#finally I have motivation to actually draw again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kozachenko · 1 month

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Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 17 #keiki haniyasushin #wily beast and weakest creature #touhou #東方project #own art

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catskets · 2 months

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From Desires to Demo: How to Write a Good Demo for your Visual Novel

I'm deciding I want to expand on some topics in longer, fuller-length posts based on points I made in this general VN development post.

There is a problem that players have expressed to me about visual novel demos, especially in horror/romance/yandere circles these days: they are not demos at all. Rather, they feel like introductions to the characters and the setting, and nothing happens at all. No one wants to have to go find out everything good about your game by going to your Tumblr and going through 10+ months of asks to get themselves hyped up for your game. Most people are not going to do that. They will instead play your demo and go "this isn't enough for me to come back to" and never think about it again.

How, then, do you get people playing your demo and being excited for the full game? This is my personal guide on how to make a compelling visual novel demo.

In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel, or, perhaps, improve on what you've already made.

What is the purpose of a demo?

A demo is short or a demonstration. Your job is to demonstrate a portion of your game to players. In more "traditional" games, a demo typically takes place in a very tightly-constricted space that is meant to show off how the game feels. Maybe this is the first few levels of a platformer that showcases the general atmosphere and gameplay of the game.

We aren't making action and adventure games in explorable spaces. We are making visual novels. Most visual novel demos just showcase a small portion of the game, maybe the first few scenes.

What your demo should have is this:

A general vibe for your game. You're writing a psychological horror game. Give me a taste of that! Show me a bit of the gore, a bit of the horror.

A sense of urgency. A lot of demos I've played and discarded have been discarded because the game itself does not give me a motivation

An established plot. What is going to happen in the future? Why am I in this world?

In general, think of your game as the back cover of a book. That's where the hook that draws you in to read it. Just give me a proper taste of your game!

There are cases in traditional games where things are hidden from the player in demos (let's all remember MGS2) and where things are changed in from the demo to the final product. That's perfectly okay! You are not obligated to update your demo unless you find gamebreaking bugs and other issues. If things change from the demo to the final product, let your players be surprised and intrigued by these changes!

I can make this a list of do's and don'ts:

Before writing your demo...

Do: Outline, plan, and everything else.

Unless you're blessed by Mnemosyne herself, you need to outline where your story is going to go.

When starting a project, I write a 1-2 page document that has this information:

Name of the game

The target audience

The genre and moods

A paragraph summary of the game

1-2 sentences describing main characters and their roles

Write a short scene that captures the essence of the game

Write a basic outline. You don't need to fit everything in and outline it all, but give yourself an idea. A beginning, a middle, a climax, and an end. Some people just write the start and the finish, and then the middle gets all muddled and convoluted.

While writing your demo....

Do: Make it clear how the choices will impact the game

Visual novels are a medium where player choices affect the game. Make sure those choices actually matter. They don't all have to, of course. They might matter later in the game, but you should at least try to write an example of how a choice may matter.

For example, in Art Without Blood's new demo, certain choices mean you meet the characters in a different order and experience different sides of them.

Having a certain amount of a sanity stat will cause characters to give you some flavor text.

Here's a very simple idea: if you're running your game on a "love points" or other points system, you can make it so if player gets 10 points with love interest, get a different scene. It shows that your choices are impactful. Just let players have a taste of the consequences of their actions.

Don't: Character dump.

Many demos I have played were just character dumps. This means using the demo just to introduce to us the characters but not giving them room to truly show their personalities or their attachments to the problem.

For example, I played a game recently that had the player complaining about their living situation, showing us the characters in the same living complex, showed off the yandere, and then had the player deal with an annoying, evil boss. That sounds like lots of games, right? And that doesn't sound very fun, does it?

Do: Ground the player in the world

Try to immerse your player character in your world. I want to read like I'm part of it. What is our purpose? If we are a stranger, how can you immerse us in a world so far removed from ours?

Do it slowly, and do it with necessity. You don't necessarily want an exposition dump either.

Establish the world, establish the conflict, establish why they got into this conflict, and leave us off with a reason to come back.

Don't: Make your players have to visit other sites to get important information

Your ask blogs or other social medias should contain supplemental material that keeps players engaged, but it should not be a place where you should go "well, actually, in the demo, x y and z should have happened but it didn't."

Try not to spoil your game on your socials. What's the point of playing if I can just read it all on your blog?

I should learn about the plot and the characters from the game itself. I should not have to get a sense from your blog about a character because they were so dry in the demo.

Obviously, this isn't to say you need to include everything about a character in your demo. But we need to get a sense of personality. I shouldn't have to go to Tumblr to find that personality.

Do: Ask for help

Making a game on your own, especially for the first time, is scary. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to get people to help you out with parts you aren't so familiar with. It doesn't make you any less of a developer. A lot of people need some degree of help. There is nothing wrong with that.

Don't: Start your marketing until you know you can finish the demo

I've seen lots of demos that have been in the works for years. It can be disappointing for fans and demotivating for the developer to have an idea, tell the world, and then not see a demo for a long time. This is especially the case when money is involved, but it's still irresponsible to promise a product and never deliver it. Be honest about the status of projects and your life.

Do: Outline content warnings properly

It is up to the player to decide if they think they're capable and ready to play your game. Make sure to outline your content warnings. Cover the basics, and feel free to leave an extended warnings list in your game or on your game page for specifics.

Content warnings are usually things like blood/violence, profanity, sexual content, etc. Trigger warnings typically get into specific things, like suicide, dentists, or religious trauma. Think of content warnings like the ERSB.

Put a splash screen before the game starts that showcase the content warnings and a place to find trigger warnings.

