s personal space.

“How much?”

“Did I say I have one?” Sharon keeps her poker face, her eyebrows still. Crimsons always been able to catch her micro expressions, even if no one else does. She also suppresses her excitement.

Anabela Acacio is one Sharon’s favorite artists. The photographer /painter moved Sharon to tears the first time she saw her work. Though the artist is long gone now, and only saw medium level fame during her time, she amassed a huge cult following.

Sharon also found her work later in life, a couple of years before the snap when she was dealing with her newly realized identity as a bisexual woman. Something always felt like it was missing, there was always a hunger left in her, one the men she bedded couldn’t fill. Once Sharon realized her true identity, it changed everything. And discovering the underground queer icon, Anabela Acacio, at the same time was life changing.

Not that Sharon needed much to deepen her draw to Crimson, but the fact that she knows Acacio, it nearly makes Sharon crumble on the spot.

“You’ve grown quiet, Carter,” Crimson leaned forward slightly, she can see an almost unnoticeable shift in Sharon’s breathing, “you do have one.”

Sharon’s lips part as they hold each-others gaze. Her eyes drop briefly to Crimsions lips, full soft looking lips painted a deep red, vampire red.

Crimson catches her, and smirks, “how much?”

“Never said I had one,” Sharon pulled herself together and takes a step back, putting distance between them. “If one makes its way to me, you’ll be my first call.”

Crimson only grins as her.

Sharon heads for the door. “I have another meeting. One you’ve made me late for. “

“They’ll live,” Crimson sat on the couch and extended her arms over the back, “what are you selling?”

Sharon looks back with a half smile, “art nouveau sculpture.”

Crimson whistles, “damn. I can imagine the price tag on that one. Let me guess, you added the Carter tax?”

“What is it you always say,” Sharon pretends to think,“be the shark or get eaten?”

Lady Crimson chucked, “I do. But , don’t over use it, I’ll sue you, plus tax.”

Sharon laughs and opens the doors. “We’ll see about that.”

Crimson watches her exit and disappear behind the doors. “We shall.”

Sapphic masterlist (fxf)

[ainews]

Neanderthals are making a comeback in a big way, and they’re bringing a “pale party” with them.

The pale party trend is a throwback to the days of the caveman, with a modern twist. Pale parties are becoming increasingly popular among young people, and it’s easy to see why. The events are a unique way to have a good time and let loose.

At a pale party, guests dress up in pale-colored clothing, from white to beige, cream, and even light grey. The idea is to look like a caveman, but in a more modern and stylish way. Accessories, such as furry hats and jewelry made of bone, are also popular.

The food served at a pale party is typically something that would have been eaten by Neanderthals. This means that ancient grains, vegetables, and nuts are served, as well as a variety of meats, including fish and game.

The drinks served at a pale party can also be quite interesting. In some cases, guests will even try to create drinks that Neanderthals would have had access to, such as mead or beer made with ancient grains.

The activities at a pale party can vary, but they usually involve some kind of physical activity. This could include a game of tag or a scavenger hunt. Guests might also participate in a “cave painting” activity, where they draw or paint on a large piece of paper or canvas.

The pale party trend is a great way to have a unique and memorable time with friends. So if you’re looking for a fun and original way to celebrate, why not try throwing a Neanderthal-style pale party?

[sloanerisette]

Take Back the True Mask Chapter 8

Hi everyone, so I’m sure most people that follow me know that I’m mostly like, accidentally a Digimon blog now, but I also do other fics! I have a Persona 5 AU where Joker is a trans woman, and today I updated the main fic I have for that series called Take Back the True Mask! I also have other fics in this AU, in the series Her True Mask.

This main fic is recontextualizing the 3rd Semester around the idea of Joker and Futaba being caught up in Dr. Maruki’s changed reality, as opposed to the other Phantom Thieves, and is going through their struggles as they’re navigating it!

Chapter 8 is covering Yusuke trying to pull Joker and Futaba out of the false reality! If you want to get to it because this little blurb has interested you, you can find it here!

If you want a little taste of what Chapter 8 entails, here’s a little bit!

A paintbrush mixed a small handful of warm tones together, creating a gentle orange, and Yusuke brought it to the large canvas. One long, gentle brushstroke, and then another. He bit the inside of the cheek, continuing to make very measured, very deliberate strokes.

From the doorway, Misaki watched quietly as she sipped a cup of tea. She nodded to herself, allowing herself to watch her son work. Yusuke took another moment, then began to make more brushstrokes. Misaki continued to stay silent, wishing for nothing more than to finally take the time to see how far her son had come in his craft.

