#he should be more on model to how i actually draw him now

[buwheal]

Nuh huh 😎 —🧶

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[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Untitled

[jungkook x reader]

"You wanna know about art? When the class president starts touching my face on darkened street corners, and talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal."

Or THE popular fuckboy in your campus suddenly signs up as the figure model to one of your extracurricular activities and starts showing his interest in you.

A/N: I'm not sure where I went with this. Thus, untitled. I'm not even sure where this falls in the tags. But, enjoy!

-

Jungkook is at odds with himself.

Part of him wants to leave and forget about this stupid idea. He doesn't know what compelled him to listen to Jin. What exactly does the old man know about dating anyway? As far as he knows, he's never seen him with the same girl, so maybe he should have reached out to Namjoon instead. The other part is hyping himself up. In about a few minutes, you’ll be coming through those doors. It would be too late to back out now.

He chugs his bottled water as if he were thirsty. Jungkook thinks he'll pass out from anxiety. If not that, then from how warm it is inside this garage turned makeshift studio.

He feels the beads of sweat trickle down his back and pits.

This is not good.

The class is about to start and he'll be stripping down to his boxers and he's all sweaty. Thinking about that uneventful possibility makes him sweat more.

Fuck.

He notices someone walk towards the corner he has been hiding in. Judging by how good-looking his face is and the vintage clothing he wears, Jungkook surmises this must be the Senior organizing this art class. Taeyong? Taehyun?

Ah, Taehyung, he remembers just before the elder stands infront of him.

"You're Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook only nods as a response. His dry throat keeps him from speaking, afraid he squeaks out a reply and embarrasses himself more.

Thankfully, the other man is kind enough to not assume his silence as being standoffish.

"Nervous, huh?" Taehyung smirks, but Jungkook doesn't feel like he's being provoked. Rather, it actually calms him—at least the idea that it must be a common occurrence for models to exude this much anxiety that it's the first question people assume.

"That obvious?" He squeaks before clearing his throat. "Do all models get nervous on their first time?" Jungkook finally grounds his voice. Albeit, a bit meek for someone with a strong commanding aura and in a leather jacket.

Taehyung smiles and nods. "More than you expect. Which is understandable. Jin hyung told me you're doing this to learn more about art?"

No, he isn't, he internally protests. He doesn't know what Jin told Taehyung. The real reason he's here on a Sunday, as a supposed 'volunteer' model for a drawing class, is because of you.

The rest, he let Jin fill it out so Jungkook can secure the spot.

But of course, he wouldn't divulge those. So, Jungkook once again clears his throat before responding with a meek 'yes' as he shoots his empty water bottle in the can, making a clanging noise. He smiles sheepishly at the circled crowd whose attention he caught. He cringes at how much he's going out of his way to act cool. He's never this way, and yet, he wants to make sure you witness him with his best foot forward today.

Jungkook sways on the balls of his feet, taking in the space when he sees you—just as you were hooking your bag in your chair.

Goddamn, you're pretty. He's watching you laugh with another girl stationed near your table as you lay out your tools.

"Ready when you are." Taehyung breaks him out of his trance, and he replies with a sheepish nod—hoping he wasn't caught staring at you.

Jungkook starts by taking off his shoes, then his leather jacket. He unbuttons his pants with briefs in tow and the thought that you would be looking at his crotch makes him blush. He shamelessly imagines you and him as Jack and Rose in that sketching scene. But, before he can pull his jeans down, a booming baritone voice hollers at him.

Taehyung hurries towards him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook freezes at the sudden aggression. His mouth puckers open and close like a fish coming up for air, as he struggles to come up with a reply.

Taehyung tilts his head and assesses the young man with a pout. "Did Seokjin not tell you this isn't a nude class? We just need you to strip to your shirt and jeans," Taehyung clarifies in a whisper.

Embarrassment floods Jungkook and he sputters out an apology. He silently curses himself between nervous laughs and incoherent words of what seemed to be apologies. Shy doe eyes peeps at you and the confused and scandalized look painted on your face makes him want to get swallowed by the ground and never reappear in front of you ever again.

You must think he’s some kind of a creep or worse, a flasher. With a big exhale, he tries to set aside the embarrassment and go through this. It's already bad enough that his nerves and recent embarrassment made a sweat stain on his shirt.

Not long after, Jungkook stands in the middle of the circle of easels. It actually isn't bad, he thinks. Most of the time, he's staring at wood stands and the occasional heads peeking out of the canvas.

You're on his side, so he can only see you through his peripheral vision. Even so, he can already visualize the vein popping on your forehead when you concentrate—just one of the things he adores on your face.

That afternoon, Jungkook finds out he likes the thought of you paying this much attention and focus on him, instead of the other way around.

He holds his growing smile at bay.

-

The hour-long class went quicker than Jungkook wanted. He takes his time picking up his jacket and pretends to search for something in his bag as he waits for you to pack up. However, you never rise from your seat.

It takes Taehyung tapping your shoulder to bring you out of your world. "You still get tomorrow, Y/N," he hears Taehyung remind you before walking around the room, checking progress.

Jungkook didn't mean to eavesdrop more, but when you stood up and followed Taehyung, he couldn't help but tune in to your conversation.

"I need a little more time to fix a few edges. Can I just extend for a while? I'll clean up the supplies room." You bargain, voice kept low as if you're making an illegal trade with Taehyung.

Jungkook hears the older man sigh and call your name softly. "You still have tomorrow to work on it, and the next few days. Plus, I can't suddenly ask the model to stay just for you."

You whine petulantly like a child and Jungkook wonders if he can make you whine under different situations. Perhaps, under hi—

"He can go. I just need—"

The moment he makes out your reply, Jungkook was quick to cut you off and offer his time. "I can stay for a while."

Both you and Taehyung turn your heads to face the man who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he might as well have been. Your glowered confused eyes stare into him. "I-if you want," he stutters, so he tries to salvage his image with an obviously feigned nonchalant shrug.

Taehyung holds back his laugh but the sudden expulsion of air from his nose wasn't amiss, earning a side eye from you.

"No need," you answer with finality. "You get paid by the hour, right? I can't pay you and—"

"You don't have to pay me. I'm offering for free." Jungkook internally winces at how quick he was in offering himself. But if he were being honest, he would stay in this shoddy garage all night, through the blazing summer heat, as long as it's time spent with you.

Is it a crime that he's quick to take an opportunity when it has presented itself?

He thinks abso-fucking-lutely not.

Your eyebrows furrow, the 'I wasn't done talking' death glare you directed at Jungkook has him shift awkwardly on his foot and look everywhere else but at you.

"Still, I'd get in trouble for requesting more time, anyway. Can't have other students think Taehyung here has favorites." You press and it chips a bit of his confidence. It was obvious you didn't want him to stay. If he keeps insisting, you might think he's creepy.

Jungkook didn't want to seem too pushy anyway, and so, lets out a defeated "Oh.." and nods. His round eyes making it easy to see his dismay as it curves downwards a little at the sides.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Taehyung intervenes. The older man was amused as he watched Jungkook flounder around you, he also knows how oblivious and dismissive you are of guys like Jungkook to a fault. And so, he helps.

Ah, young love, Taehyung muses. "Just make sure to clean up and lock up after, like you promised." He tosses the keys to you, but you make no movement of catching it, letting the keys hit your chest and fall to the ground.

Now your glare is directed towards your sunbaenim. "On second thought, I'm wrapping it up for tonight then." You head towards your easel to pack up your stuff.

Taehyung sighs.

He tells Jungkook to wait a bit and pick up the keys as he follows after you, calling your name.

“Just take the guy's offer to help. He’s trying to learn more about art, too,” he whispers, arms crossing across his chest. "Isn't this the piece you're submitting with your application? I know that head of yours will run nonstop if you don't finish what you intended to do tonight." Taehyung nudges you with a smile and softly jabs his pointer finger to your temple, making you chuckle with a pout. You shoo his hand away from your face and he knows he got you to stay.

This Jungkook kid owes him, Taehyung thinks.

However, from where Jungkook stands, he sees you breaking out the cutest smile at Taehyung. His eyes even going bigger at what he believes is an affectionate touch to your face when Taehyung boops your forehead.

Is that even ethical or something, he wonders irately. Taehyung isn't much older but given that he's your sunbaenim, Jungkook thinks he shouldn't be doing that. Or even be standing close to you. He's currently throwing imaginary lasers at Taehyung's back when you both turn to him and he immediately unsquints his eyes.

"Jungkook, do you still want to stay?" Taehyung shouts at the young man.

Yes.

A hundred times yes. He's a lovesick loyal puppy and if you ask him to bark, he'll bark for you.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically and rushes closer to where you stand, eager to wedge himself between you and Taehyung.

-

"Jungkook," you sigh his name tiredly. "I really need you to stop moving your head. Is there something more interesting behind me?" The question was rhetorical, but you're starting to wonder what he keeps on staring at behind you that you turn your head, only to be greeted with a wall filled with hanged canvases.

You hear him mumble out a you with a smirk, but was quick to cover it up with a sorry. This guy think he was slick.

Jungkook turns his head to assume his supposed pose. His eyes still filled with mirth. And he lasts about four minutes before his head starts turning towards you. Again.

You throw your head forward with an exhausted groan. This was a mistake. You're growing more frustrated by the minute. Maybe you should call it a night.

Looking back up at your model, you tell him he can leave.

Jungkook breaks his stance then quickly poses as he quickly persuades you. "No, I'll stay still. Look," he promises and follows through quickly by holding the pose.

"No, I'm just really too tired for tonight. Thank you for staying a bit longer." You busy yourself by grabbing at your stuff, cleaning pencil shards here and there to keep the lurking unease.

You can't have a breakdown here again, you admonish yourself. And it's going to feel worse after if Jungkook's here to see it happen. You keep your head down while your hands wipe the charcoal dust on the table.

You hear footsteps nearing you, and you pray to whoever listens that he's not actually coming closer. He calls your name, his voice close and soft. You hum in response, head still hung low, refusing to face him.

Jungkook sees you rubbing an eraser at a blank surface and purses his lips. He finally got the chance to spend time with you and he was hoping to break the ice and get closer to you, but he does this—he upset you and wasted your time. You're not gonna want to spend more time with him after this.

"I-I'm sorry. I really wanted to help. I can stay again tomorrow to make up for tonight," he offers. Everything about him screams eagerness and he must really be interested in art to be willing to stay in the garage-slash-studio during this Summer heat.

You feel the tingling pressure in your throat and your lips quiver. You clear your throat and will away the tears before it breaks through your paper wall.

"No. You did great, Jungkook. I'm just not feeling well tonight." Your voice was too soft, but at least it didn't break.

Jungkook walks around you and turns to face you, hands making contact with your shoulder. "Are you sick? I have some medicine in my bag," he offers. He retracts his hand and unzips his bag to take out whatever medicine he had stashed inside.

It's his genuine concern that does it for you. You suddenly sob and cover your face with your hands.

"Oh, Y/N, are you okay? Does something hurt?" He didn't expect this. Jungkook was taken aback and his worried eyes looked for signs of where you could have been hurt.

Your sobs turned to full-on bawling and Jungkook was quick to take you into his arms. He lets you cry and occasionally whispers assurances between your weeping despite not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears.

In that moment, you stood illuminated by harsh yellowish fluorescent lights like a Gustav Klimt painting on display. The A/C humming noise drowned out by your hiccups and his whispers.

You were the first to pull away. He didn't mean to, but the moment you separated from Jungkook and lowered your hands from your face, he laughed.

Offended at his reaction, you push him away and quickly gather your bag hanging on the chair.

"Wait," he calls for you as he fumbles to pick up the bag he let fall to the floor.

He calls your name but you decidedly ignore him, feet shuffling quickly to leave the garage.

Fucking ass, you think. You're mortified. You already dread tomorrow as your imagination runs wild. What if he tells his friends about your ugly crying? You think you don't care what frat guys think, but you still definitely don't want to be the talk of the campus. You've only transferred here last year and after being briefed by your friend on who to avoid, you made sure not to have a run in with guys like Jungkook.

This is exactly why you were holding everything in earlier. Every stereotype of frat guys being huge assholes behind the charming facade were true.

A flash of high school memories ambush you and you just want to get to your dorm and hide under your blankets. You'll just have to miss tomorrow's class, you plan.

You violently shrug when you feel a hand grip your wrist.

"Hey, will you wait," Jungkook pleads. You turn to face him and see him reach something in his pockets.

Fuck. He's not going to take a photo, isn't he?

You were ready to lunge at him, anything to prevent him from taking a snap at your post-bawl blotched face, when all of sudden, a soft cloth touched your face.

Jungkook chuckles at your startled face.

"You have charcoal smudged all over your face," he points out. His bunny teeth peeks through his curved lips and the sides of his eyes wrinkle from amusement.

"Oh." You visibly flinch when he uses his thumb to brush the apple of your cheeks.

"There," he smiles, eyes fixated on his finger caressing your skin.

"You know you really have pretty eyes."

If you were in a romantic movie, his line would have panned out well. But you're not, so cue the sound of glass breaking to signify a shattered moment.

To think, you bought his act. You thought, here's a deviant frat boy species. Maybe not all of them are only interested in girls and booze. You even thought this Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad.

Until he says that.

Breaking away and stepping back from him, you humorlessly laugh in disbelief.

"You're a fucking cliché, Jungkook. Does this babble usually work on chicks?" You take a look at him and he has the audacity to look unaware of how hokey the situation is.

"Wha—" Poor boy couldn't even finish his sentence, you thought.

"Y/N, I'm not following."

You were about to make a joke on flies flying straight to his agape mouth but you hold yourself back. Instead, you make a gesture of shaking your head as you force out another dry laugh. You look at him one last time and walk away from the frat boy once again.

You hear his footsteps follow you, along with calls of your name. "Did I say something wrong?"

You stop as you reach the threshold—you're almost out of the garage and out into the cold dark night, ready to rush into the safety of your dorm and away from sleazy college boys.

But something in you compels you to turn, and so you do. "Yes, Jungkook. You did." Your hands grip your bag tighter, feet taking a couple of steps back into the garage, to the shoddy light so he can see you.