Don't: Pull back punches with what your characters are capable of

It's fiction. It doesn't necessarily mean you support your characters being crazy stalkers. Know the audience you want to write for, and don't feel a need to cower. Let them be filthy. Let them get their hands deep into someone's chest cavity and rip a body apart.

What I'm trying to say is you really shouldn't tone down what you think your characters are capable of because you're afraid of making fans sad or upset because pookie isn't acting the way they thought pookie acted in their head. It's your character. You're commanding the story. You are choosing where it goes, not fans. Just because you have an audience doesn't mean you need to tone it down to be more palpable to others.

Once your demo is released...

Do: Keep a balance

Making games is very, very hard. And the world is very, very harsh. It is okay to let your fans know about delays or potential cancellations, such as through the devlogs on itch.io for your game, in your community spaces, or on your blog. Please be honest. If you do not think that, after a demo's release, you can continue on the project, make it clear that it has been cancelled or on hiatus.

People will be understanding. The world sucks, and it sucks the life out of us. People are more forgiving if you are honest with the status of your game, rather than leaving it in a perpetual limbo.

Don't: Think that the popularity of your demo constitutes how "good" your game is.

Your demo may not do well. That could be a number of factors. Maybe your marketing didn't hit where you think it should have. Maybe you posted it at the same time as another game. Not your fault. The full release may do better. Don't let the numbers be the reason you give up.

Do: Network!

Get to know fellow developers in the space so you can learn from one another and get more ideas for improving your own games.

Don't: Use developers.

Use a developer's resources. You should not be making friends with other devs if your desire is to try and become friends with big people. That's a parasocial relationship, buddy!

Do: Tell your fans the course of action

Do you have a development timeline set up? Writing multiple days? Give fans a general outline that you planned before writing your demo. It's okay to miss things as long as you're honest. But a timeline will help you hold accountability for yourself.

Don't: Charge for it.

I've seen at least 3 games take the "I'm going to charge for a demo" route in an effort to sway children from playing the game. This is going to sway everyone. Especially if players have not seen a complete + finished product from you, they will not be buying an unfinished game. There are other ways to hide your games from children, such as using itch.io's adult content filters and applying them to your projects.

Main takeaway: Be honest.

I say this a lot throughout this post, but it's because it pushes on a particular trend I see in beginner visual novel developers. There's this desire to create, but there is also the desire for fandom centered around what characters and world spawn from your creations. To maintain that fandom, you need to create. You need to be consistent. It may be harsh, but it's the reality.

Life is hard, and a large majority of us are NOT doing this for a living. Life will get in the way. It always has, it always will.

That's why it's good to practice integrity. Know yourself and your limits. Take steps back and be willing to be open + honest.

Fans won't be happy if you keep saying a game is delayed and show little to no work. Posting unrelated artwork and spending months answering Tumblr asks instead of making a game will eventually run you in the mud without anyone to enjoy what you have the potential to create.

Live up to your promises, and if you can't, be honest. Your community will support you as long as you're open.

#visual novel development

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pixiesfz · 3 months

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p3 of this ….more jill next chapter I promise

lyrics more than words j.r x reader

plot: you get back into song writting after the incident

warning: mentions of sa and assault, it ends with us themed

She apologized.

She apologized a thousand times.

And for some stupid fucking reason you forgave her.

Why?

It could’ve been because you didn’t have many friends, she promised it was a one-time thing and it wouldn’t happen again.

You had no parents to go to.

It was a Thursday night, Ellie was opening the red wine to celebrate your eight-month anniversary but you didn’t find yourself excited. You sat on the ground of the living room, no matter how much it numbed your bottom half you hadn’t sat on the couch since the ‘incident’.

Ellie walked in with the wine and a charcuterie board you had made earlier and sat down on the couch behind you.

“How was work?” You asked and Ellie played with your hair “The usual, clients lying and me having to cover up for them” She shrugged and you nodded.

“How about you?” Ellie asked and you thought about it.

You hadn’t had the most inspiration to write lately, at least the inspiration to write good songs, songs that weren’t filled with heartache.

“I’ve got a bit of writer's block at the minute,” you told her and she furrowed her brows.

Just listen to your old songs, you said that little things like that help” You nodded your head “Maybe”.

You tried.

Really fucking tried.

But it all leads to crying on your studio’s couch.

Listening to how much you once loved Ellie, trusted her, called her your home.

Now you dreaded going to her home, checked twice before she sat next to her and looked away once you told her you love her.

It wasn’t until you dug through your papers and found your old songs from high school you found the motivation to put your pen to a page.

The thoughts about your childhood, the love that you shared with Jill, the adrenaline that ran through you both when you ran away from your dates at the school dance to go into the only open classroom where you could still hear the music.

But then came the thoughts of sadness. You couldn’t hold her in public, or share kisses in the street. You couldn’t gush to your friends about her, the only person you could talk about Jill with… was Jill.

The whole ordeal was frustrating but when you thought back to it, you never regretted a single thing.

Your words wrote themselves on the page as you hummed a melody, this song was yours, and yours only.

You didn’t let anyone read it.

Not even Olivia who begged and begged, you hid it in your draw in your private office at the studio, it was reserved for no eyes but your own.

Now back into your groove, you watched as Ellie walked into your office with a bouquet.

Shocked you leaned back “Hi El, what are you doing here?” you asked and she shrugged “Just thought I’d say hi, you’ve been working hard and staying after hours” She smiled and you blushed.

It was a sweet gesture, and you hadn’t even noticed that everyone had left and you were the only one left.

“Well, is this for me?” you ask, pointing at the flowers and Ellie smirks “It’s actually for Olivia,” she says before you both laughed

“I just wanted to say I’m proud of you” she told you before handing them out “Let me grab a vase from the kitchen spot” you told her, placing a kiss on her cheek before leaving the office door.