After just over an hour, he had finally finished most of a portrait of a young woman, face framed by fiery orange hair and large glasses. Misaki took one last drink and then set it on a nearby table, clapping gently after.

Yusuke jumped in his seat and turned around.

“Ah, mother, you surprised me…” he said, swallowing hard. A slight flush came to his face as he saw his mother’s gaze look over to the portrait.

“This is the young woman you mentioned wanting to paint, isn’t it?” she asked. Yusuke could feel his cheeks burn even more, whipping his head away as he felt unable to look at her— or have her look at him— in those moments.

“Yes. It was quite difficult trying to paint her without reference, but her face is quite memorable,” he said.

Memorable was an understatement. It was easy to pick her out of a crowd just with her hair, but her expressions were just as bright as her hair color, and he hoped he portrayed her liveliness well with the wide grin he painted her with. Somehow she had seared herself well enough into his mind that he was able to create something passable.

“She does have a very striking visage,” she said, unable to help but smile at her son being so flustered of both his work and the fondness he seemed to have of the subject.

It felt so different being judged by his mother as opposed to by Madarame. She wasn’t harsh and her words were kind and soft. Compared to Madarame’s biting critiques on his work, his mother seemed to look for the bright spots, even in something like this portrait of Futaba that he felt wasn’t nearly as good as it could’ve been.

The brief time he’d had with his mother had truly been a blessing, and to be able to watch her work was a dream that should’ve never been possible. To see her technique, the gentle way she held a paintbrush, and the vision she seemed to have nearly immediately as soon as she sat down in front of a canvas, he’d be lucky if he could ever manage to gain these skills in his lifetime. Ones that, while he knew she worked tirelessly to gain, seemed effortless to her.

“She does,” he nodded, “Mother… would you mind if I went out today? I wish to find more inspiration.”

She watched him quietly for a moment, before a knowing smile crept on her lips.

“You don’t need to ask if I mind,” she said, placing a hand in front of her mouth before she chuckled gently. “Please, do whatever you want.”

Yusuke bowed his head, “Thank you, mother. I’ll be back later today.”

“Just let me give you some money for the train and for lunch,” she insisted.

“…Thank you. I do appreciate it. I’ll make sure not to be back too late,” he told her.

Granted, this wasn’t a trip into Shibuya just for inspiration, but also to seek out Futaba and Ren.

The stakes were too high to not go after them and try and pull them from the reverie Dr. Maruki lulled them into.

[bevfingerart]

Website : https://www.bevfingerart.com/

Address : Wellington, Colorado

Beverly Finger was born and raised in the rural ranch country of western South Dakota. This rural area, was Bev’s playground and inspiration for the future. She developed a love of the wide-open spaces, the prairie, hills, trees, the creeks and rivers. Throughout her life she has continuously observed Mother Nature’s many moods and atmospheric changes - the elements that have become instrumental in the composition of her works of art.

Business mail : bevfingerart@gmail.com

Keywords: landscape paintings in oil painting landscapes in acrylics fantasy digital art landscapes landscape painting wheat field modern italian landscape paintings painting landscapes in oil fine art landscape photography landscape clip studio paint landscape painting van gogh landscape wall art framed paint by numbers landscape van gogh landscape paintings landscape art 19th century landscape paintings for sale large landscape wall art painting landscapes in watercolor star wars landscape art black and white landscape painting easy landscape painting ideas landscape george w bush paintings landscape oil painting on canvas painting landscapes in oils renaissance artist landscape paintings acrylic landscape painting ideas landscape canvas wall art landscape paintings in acrylic painting landscapes in acrylic spray paint for landscaping 18th century landscape paintings 19th century landscape paintings abstract landscape wall art acrylic abstract landscape painting blue-green landscape painting landscape george bush paintings landscape oil paintings for sale landscape painting in acrylics landscape prints on canvas minimalist abstract landscape painting new mexico landscape paintings o'keeffe landscape paintings sci fi landscape art simple chinese landscape painting ukiyo-e landscape art wayne thiebaud landscape paintings beautiful fantasy landscape art black and white landscape art contemporary abstract landscape painting david hockney landscape paintings easy acrylic landscape painting easy desert landscape painting

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100011379910228

[kaifkhaleel]