"Did you really think this charming ‘oh-i’m-clueless act was going to drop panties? You wanna know about art?" You hurl the question; voice no longer shaky and unsure. "When the campus playboy starts touching my face on dimly lit spaces, and starts talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal." You roll your eyes at him before making your exit.

It takes a minute for Jungkook to get his body to move. And when he does, you're already a distance away. Almost gone from his sight.

This is the second time today that you rendered him immobile and speechless. Just what the fuck did he do?

-

Meanwhile, you cursed at Jeon Jungkook on your entire walk home. Fuck him and his round innocent eyes for throwing the bees and butterflies in your stomach into chaos.

You tell yourself you dodged a bullet and that was just a ploy for him to get into your pants. You should actually congratulate yourself for turning away one of the notorious womanizers. Your roommate would be proud of you.

Still, you couldn't deny the jolt you felt in your chest when he touched your face and spewed those cheesy lines about your eyes.

You grunt as you slam the door to your dorm.

"Damn. Who pissed you off?" Jihyo, your roommate stares at you across her table.

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and plop yourself on the carpeted floor. "Had a run in with a frat guy," you spit with a scowl. "You remember the guy you were talking about last week? Jungkook? He's the model for this week."

"Seriously? That's..." Jihyo's head tilted sideways as she looked for the right word, brows furrowing. "Out of character for him."

You raise your head and prop your arms to face your roommate. "Right? That's what I thought, but Taehyung said he was interested in learning art."

At this, Jihyo pauses while eating and guffaws. "Is he for real?"

You roll your eyes at no one in particular and rest your head on your palms as your other hand plucks at the carpet. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just there to pick up girls."

Jihyo squints at you, suddenly alert as she senses something you haven't told her yet.

"He hit on me," you start. Already growing flustered at the recollection of the afternoon. "You know those cheesy lines from romcoms, he actually used them on me." You went on detail by detail about what happened and ended your story with a shudder. "This is the first time I might dread going to the class."

"Yep, I see why he thinks he could get away with the cheesiest line," Jihyo murmurs. Apparently, during your story, Jihyo picked up her phone and started to stalk Jungkook's profile. "I mean shame it wasn't nude because have you seen this body?" She flips her phone so you can see her screen.

"What? That's not Jungkook." You stand from your spot and walk closer to Jihyo and snatch the phone. "This isn't Jungkook."

"What are you talking about? That’s literally his profile,” Jihyo takes her phone back, wanting to take another look if you’re looking at the same thing. “See, Kim Jongkook. He’s the notorious fuck boy, probably in all departments. Good thing is, he’s graduating this year.”

Oh, fuck.

-

>> Still Untitled

[metamatar]

This is maybe a stupid question but do you think there's any ties between like orientalist trends in western countries that glorify dharmic religions and Hindutva? Like I've heard 'Hinduism is the oldest religion on Earth' and 'Hinduism/Buddhism are just so much more enlightened than savage Abrahamic religions' and 'how could there be war and oppression in India? Hindus don't believe in violence' from white liberals and it certainly seems *convenient* for Hindutva propaganda, at least.

Not stupid at all! Historically, orientalism precedes modern Hindutva. The notion of a unified Hinduism is actually constructed in the echo of oriental constructions of India, with Savarkar clearly modelling One Nation, One Race, One Language on westphalian nationhood. He will often draw on Max Mueller type of indology orientalists in his writing in constructing the Hindu claim to a golden past and thus an ethnostate.

In terms of modern connections you can see the use and abuse of orientalism in South Asian postcolonial studies depts in the west that end up peddling Hindutva ideology –

The geographer Sanjoy Chakravorty recently promised that, in his new book, he would “show how the social categories of religion and caste as they are perceived in modern-day India were developed during the British colonial rule…” The air of originality amused me. This notion has been in vogue in South Asian postcolonial studies for at least two decades. The highest expression of the genre, Nicholas Dirks’s Castes of Mind, was published in 2001. I take no issue with claiming originality for warmed-over ideas: following the neoliberal mantra of “publish or perish,” we academics do it all the time. But reading Chakravorty’s essay, I was shocked at the longevity of this particular idea, that caste as we know it is an artefact of British colonialism. For any historian of pre-colonial India, the idea is absurd. Therefore, its persistence has less to do with empirical merit, than with the peculiar dynamics of the global South Asian academy.

[...] No wonder that Hindutvadis in both countries are now quoting their works to claim that caste was never a Hindu phenomenon. As Dalits are lynched across India and upper-caste South Asian-Americans lobby to erase the history of their lower-caste compatriots from US textbooks, to traffic in this self-serving theory is unconscionable.

You can see writer sociologists beloved of western academia like Ashish Nandy argue for the "inherent difference of indian civilization makes secularism impossible" and posit that the caste ridden gandhian hinduism is the answer as though the congress wasn't full of hindutva-lites and that the capture of dalit radicalism by electoralism and grift is actually a form of redistribution. Sorry if thats not necessarily relevant I like to hate on him.

Then most importantly is the deployment of "Islamic Colonization" that Hindu India must be rescued from, which is merely cover for the rebrahmanization of the country. This periodization and perspective of Indian history is obviously riven up in British colonial orientalism, see Romila Thapar's work on precolonial India. Good piece on what the former means if you've not engaged with it, fundamentally it posits an eternal Hindu innocence.

[sniigura-archive]

running ; leaving ; no one will stay

Adam x Fem! Reader

Summary: The only condolences you have is that Adam is worse than you.

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

CW/TW/Tags: COLLEGE AU!!!, Male masturbation, stalker behaviour, TW Adam, adam is really weird ok, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, slight vvoilence (against adam), toxic and abusive elements , nudes (conseual), tell me if i missed smth!!, obgyn appointment, copper iud, (nothing detailed)

Adam was sure that he hates you.

His teeth bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood. The picture in his hand crumbled, while the thumb from his other hand massaged his tip. He threw his head back, into his pillow. If he tried hard enough, he could still catch your scent on his pillows.

You have been plaguing his mind since the first fucking semester. It’s pathetic, really. He should get his shit together. How he tried to get you out of his mind, with other girls.

He remembers one who used the same perfume as you, how he pressed her against an alley wall after a concert. Turning her away from him, because she might have smelled like you, but she wasn’t even half as pretty. Another one who looked similar enough, with enough drinks in his system it was easy to imagine. He might have looked into her face while fucking her, but he still commanded her to shut the fuck up. Her voice was grating his ears.

There were many more situations like that, one time he recalled, how he slipped up and called a girl by your name. That shit sure was humiliating, he had to give her a pretty sum to shut her up. He was sure that he didn’t bother to make any of them cum. He wished to overstimulate you back tho.

He squeezed the base of his dick, feeling how harder he got at the thought of you. Adam wasn’t sure what he preferred, having you be in control or him controlling and bending your fuckable body to his will. Both are amazing views, which come with mind blowing pleasure.

Adam groaned while focusing his eye back on the bikini pic in his hand. Fuck. He wouldn’t have to be a common thief, if you posted more on your social media. It wasn’t his first time attempting to follow your account, it’s just the first time you accept his request. He follows already all your friends, he screenshots and screen records whatever he can get his hands on and, oh, how much he wants to beat Judas ass for still having couple pics of you posted.

He’s one pussy whipped fool.

Jesus, he’d much prefer your pussy sucking him in, with that vice fucking grip it got. Adam sped up his hand motions, the fantasy of simply you and your pretty pussy got him close. His cock was leaking pre cum, helping him to smoothly run his fingers over his veins. He needed you, badly.

But someone has been ignoring him for what now? A week? Unanswered messages and calls, straight up not even looking at him when he looks for you on campus. It pisses him off beyond belief. He extra bought you a new phone, and he knows it arrived at your place. Still, you’re walking around phone-less. Stubborn whore. Don’t bitches usually love pink? Ungrateful as fuck. Especially since it’s the newest model out there, way better than whatever piece of shit you got.

Judas gets a scowl, an eye roll when you see him. Him tho? He gets nothing. Not your hate, not your love. Pure horrible indifference. He needs you to look at him, it doesn’t matter why or with what intention. If Adam isn’t the center of your attention he feels like he might actually die.

Adam’s breath hitched at the feeling of his thumb playing with his prince albert piercing, he remembered the feeling of your tongue playing with the piercing. Your teary eyes looking up at him, gagging and choking around him, while he bullied his thick cock further down your throat.

He dragged the nails of his other hand across his thigh, trying to hold out longer. The effect the simple thought of you has on him is downright humiliating. His thoughts started to wander, to the fight you two had. Ugh. He wishes the mere mention of the guy wouldn’t tick him off like that.

Adam thought of a time before you, when he still lived with his father and life was great. When Eve didn’t betray him and he could stick his head in the sand. Before he became aware. Sometimes he considers sleeping with another girl, one of your look alikes, but when he thinks about it he feels sick to his stomach. At least he had his list of porn stars which look familiar enough to you.

Once he learned about Eves cheating, when he tried to forgive and forget, he tried to get revenge. In the end he couldn’t pull through, not even showing up for the date with another girl. Ghosting her completely. He remembers literal bile raising up in his throat, even though Eve hurt him like that, he couldn’t do the same to her.

So now, because of his hardcore monogamy ways, he can’t even sleep with a girl that isn’t you.

His mind wandering back to you caused his dick to twitch involuntarily. Adam bit his lip, focusing his movements towards his tip. He won’t last for much longer.

It never really matters what Adam thinks about, in the end he always ends up thinking about you.

Adam groaned when he felt the known feeling of euphoria wash over him, making sure to cum all over the picture. Covering your picture form made him feel some what better, imagine the real you marked up like that made him sigh. Another thing to put on his mental list of to dos with you.

If you take him back, that is.

He has to get a solid plan done, or else it’s over for him. He’d have to move back in with his mother, to keep his sanity. That would be horrible, having to tell Sera of all people about his heartache. He’d rather fight against Lute blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back than to open up to that tower of a woman.

Adam groaned while looking at his dirty hand. Damn it. He would have rather have his cum inside your pussy, or your mouth or all over your skin. He would have loved to have you beside him. Fucking hell. IF ONLY YOU WOULD ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE.

—————————

Your friends were constantly nagging you about what the fuck happened between you and Adam. You’re surprised they haven’t notice the bruise on your wrist yet, maybe they did and just have the decency not to ask you…….No, they would have put one and one together and would have straight up jumped Adam in some random alley way.

So, like, hurray for concealer and chunky, cheap, bracelets.

Well, at least Adam looks to be miserable. From what you have been told, he’s more pissy than usually during training. He’s constantly venting to Lute, who is always rolling her eyes, sadly your friends can’t quite make out what he’s always complaining about.

To be honest, you’re also miserable. There’s only so much your fingers can reach, and non of it are the places Adam rubs his base against. UGHHH, you can’t get that asshole out of your head. God, who the fuck breaks a phone and punches a hole in your wall??? Your security deposit…………

The phone Adam sent to you was pretty, pretty expensive. Jesus. The note attached to it read “pussy too good not to text her back”. What a charismatic guy! Very much marriage material. Fucker.

Avoiding him was hard too, for a big guy he’s pretty sneaky. You have to be hyper aware of your surroundings. Or, well, you try to be. Big emphasis on try. There’s only so many times you see his car drive past your apartment complex and place of work before you were starting to lose your mind.

Feeling someone tap you on your left shoulder, you quickly turned around only to see no one. Your brows furrowed before you heard a familiar laughter come from your right side. Ah, shit. Men really can’t leave you alone. Maybe your pussy is that good……..

Looking into the warm, brown eyes of your exes made you frown. You need some sort of men repellent.

Judas was 5”11 tall and he tells everyone he’s 6”3, he had brown, bronze skin and shoulder length, wavy, dark hair which he wears in a middle part. He was build rather lean, with some sort of muscle definition. Man, you really have a type. Tall, dark and handsome. No wonder Adam was able to spin your head around like that. It’s either good or bad for you that Adam excepts a certain aesthetic in the band, so Judas had a similar style to Adam.

Fuck, they really conditioned you to like rock guys who are sexy and toxic.

Who is they you might ask? My chemical romance when you were 13, mostly.

“What the hell do you want?” You couldn’t help but hiss at Judas.

Your nerves were fried. You’re done for, if Judas can sneak up on you, so can Adam easily. You should stay at home to recalibrate yourself. But Uni doesn’t wait for anyone, at least your assignments got done during your attempt to get negative energy out of your body.

“Woah! What’s up with you? I come in peace, I prommy! Wanna hear what wild thing just happened to me?” He smiled at you, while he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Ugh, if you fuck off forever after telling me, I’m all ears.” You massages your temples, while making your way to the bus station to get home.

Judas laughed at you, “You have to image, sweetie, I was at band practice. Right, and fucking Adam is throwing one of his famous temper tantrums. Can you image that he attempted to beat me up?? I swear on it! He accused me of hitting woman? Dude, what the fuck, am I right?…How could he think that? I’m genuinely so fucking lost….” He was scratching his head.

Oh my fucking god.

One thing Adam is talented at sure is jumping to conclusions. Ohhhhhhhh. What the hell. He wanted to beat up Judas??….Well better Judas than you. Man you’re a horrible person. You and Adam it’s a match made in hell. Back to therapy.

Halting suddenly in your steps, you immediately turned around.

You’re all about avoidance. It’s not because you’re not into confrontation, its simply because you lose your shit easily. Embarrassingly easily. And you were going to lose it on Adam, for real now. He’s done for, you were going to murder him. Where the fuck is he?

“Judas, I wish he would have smashed your lying mouth in. Leave me be now.” And with that you left for your pursuit on Adam.

Adam studies Economics and Management, the building is all across campus for that. Ok, think. Judas just came to you, probably directly from band practice. The room for that isn’t far. Time to embarrass yourself and Adam in public by yelling at him till you got ride of the anger cursing through your veins. God you wanted to smash his face in.

With quick and long strides, you made your way towards the practice room. Your angry steps echoed trough the empty hallway, since it’s evening most students are gone by now. The sun started to slowly set. All you wanted for today was to go home, watch porn ( while thinking of Adam) and pass out. But no!!! The universe punishes you. What did you do to deserve someone like Adam. He’s pure temptation. UGHHHHHH………Worst part of it all is, is that you still want Adam.