Ellie looked around your office as you left, noticing a small key next to your keyboard, furrowing her brows she picked it up and looked around for a place it could go into.

You had always been trustworthy into the relationship and would always be loyal but ever since the game Ellie saw your eyes twinkle when Jill said hello to you.

She had never seen you look at her that way.

So she took it out on you that same night, she regretted it afterwards. When you forgave her she knew she had to keep you forever. You were hers.

When she finally found the keyhole at your desk she opened the draw to find pieces of paper with lyrics on it, a melody on the back.

‘secret love song’

Ellie annotated your writing as she read, this couln’t have been an old writing piece as your handwriting had changed and your writing was slightly mess, some of the letters connecting which meant you were on a roll, the feelings pouring out of you as you wrote.

Anger started to pour out of her, dropping the flowers onto your floor.

You walked in after and stopped at the door when you noticed what papers she had in her hands.

Fear washed over you.

“Ellie?” you asked, walking slowly to her, placing the vase down at your desk.

“When did you write this?” she asked and you panicked “Years ago” you shrugged and she placed it down “You’re lying”

You stepped back “Ellie-“

“Are you cheating on me?”

You rolled your eyes “no I am not cheating on you, this song is about something that happened years ago” you told her, ripping it from her hands.

It seemed to be enough reassurance for her since her shoulders sagged down “I just get self-conscious you know” she said and you nodded, stepping back from the girl.

You were scared

No.

You were petrified.

Stepping to the desk you grabbed the glass vase, putting it as far away as possible.

You looked from the vase and back to Ellie.

You shouldn’t have to stand with your partner and hide objects from them.

You had to leave.

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #jill roord x reader #jill roord imagine #jill roord

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iambilliejeanok · 1 year

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Hello! Let me just say that i adore the way your write!! It’s so amazing🥰 Can i request something (however you want to write it really) where the character wakes reader up to ask them if reader loves them?

That was a terrible explanation i’m so sorry lol

I’d love if it could be with Kakashi, Jiraiya and Madara 🥰🫶 (or any characters you want)

Thank you so much!🥹🫶🏾💗😘

No warnings, Purely fluff, a small itty tiny bit angst, but just a small little bit I promise.

🌸Kakashi🌸

Kakashi doesn’t often stay asleep throughout the night, having you beside him in the nighttime drastically reduces the amount of nightmares he has, but unfortunately, he still has those nights where he wakes up sweating, too shook to actually fall asleep again. This time around though, he has you to watch over, so he’s not shaken up for too long, holding your body close to his as he watches you sleep peacefully, the warmth of your weight against him and your steady breathing quickly relaxing him. All this and maybe a book in his hands is a great opportunity for him to spend some time alone. When you begin stirring in your sleep he freezes, trying his best to not wake you up, but even while you’re sleeping, you shift up the bed to hug him, nuzzling your face against his neck, inhaling his addictive scent. At this point he has completely forgotten about the nightmare that woke him up, genuinely grateful for your presence in his life.

He realizes that even though he’s lost too many dearly loved ones, today, in this moment, he has you and in this moment, even though you are asleep against him, you still manage to comfort him, drawing his attention to this very moment. His heart begins to beat faster, Kakashi biting his lip as he tries to push away th intrusive thoughts of maybe losing you too. He can’t help himself, panic motivating his next action, slowly nodding your arm with his hand, his heart beating faster when you don’t wake up. He can’t fight the paranoia sometimes, now attempting to sit upright to try and disturb hour sleep, hoping you’d wake up. “Baby”, he calls, “Hey…Y/n, baby…wake up please”, he softly calls, finally able to release the breath he held in waiting for you to respond. Tonight is a difficult night for him, but he seemed to forget that you’re here, and that you will always be here, you’ll never leave his side. “Mmhmm?”, you sleepily respond, drifting in between reality and your dreams, hearing someone call your name. “Baby, wake up please”, he calls again, hope filling his heart when he sees your eyes finally open. “Y/n. Baby…are you awake? I’m sorry, wake up please”, he says, waiting for you to get up. “Hey babe, what’s up?”, you ask confused, trying to shake away the sleep. “Hey, is everything okay?’, you ask, rubbing your eyes while giving him a few pecks against his neck and cheek. He already feels silly for worrying so much. “Uhm”, he says, clearing thought, worried that you’d be annoyed for being woken up unnecessarily. “I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, I’ll make it up to you i promise”, he hurriedly says and you can hear him swallow, finally noticing the dampness of his shirt, quickly sobering up at the realization that he could’ve had another nightmare.

“Kashi, its okay”, you say lovingly, cupping his cheek in the palm for your warm hand. “It’s always okay, are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?’, you worriedly ask, sitting up on your knees to straddle his lap. Feeling a little guilty for even thinking if asking you this, he looks down in shame, and you can feel his face drop in your palm. Gently lifting his head up you place the softest kiss he’s ever share with you yet on his lips, and you feel something wet against your thumb. “Oh sweetheart, what’s the matter?”, you ask after noticing the tear that fell down his cheek. “I was just scared”, he admits, failing to drop his head low again since you held his face firm in the palms of your hands. “What is it love? Another nightmare?”, and Kakashi slowly nods. You gasp, your hand reaching the back of his head to pull him into you, holding him close, wrapping you arms around him. surrounded by your scent, he feels so safe, is voice shaky as he asks the next question. “You still love me?, a small chuckle leaving his lips to mask his feelings. But you knew him like the back of your hand, holding him tighter. “I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and I’ll continue to love you no matter what”, you say, separating yourself from him to palm his cheeks again, “Kakashi, you’re the love of my life, you don’t ever have to doubt that okay?”. Placing another soft kiss against his lips, you feel him squeeze you tighter. “I promise I’ll never leave you, ever”. Kakashi wonders why he entertained any of those intrusive thoughts to begin with, of course you love him. “I love you so much”, he says, his words muffled against your neck, but you hear his word loud and clearly, the two of you embracing one another until you feel Kakashi doze off in your arms. The cutest big baby.