Dive into Creativity: Fun Projects with Wunderkiddy’s Fish Outlines

Splash into Art: Creative Projects Using Wunderkiddy’s Fish Outlines

Splash into art with Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines, which offer a fantastic foundation for a variety of creative projects. These versatile fish outlines can be transformed into vibrant works of art with just a few simple materials. Start by using the fish outline as a stencil to create colorful fish prints on paper or fabric. Children can paint or color the outlines with their favorite hues, experimenting with patterns and textures to bring their aquatic creations to life. For a more interactive project, turn the fish outlines into a DIY puzzle: print the outlines on sturdy paper, cut them out, and have children piece them together to complete their fish. Additionally, the fish outlines can be used to create underwater-themed decorations for parties or classrooms. By integrating Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines into your art projects, you can foster creativity and provide an engaging way for individuals to explore their artistic potential while celebrating the beauty of marine life.

From Ocean to Art: Fun and Imaginative Ideas with Wunderkiddy’s Fish Templates

From ocean to art, Wunderkiddy’s fish templates provide an array of fun and imaginative ideas for creative projects. These fish outlines serve as a blank canvas for exploring various artistic techniques and themes. One exciting project involves creating a colorful fish mural: use the fish templates to cut out shapes from different colored papers and arrange them on a large sheet to form a vibrant underwater scene. Another idea is to use the fish templates to design custom greeting cards, perfect for sending a splash of creativity to friends and family. Additionally, the fish outlines can be used to make interactive learning tools, such as a fish-themed counting game or a matching activity. The flexibility of Wunderkiddy’s fish templates allows for endless creative possibilities, making them a valuable resource for both educational and recreational crafting. By exploring these imaginative ideas, you can transform simple fish outlines into engaging and meaningful art projects.

Make Waves with Creativity: Engaging Activities Featuring Wunderkiddy’s Fish Outlines

Make waves with creativity by incorporating Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines into engaging activities that captivate and inspire. These fish outlines provide a versatile starting point for a variety of craft projects. For instance, create a delightful fish mobile by coloring and cutting out the fish outlines, then hanging them from strings to create a dynamic and eye-catching decoration. Another engaging activity involves turning the fish outlines into a fun ocean-themed collage: combine the fish shapes with other marine elements like seaweed and coral to build a vibrant underwater world. You can also use the fish outlines for sensory play by adding different textures to each fish, such as fabric or foil, for a tactile experience. Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines are perfect for encouraging creativity and hands-on exploration, offering endless opportunities for imaginative play and artistic expression.

Transforming Fish Outlines: Innovative Craft Ideas with Wunderkiddy’s Templates

Transforming fish outlines into innovative craft ideas is easy with Wunderkiddy’s templates. These fish outlines serve as a versatile base for a range of creative projects. One idea is to use the fish templates to create a layered 3D fish sculpture: cut out multiple fish outlines, decorate each one, and then layer them with foam dots to add dimension. Another innovative project involves using the fish outlines as stencils for creating unique patterns on textiles, such as tote bags or t-shirts. You can also turn the fish templates into a fun and educational activity by making a fish-themed board game where players navigate through an underwater adventure. The adaptability of Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines makes them an excellent choice for crafting, allowing for creative exploration and artistic experimentation. By thinking outside the box, you can transform simple fish outlines into impressive and imaginative creations.

Underwater Adventures: Creative Uses for Wunderkiddy’s Printable Fish Outlines

Embark on underwater adventures with creative uses for Wunderkiddy’s printable fish outlines. These versatile templates provide a foundation for a range of ocean-themed crafts and activities. Start by creating a colorful underwater scene: print and color the fish outlines, then arrange them on a large sheet of paper along with other sea creatures and plants to design a vibrant ocean mural. For a more interactive project, use the fish outlines to make a DIY fishing game: cut out the fish shapes, add paper clips, and create a magnetic fishing rod to “catch” the fish. Additionally, you can use the fish outline to make decorative garlands or mobiles for parties or classrooms. The printable nature of Wunderkiddy’s fish outlines makes them easy to use and adaptable for various crafting needs. By incorporating these fish outlines into your projects, you can create engaging and imaginative ocean-themed art that captivates and entertains.