Reaching the practice room, you heard a guitar riff come from the inside. So Adam should be in there. Besides the guitar, you could hear some voices talking. You couldn’t make out what is being said. It doesn't matter to you anyway.

Throwing the door open, it crashed carelessly into the wall. Adam and Lute both looked rather surprised at your appearance. Adam more than Lute. Before Adam could open his mouth to say something, you decided that Adam shouldn’t speak,

“What the hell is wrong with you, huh!? You tried to beat up Judas? For what?! Some crazy delusions you made up in your twisted fucking mind?!” You couldn’t help but yell out. Your whole body was on fire and you felt your stomach fill with lava.

Still, you felt cold to your soul.

“…That fucking snitch.” Was the only thing Adam muttered, after making eye contact with Lute.

Taking a book from the shelf beside you, you made sure to aim at Adam’s head when you threw it at him. He was barely able to dodge, “You bitch! I think you threw enough fucking things at me, ungrateful cunt!” He quickly put his guitar away, throwing it beside him on the couch.

He stood up now, pointing a finger at you while he glared at you. In your opinion, he has no right to be mad, while you have EVERY right to be mad.

“I think not! Your head needs to be fucking….Adjusted! Ugh! Are you insane?!” Your hands were moving wildly, while you tried to search for words.

“Well, he fucking deserved it didn’t he?” Adam’s voice was sharp, while he took a few steps forward.

“Let me tell you this, Adam, between the two of you assholes, you’re the only one who left bruises one me!” While you spoke, you pushed down your bracelets. Even though it has been a week, it your skin was still tinted in an ugly colour, “Stay out of my life!”

Without bothering to see their reactions, you turned around, leaving the room. Slamming the door shut behind you, for extra dramatic flair.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

So.

That went

Well?

You were going to end it, for real. You’re so done with being alive. Fuck this. You need to quickly get home. Dragging your hands over you face, you took deep breaths while making your way out of the building.

If you weren’t so focused on leaving and calming down, you probably would have heard Adam following you, with his own quick steps. Sadly for you, Adam is fast and silent. A deadly combo.

Before you could properly react, Adam had you trapped in a small broom closet with him. Great.

He was breathing rather heavily, while his hands grasped your shoulders gently. Probably to make sure you wouldn’t run away,

“I gotta give it to you, baby, you really know how to get my attention.” Adam smiled at you, while his hands were rubbing at your shoulder. His hands started to wander, from your shoulder to your waist, briefly brushing over your breasts,

“Let’s make up, sweet thing…I know you want to.” His voice was a purr, right besides your ear. He smelled good. Grasping Adam’s own shoulder into your hands, it really was a shame for him to you don’t easily forgive and forget. Since you aren’t Jesus.

Shoving at Adam, his back and the back of his head hit the wall. Before he could react, you got on your tippy toes, to bit his neck. Hard. While you dug your nails into his arms.

“Fucking hell!” Adam grasped your arms into his hands, forcefully tugging you away from him, “The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What?! Isn’t that what you wanted, huh? I agreed to sex, not affection.” You grasped Adam by the collar of his shirt, tugging at it with all your might. Showing off more of Adam’s skin, you were ready to bit down again.

Adam shoved you away, before you could bite him again. He held you at an arm length distance, looking into your wild eyes. Adam took a few breaths, trying to calm himself down. His brows were furrowed, while he studied your face intensely.

“..What’s up, baby?” Adam quietly asked you, as if he had fucking amnesia.

You couldn’t even form a proper word, you stuttered around, before you winded yourself out of his grip and turned towards the door. The door opened barley a gap, before Adam’s hand came down, right besides your head and slammed the door shut. Jesus. You flinched so hard, you think you realigned all your chakras in that one move.

When you turned your back towards the door, looking up at Adam with big eyes. He quickly removed his hand from the door, pinching his nose bridge. He carefully put his open hands in-front of his body, before he slowly exhaled his breath through his nose. Nothing makes him more sick than to see you scared.

“Okay, fuck, alright…” Adam slowly got on his knees before you. He looked into your eyes while he lowered himself to the floor.

The moment seemed frozen like that, Adam kneeling down while looking up to you. While your breathing calmed down, you felt the tension leave your body. Slowly but surely. You flexed your dominant hand, while looking at Adam.

Adam carefully moved his one hand, holding it open before your bruised wrist. You swallowed heavily, your fingers twitched, moving it towards Adam’s hand. You flinched away for a moment, before exhaling heavily and putting your hand into his.

Adam felt the stress evaporating from his mind, he can still safe this. He kissed your knuckle, as a gesture of thanks. Gently moving your bracelets to the side, he took a look at the fading bruise. He frowned, while brushing his thumb over it.

“..Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“Hmm, don’t worry about, baby, we can cover this up with some pretty pearls.”

“Dude, no.” You started to shake your hand out of Adam’s grasp. He didn’t seem to want to let you go.

“Why? You more of a diamond type of girl?” Adam let your hand reluctantly go, his hands went to your thighs.

“No, I’m more of an apologise kind of girl.”

“Ughhhh, I did nothing fucking wrong! You bitches and your fucking apologies…Have you thought about apologising to me, bitch?! Who fucking laughs at someone when they get asked out on a date?! Of course I only end up liking cold hearted whores…” Adam, after his little outburst, catches himself again. He nuzzled his check into your stomach, with his bend back. Alright.

“Well, then at least tell me what freaked you so out? Like, I still don’t know what even happened! Big words from you..” You told him sternly. Adam looked at you like you just shoot him.

“Babyyyyy, let’s just forget this whole thing happened,” Adam started tugging at the waist band of your sweatpants, the smile on his was more of an painful grimace “Let me eat you out till you can’t think anymore. I’m sure I can make you cum at least three times before my jaw locks in…” He was already shoving his face into your crotch. He reminded you of a dog.

Adam nudged his big nose right against your clit, making you moan. Shit. You grasped Adam’s hair and tugged him away from your clothed pussy. He straight up whined at that. Oh my god……He needs to stop being so hot. You’re dying. Where’s the version of you who wanted to pull through on that celibacy promise? You need to channel her.

“Stop that.” You simply hissed at him. You let get off his hair.

“What the fuck do you want from me?! You don’t want me to buy you shit and you don’t wanna fuck! What fucking else can I give you?!” He yelled at you. His fist hammered against the door, you felt the vibrations against your back.

You couldn’t explain why, but your heart tugged for him, “What was on my phone?” You decided on carefully asking him.

“That fucking bitchass Lucifer! As always, out to ruin my fucking life! He already ruined it, thrice! Can you fucking believe that?!! And he’s still slobbering all over my dick and sloppy seconds!”

“………….Lucifer, like, the devil…from the Bible…?” Maybe Adam is more unwell than you thought………..Can you leave safely through the door?

“No!..Fuck, maybe he is….Well, he’s just as fucking horrible as the devil!” That sure was a statement!

“I need you to, like, start from the beginning.” You took his face softly into your hands, brushing his nice cheekbones with your thumbs.

“..My last two girlfriends cheated on me with Lucifer. You probably already know that, from those gossiping bitches you call friends. That fucking cunt also texted you,” He took a shuddering breath, while nuzzling his nose against the palm of your hand, “Worst of fucking all, he used the same exact text I found on Eves phone! Can you fucking believe that?! How can he be so fucking confident that same fucking scheme will work on you too?! UGH……Fucking Judas also gave him your number….”

You nodded your head while he spoke through his monologue. You brushed his hair strands away from his face, he finally made eye contact with you.

“..But I don’t think I ever met him? Why would he text me?.. Is that why you wanted to beat up Judas?….You don’t need to worry, Adam, I already have my hands full with you.” Adam scoffed at your words, but his brows weren’t furrowed anymore and his breathing calmed down.

“I wanted to beat that fucker up for hurting you…Fuck, you’re…You only deserve the best.” Adam pulled out his phone, opening up instagram. You saw him switch from his main account to a burner account, which is real as fuck of him. He showed you an instagram account of a weirdly pale blond twink.

“….Ah. Okay, he was in the store. Hmm, I kicked him out when he flirted with me though. He’s married, isn’t that weird? Yikes.”

“That cunt flirted with you?! Motherfucker…Him and Lilith are in a weird open marriage. I would rather cut my dick off than have my wife fuck another guy, behind my back. Pathetic cuck..” Adam got up from his kneeling position, resting his chin at the top of your head, “How about you tell me how you kicked him out? That would surely put me in a better fucking mood..” Hands wandered across your back, towards your ass and giving it a rough squeeze.

He moved his head, so he could brush his lips against your ear, “Or you could take me up on that offer to eat out your pussy until I get you to squirt all over my face?”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s giving your pussy butterflies.

“….How the fuck did you even unlock my phone?” You asked with a shaky voice.

“Don’t have your passcode be your birthday, baby. Not my fault you’re so easy to fucking hack.”

Ok. That’s a mistake you won’t make in the future, for sure. How does he even know your birthday?? Even Judas forgot your birthday.

“Alright! Well…No sex!”

Adam looked shocked at your words, “Till when??”

“Till…..You’re forgiven!” You decided on.

Adam straight up pouted at you.

“And you can’t sleep with other girls!” You quickly added in. You hope he dies off blue balls or something.

Adam snorted at your words, “Haven’t been doing that anyways, baby.” He took your face into his hands, “Have you been fucking around behind my back?” He sharply asked you, while looking at your face.

“The only thing fucking me are my fingers.” You decide on telling him.

“God, I wish those were me…” Adam sighed heavily, “…..Am I right to assume that you won’t send me any nudes? Won’t you help a guy out? Please, babe come onnnnnnnn.”

You successfully got out of Adam’s grasp, winding and wiggling your body so he would let his grasp fall from you, “I’m going home.”

“Sexy, you don’t even need to take the pic yourself! We can do it right fucking here, pull up your shirt and show me those perky nipples.” Man, he was very persistent, “Or a panty shot! That’d be hot as hell. Fuck, only the fantasy of you naked got me already all hot n bothered…”

Adam gave your cheek a sloppy kiss, while whining into your ear, “Forgive meeeee, you know no one else can make you cum. Forgive. Now.” He tried to order you.

You simply giggled at his antics, while holding his face in your hands. You gave his cheek a kiss, but Adam was anything but opportunistic, he quickly captured your lips in a hot french kiss. Adam grasped your hips into his hands and rolled his hips into your own. He sucked your tongue into his own mouth.

Yeah, if Adam asked you again to fuck you would say yes immediately.

Adam disconnected your lips, while smirking at you. He grasped your face fully into his big, warm hands and oh so romantically told you, “Baby, if you ever fuck another guy, I will ruin your whole fucking life. I mean that.”

You dumbly nodded at Adam, while looking up at Adam’s burning, golden eyes.

He patted your cheek, “Hmm, good girl. Let’s get going, I will drive you home. Oh, and also, start using that fucking phone I brought you. Stop being so damn stubborn. Let daddy take care of you.” He winked at you after that last sentence.

You just rolled your eyes at him, “Yeah, yeah.”

Adam made a tch sound, but smiled at you. He slung his arm around your shoulders, leading you outside the broom closet, before he got out he adjusted his bulge in his pants. Man, he’s oh so fucking forgiven. You were so weak. Time to become a nun or something.

He wrapped his hands around your waist, dragging you into his side. He kissed the side of your head while he walked you to his car.

Man, how were you going to explain this to your friends?

“By the way, you have to tell Lute that we are good again. She attempted to murder me when she saw that bruise.”

————————

You sat in the waiting room of your OBGYN, nervously fiddling around with your phone. Your period came early, for once, Basically right after you made up with Adam. Probably because it was stressing you out so much. Or something like that, you weren’t really in tune with your body.

So! You weren’t pregnant! Yay! Now, you get the copper IUD inserted. Only so Adam can fuck you raw. Great. Maybe you should have never forgiven him.

[Adam Godfree]: what r u doing bae 2:14 PM

[Reader]: About to get my cervix pierced. 2:20 PM

[Adam Godfree]: by some guy who isn’t me??? 2:20 PM

[Adam Godfree]: who do u fck when i’m not there to stuff that greedy pussy 2:21 PM

[Reader]: Copper IUD lol 2:21 PM

[Adam Godfree]: oh 2:21 PM

[Adam Godfree]: right 2:21

[Adam Godfree]: well at least tell me the doc is a woman 2:21 PM

You sighed heavily while rubbing at your forehead.

[Reader]: Gtg. Kind of scared. Let’s hope I won’t pass out. 2:22 PM

Right on time you got called in. Thank fuck. You didn’t bother looking at Adam’s response.

The appointment passed by you, like you were in the passenger seat of your own body. Your doctor inserted the horrible thing and at first you thought it’s like a period cramp. But then it fucking hit you. You were done for. This was the first time you ever actually passed out.

At least everyone was nice about it, you lied in an extra room on the floor, with your legs up in a chair. After another wave of a cramp passed you, you were a goner again. Nurses and doctor assistants kept going in and out, checking in on you. You kept your eyes closed, while focusing on your breathing, you heard someone else enter the room. Nothing new.

“Sooo, are you the boyfriend?” A female voice asked into the room. You heart two distinctive foot steps.

“Yeah, I’m the boyfriend.” Oh my god, that was Adam’s voice.

“Aww! That’s so cute. You’re suchhh a good guy!” Adam’s answer was a simple grumble.

Keep calm. Be cool. You kept your breathing even, while simply having your eyes closed.

You heard and felt Adam crouch besides you, together with the assistant. Letting your eyes flutter open, you made eye contact with Adam and the assistant. She had a coke can in her hand.

“Hi there! I got you this, to get your circulation going again. You’re doing much better than me when I got mine inserted, I was passed out for 30 minutes straight! Anyways, I gotta go again. Hope you recover quickly.” With that she went away as fast as she arrived.

You held the can in your hand while laying down, “Help me up?” You eyed Adam.

Adam grasped a hand below your back and held your other hand, while helping you up. He’s so sexily strong. While sitting like a wet rag on the floor, you let Adam open the can and then sipped at it.

Adam brushed your hair away from your face and watched you, “Baby, you really know how to scare a guy. Really that bad, huh?”

“…Image if someone shoved something up your urethra.”

“Fuck, babe, you don’t know how happy I am that birth control is a woman’s job.” Yeah, yeah.