🌸Jiraiya🌸

Jiraiya constantly wonders how on earth a man like him was gifted with such a kind hearted, loving partner. A pervert who didn’t even think it capable of loving one person, but here he is, holding on to the love of his life, your hand loosely wrapped around a few of his fingers, Jiraiya smiling at just how precious you arm. Needing to use the bathroom, he ever so carefully creeps out of bed, but no, its not to cheat this time, no not with you, he left that life behind, its just to use the bathroom, the intense urge to be back in bed beside you exciting him so much it kind of scared him. After using the toilet, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. A strong sense of shame washed over him, thoughts of unworthiness saddening him once again. How exactly is he supposed to deal with all this love? A love so graceful he wondered if he truly deserved it.

How can she love you, you womanizing son of a b—, “No, she does love me…”, he spoke aloud, refusing to let any negative thoughts occupy his head any further. “And I’m not a womanizer.”, he added, looking down in shame, trying to convince himself he was right. No matter how hard he tried to fight himself, he just couldn’t stop. No one ever bothered loving him, i mean how could they when he was always onto the next, but maybe change is true. Man can change, he reminded himself, his eyes shut to try and center himself. But the more he tried to block it out the more doubtful he became. Was someone pranking him? All those of years of playing with peoples hearts had to have finally come to bite him in the butt right?

He couldn’t hold back any longer, he needed answers. Why?, Why does he deserve a chance at love, especially with someone like you. He desperately needed to know, turning off the bathroom light to make his way to your shared bed. Uncertainty eating him from the inside out, he decided to gently wake you up, his large frame spooning you from the front, placing gentle kisses on your face as he called your name. “Princess, wake up, wake up”. He is so nervous, the sound of his rapidly beating heart loud in in his, so loud he can no longer handle it, he just needs you to tell him. “Y/n, cmon, wake up”, which you finally do, not sure if you just heard Jiraiya whining in your ear or if you were dreaming…the latter making more sense, until you hear him open his mouth again. “So…you’re awake now?”, he impatiently asks, still gently nudging your arm. “Yes baba, I’m awake, are you okay?”, you yawn, stretching out a little before you scoot closer to him, happy to feel his warmth surround you once again. “Baby, I’m okay yes. Uh…are you?”, “Mmhmm?”, is all you say, burying your head in his chest to find some sleep agin, and just when you fly yourself drifting off again, he finally asks, “Do you really love me?”, his voice so low he wonders if you actually heard him, but you certainly did, smiling to yourself before wrapping a arm around him, placing small kisses against his neck. “Nothing matters to me more than you Jiraiya, I love you so much baba!”, your words soft and genuine, Jiraiya’s denial subsiding, gently squeezing you and placing kisses on your forehead. “Will you always love me?”, he asks, a small chuckle leaving your mouth over how whiny he came across, so out of character. “I don’t ever want to stop, loving you everyday makes me so happy” and with that Jiraiya could go on another day confident that he is loved.

🌸Madara🌸

Honestly, Madara just wants attention, he’s such an attention seeker that he’s willing to disturb your sleep if he’s bored enough, or sometimes just because its fun. I mean, he knows you love him, if anything he’d be confused if you didn’t, after all, he genuinely believes he’s the whole package and that you’re truly lucky to have him, but even so, there might be a teeny tiny bit of doubt in his heart sometimes. He will wake you up anyway, just because he can, its something you do too when you want cuddles, so he wants to have his turn tonight.

“Hey sweetheart”, he softly calls, rubbing your back as you lay on top of him. “Princess, its time to wake up”, he says, placing his hands on your underarms to effortlessly lift you up, your upper body dangling above him while he gently shakes you like a baby, which does the trick, your body jerking as you wake up from the feeling of falling, your arms flaying everywhere when you opened your eyes and realized you were not laying on anything. “Relax babe!”, Madara chuckles, gently lowering you to lay on top of him again. You immediately sit up on your elbows, your arms on each side of him as your stare him down, easily finding his blood red irises in the darkness of your room. “Babyyy that’s not funny!”, you whine, your husband still laughing at you, his pupils still spinning, recording the entire thing. “Heey”, you softly yell, biting your lips to try and hold yourself back from laughing, but his laugh was so contagious you just couldn’t, annoyed that you couldn’t be serious about this. “Babbbyyy!”, you giggle, lightly slapping his chest, his large hand cupping your cheek, as he slightly lifts himself up to plant a kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to startle you like that”, his voice calm and deep, so soothing you felt like you could forgive him, leaning forward for another soft kiss, your lips simply pressing against his before parting. You could kiss him like that forever. “Why are you awake? And why did you wake me up?”, you question, your eyes almost closing as his hand now moved to the back of your head, massaging your scalp as you spoke. “I just wanted to know something”, he says, delaying the reason, making you impatiently whine, “Uh uh, i wont tell you why I woke you up if you whine like that”, he teases, “okay then goodnight”, you respond, laying down on his chest. “Okay okay wait”, he huffs, annoyed that you won.