Reel in Fun: Exciting Projects and Crafts with Wunderkiddy’s Fish Templates

Reel in fun with exciting projects and crafts using Wunderkiddy’s fish templates. These fish outlines offer a wide range of creative possibilities for crafting and learning. One enjoyable project involves creating a fish-themed storybook: use the fish templates to design illustrations for each page and encourage children to write or narrate their own underwater adventure. Another fun idea is to make a fish-themed puzzle: print the fish templates on cardboard, cut out the shapes, and have kids piece together the puzzle for a rewarding challenge. You can also use the fish templates to create interactive educational tools, such as a fish-themed matching game or a visual aid for teaching about marine life. The versatility of Wunderkiddy’s fish templates ensures that your projects will be both engaging and enjoyable, making them a great addition to any craft activity. By incorporating these fish templates into your creations, you can provide a fun and educational experience that inspires creativity and learning.

[neo-modernart]

Exploring the Evolution of Neo-Modern Art in Today’s World

Neo-modern art was established as a movement that negotiates between the concepts of modernism and contemporary art in the ongoing process of artistic evolution. It is a form of art that shows how society and art interact with each other through the incorporation of traditional art with the modern world art. This movement is a tribute to the great modernist period and at the same time, an innovative shift in the representation of the modern world.

The Roots of Neo-Modern Art

The origin of neo-modern art lies in the late 19th and early 20th century, neo-modernism emerged as an art movement with artists such as Pablo Picasso, Wassily Kandinsky, and Piet Mondrian who challenged the traditional art by incorporating abstract art.

Over the years, artists in the 21st century were able to bring out new considerations to these modernist concepts. Due to the application of modern approach, mixed media, and social issues, neo-modern artwork became the new form of modernism that reflects the contemporary world.

Notable Neo-Modern Artists

Several artists have become leading figures in the neo-modern art movement, combining the boldness of modernism with contemporary elements:

Julie Mehretu: Mehretu is renowned for large abstract paintings that depict themes such as urbanism, history, and migration through layered stencils.

Gerhard Richter: A versatile painter, Richter is as comfortable working in the realm of the abstract as he is in photorealism, and his neo-modern works are defined by experimentation.

Olafur Eliasson: Combining nature, art, and technology, Eliasson’s installations are about perception, questions of sustainability, which perfectly reflect the principles of neo-modern art.

Takashi Murakami: The paintings of Murakami are brightly saturated and colorful, portraying the commercial aspect of neo-modern art through his character.

Simple Techniques to Get You Started

Experiment with Geometric Shapes: When an artist is painting, he/she should use basic shapes such as round, square and triangle in order to produce good art work. The use of symmetry and asymmetry creates an object that has visual stability while the object contains energy.

Layering Textures and Colors: Overlay colors and use contrasting textures to build up space. Layering aids in increasing depth and interest in your work regardless of the media you are using such as brushes and paints, collage or graphic design applications.

Use Minimalism with a Twist: First, begin with plain styles, not many shades to start with, proper line work and then add elements such as rough textures and other forms of media into the picture.

Explore Abstract Expression: Do not aim at depicting the idea or the feeling, as a definite object or as a person but try to express it in general forms. Let the lines and color patterns lead your artistic work.

Blend Traditional and Digital Tools: Use paint and canvas as well as graphic software and produce works that belong to neo-modern art.

How Neo-Modern Art Fits into Home Decor

Neo-modern art is now trending in home decor since they are simple yet flexible. Whether it is the use of bright and clear colors in the paintings or the use of digital technology in art, neo-modern artwork can easily blend in modern settings. It is versatile and easy to incorporate into any design concept ranging from the simplest minimalistic interior to the more complex interiors of an eclectic style.

This artwork features abstract shapes, geometrical shapes and black and white color schemes which makes it ideal for the living room, bedroom, and offices. Moreover, employing custom modern art pieces can bring uniqueness and class to the space, which makes it the choice of art lovers and homeowners.

Conclusion

The neo-modern art is a revival of modernist art in a contemporary world with reference to the current trends and technology. Such contemporary artists as Julie Mehretu, Gerhard Richter, and Olafur Eliasson add new ideas and new visions to the world of art. Thus, no matter whether one is an artist or a collector, or a simple lover of the art, neo-modern art can be considered as a rich and meaningful vision of the world that is very close to the contemporary one. Its applicability to interiors and the fact that it makes people think makes it unique in the art world and this means we are likely to see it grow more in the future.

Artists continue to favor canvas paintings because they offer both traditional and adaptable surfaces for artistic expression. In neo-modern art, the canvas is an ideal base for abstract shapes, vivid colors and multilayered textures that allow artists to go beyond limits while keeping alive the timeless charm of conventional painting methodologies. Be it in the houses or exhibitions, the canvas paintings bring a sense of distance and a touch that fascinates one.