You let your head hit his shoulder, letting it rest there. He carefully petted your hair, while kissing your forehead. His hand slipped from your back towards your ass, “..So, when does it start working?”

You reached out to pinch Adam’s cheek, “I am on my period. I just got something pierced through my cervix. The more you annoy me the less I want to fuck you.”

Adam nuzzled his nose against the top of your head, “…You know what helps against cramps? Orgasms. Trust me, baby, I can make all that pain disappear.” Sleazy guy.

You swatted him on his chest, “Leave me be.” You were going to turn away from him, but another wave of nauseous and vertigo hit you.

Adam quickly caught you and pulled you into his lap.

“Alright, lovely, I got you.”

“…Why did you come?”

Adam looked at you like you were stupid, “You said you were scared? Why wouldn’t I fucking come?”

You simply shrugged. Adam pressed you more against him. You smelled good, you always did. Adam wishes he could keep you like this, forever. Where it’s safe. Where he can watch over you.

The doctor walked in, smiling at you.

“Are you feeling better? When you feel ready, I would like to do an ultrasound. To confirm the place meant of the IUD.” She told you, in that customer service voice you know from yourself.

You nodded at her and got up, with Adam at your side. Following her, you told Adam to wait outside. Which he seemed unhappy with, but whatever.

Quick in and out. Removing the gel from your stomach, you made your way out. Adam was waiting with your bag in his hand by the door.

“Ready to leave?”

“Uhh, in a bit. Sorry, I have to make an check up appointment. Will be quick!” You walked towards the reception.

Chatting with the woman at the desk, you made another appointment.

“Oh, could you guys send me an invoice, like usually?” You asked her, while your fingers thrummed against the wood.

“No need, mam, your boyfriend already paid for today.” Ah. Of course he would.

Thanking her and wishing her a good day, you walked back to Adam.

“I’m ready now. Sorry.”

“ ‘S okay, baby, I like watching you.” Adam intervened your fingers and walked you to his car.

In the car, Adam glanced at you, “..When did you wake up, anyway?”

Here it was, the perfect opportunity to talk about relationship. Now was the time to talk. To establish everything.

“ ..When you two were already crouching down besides me.”You decided on telling him. Fuck. What are scared off?

Adam nodded his head at you, while driving you to his apartment.

He parked you on the couch and told you to watch whatever the hell you want, he’s going to take a quick shower. Apparently he came to get you right after the gym.

Laying on the couch with mind numbing shows running in the background, you heard a phone vibrate. That wasn’t yours. Looking around, you saw Adam’s phone lay on the couch table infront of the sofa. Well, if Adam can’t respect your privacy……But are you as bad as Adam?

Yeah, you’re even worse than Adam.

Taking his phone into your hands, making sure you remembered the exact way the phone laid there, you swiped to unlock his phone. Shit, his passcode is one of those pattern drawing things. Ugh. Okay. You held his phone against the light, so you could see the pattern on his phone screen.

Of fucking course it’s an A. Why did you even have to think about it?

Okay, you are in. What now?

Opening his messenger App, you were surprised to see that you and Lute were at the top of his chats. That’s nice. When you scrolled down to see contact names like “Amelia. BJ 2/10” “Olivia. Ok tits.” “Alice. Lesbian” made you want to jump off a building. At least your contact name was simply your name?? Jesus.

Making sure that Adam was still showering, you decided on opening his gallery. Whatever possessed you really wanted to hurt your feelings, apparently. Man.

Well, his gallery seemed normal? Hm. Scrolling through his folders, you saw one that catches your eye. The title was a simple heart emoji. Opening it, because you hate yourself, you came to face the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. She had deep, dark, brown skin, with coily black hair put into nice box braids. She was short, and her body reminded you of that of Venus of Willendorf, with wide hips, big breasts and an ample stomach. You really should know the comparison was accurate, since she was completely naked.

(How will you ever compare?)

The stretch marks complimented her beautifully. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You shoulder really learn how to mind your own business. It was full of nudes of her, obviously taken by her and she seemed completely enthusiastic. Scrolling a bit further, you saw a video. Making sure the phone volume is silent, you opened.

You were going to be sick, actually. You aren’t stupid, you knew that it would be a sex tape of Adam and his ex Eve. Adam and Eve. That’s cute. You hoped it would be pure filth.

Of course it had to be the most romantic sex video in the whole universe.

Alright! Let’s ignore the fact that you were slightly turned on and more on that your heart was broke. From an guy who’s not even your boyfriend.

Making sure the gallery app is closed, and whatever was open before you got your hands on the phone was open, you laid it back down from where you grabbed it. Exact same placement. Deep breaths. Why would you even look, are you stupid?!

Laying fully back down, you took deep breaths, while rubbing at your forehead. During your silent breakdown, Adam finished his shower and got dressed. Seeing you like that on the couch, he was kind of confused.

“Everything good?” He leaned down to get a better look at you.

“… ‘M getting a migraine.” You decided on telling him. Not a lie and not the truth This should pass without alerting Adam.

Adam clicked his tongue and sat down at couch, and tugged you into his lap. He massaged your forehead, temple and scalp gently.

“You’re doing so well, sweet thing. Get some rest.”

Even though he’s horrible, Adam is still warm, big and soft. He makes you feel safe, which is why you started to nod off.

Adam laid carefully down on the couch, and you stirred slightly awake. He quickly moved to calm you down again, to get you back to sleep, which succeeded.

He loved nothing more than to have you with him. Shit, he had you. Basically. At this point Adam considered you to be his.

It had to be worth it, after all, that he sabotaged your relationship with Judas.

[cre8inghavoc]

Can't help it...

pairing: inumaki x f!reader

summary: Transferring to a new school is tough, but having your three best friends there makes it easier. Things get even more interesting when you start falling for the mysterious boy who rides his motorcycle to school every day. What will happen next?

a/n: i should be studying but here i am thinking abt motorcycle Toge... also i hate how some ppl see him as a small and weak (physically?!) bitch boy like erm tf no!? he is far from that and he's sooooo fineee.

genre/warnings: [18+] Characters are aged up. Story contains cursing, new friends, alcohol, college!au, no curse!au, dark humour, SMAU and written parts, fluff, smut.

For years now, you and Inumaki have been very close friends, it started from the moment you transferred to a new college.

3 Years Ago...

He was always the quiet type, the one who preferred hanging at the back of the class, alone, away from others.

As you stepped into the classroom for the first time, you greeted your classmates with a friendly nod. When the teacher welcomed you and offered a choice of seats, you made your way to the back of the room, deliberately keeping a distance from the other person who is also sitting there. Though there were plenty of spots up front, you preferred the quiet and privacy that the back provided, especially since you were new and not keen on drawing attention to yourself. It just felt right to have your own space in the back of the class.

It soon became a familiar routine: every morning, you'd enter the classroom and gravitate towards the back, taking your seat next to Inumaki. At first, he appeared slightly irritated by the intrusion, but as weeks passed, that annoyance seemed to fade away. Perhaps he realized it wasn't entirely within his control, or maybe he simply grew accustomed to your presence. Either way, it didn't seem to bother him much anymore, and frankly, you didn't dwell on it either.

Whenever you found yourself with spare time in class—be it after finishing assignments early or completing a test ahead of schedule—you'd often turn to doodling in your notebook. It was a soothing pastime, allowing your mind to wander while your hand sketched away. Initially, your doodles revolved around animals and random objects, but soon you found yourself drawn to sketching things you actually liked: cars and motorcycles.

You had a particular interest in sports cars, especially Japanese models like the GT-R, GR86, and 350/370Z. The sleek lines and powerful engines captivated your imagination, and you poured your passion into every detail of your drawings. From envisioning custom modifications to simply making them look jaw-droppingly cool.

Then, unexpectedly, motorcycles entered the picture, quite literally. One day, as you made your way to class, a Yamaha R3 parked outside the school caught your attention. Despite never having been particularly interested in bikes before, something about this one intrigued you. It sparked a newfound curiosity that led you to delve into research, eager to learn more.

Every day for the past week, that Yamaha R3 parked outside the school became your muse. You would walk into class, take your seat and before your class even begins, you'd take a moment to sketch the bike, capturing its sleek contours and intricate features. With each passing day, you discovered new details to incorporate into your drawing, whether it was the curve of the exhaust pipes or the pattern on the seat. It became a daily routine.

SMAU

GUYS I FR WASNT GONNA MAKE THIS AN SMAU BUT THIS FRIEND GROUP IS ALWAYS TALKING TO EACH OTHER SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN

also this is like 50% written and 50% smau (im gonna try to make the next few chapters AFTER chapter 5 more smau)

[officialundertakersmoocher]

may i pls request a scenario with violet and afab reader where he’s drawing them nude and then smut ensues?

An Artistic Craving

yall i am so sorry for the extended break, and I hope this meets your expectations 😭

Warnings: NSFW, Nudity, +18, Slightly OOC

• • •

"Stay still, okay?"

"But, Vi, it's so embarrassing..." You attempt to cover your assets which have been shamefully exposed to his eyes in the dimly lit study room.

"Don't think of it that way... It's just a study." You tried not to ask many questions, after all, he was more versed in the arts than you were.

It was lucky that you two happened to catch this moment alone, unchaperoned. Vi, actually very uncharacteristically, was the one to insist that he needed you as a model to finish this study to complete a project he was working on for his upcoming art exam.

After all, you two had been seeing each other for a long time now and were not only comfortable enough to do such a thing, but you also just happened to owe him a favor.

This is how you ended up in such a position for your lover, spewn on a dark purple couch in a private study room near the Purple House dorms. You knew that Gregory was too shy to say so, but there are many books on campus filled with similar references free for his use. He just wanted to spend time with you in an intimate setting such as this one.

You caught him stealing glances at you every once in a while, and he could sense your growing discomfort from staying still for so long.

He left his sketchbook behind momentarily to kneel down beside you and suddenly the room felt more quiet. Your eyes locked as he gently adjusts the position of your hand, placing it under your head in a graceful fashion.

He tilts his head and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face as if to get a better view.

He tried to back away to retreat to his seat, but was caught by your hand pulling him back. He sat confused for a moment but could tell your eyes were asking him to stay.

You move yourself upwards to face him and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and welcoming and he eventually moves to grab your waist.

You slowly move him onto the couch with you, straddling his waist. He begins to become shy from this now suddenly risqué moment and pulls away from your lips.

"Love, I don't know if we should..." You could feel the deep heat resonating from his cheeks, so you asked him softly, "Would you like me to stop...?"

"Please no..."

You just barely hear him mutter this, but his hot breath on your neck shows you how desperate he has become.

Before you know it, there are clothes being dragged away and thrown about the room, never finding the motivation to tear your lips apart from one another. You both are stuck in an agonizing dance, waiting for the moment that you both can be as close as you desire.

The room has reached a stillness as the dim candlelight bounces off of skin, and hot breath stills in the air. You are both frozen in time, taking in the moment for the first time now, and as you do, you notice that you've never really seen your lover in such a passionate way as this.

In this position, he's kneeling his body over yours and bowing his head in a shy manor. From the silence you hear him speak softly, asking, "Is this what you want, for sure?" And you have seemingly been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the lingering question prodding in-between your thighs. You suddenly feel a harsh flush invading your cheeks and a needy wetness in the very same place that he finds his attention.

You turn your head to avoid the embarrassment of facing him as you answer his looming question.

Your voice shakes more than you intended it to, more out of anticipation than anything else. "Yes, of course, p-please keep going, my love-"

However, he catches you off guard by lowing his head down to your thighs. His proximity meant you could feel his breath tickle your skin and it invigorated you.

He softly grazed your folds with his fingers, and slowly exploring your body until he reached the most sensitive parts of you. The moment he grazed your clit, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which is exactly what pushed him to continue despite feeling his own uncertainty.

He follows the sounds of your sweet moans, touching you and exploring your body in ways that neither of you have experienced before. Before long you find yourself growing more in need of his touch, pulling his hands and guiding him to kiss you. You both are grasping for each others touch and cursing into the silence of this empty room when the tension reaches an all-time high. You find yourself guiding his cock lower as a sign that you are ready (or maybe as a sign that you can't wait much longer now).

He follows your lead, pushing himself slowly across your folds, letting out a sigh as he feels the warmth of your pussy against his skin. He has one hand behind your head as a comforting act as he slowly guides himself between your thighs. He watches your expression change to a grimace of pain, almost stopping himself, but instead he caresses your face in an attempt to sooth your pain. You start to adjust yourself and whisper for him to keep going, and after a few moments the pain starts to replace itself with great pleasure.

You can't help the moans that escape your lips as you grasp onto him, likely leaving scratch marks on his upper back.

However, he doesn't mind this one bit. He can only focus on this heavenly feeling that seemed to blur his vision and tingle at his senses. The pleasure became overwhelming before you could comprehend it and it feels like heaven.

The sounds that filled the room should have alerted the others of the acts you both were sharing tonight, and maybe, just maybe, you should have been more worried, but neither of you could have the gut to care. Not tonight, not when it just feels so good and your vision had started bleeding white as your bodies worked in tandem with one another. 

It felt like hours before you had found yourselves cuddling under a stray blanket, skin-to-skin and feeling on top of the world. There was peace settled in the air and you held each other and shared this perfect moment.

"Did you enjoy it?" Violet asked timidly while he stroked stray pieces of hair out of your face.

"Oh course, Darling. I've never felt closer to you than how we were tonight." You looked at him so softly and left a soft peck on his lips.

"Well, thats good, because... I didn't really get to finish my painting. We may have to do this again tomorrow night..." He wouldn't meet your eyes, but you knew that if you could see them, they would have a glint of excitement in them that you only see when he looks at you.

"Well, I suppose we would have to then- For your studies, of course."

• Epilogue • Tea Time •

"So, It couldn't have been just me who heard some oddly bizarre noises coming from the art studio on the west end last night..." Edgar mused to the other prefects as he took a mischievous sip.

"Oh, how I wonder what that could have possibly been coming from..." The sound of a breaking pencil could be heard only if he listened so intently.

"Oh, I heard it, alright." Greenhill pipped in, sounding more than mildly annoyed as he completed his afternoon stretch. "Some people really need to be more considerate of the fact that some of us need to study at such late hours."