“I, just wanted to ask if you love me?”, he asks, manipulating his voice to sound all innocent and cute, making you roll your eyes as you giggle. “I should be asking you that since you woke me up like that baby, but how can i not love my attention seeking little baby’, you tease, planting small kisses on is lips, making him smile. “Hey I’m not an attention seeker”, he says, lightly smacking you butt, a giggle escaping you lips. “Says the guy who woke me up to ask if i love him, even though I told you I love you a million times before we went to bed”, you yawn, snuggling into him once again, Madara lifting the blankets up to cover you. “Whatever princess, I love you okay?’, he says, wrapping his arms around you, smiling at your response and you quickly dosed off. “I love you so much”

@aiyaaayei 💗🫧

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shy-taylorsversion · 7 months

Text

Want You Back | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Inspired by Want You Back by Maisie Peters

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago, Y/n started hunting with the boys. Her and Dean's friendship became more than anything she ever had before. Then he hurt her like never before. The worst part was she didn't really care.

Takes place somewhere in season 6 after Sam got his soul back. Flashbacks are during season five.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing (minimal), canon-level violence, few innuendos, and mentions of things. Reader is kinda sad and desperate. Angst. no happy ending :(

A/N: Hi!! After a year of trying to write a complete fic to post, I finally did it. Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I relied on Grammarly lol Also I had no idea how to write the action scenes but tried my best. I really don't know if this is worth much but I had so much fun writing sooo I hope you enjoy it!! (gif not mine)

March 2010

Y/n’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention from the hunter drunkenly blabbering in her ear. They’d just wrapped up a quick hunt, a werewolf somewhere in northern Montana. She didn’t even really know the guy but Bobby had given him her number to ask for help. She agreed, not really having anything more to do. He was fine for a hunter, other than he never shut up and was getting too handsy for her liking, and him being on his fifth drink wasn’t helping.

She opened the message, not recognizing the number. Bobby had to stop handing it out to whoever.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Whatcha up to?”

The phone fell into her lap. There was only one person she ever let get away with calling her that, or anything really, and he didn’t come around often.

“Depends, who is this?”

The response was almost immediate.

“Don’t do me like that, Y/n”

She could almost see his stupid grin on the screen and had to look away to control the heat rising in her face. Within five seconds and two texts, Dean Winchester had turned her into a giggling schoolgirl with a crush.

“I’m at a bar, what do you want?”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart. Which one? I wanna see you.”

In any other universe, she would have assumed he had ulterior motives. She had the first few times she’d received that text but ended up spending the night hiding her disappointment. He only wanted to see her. He’d meet with her wherever she was. A bar, a motel, a diner.

They’d spend hours talking about everything. She’d tell him stories of her recent hunts and the hunters she was stuck helping. He’d tell her of whatever they’d been facing. On rare occasions, when it was super late and they were sprawled on her bed, in a half-drunken stupor, he’d tell her about Sam or their dad. He’d mention their childhood and what he was put through. One night, he even mentioned a girl named Cassie, he skirted around details but Y/n understood.

They’d fall asleep like that, on top of the covers of a dirty motel bed. The next morning, he’d take her to breakfast, hug her goodbye, and then he was gone.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again.

“I miss you.”

Her blood ran cold as she stared at the screen. He’d definitely never said that before. They just never went there and maybe this wasn’t him going there but it was different. Without another thought, she sent him the address.

Present, April 2011

“What Dean did wasn’t ok, you know that right?” Sam said through the phone. “He never should’ve left like that. We just really could use your and Bobby’s help on this case.”

Y/n sighed in response. What could she even say? That she knew, that she understood. That it still didn’t matter because even through all of the anger and hurt, she’d take him back tomorrow.

Not that he’d ever actually been hers. It was only half a spring, barely two months.

It didn’t matter either way. There was a job to be done and she had to do it. She could put her feelings aside for a few days.

“He always left like that, not like I’m surprised.”

“Look, I’ve gotta go but please, Y/n, call us if you need anything. We’ll be there soon.“

“Bye, Sam.”

The call ended, leaving Y/n leaning against the railing of Bobby’s porch. The early spring wind whipped around her and she hugged her flannel closer, looking out onto the empty road.

It had been over a year since she’d seen either of them. She knew of everything that happened to them. Sam going to hell and coming back without a soul. Dean, living a normal life for over a year with a woman and her kid.

Y/n didn’t know her, only hearing about the situation from Sam and Bobby in passing. She knew her name was Lisa and that Dean cared for her. Maybe more. She knew that Dean had promised Sam to live a normal life after he jumped into the cage. And she was happy that he got a year of peace. She was.

She could picture him helping in the kitchen, wearing an apron with flour smeared across his face. He’d probably set up family movie nights and weekend outings and birthday dinners. He’d been happy and okay. Against all odds, he had gotten out.

That didn’t stop the wave of hurt that washed over at the thought of him, all domestic and soft.

The click of the door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. Bobby stood there, a knowing look on his face.

“C’mon kid, let’s see if we can figure out something before those boys get here.”

A few hours later, Y/n stared at the book in her lap. She’d been rereading the same paragraph for thirty minutes. Every time she’d get drawn into the book, the house would creak or the wind would blow and she’d be snapped out of it.

She kept waiting for the door to open, for footsteps to trail down the foyer and into the living room. She couldn’t even begin to prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. Her only plan was to act as normal as possible, which was already proving to be difficult.

A pit formed in her stomach, there was a lump in her throat and her head was clouded. The whole room was hazy and it felt like she was watching herself exist.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until something wet hit her hands and slid onto her jeans. She quickly wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the book again. The lines blurred together as more tears filled her eyes.

God, she was sitting here crying over some guy. She was a grown woman, she had to get over this. It was pathetic at this point.

“You know, what Dean did was wrong. Leaving like that, not telling you what happening.” Bobby said, walking into the room, a stack of books in his hands. “I love the kid but he’s a real dick sometimes.”

He meant well but she swore if one more person said that Dean had done bad, she was going to go crazy.

She knew that. More than anyone, she knew. She was the one who spent months hunting with him, helping him and Sam figure out how to save the damn world. They’d spent nights wrapped up in each other, more than ever before. Farther than before.

She was the one who woke up to an empty bed with no trace of him anywhere. He never responded to a call or a text. Never even let her know he was alive.

He’d left like an assassin.

Part of her couldn’t even blame him. It probably had been for the best because if he’d told her what the plan had been, she’d have begged.

In the end, he’d got to be a coward and she salvaged some amount of self-respect.

“I know, Bobby.” She said, giving him a small smile, “I know.”

The door creaked causing Y/n to jump, earning her a concerned look from Bobby.

She smiled at him again, trying to reassure him. She could tell he’d been worried about her lately. He was justified in it. She’d been on edge and closed off for the last year and a half.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She’d known these boys for the better part of her life, it wasn’t a big deal.

Sam rounded the corner first, entering with a slight grin. His eyes immediately found hers and without warning he pulled her off the couch and into his arms.

Y/n let out a surprised laugh as her feet dangled off the ground and the life was squeezed out of her.

“I missed you too, Sam.” She said, unable to hold back more laughter, “Put me down now.”

Her feet hit the floor and Sam stepped back. She looked him over, still smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

A set of footsteps grew louder causing Y/n to look up, only for her to meet two green eyes.

The breath was knocked out of her and she was all too aware of the pit in her stomach again.

Ignoring the pairs of eyes on her, She spun on her heel to face Bobby.

“Let’s get started?”

March 2010

“I call shotgun!” Y/n yelled as they walked out of the diner and took off towards the Impala.

She was probably being unfair. She’d barely shared the passenger side in the few weeks she’d been with the boys. Sam was getting huffy about it, she could tell but she enjoyed the view more from the front. Sitting in the back she’d miss the way Dean’s hands looked gripping the steering wheel, the way his lips moved as he mouthed the lyrics to whatever was on the radio, or the way his eyes would flicker to hers for just a split second.

Dean had also finally let her DJ and she didn’t plan on giving that rare privilege away anytime soon.

“C'mon, dude. It's my turn.” Sam whined, “My legs are starting to cramp.”

Sam beat her to the car which wasn’t surprising since he was literally the size of one. She was close to giving in when an arm landed on her shoulder. Dean nudged Sam out of the way, ignoring his protests, and opened the door.

“Sorry, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes never left hers as she slid into the seat, “Need my Darlin’ by my side.”

Present, April 2011

Cracked wooden planks creaked under Y/n’s feet as she followed the boys and Bobby into the abandoned house. It was pitch black. She blinked her eyes, trying to adapt to the lack of lighting.

According to Sam, a nest of vamps had been holed up there for weeks. They’d started leaving a trail of bodies, teens who’d come through as a dare or curiosity. She didn’t know the exact numbers racked up in that time but it was enough for Sam and Dean to ask for help.

Dean motioned for them to split up, two taking the downstairs and two going up. She went to follow behind Sam who had taken off into the next room but Bobby beat her to it. She would’ve fought back but it wasn’t exactly like she could cause a scene right then.

She followed Dean up the stairs, cringing every time the stairs groaned underneath their feet.

Dean slowed as he hit the final step before a long, dark hallway. Y/n was a step behind him. His body nearly covered her. She shifted to the side to peer around him.

Both raised their machetes, trying to keep their breathing quiet as they waited for any sign of movement.

A crash came from down the hall. Dean started towards the sound, Y/n following close behind. The complete darkness put them on edge. Being minus one sense in a house of at least ten fanged bastards, not fun.

The floorboard creaked behind her causing her to flip around, just in time to dodge the first vampire of the night.

She swung her machete, hitting its arm. Distracted, she brought down the weapon. Its head hit the floor.

Dean yelled out from behind her. She flung herself around to hear him fighting off, what she guessed was three on his own. Her presence seemed to catch the attention of one of them because it charged at her.

She dodged, the vamp lunged again grabbing her by the arm. She twisted out of its grasp. Using the angle to her advantage, she swiped her leg around, knocking it off balance. Its head rolled away as its body hit the ground.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead and turned to try to find Dean. She still couldn’t see him but she could hear him panting a few feet away.

She was yanked forward. Hands gripped her forearms tight enough to leave bruises and slammed into the wall. Her head buzzed on impact and she forced herself to stay upright. Its fangs grazed her neck and then its head dropped to the floor.

Dean stood in front of her, so close she could feel him breathing, rather than hearing it. Without thinking, she reached out to him and landed on his arm. She went to pull away but his other hand grasped her wrist, holding her in place.

“Thanks.” She breathed, “You good?”

“Yeah, You?”

She wished she could see him, make sure he was being truthful. He didn’t exactly have the best track record with honesty. But in the dark, she had no choice but to trust him.

“I’m fine.” There were definitely bruises forming in her arms and her head was still spinning but she’d had worse.

Dean’s hand dropped her wrist. She ignored the deflated feeling in her chest and dropped her arm back to her side.

Without warning, he ran his hands over her arms and up her shoulders. She tried to pull away but he didn’t stop.

“What are you doing?” She whisper-yelled.

“I literally heard you hit the wall, Y/n,” He said, running his hands over her head, checking for any bumps.

“I am fine.” She tried to swat him away but he grabbed her wrists mid-air and pulled them to his chest.

The air was humid around them. She heard him panting. Leather and sweat invaded her senses. Any focus she had before vanished.

He was here, touching her, after so long.

Silence enveloped them. The only noise was their panting.

This was wrong. Sam and Bobby were probably fighting for their life downstairs and here they were, doing whatever this was.

She was about to pull away when a loud yell came from downstairs.

The moment was broken. They took off down the hallway and stairs. Staying close to not get lost in the dark.