"Well, maybe some people should consider that not everyone wants to hear the sound of your 2 hour long training routine at 12am either..." Bluewer rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing what the others were exactly referring to.

"Well, In just thinking that maybe when the professors discover a certain pair of undergarments left in said art studio on the west end, they may have to cancel class this morning. If you know what I mean..." Edgar takes an extended sip of his tea and watched as Gregory excuses himself, dropping his sketchbook and seemingly headed towards the west end.

"Well, that answers that." Edgar mutters with a smirk.

[saerins]

#001 SUDDENLY, COLORS 𖧧 NEXT: #002 PLAYING DOMINO ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — sae gets more than he bargained for when he decides to entertain you. and then suddenly, maybe he isn’t so indifferent to everything after all.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. bllk guys here are all pro players now. profanity, complicated relationships, reader is a working adult, implied ex-fwb situation with otoya, minorly questionable work ethics, mention of infidelity. word count: 3.8k.

༝༚༝༚ first chapter ! (bear with me because we’re gonna be in the early stages of sae & y/n getting to know each other) i hope you guys like this one as much as infy >_< the dynamic between yn & sae here is slightly different heh :) if you’re reading this: ily <3 + will add little mini extra facts at the end of each chapter ^_^

lights flashing, red carpets, familiar faces that feel so out of reach.

there’s an entire life out here that people like you, should you have been without connections, won’t get to experience in your lifetime. it’s eye-opening, and more than you bargained for. sure, when you heard that this is a party thrown by one of the japan’s national soccer team’s sponsors, you expected a lot of a-list names, but to think it’s this many.

beautiful, handsome people litter every corner of the destination, enough to fill anyone with a year’s worth of anxieties just simply looking at them. to think, this is the kind of life they live in the regular; photographed by everyone, welcomed and greeted like royalty by staff and strangers alike.

it’s nothing you can ever get used to. luckily, you don’t have to.

you stand at the top of the stairs in the venue, looking around as you try to spot your friend. on the ground floor, you see many people huddled in different groups, smiles plastered together as they catch up with one another. all you can hear are everyone’s voice and laughters muffled together and melding into one giant mess. many movie stars, models, athletes all gathered in one place, commanding the attention of everyone in the room as well as those who are watching the livestreams from home. that’s to be expected though, considering this is a party thrown by the top sports brand in japan—surely supporters and fans alike are tuning in from all over just to see their favourite celebrities.

you bet the chat is getting blown up with comments about how the captain of the soccer team looks absolutely handsome when he cleans up, or how the up and coming setter in the volleyball team is a quiet assassin if looks could kill.

there’s a vibration in your purse, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you fish your phone out to see that it’s from eita.

you slowly make your way down the stairs, carefully so that you don’t accidentally catch your heels against the bright red fabric under you. it’s not everyday you get invited to events like this, and it’s certainly not everyday you get to wear something this nice—you don’t want to end up falling face flat in front of all these important (and famous, or infamous) people.

you make a mental note to yourself to thank eita again for getting you this dress.

as you look around the floor, trying to spot whatever private booth eita’s in, your eyes flick across the top of someone’s head. somebody that could catch anyone’s attention. those alluring eyes and that tall frame. you catch your breath.

eita can wait. maybe you should take a detour first.

as you’re drawing closer to him, you can’t help but think how much more handsome he is in person; all you’d been able to see of him thus far is whatever you saw through the screen, or in paper from the photoshoots he’d been a part of. now that you’re looking at him in the flesh, you don’t think they do him justice. not by a long shot. he’s still handsome as hell in whichever form of media he’s in, but in real life, they have nothing on his actual person.

his lips look soft and pink right there in front of you, and his lashes frame his eyes just perfectly that you’re almost envious.

in all fairness, you’re not used to talking to mega huge celebrities like him. he’s a pro-athlete, but his popularity is in the millions, his talent for being japan’s best offensive midfielder skyrocketing him to fame at the young age of eighteen.

nearly ten years later and he’s somehow still topping the lists for most popular male athletes from japan.

opportunities like this don’t come easy, especially for people like you—you’re not stupid enough to not take it. with a deep breath, you put your game face on; he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t have to know the real you, just the you that you want to show him.

somehow, he manages to make your heart beat faster than anyone else in the room, and he hasn’t even looked your way. half of you is telling yourself you’re doing this for a friend, but the other half of you is selfish, it wants to see what this is all about.

“what are you having?”

the moment you set your purse down on the bar, choosing to stand beside him instead of being a normal person and settling in front of the bartender to get his attention for your drinks, sae finds himself perplexed.

there are many reasons people would want to talk to him for. if you’re from the sponsor’s team, then you’d want to run a collaboration idea by him. if you’re another celebrity, then you’d probably be asking for a picture. if you’re press, well, your occupation is an answer in and of itself.

for the first time, sae’s eyes land on you. on that smile, on your eyes.

dim lights, violets and pinks bouncing off the disco ball, and somehow you do look pretty in spite all that. he’s never seen you before, but then again, he doesn’t pay attention enough to anything in the media for him to be able to know all the celebrities in japan. you have to be one, right? he doesn’t see the press card around your neck.

your dress hugs your body nicely. it’s all black, and a one-shoulder. your thin gold necklace holds a feather charm at the end. the way you tuck your hair carefully behind your ear unveils your matching earrings. you’re pretty, very pretty. but he thinks you’re about to be a pain soon enough. and that probably cancels it out.

“water.”

maybe if he’s boring enough, you’ll leave him alone. maybe if he’s rude enough, he’ll drive you away. that’s the whole point of why he’s here anyway, to escape those pointless conversations with these media… acquaintances, and oliver and the others were being nuisances in the booth anyway. so much so that he needed a breather.

unless you’re offering an escape, he won’t entertain anything.

“do you have a game tomorrow?” you ask, setting your phone down on the tabletop. a measly excuse for a conversation starter but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to see where you’re going with this.

is that why you think he’s drinking water? he shakes his head, “no.”

what do you want with him?

“don’t tell me you’re a lightweight,” you guess, smirking at him.

sae can’t figure you out; where other people are easy to guess, he can’t make heads or tails about you. why hasn’t he asked you to leave him alone yet? better yet, why hasn’t his own two feet walked away like he intended to before you came and smiled at him?

“just didn’t feel like drinking,” sae tells you. (you actually guessed right, but there’s no way he’s going to admit to that out of the blue.)

you hum in contemplation, your head resting against your balled fist as you look at him, pursing your lips like you’re thinking of something. he finds himself wondering exactly that: what the fuck are you thinking?

right now, you’re a mix between being interesting and annoying and he’s kind of leaning towards the latter.

all of a sudden, you fish a coin out of your purse, grinning.

“you look like you want me to leave you alone,” you tell him, sighing, though you’re probably not so much disappointed or affected as much as being playful, like one of those children that like to test the limits of their parents. you’re perceptive at least, he’ll give you that. “how about a deal? i’ll toss this coin, and if it lands on heads, you’ll do me a favour, no questions asked. if it lands on tails, i’ll do the same. then you can tell me to go away.” 

to be fair, sae could just walk away and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“fine.”

so why? why is he agreeing to your terms?

you flick the coin into the air with your thumb, and sae watches your face as you anticipate the results. you’re staring so intently at such an inconsequential coin that he finds it both comical and troublesome. there’s something both alluring and childish about your presence.

“aha! heads!” you shout excitedly, and sae tries to keep his head down to avoid any unwanted attention. if you cause anyone to come over and pull him aside for some small talk he’s going to kill you. you look so blissfully ignorant of that fact, though. lucky for him, almost everyone around you seems too self-absorbed to care. “looks like you owe me something.”

sae sighs. “i have the feeling i’m gonna regret this,” he mumbles to himself, though you’re blatantly beaming at him, excited at your little win. you shouldn’t be; if it’s too troublesome sae would still shoot you down. he reminds himself that he doesn’t even have to follow through with the bet—who are you to him? “what do you want?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you answer, not missing a beat, ordering a shot of vodka and having it slid over to you. you down it in a second, looking even more invigorated.

does alcohol wake you up even more?

something tells sae that he’ll get nothing out of this conversation, so the gears are already turning in his head on how to slip out of this situation, make a break for the bathroom or something. “this sounds like a hassle, so i’m just gonna leave—”

“is soccer all you care about?”

“huh?”

yeah, you’re definitely leaning more towards annoying.

as he expected, you continue speaking without even listening to him. still, that’s not the kind of topic he thought you had in mind. soccer? you don’t seem like a fanatic.

“i mean, do you do anything else outside of soccer? like play games? or, i don’t know, have some secret hobby like sewing?”

sae deadpans at that last one. what do you want to know? his secrets? he’ll definitely stick with his plan of being boring. you’ll probably give up sooner or later. “no. just soccer.”

you press your lips into a firm line, like you know he’s full of it but you don’t immediately call him out. “no hobbies outside of soccer? okay.”

“yes, i have no life.”

he nearly smirks at the horrified pout that graces your lips. your scepticism nearly makes him laugh, but he holds it in. you’re probably messing with him, but he can do just the same.

“heard that your little brother scored the winning goal at the champion’s league game, how do you feel about that?” you down another shot.

sae snorts at your obvious discontent at his disinterest, though it goes over your head because maybe you’re a little lightweight too.

“yeah, i was there. i mean, i’m proud of him if that’s what you’re looking for,” he tells you—something so generic and so bland that you can probably form the answers in your head yourself.

your line of questioning continues despite sae’s half-assed participation. maybe he’s only entertaining you because he doesn’t feel like entertaining anyone else. and maybe because he probably won’t see you again so he wouldn’t feel the need to be cautiously polite around you (and so his manager won’t nag him about keeping up an image). from what he gathers, you’re probably not a celebrity—call it his gut instinct. you sure look like one, but you don’t act like them.

there’s the incessant vibrating of his phone in his pants pocket that he ignores. meanwhile you’re accepting his lacklustre answers left and right.

“actually i’m curious, itoshi sae, who’s your best friend? some say it’s ryusei shidou and others say it’s oliver aiku. what do you say?”

he leans an elbow against the table, staring you straight in the eye. you’re looking right back at him, a smugness in those irises.

“who are you, by the way?” he asks, because despite him entertaining you for—he checks his watch—nearly half an hour, he still doesn’t even know your name. and clearly, you know all about him. or at least, what the internet can provide.

you inch closer, grinning despite the scowl on his face. “let me change the question,” you propose, because you’re always so adept at switching subjects when it benefits you, pupils scanning your immediate surroundings briefly before you lean in to whisper in his ear. “people like to say you’re hard to get, is that true?”

(because that’s what it seems like—from press coverage to girls, it doesn’t look like it’s easy to garner his interest and thus consequently his effort. if there’s one thing everyone can agree on about itoshi sae is that he screams exclusivity.)

he clenches his jaw when he feels your breath hit his ear, and he hates himself for staying this long because the moment you see his ears go red, you’re smirking.

“is there anything wrong with not wanting to waste time with people who won’t matter in a matter of days?” and that’s probably the only completely honest answer he’s given you for the night—because he doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t see making it into his future. he can’t say that for work purposes since it’s his team who manages everything, but as far as his personal life goes, that’s all you have to know.

that’s all he’s going to give you.

from the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar face, the light in their eyes going dark when they realise you’d been taking up his time.

“heading off already?” you ask, sensing his restlessness.

“yeah, well, i gave you a lot already, so…” he trails off, just hoping you’ll get the hint and leave him be.

you nod, taking your phone off the table, fishing something else out of your purse but sae’s too preoccupied looking at someone else to notice.

and just like earlier, you inch even closer, finally commanding his attention. sae catches a whiff of your perfume, a hint of sweet mixed with a little spice. you’re so close now that all he sees is you, and for some reason, he’s not moving.

you’re so close he can count the lashes on your eyes, can tell your lipstick’s not really pink but more mauve, can see up close that ever-growing smirk of yours when you catch him off-guard. and he expects you to stop, just like you did earlier, but you’re coming even closer and for some reason he can’t help but close his eyes, long lashes briefly brushing your face before he feels it go away.

when he opens his eyes, you’re not smirking anymore. that playful smirk is gone and replaced by—he can’t really tell—bashfulness? is he hallucinating the heat that built up to your cheeks?

“thanks for wasting some time on me,” you whisper, slipping something into his jacket pocket before walking away, a wave of your fingers all that you give.

and sae’s left wondering if he really was just about to let you kiss him if you didn’t move away.

he watches as you head off in the direction of the booths, a surprise washing over his face when he sees a familiar face taking your hand at the top of the first flight of stairs. that head of white with a hint of green—you know otoya?

sae takes out the piece of paper you slipped in his pocket—a name card. your name is y/n, apparently, and you work for a magazine. he scoffs, realising the intentions behind your earlier attempt to get him to talk. behind, you’d scribbled really quickly: the favour: approve this interview please? :D

you really are… something. by the way you questioned him, and your questions by itself, you must not have done this for very long. it’s a nice attempt though. still, sae has no reason to play along.

he can’t help but wonder, though—that last question: was it for the magazine, or your personal curiosity? his eyes linger on the phone number at the bottom of your card.

“hey, who was that?”

sae turns his attention to the girl he saw earlier, now in front of him, curious eyes following you as otoya walks you to their table. he quickly slips the name card back into his pocket. “dunno, she was just asking where otoya was.”

as the girl drags him away by the hand, he looks back, catching a glimpse of you staring at him before otoya guides you to the table, his hand on the small of your back, and then you fade out of view.

maybe, just for once, he’ll play along. again. because there’s something inexplicable about you, about your existence.

“look who made it back in one piece,” oliver exclaims as sae makes his way back to their table a couple of hours later, taking a seat next to the man himself. “what did bianca want you for this time?”

shidou puts down his glass of champagne to wince at sae, a pitiful glance thrown his way. “she's kinda territorial, bro. blink if you need help.”

snickers are heard around the table, most of them knowing how exasperated sae can get sometimes, even if he never actually says anything.