They hit the last few steps as a vampire, charged at them.

Dean swung his machete and it fell to the floor.

They moved further into the first floor of the home, finding Sam and Bobby fighting off at least four vamps each.

They split up, him going to Bobby and her going to Sam.

None of the vampires were aware of her yet. She grabbed the syringe of deadman’s blood out of her pocket and plunged the needle into the closet to her.

Now they knew she was there.

Two turned towards her giving Sam time to take down his remaining one.

Both charged at her, hissing. She ran in between them.She flipped around, slicing the blade in an arc. The one on her left doubled over at the impact.

She swung.

The right one lunged at her. She pivoted and cut the blade up.

Its head hit the floor.

She looked around the room, a slight beam of moonlight flooded the house now. She made out Sam helping Bobby up from the floor, right as Dean took down the last vampire.

The room was silent other than everyone trying to catch their breath.

Dean’s eyes found hers. She forced herself to look away. Sam interrupted the non-moment.

“Time for drinks?”

Y/n and the boys decided to go out. They were leaving soon but everyone needed time to wash off and get ready.

She dragged the black liner across her eyelid, double-checking to see if it smeared the shimmery brown eyeshadow she’d already put on. The cracks in the old mirror made it kind of hard to perfect the make-up but it would have to do. She already changed from her bloodied hunting clothes into a clean pair of jeans with a simple tank top. She didn’t own much and traveled with less.

“Broke mirrors are bad luck, ya know?”

Dean leaned against the doorframe, flannel pulled taut around his crossed arms.

She ignored the pit that had reappeared in her stomach and continued applying her lipstick. She flipped through ideas for a response. She could yell at him to get out or cry about how much he hurt her. Instead, she opted to act like nothing was wrong.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who broke it.” She said, shoveling her makeup back into the bag, still never meeting his eye. She stood and gathered the rest of her stuff into a neat pile on her bed. Her back was completely towards him.

She heard him walk into the room and the door clicked shut.

“Y/n, look at me.”

She turned around and looked up at him. Her eyebrows raised like he was boring her. In reality, she was struggling to breathe. Her hands shook and a lump was stuck in her throat.

Her eyes glanced over his face. His jaw was set but eyes were soft. She knew where this was going.

Dean took a deep breath before starting.

“Look, what I did-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Dean Winchester.” She spat.

“I just-”

“No. You don’t get to say anything. You don’t get to say that what you did was wrong or how sorry you are. You don’t think I don’t know that what you did was wrong? Everyone keeps telling me that. Bobby, Sam and now you. They kept telling me how horrible of you that was like it wasn’t me. Like I wasn’t the one who spent months with you, like I didn't help you figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. Like I didn’t stitch you up after every hunt or spend every car ride next to you. Like I wasn’t the one who would hold you after you woke up screaming or it wasn’t me who spent every single night in your fucking sheets.”

Every ounce of refrain she’d worked to keep was gone. Hot tears were streaming down her face as her eyes bored into his. He didn’t try to interrupt her but his jaw twitched and body tensed.

“Like it wasn’t me who woke up two months later to an empty bed. You were gone, Dean. You left without a word. No text, no note. Nothing. You fucking left me. And then I found out you were with some other girl for a year? So yeah, I know that what you did was bad.”

Somewhere in her speech, she’d moved close enough for their chest to touch. Her finger was stabbing into his chest. He didn’t move, was barely breathing but she wasn’t finished.

“Maybe it was cheap to you, or maybe it was some fling to pass the time but it was real to me. It was all I had. You were all I had.” Her voice broke at the last word and she dropped her hand. Her head fell as she cried. Over a year of built-up heartbreak exploding in one moment was too much.

His hand found hers and placed it back on his chest. She looked back up at him, his other hand reaching out to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes as his thumb wiped away the remaining tears.

“Do you want to know what the worst part is?” She whispered, eyes still shut. “I’d be yours again if you wanted. If you asked. How pathetic is that?”

“Y/n.”

She opened her eyes to look at him despite her embarrassment.

“You are anything but cheap or pathetic.” His voice was thick and his eyes were glassy. She’d seen him in so many different states but she’d never seen so much emotion written across his face.

“Ask me then. Ask me to come with you.”

His expression darkened and he dropped his hand from her face. He took a step back and looked away.

“It’s not that easy.” He said, shaking his head. “It's never that easy.”

She let out a bitter laugh.

She wasn’t even surprised. She should’ve been disappointed or furious but she was just over it. She was tired and desperate. And if she couldn’t have him, he needed to go.

She wiped a hand down her face and glanced back into the mirror assessing the damage her outburst caused. She started wiping off the messed-up liner before starting to reapply. Dean stood behind her, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Get out.” She said without hesitation, her voice as steady as possible.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it. He walked towards the door but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry.”

The buzz of conversation filled the packed-out bar. Sam found them a small booth in the corner and was now talking about a new piece of lore he’d found about some Egyptian god. Most of the time, she loved hearing what he had to say but right now all she could focus on was Dean's hand trailing up and down the woman’s hip. He never even sat down with them, finding himself a spot at the bar, next to a pretty blonde. She’d watched for half an hour now as he grinned at the girl, whispered in her ear, and bought her a drink.

She wanted to puke or cry or both. She decided to get drunk instead.

She went to take a sip of her beer only to realize it was empty. Motioning to Sam she was going to get another, she slid out of the booth and made her way to the opposite side of the bar from Dean.

She planned to order a shot of some vodka and another beer but she couldn’t catch the attention of either bartender.

A body bumped up against hers causing her to stumble. A hand wrapped around her waist to catch her. She almost jerked away but she looked up to find a familiarly unfamiliar pair of dark green eyes and dark blonde hair.

The man was by far the prettiest she’d seen all night.

“I am so sorry, It's packed in here. Isn’t it? Nowhere to stand.” He had a slight southern drawl and a boyish charm about him.

“It is. Can’t seem to even order a drink.” She smiled at him.

“You see, now that had to be fate or something because I was just wantin’ to buy you one.” He grinned and waited, almost seeing if she’d allow it. His hand was still on her but she found she didn’t really mind.

The room was fuzzy and she could only make out the man in front of her. Even then, he was a little hazy and she had no idea what he was saying, only that his mouth looked pretty as he said it.

Y/n didn’t know how long it’d been since the handsome stranger volunteered to feed into her night of drunkenness or even how many she’d had so far. She vaguely remembered him buying her the first shot and then the second and maybe a third. They made small talk, she gave some bullshit story about what she did for work and where she was from. Somewhere in between she had a fourth, fifth, and sixth one.

And somewhere between the seventh and now, she’d lost track of Dean. She didn’t even know if he was still there. She did know that the new guy made her feel ok, at least for now. His hands never left her and the drinks never seemed to end.

She could barely remember the events of the day. Maybe by tomorrow, she wouldn’t remember any of it, or at least a girl could hope.

But right now, she didn’t feel like crying or throwing up as long as she didn’t think of it.

She decided in her drunken haze that maybe this was what she needed. So when the stranger asked her if she wanted to leave, she agreed. And when he leaned down to kiss her, she let him.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester songfic #dean winchester

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trashisstillhere · 9 days

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Oh thank god I finally got to actually draw an actual art after whole months of not doing so.

And it’s a birthday drawing to none other than Ben Schwartz!!! Happy birthday dude!!

Drawn with, of course, the 4 good and super bruce boys he has voiced. Of course, I know some other characters he has voiced but drawing them too would made this take a bit longer and plus I wanted to finish this as quickly as possible which is why this looks like there was barely effort put in it so yeah. (I may or may have not kinda started on this yesterday as soon as I realised tomorrow (today) was his birthday)

Also this is my first time ever making art for any voice actor or pretty much anyone else famous like EVER. The reason why i usually don’t is because I often forget real easily. As I said before, my memory kinda sucks so I sometimes might forget things, that includes birthdays, I even forget some of my family members birthdays too and still do today! (I guess I’m kinda like Randy who forgets Howard’s birthday-) I probably won’t do something like this again but right now I wanted to, especially since I’m finally starting to go back to drawing some more after dealing with no motivation.

So here ya go. Once again, Happy Birthday Ben Schwartz! Keep being the awesome and fun man you are!

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hansoeii · 1 year

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Several things: -LOVE your art, it’s amazing! Especially the one with Crowley and Aziraphale under the umbrella - which software do you use? Your art always look SO gorgeous (cheeky quote from GO right there lol) - how did you get so good at drawing?And thank you for encouraging other people to keep drawing and being so kind as I sometimes can’t help but compare my sketches to others and feel silly, but I guess it’s just a learning curve… Thank you so much for bringing your art to the world!😊

Thank you so much!!

I use Clip Studio Paint for drawing and Photoshop for small adjustments!

2. Haha thanks! Honestly...it's the hyperfixations. I managed to improve a lot in just a year because I've been drawing SO much cos there's so many shows and movies I became obsessed with that I wanted to create art for. So by drawing a lot I just naturally improved. For example these two Illustrations are just a year apart:

I actually didn't actively try to improve, it's been a while since I did proper studies (I just don't really have the time for it between freelancing and art school), it just happened.

But I can absoluetly recommend going on YouTube and look for some art tutorials if you actively want to start improving! There's some channels that helped me so much back then:

moderndayjames

Incredible shape language and super insightful tutorials on all kinds of topics! I learned so much from him.

Ahmed Aldoori

So many awesome tutorials on so many different areas of art. Love it.

Marco Bucci

Incredible tutorials on color theory and understanding how color works in general! Learned SO much from him!

Sinix Design

The OG tutorials I began learning from. I watched his videos religiously as a teen. I adore his painterly style and adopted it in some way, haha.

Ethan Becker

This dude sometimes drops these tiny art tips that just completely blow my mind and that I adopt immedietly. He's super entertaining but also such a great teacher.

And I can also recommend checking out this book by James Gurney if you want to get better at colors!

And for anatomy I highly recommend the Morpho books!

But improvement doesn't only come from drawing a lot. A lot of the time I don't draw for a while and just study the world and artists around me and suddenly I improved when I get back to drawing. Don't ever overwork yourself to the point that you don't enjoy what you do anymore. Take breaks and listen to your body!

I learned to try and not compare myself to other artists, which helped a lot. Through conventions and social media I made so many lovely artist friends and realized how we're all struggling in a very similar way. A lot of us don't even really know what we're doing most of the time, haha. But we help each other out, it's such a wonderful community. I think when you're not actively part of the community it tends to feel like other, more successful artists are some kind of art gods that have perfected the craft and never struggle. But believe me, all the artists you admire go through rough times all. the. time. Sometimes what they do feels easy and natural, other times (more often than not) it feels like you have to try and learn how to walk all over again and you start to doubt your abilities. I personally go through that so many times.

So what I'm trying to say is that instead of comparing yourself to the artists you admire, learn from them instead. Ask questions, befriend fellow artists, study the artists you enjoy and just have fun with it!

And finally I thought it would be fun to share some of my horrendous Johnlock fanart from a decade ago for some motivation:

I hope my answer didn't overwhelm you, but I thoight it would be nice to give a more detailed answer!

Have a wonderful day and keep drawing! :)

#ask #my art #art tutorial #art resources #art help #digital art

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guiltyasdave · 7 months

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end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader

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