“you know if you guys are dating, you can just tell us right?” karasu teases, joining in the conversation.

sae rolls his eyes, ignoring them entirely. the topic about him and bianca had gone completely stale for him. honestly, if his manager didn’t convince him that he absolutely had to attend till the end, sae would’ve left halfway. maybe he wouldn’t have attended at all if he had a choice in his own schedule. then again, if he didn’t come tonight, he wouldn’t have met you.

is that a good thing?

speaking of, there’s a lack of your presence here that just mildly disappoints him. mildly.

“where’s your friend?” sae asks otoya, who’s busy typing away at his phone.

his fingers stop, and he cocks a brow at sae’s question, more confused by the fact that sae is bothering to ask such a thing. “she had a thing so she left earlier,” he says, brushing it off. “why? did you need anything? saw her talking to you just now.”

it’s like they both can sense the sudden interest of everyone around the table.

sae shakes his head, leaning back against the chair. “nothing.”

sensing something amiss, oliver leans forward, looking the most interested he’s been all night. “oh? sae of all people asking about a girl? don’t see that often,” he mocks, and sae sighs internally, immediately regretting opening his mouth.

“gotta hand it to you, though,” karasu says, nudging otoya on the elbow. “she’s pretty.”

“isn’t she that girl you said that slapped you so hard back in high school that you cried?” yukimiya joins in, his statement making the guys burst into laughter.

otoya groans, shrinking in his seat. “shut the fuck up. she was being annoying.”

“nah, she was just keeping eita in check after she heard he cheated on his girlfriend,” karasu fills in the gaps for everyone.

sae listens quietly to them divulge bits and pieces of you that they got from otoya back when you were still there with them.

apparently, you’ve known otoya since middle school, and you’ve been friends all the way till university until you drifted apart for some reason (that otoya won’t share). sae thinks it probably has to do with that “we used to fool around” statement of his. at least, unlike any of the girls he fools around with, otoya never entertained lewd questions regarding you.

were you special to him?

“tell us more,” yukimiya taunts, fully enjoying the tinge of red he sees on otoya’s ears.

“she’s just a girl who likes to clear out my fridge all the time. annoying pest i can’t get rid of,” otoya says, though everyone knows that it’s just his sharp tongue at work. he looks like he’s close to malfunctioning, a sight that sae has never seen before, fully earning his intrigue.

thankfully for otoya, oliver shifts the attention (unfortunately) to sae. “no, what i wanna know is, how a girl like y/n managed to catch this guy’s interest,” he says, pointing to sae, a cocky grin on his face. “so spill, are you interested?”

that must mean that you and otoya have nothing going on then? not that he’s curious. and not that he would put it past oliver to suggest that he steal you from someone else.

he’s not even sure why all these thoughts are in his head in the first place. sae puts on his best poker face, raising his brows as if in silent denial. “i’m not.”

oliver’s grin mirrors that of the cheshire cat, and it’s all sae has to see to know that he’s about to suggest something that will earn a ripple in the timeline.

“otoya, phone,” oliver demands, and otoya nonchalantly slides his phone over. a quick few taps of his fingers and he finds your public profile before sliding otoya’s phone over to sae. “there, follow her then, if it’s nothing.”

despite seemingly doing this all for fun, oliver is betting on much more than that. if he gets to see what the whole big deal is, why not? on the one hand, otoya is refusing to say anything about his real feelings about you. on the other, sae is refusing as well to admit that maybe he’s a little bit charmed by you.

sure, asking sae to follow you is like sending a whole army of girls chasing after a baby with a very prized candy but oliver barely knows you, so it’s fair game where he stands. besides, he’s not forcing sae to do it. he just knows he will—sae never bothers showing interest in anything, let alone a woman. he’s not following any girls either apart from other celebrities, and that’s because they cornered him to it. if he does this, you’re the only comparatively normal girl he’ll follow. sae might not be aware of the implications and whatnot, but oliver sure does. it’ll take a while for it to show, but he’ll wait patiently.

the only reason otoya hasn’t been subjected to that same problem for following you is because his popularity doesn’t come close to sae’s. not even oliver’s comes close. neither are their fans as rabid as his.

and when sae scoffs and takes out his phone to do just what oliver expects him to, oliver’s eyes flick over to look at otoya, a certain unsettled look in his friend’s eyes. neither guys are ever straightforward with their feelings—he leans back and relaxes, waiting for a show.

whoever you are, y/n, whatever you have going on, good luck to you.

extras !

sae and bianca go way back, but so do y/n and eita! the latter more so than the former.

this is y/n’s first time ever attending an event like this in her x years of knowing eita.

sae’s group of friends consist of: oliver, otoya, shidou, karasu, yukimiya and sendou. (sendou has a conflicting schedule so he wasn’t there that night.)

taglist! @yuzurins @raphsimp @mxplesyrvp @lust4rin @saeskiss

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for ItsOleander behind the cut; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . ‘diamond’, the Batman repeats skeptically. Tim radiates embarrassment, then pulls a bright, shiny stone out of his hidden belt to show to it. The Batman tilts its head again. 

It’s a diamond, yes. An unusually large one, shaped more like a heart than any traditional cut. And it’s new, too. There’s no history to it at all, just faint traces of determined perfectionism and something a little hesitantly hopeful, all burnt in fire and care and pressure. And not something stolen or reclaimed, like one from a Cat would be. 

Though its new Robin tastes just a little bit like a Cat, doesn't he, it realizes. 

Hm. 

That’s different. 

diamond, the Batman says, leaning down to inspect it more closely. 

“He, uh, made it,” Tim says. “Like–for me? I mean, he thinks I’m–a bird, kind of, so he thought I’d like something, uh . . . shiny, you know? Like a magpie or crow or whatever, I guess. Or, um, possibly a penguin. Possibly he thinks I’m a penguin, given this is technically a rock. God, does he think I’m a penguin?” 

hm, the Batman says, frowning consideringly while Tim keeps muttering to himself in concern about penguins, which is understandable, because Oswald Cobblepot isn’t the kind of role model a Robin should aspire after. It’s never had a Robin who could make diamonds, but supposes there's a first time for everything. Not every Robin can do a quadruple backflip or deduce its summoning ritual either. 

. . . or jack tires off a car that doesn't even count as an actual physical “car”. 

Or . . . draw. 

The Batman–pauses. Frowns. 

None of its Robins draw. Why did it just . . . 

Its new Robin flies back up with Dick curled around his shoulders like a cape. Maybe he draws, the Batman thinks, flicking its approximation of eyes towards him. He made a diamond, after all, and cut it to shape. That’s . . . artistic, technically. The human kind of “artistic”, anyway. 

Humans have very strange ideas of what counts as artistic, but the Batman supposes that’s just how humans are. “Just how humans are” has been a necessary thing to internalize, at this point in its existence. 

. . . it still doesn’t know how Jason got the damn tires off, even now. 

“Um, hi. Again. Sir/ma’am. Ma’am/sir?” its new Robin attempts as he lets Dick back down on the ledge, looking nervous. Tim was nervous to meet it too. Dick was too grief-stricken and angry for anything like that, though, and Jason just wasn’t afraid of it at all. 

And . . . 

And–it doesn’t know why it thought “and”, there. It hasn’t had another Robin. There was Batgirl and now there’s the Spoiler, but . . . 

There’s no reason to think “and” there. 

But it thought “and” anyway, didn’t it, it notes, and files that thought away in the place where its mind would go. 

If it had one, obviously. 

“Baaaaatman,” Tim hisses, Robin’s voice layered back over his own. 

“Batman,” its new Robin repeats, then puffs himself up like he’s displaying plumage he’s not wearing–his colors are bright, at least, but not the right colors; not colors meant for flying. The Batman appreciates the instinct, at least. “Um–I’m Superboy! Hey! Nice to meet you!” 

The Batman glowers. Dick, inexplicably, starts sniggering, and Tim makes a pained sound. Its new Robin–not Superboy–looks more nervous, hiding his hands behind his back. The Batman resists the urge to sweep off to go screech at Superman. Barely resists, but resists. 

Its new Robin is just as new as the diamond he made, though, and clearly worried about its reaction. It doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

It’ll screech at Superman later, though. 

meet, it says, leaning forward over the ledge and letting the shadows of its cape wrap underneath its new Robin’s legs, just in case. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to catch. 

A net. 

Obviously. 

He’s still flying wrong, after all. 

Its new Robin peers down at its trailing cape of a net curiously, looking interested, and then peers at it instead. 

“Huh,” he says. “You’re way nicer than everybody said. Well. Everybody except Superman, anyway. He says you’re super-nice.” 

Hm, the Batman thinks grudgingly. Alright. Maybe Superman isn’t trying to take its new Robin. Maybe he sent it its new Robin, after he woke up alive again and found him flying around Metropolis without a net. That, admittedly, would be more in line with Superman’s usual behavior. And general . . . “Superman”-ness. 

The Batman really does not understand Superman. Superman is a thing of Metropolis skyscrapers and alien skies and rolling farmlands and blazing sunlight, though, which are all far beyond the Batman’s sphere of influence and comprehension, so that’s hardly a surprise. 

It does make more sense if Superman sent it its new Robin, though, as opposed to trying to steal him, so the Batman is somewhat mollified by that. Even if its new Robin apparently doesn’t know his own name. 

. . . ah, the Batman realizes, and tilts its head slowly. 

Not “doesn’t know”. 

Doesn’t have. 

diamond, it says, and its new Robin immediately looks flustered. 

“Oh, uh, I just thought Robin’d like something shiny for his nest, maybe?” he says, and the Batman–pauses. 

‘nest’? it repeats carefully. Tim makes a mortified noise and hides his face in Robin’s wings again. 

“Um–yeah?” Its new Robin looks embarrassed. “I mean, I kinda just assumed he had one, I haven’t, like, seen it or anything. Like, I’m not trying to go into his, uh, private space or–um! I’m not doing anything weird, I swear!” 

The Batman tilts its head. 

The Batman has never seen one of its Robins nest. But . . . 

They grow, don't they, it's distantly reminded. Dick's grown into Nightwing, and Tim fits Robin's wings so differently than he first used to. 

Jason grew too, a little. For what little time it had him, anyway. That hot-tempered, fearless stray fledgling who could do his workings with nothing but scraps from the streets and a length of cold iron became a bright grin and gleeful energy and bold Robin-wings. 

But Jason only got to grow a little, so sometimes the Batman . . . forgets. 

They all grow, though. 

nest? the Batman asks again, looking to Tim. Tim doesn't lift his face out of Robin's wings. 

“Priiiiivate!” Tim hisses, and the Batman can sense the mortification rolling off of him in waves. The Batman frowns, leaning down over him to assess him more closely. Robin's talons give off the impression of dry, cracked wood and awkward mistakes layered over Tim's hidden hands full of carefully-hunted information, and it thinks . . . oh. Tim actually tried to. Didn't manage it, but . . . 

The Batman doesn't know how it feels about that. He's so young. Isn't he? Dick hasn't even nested yet; just courted and flirted and occasionally pined. 

“ROBIN nesssssts, now?” Dick teases, popping up on Tim's other side. Tim makes a strangled noise again and huddles in smaller on himself. The Batman frowns in concern. He doesn't feel injured, but . . . 

“Nooooot Nightwing's . . . busssssinesssss!” Tim hisses, snapping his teeth behind Robin's mask, then visibly sulks. “Stuuuuupid.”

The Batman frowns again. 

[cherrycherryking]

i read your model!reader scene and can i just say absolute 10/10 for how you draw and write wally just phenomenonal!!!

may i suggest a sort of reversal where reader tries gifting wally a lil painting they did for him? maybe of him or of a flower that reminded them of him?

thank you so much <3 reader doing (or trying their best) to do a drawing of wally is just so sweet? thank you for requesting!!

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wally darling x gen!reader

Making a Drawing for Wally

✧Wally had drawn you before, you knew from the times he would ask you to model for him or because you would catch little sketches of yourself in his sketchbook.

✧Maybe you're quite good at drawing, or maybe you aren't. Point is that today you felt more than compelled to draw him, could be as a little thank you or just because he was pretty.

✧Julie and Frank (but mostly Julie) had intercepted him to talk about some...case? they were on, something about one of Frank's book going missing.

✧You tried not to stare too much, Wally was pretty quick to notice people looking at him and being catched while drawing him suddenly felt a little embarrassing.

✧God. Uh. How were you supposed to draw his hair?

✧He pulled the hairstyle surprisingly well, but any time you tried it just looked weird, you closed your eyes to remember but instead your brain jumped to that one time it got completely ruined after Barnaby threw a water balloon to his face.

✧Now you're going down memory lane! That was such a fun day actually, even more so when Sally-

✧The high pitched sound that came out of your mouth was completely justified and no one could tell you otherwise.

✧You look to the side, Frank and Julie disappeared down the road to keep with their search.

✧In all honesty Wally knew where you were, even if it was for a second he felt your eyes on him and would have come to say hi either way, why wouldn't he?

✧So now he was leaning forward close to your face and making that damn eye contact. Without moving an inch his glance moved down just a tiny bit, and he quickly catched what you were doing.

✧"Aww! You're drawing me?" his drowsy eyes came back, excitement in that calm voice of him. "Well yeah- but is not as pretty as your drawings, or you-"

✧To say he was flattered was the least. With all the joy in the world Wally told you how good it looked no matter what you could say, and before you could ask him he offered himself to be your model.

✧Needless to say, after sitting besides you under the tree you could feel his stare once more. This time though it didn't make you as nervous as usual, maybe because it gave you an excuse to watch him and analyze his features for so long. Wally looked happy and you could swear his cheeks were just a little more blushed than usual.

✧Whether you think you got him right he's going to be over the moon anyways, sitting close to you arms touching as he talks about how you definitely should draw more often, specifically draw him.

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sorry it took me so long!! something possessed me to do friendship bracelets for wally and julie and if i'm not stopped probably eddie too.

idk how well i write wally sjdksdf i want to capture that "lights are on, house is empty" and "oh hes a little fucked actually" that he has going on, so any advice would be really helpful :)

[even-disco-baby]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello again, gendarme.” He smiles at you— not from his usual post, but from one of the cafeteria tables. A small sketchbook is laid out in front of him, along with some odd gray sticks.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Compressed graphite. Not quite as bold or blendable as charcoal, but certainly less messy.

EMPATHY — Garte will appreciate it.

“I’d like to talk about the case again.”

“You moved! I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What are you drawing?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s the question, isn’t it?” His smile turns a little rueful. “I found one of my old sketchbooks and thought I’d like to fill the last few empty pages, but I’m finding myself a little… uninspired.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — The accursed artist’s block. Staring down an empty page only for it to stare back, mocking you.

EMPATHY — He is unsure of himself. He said this was an old sketchbook. Maybe he’s afraid of drawing something new beside his old work and seeing that nothing has changed.

“Ah, yes. Artist’s block. I know it well. In fact, I don’t know when the last time that I actually *made* any art was.”

“You could draw the cafeteria.”

“You could draw one of the other diners.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “A life drawing exercise, huh? And who would you pick as a subject, gendarme?”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“Maybe Garte? The skua could be a fun challenge.”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.”

He has nothing more to say on the matter.

“Aw, why not? You’d make a great model!”

Let it go.

KIM KITSURAGI — “I do not get paid to model for portraits. I get paid to solve murders. Such as the one we came here to investigate. Several days ago. Which has not been solved yet, for some mysterious reason.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — In case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm.

“Come on, Kim. You’re the perfect subject! A true man of the people. And there’s this sort of radiance about you… I can see the portrait already, just looking at you. Really clearly, actually.”

Maybe don’t say that. He’s just not gonna get it.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs. “Sorry, gendarme. It’s not right to use someone’s image without permission, you know? Maybe some other time.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No.” And then, a little awkwardly, “But thank you.”

“I don’t know. You’re the artist.”

“How about Garte? Though, you’d have to draw the skua, too…”

“You should draw the guy with the wig and sunglasses over there. He looks pretty funny.”

“Lena! She’d probably love to model for you. It would take her mind off things.”

“Kim, how about you pose for him?”

[Suggestion - Medium 10] “Why not me?”

CHECK SUCCESS

YOU — “Why not me?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He considers you with some amusement, but still, he does consider. “You’re not too busy?”

“On second thought, you’re right, I have some work to do right now. Another time, maybe?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant sighs audibly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — What did I *just* say?

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles to himself, apparently quite tickled by the little comedy act you two are making of yourselves. “Beautiful. Why not? Have a seat. I’ll try not to keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Much appreciated,” he says drily.

YOU — [Take a seat.]

SAVOIR FAIRE — Time to strike a pose. Let’s go with something cool. Something that really captures what you’re all about.

ENDURANCE — But make sure it’s something that you’ll be able to hold comfortably.

Wink and shoot him your signature finger guns.

Look at him with big sad eyes like a shamed puppy.

Look thoughtfully into the middle distance, as if contemplating your own future masterpiece.

Stare straight at him with eyes that have seen how this world will end.

Hold your head up high. With *honor.*

Just sit and act natural. No need to put on airs.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He looks you up and down, thumbing his bottom lip. His eyes look brighter and more alert than you have ever seen them. And then, he picks up his graphite and begins to work.

His eyes dart between you and the page, his hand sweeping across the page in bold, practiced strokes. All traces of his earlier hesitation have vanished.

VOLITION — Sometimes, a little push is all we need.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — Every now and then, he pauses to look up at you, and it’s almost unnerving to be the subject of whatever calculations are going on behind his eyes. He holds out his graphite, squinting just slightly.

VISUAL CALCULUS — This is called sighting. He’s roughly measuring the relative proportions of your figure and checking them against his sketch.

KIM KITSURAGI — Even the lieutenant is watching now, interested in spite of himself.

“Are portraits your specialty?”

“Have you been drawing anything for school lately?”

Better not distract him.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hmm…” He ponders this for a moment, not looking up from his work. “Not exactly. I’m more interested in the graphic arts than this sort of thing. But it’s best to build a strong foundation before branching out, you know?”

YOU — “Graphic arts? Like what?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Printmaking.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he speaks, seemingly without him even noticing. “Monotype, especially.”

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Monotype is a printmaking technique that is singular from other techniques, in that it produces only *one* unique print, rather than an edition of multiple prints.

YOU — What, really? What’s the point of printing it, then?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know. I didn’t invent it.

“Why monotype? Wouldn’t a different technique be more… practical?”

“I see.” [Drop the subject.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He shrugs slightly, smudging a bit of graphite with a bare finger. “Depends on how you define practical, I suppose. If I had my own studio, and I was selling my prints, then maybe. But we make do with what we have, gendarme.”

EMPATHY — And what he has is very little.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Besides, I think monotype has its charms.”

The young man does not elaborate, instead focusing on the work at hand. He picks up an eraser that has been shaved down to a point for fine detail work, and begins on what are likely the finishing touches.

EMPATHY — He has already talked at uncharacteristic length about this. It’s making him a little uncomfortable.

SAVOIR FAIRE — He doesn’t like to share too much about himself because it makes him feel *uncool.* He prefers to maintain an air of mystery.

RHETORIC — It’s safer, too, that way. He’s learned that passion exists to be exploited. False promises and admiration are the offerings of Sunday friends.

“If you say so.” [Back off.]

“What kind of charms?” [Press on.]

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes flit back to you, sizing you up now in a different way. And then he looks back down at the page with a quiet bre ath.

“Well, it doesn’t take as much time or labor as other methods. Or expensive tools, or dangerous chemicals. Just paper, a plate, ink, and something to apply it with. And I can use the same plate over and over again, even use it to create different layers for the same print.”

RHETORIC — In other words, it’s cheap and can be done from home. An attractive option.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “And with monotype, it’s not so hard to go back and change your mind. You can start over as many times as you’d like, right up until the moment you lay the page on the plate.”

INLAND EMPIRE — That really does sound attractive. To be able to wipe the slate clean, over and over again…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There aren’t as many limits on what kind of textures you can create, too. Brushstrokes and fingerprints… They can really come out beautiful.”

His brow creases a little, and he picks his graphite back up to rework a particular area.

DRAMA — He’s still holding out on you, sire. Too self-conscious to admit what he really likes about the medium.

YOU — Which is what?

EMPATHY — Fragility.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — An image which is only complete after being mirrored and translated, never to be recreated except as a ghostly afterimage. An exercise in surrendering to chance. What will be, will be. And then the moment will pass, and it will be time to start the next piece.

VOLITION — This man knows disappointment intimately. It is his closest companion. He has learned to make peace with it. He passes the time with his Sunday friends, lays his paper on the plate and hopes, despite himself, for the best.

YOU — Is that… a good thing?

VOLITION — …It’s hard to say. But we make do with what we have.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “There.” The young man sits up straight, and it’s only now that you realize just how close he brought himself to his work.

DRAMA — His face may not betray him, but the body does not lie. He was having *fun,* my liege.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “All done.” He tears the page from his book and holds it out to you with a small smile.

ITEM GAINED: Portrait of a Disco Holdover

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hope I didn’t keep you too long.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Don’t worry about it,” Kim says, rather resignedly.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — If you’d declined, the lieutenant thinks, my partner would have just found some other way to get sidetracked.

KIM KITSURAGI — Still, he cannot stop himself from glancing at the portrait over your shoulder.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — It’s you! Unfortunately. Not even the most masterful hand could make the Expression less unsettling to look at. Your posture is poor, your face is swollen and blotchy, your hair is thinning, your clothes are shabby and out of place… I could go on.

Oh god, you could?

Please don’t.

PORTRAIT OF A DISCO HOLDOVER — But, you know… it’s nice. The smoker’s technique is bold and rather lovely, broad strokes of graphite intersecting in just the right places to create surprising depths. Somehow, even though it’s you… it’s not hideous.

EMPATHY — Because you’re seeing yourself through another person’s eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — There is an odd tenderness to the portrait. Something amusing in your grimace, a touch of sympathy in your hunched shoulders. With the eraser, he has lifted small spots of pigment from your face, as if it were illuminated by flecks of light from the karaoke disco ball.

There are no disco lights tonight, but still, he sees them when he looks at you. Your moment has passed, but it left quite the impression. A ghost print, superimposed over you.

“Not bad, but the bicep girth is off. Right, Kim?”

“Oh god, is that really what I look like?”

“Hmm. It’s okay, but you should consider a backup career plan.”

“Whoa, you’re amazing! Can you draw me again, but this time in the costume from the cover of Man from Hjelmdall and the Devil Woman? And like, with a really cool warhammer? And Queen Lydiaana standing in the background, all like, ‘boohoo, where will I ever find another man like Ha— I mean, the Man from Hjelmdall?’”

“Beautiful.”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His smile climbs up into the corners of his eyes, warming his entire countenance.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — If you were to capture a portrait of him in this moment, it would be beautiful, too.

[yyokkki]

Asking to Sketch Them

POMEFIORE 

Vil Schoenheit 

You’re gonna have to schedule an appointment with Vil’s manager first darling, but, because you’re his friend he will accept the request free of charge

Literally started this entire hc series because of this man, the way I draw him does not match up to his standards whatsoever

The best model you could ask for, because it’s Vil so of course, but Pomefiore can prepare any set you ask for in the snap of a finger and they’re giving you a free spa treatment after this???

And that’s exactly why he’s the worst model you could get

Pressure cranked up to 100%

His face is so symmetrical and oh god rook is breathing over your shoulder, staring as you work and he hasn’t blinked in a w h I l e

Once you’re done Vil gives a balanced amount of positive feedback and helpful criticism

But rook

Dude is n it p ic k y, there’s no malice but the guy is intensely observing everything Vil does daily so he definitely has stuff to say no matter how good you do

If you don’t mind the bone crushing pressure, this is probably the most helpful session you could get with genuinely good advice and tips at least in the realm of drawing people as beautiful as Vil

Its either -100/10 or 100/10 depending on how much pressure you put on yourself im sorry but if I were asked to draw a portrait of fucking Beyonce while she sat right in front of me I would cry

Rook Hunt

Boy is grinning ear to ear

Contrary to… Above, Rook is very happy to model for you

Rook is very skilled at staying still for prolonged periods of time even in the most precarious positions so go crazy (revenge)

Usually he’s the observer so to be the one being observed is kind of nice to him in a way

Once you’re done he improvs a unique poem about your masterpiece and how much he loves it 

Whether it’s stickman or hyperrealism on ms paint, he’s framing your work and hanging it up in his room

Next thing you know there’s a scented letter full of flowery poems detailing his gratefulness and his awe at your skill, as well as a huge oil painting of you ready to be hung up somewhere in Ramshackle dorm

This stuff probably comes naturally to him

9/10 Actually quite pleasant for, well, Rook

Epel Felmier

Vil hasn’t gotten around to teaching him how to pose for portraits yet cuz he’s really trying to hammer in the basics first but he will do his best!!

After you actually manage to convince him to do it that is

Posing for a portrait sounds stiff and boring and he’s already forced to put up with that everyday at his dorm

Bribes? Pomefiore basically has everything he needs and more

Food? Vil is gonna kill him if he eats anything outside his meal plans

A place to hide from Vil? Ramshackle is falling apart, he breaks in visits every other day with the other first years already

Your hand in marriage? I don’t think you should be offering something like that for a portrait

A competition? Ya bet yer ass I’m winnin

And now you’re drawing Epel while Epel is drawing you, with the other first years acting as judges

Honestly pretty fun, the atmosphere is light hearted

The other first years are arguing at the side and both of you aren’t super cut throat about it, cracking jokes and laughing at the dumbass combo whenever they do or say something distracting

You exchange the portraits at the end and Epel actually had a good time so it’s a win win situation and yall get to have a sleepover later

He challenges you to an apple carving competition next 

8/10 Turned into more of a first year hangout but it was a good time so who’s complaining

-----

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia  

[1-800-deactivatednearu]

woag character design notes

[i.d.: a drawn line up of the half life vr ai characters, from left to right, gordon, dr. coomer, tommy, bubby, gman, and benrey. /end i.d.]

yeah i skipped some guys , i dont draw some of them enough to have much unique designs and some of them are a png of a dog

trust me i am just surprised as the rest of yall that i am doing hlvrai art . design notes below (very long, mind your step)

gordon:

wow this guy dont got no head

i didnt want to give gordon a face because of how unexact the person is as the fandom engages with it. is it wayne rtvs? (well as presented to an audience, yes) is it gordon freeman? (well as seen from an in game perspective, yes) is it a whole new guy entirely? (well as

i cut the confusion and took it a whole new direction: guillotine

hlvrai being treated as a very broken game is fun to me as a design perspective, so if you (the audience) are not supposed to see his face, what happens when you see it anyways? missing texture time

there are eyes drawn over because i did not have confidence in my expressions at first and then it grew on me

i think if i were to draw (and i have drawn) an actual person under the mask i would still censor the eyes because that is where the vr headset sits!!

(i do not like putting an actual flesh to gordon though)

though i really like seeing how other people interpret gordon hlvrai it is not . my gordon ? we are talking about the same guy . but this is my gordo . i made this one . this guy my guy . maybe i should draw other gordon designs

i can draw the hev suit from memory and it is also the entire reason why i can render metal confidently

i liked how people changed the lambda to read ai :] i also have no clue if i wrote the lambda correctly

(i did, i just checked)

dr coomer:

as much as i draw/drew him i find it more fun to not stick to one set design :)

so a lot of my takes on dr coomer tend to jump from idea to idea, especially from what other people are doing, though they could be fitted to the left and right designs!

the left design is mainly based off what i saw in fandom spaces

we see rounder shapes, making for a more friendly and welcoming appearance

i think of this as straying from the more professional uniform of the actual scientist models

enter swimming shorts and bright yellow socks, for some reason

so now he kind of looks like a cool science teacher :)

it might be the lab coat

the right design is mainly based off thumbnails for hlvrai itself

these use a more angular appearance

i want to push how comically buff he is because of strength he shows at times, especially since his left design seems to completely down play it as a comically not buff man who is still very strong

the shadows on right design coomer get so much more harsh and exaggerated because i have comic books on the mind :)

he really does look like a dehydrated comic book character huh

tommy:

stick bug (he gets it from his dad) (this thought process is explained at gman section)

i pushed a lot of the saturation of colours in her design because i think tommy gets to be a little silly with it

fun art story of the day! when you color, try messing with hue! you might notice you can get away with a lot as long as your values are about right

i like pushing this with white because you can get away with a lot of things reading as “off white”

old faithful for me is cool shadows with a warm transition colour to keep things visually interesting

i keep making white objects the trans flag

happy pride

tommys design looks a little like a school boy, with the tucked in button up shirt+suspenders+shorts+jacket tied around the waist . and the primary colours . but like it is really fun to dress up so brightly

i actually was strongly inspired by medieval babies if that is a weird descriptor? i wanted him to both be a middle aged man but also a young adult

do not be like tommy, who has their finger on the trigger of the gun while not even looking at where it is pointing and good god he is squeezing the trigger . top ten firearm safety of all time

bubby:

the absurd part is that i think bubby is tall . he is just between tommy and gman who are exaggeratedly lanky .

i wanted to make bubby a pointy kinda guy, so he is the only one actually wearing the lab coat proper . and the only one actually wearing dress socks but not even wearing dress shoes

i wanted to give him a novelty tie but i was running low on ideas and running high on boreds so we dont get a tie

he does have crocs though!! in attack mode!!

i do think we all kind of saw his model and collectively decided it works for him because i have honestly not seen major divergences from his model?

gman:

stick bug

i wanted to stress the more spooky and unknowable nature of him and took it in the dark souls direction of “make bigger than player character”

maked too bigger

he cannot walk through any doorways but you will have to crane your neck to look up at him

in the opposite direction of tommy, i pulled a lot of the saturation in gmans design

it feels important to make them both not fully match the rest of the slightly less broken npcs because there was so much work to make them look cool so i have to respect that

actually a lot of gmans and tommys designs are made in opposite to one another

gman has a largely stationary face and very stiff line work

while tommy is pushed to expressive as possible

thats pretty fun, way to go me

benrey:

benrey also has two designs

and in both of these i keep getting too lazy to use a reference so  the vests are super plain (forgetting the badge and black mesa logo) . i think the helmet is supposed to be darker actually .

the design ethos of benrey was “built like a brick shithouse”

a friend of mine took this cooler and interpreted it as a shield/wall/barrier as a physical (and narrative) obstacle

again the first uses fandom designs

most notably the overcast shadow (seen in video thumbnails but i never noticed it or understood why so many people did it until someone pointed it out to me)

i think hlvrai is such a great medium because it acknowledges it is a game and is able to play into that to great effect! i think the shadow is fun to imagine as solid black as a small reminder of the impossibility of the space :]

benrey is a smug cat in the body of a human . to be honest . and this is the full range of emotion i have ever drawn him with

the second was mostly because as fun as taking creative liberties are, i just really wanted to see benrey as is: the half life security guard model in all its slight wonk :]

i actually do prefer this design . it is a little more uncanny because i choose the worst translations of the model . i like it because it is a little more uncanny !

that can be said for like . every single design in this line up huh .

[an-au-blog]

Artist Usopp who has the most vivid dreams of Sanji ever since he can remember, this mysterious blond growing alongside him in the unconscious world. So he grows up, goes to art school, gets his degree, and starts the path of a starving artist. Not a lot of people buy his art, but he keeps making it. He never liked showing the overwhelmingly large collection of sketches, paintings, 3D prints, carvings, clay figurines, literally anything he could make of Sanji. It felt too personal to show anyone, but people would inevitably see them, as he can't stop doodling the man. They keep saying that's what he should be promoting as his work and how people would pay big money for those, but he always doubted it.

A time came where he could feel the "starving artist" title a bit too literally. With regret, he took his friend's advice and sold a painting to some random guy. The man came back with a friend - lover of the arts and before Usopp knew it, he was selling the blond of his dreams to collectors and museums. He started making marble sculptures, now that he could afford it, like the blond was a greek god, an angel sent to feed him in his most desperate times. Usopp knew such a man didn't exist, but it was nice to have him in his dreams at least.

Well... that was until one day Luffy sent him a video. One of those memes where people went to galleries and posed with victorian portraits that looked like them. He captioned it with "lol rly thought it was him for a sec". Usopp thought this would be another video forgotten in the waves of spam Luffy liked to send, but as the different people went by, suddenly, Usopp felt cold sweat down his back. It was the blond. He looked exactly like the man in his dreams... no. that was the same man. He was absolutely sure of it. He had been drawing and studying that face, those hands, the colors and curves all his life. That was him!

He desperately tried finding him, but all he had was a private page and that was it. He couldn't get any clue as to who he was from the user name "LetHimCook" or the bio saying he was 21 and a rat and a cheff's hat emoji.

Usopp gave up hope for the time being as he was supposed to finish a project that was the biggest in his career so far.

The day to present it had come and Usopp stood there, nervous, talking about his art while snobbish-looking people hummed as if they understood anything about his life's work. Some of the asked questions that he absentmindedly answered, but then someone from the back, who Usopp couldn't see asked something that caught his attention.

"I have two questions if I may. Firstly, who is the inspiration to this "dream" collection? It seems to be more about a lover than actual dreams. And secondly, have you ever considered doing an auto portrait?"

The two unrelated questions caught him off guard, and he didn't know how to say anything about the first one without sounding insane, or the second - without sounding depressed.

"Uhm, interesting questions." Usopp cleared his throat. "You see, uh..." he tried finding the words but they died on his tongue when the asker came into view. It was him. "It's you." He said accidentally out loud.

"I beg your pardon?"

They look at each other for a long second. Usopp couldn't tear his eyes away from the blue haunting his every day and night. "Sorry, I- I didn't answer your uh-" Usopp stuttered, trying to keep any semblance of dignity he could. "I don't like doing self portraits, I've made a few but the model kind of sucks." The people laughed with him but the blond only gave a small smile.

"I would love to see them some time, as I'm sure I'm not the only one."

How could this man leave him speechless every time.

After the Q&A bit was over, Usopp tried his best to avoid small talk from the guests so he could get to the blond before he left. But by the time he got there, Sanji was talking to someone, it would have been extremely awkward to join in.

"Hey, Usopp!" The man who was talking to Sanji turned, and oh God it was Luffy.

The artist didn't know if he should be happy or a bit scared. Luffy dragged Usopp into the conversation and it started flowing quite easily. It was not long before Luffy left to see another friend of his but his absence didn't make it uncomfortable. Usopp learned the man's name, that he loved to cook and that he had been a fan of his work for a while.

Agreeing that Sanji would get a "private tour" or the rest of Usopps (not displayed works), the "party" ends.

On their way home, Luffy hits him with a "It was so funny seeing that guy flirt with you all night."

Usopp, stopping dead in his tracks: Who?

Luffy: Blond guy who kinda looks like your obsession drawings...

Usopp malfunctioning: .......... oh...... . .. . . ... OH!

When they finally arrange a date for the "private tour", Usopp keeps an open mind, trying to see if he really WAS flirting. But then they get to the half-assed self portraits Usopp made of himself and, honestly - Usopp never wanted to show them. He wasn't all that good-looking, he didn't like how they turned out, he hadn't put in any effort and most of them were more reminiscent of grotesque caricatures than the usual realistic beauty he was used to painting.

"They're not really - I mean I mostly made them out of boredom, I- I don't really like them and- and-" He tried to excuse himself, but when he looked at Sanji, he lost all his words. The blond was looking at the paintings and sketches with such awe and sympathy. He reached out to the painted face, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the surface.

He looked back at Usopp, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

"You're far too mean to yourself." Sanji said, faint, barely audible. His eyes widened slightly as the words escaped his lips as if he didn't mean to let them slip.

On instinct, the deep-rooted self-loading Usopp had harboured all these years bubbled just the slightest. "Haha, or maybe not enough."

But then Sanji turned to him seriously, lips in a thin line, a bit hurt. "In... in an interview you once said you're glad the public liked your art, because you wouldn't bare sharing a piece of your soul and seeing anyone insult the man who's haunted your dreams." A stuttering breath. "So, I'd like to request you don't insult the man from mine..."

Oh...

[attyrocious]

cross posting yesterday's rambling thread for posterity and because tumblr lets me edit things. anyway this is a sorta long thing and i might add things i forgot to mention in the twt thread

i tend to draw on-model canon because im a coward + just personal preferences. but the way i convert the canon designs into my artstyle is that i take the distinct features oda gives them and then combine it with personal headcanons to complete what should look like a unique human. Starting with Trafalgar Law, who is unfortunately a bland-ass conventionally pretty boy

someone commented a while ago the law hat drawing tutorial i made a while ago didn't make much sense and i realize its bc of the specific way i draw law's face: heart shaped (ba-dum-tss). That meaning, a narrow chin widening into a mild defined jaw, wide cheekbones, and up to his know-it-all brain dome.

given that, the pudgy guitar pick shape of his head i mentioned here should make a lot more sense.

i don't think this design point is unique to me, as most conventional pretty anime boy gets given jaws like this. a lot of law artists tend to veer into this head shape. just how life be sometimes. other points: flat, thick eyebrows is bc im a hairy gal and i need to feel better about myself.

Killer gets to be more interesting, because he shouldn't be considered conventionally attractive. my idea behind killer's is that those individual features is smth he would be insecure with enough to hide himself in a helmet but i draw him with all the love in the world actually. i'd like to think its how kid sees him or yknow, law, bc he's my kin assigned blorbo and maybe you ship lawkill as a guilty pleasure too i mentioned before (and ruined people's days) when i said whenever i draw killer he looks like griffith before i put on his goatee. the upper half of his face is distinctly feminine, with the lower half kinda over compensating. other than that uhh...idk. stan killer

Kidd is the bane of my existence, i feel like i can never draw his face consistently. yet at the same time he's so damn fun to draw everyone gotta try it.

my problem with kidd is that this mf does have eyelids. most kidd painters out there interpret this as him having deep set eyes (think Matt Smith or jeffrey star) . and yeh skill issue on me i should practice that. other notes, i try to make him younger than canon makes him look. he is my babygirl and he deserves to look cuddly. my band au kidd version has the honor of being allowed some chubs. he's just tries to look older and more menacing with edgy makeup. also i try to give him dimples when i can because, well i can.

Rosinante last bc i lost steam after kidd. the thing abt cora is that aside from not having eyebrows, everything is structured with the generic one piece man template. which means i gotta do everything myself doffy is there bc the way to figure out how to draw these two is to give them minor differences from each other, that being doffy gets slightly sharper features. in canon, these two are also rly wide boys (more of an oda style feat tbh) but i make them long. though bigger brained donquixote artists know that of these two brothers, doffy should be the wiry-er built. anyway that's it. in conclusion, i need to draw more girls actually i feel like im becoming misogynistic by osmosis from oda's style and now i draw girls all looking the same too.

[ickadori]

++ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈

[summary] kisaki meets someone a bit more organically than he had intended to.

[cws] fem reader -> reader is a mother (the son is named ‘ren’). mentions of an abusive relationship. abuse towards reader. mild violence. allusions to cannibalism. unedited.

[notes] this was in drafts since sept and i actually hate it now but i didn’t wanna delete bc he’s my first luv ^.^ ending is thrown together heh!

Kisaki believed in meeting people organically — he considered himself a bit of a romantic.

Dating apps weren’t an option for him (even if he wasn’t on every criminal watchlist available he still wouldn’t go that route - it screamed desperation, and he liked to be quiet with his) and he had turned down every offer of being ‘set-up’ on blind dates after he had given Hanma a reluctant ‘yes’ and ended up sat across from a coked up, wannabe model that dropped dead of an overdose before the appetizers even hit the table.

It was a bit hard to meet people naturally when you rarely interacted with the public, and when you did, it was because a few big name heads needed to roll. He couldn’t exactly go out to mingle just after taking a handsaw to a man’s neck—you had to be in the right headspace.

He had looked inward at first, scoured his payroll and checked out each and every name listed there. He would never get involved with anyone working directly under him (work and pleasure should never mix, after all) but extended family members were fair game, or so he had thought, before he had realized just how fucked up the people he had working underneath him was, along with their families. Prostitutes, convicts, plebes riddled in debt and holding cans on street corners to try and afford it, losers spending all their measly paychecks in pachinko parlors and whorehouses.

Kisaki had standards, and they didn’t come close to fitting them.

Back to the drawing board.

A white cloud of air leaves his mouth as he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his wool, trench coat as he steps out of the driver's seat of the car. He moves to head into the lobby of his office building, gaze quickly sliding over to the kid standing near the entrance before immediately disregarding him.

“Hello, Sir.” He’s greeted with a deep bow, and a dark brow quirks up as he turns his head to look at the boy. He stops, eyes taking in the way he shivers in the cold from his lack of coat, coupled with the ratty t-shirt, gym shorts and sandals.

“I don’t have any cash on me. I’ll send someone back down with some.” He goes to move around, only for the kid to shuffle in front of him and block his path. Kisaki has half a mind to plant his foot in his stomach, but bites down the urge and instead grips the kid’s shirt and wrangles him off to the side.

“Wait! I-I don’t need your money! I need your help!”

“Do you see a badge on me? Go to the police station.” He chuckles as he says it. He usually tells people not to go to the police station. “I can’t help you.”

“I can pay you.” The kid goes into his pockets and brandishes two fistfuls of coins, and Kisaki takes a good look around the dark, empty streets, trying to catch a glimpse of Hanma because this has to be one of his stupid ideas of a joke. “I need your help, Sir, please. My dad—”

“If a man can’t help himself he’s better off dead.”

“—keeps hurting my mom.”

The coins rattle due to the trembling of the kid’s hands. “What’s your name?”

“Ren.”

“How exactly do you think I could help you and your mother, Ren?”

“Kill him.” Ren looks him in the eyes as he says it, and Kisaki hums. Kids are stupidly brave, he thinks. No older than ten and he goes to elicit the help of a random man that he doesn’t even know—

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. I…” Ren looks around, unsure, before he’s squaring his shoulders and meeting his gaze again. “I’ve been stalking you! And I saw you kill people with that really tall man so I know that you do it!”

“You didn’t see me do anything like that so don’t ever say that again. Do you understand?” Kisaki should probably toss the kid over a bridge or something - kids had big mouths, and he didn’t need to be brought down by some hobo child who blabbed his mouth to the cops - but he had always had a soft spot for children.

“Yes, Sir.” Ren’s speech was starting to get hard to decipher, his trembling reaching an all time high as his lips turned blue, and Kisaki sighed as he slipped his arms out of his coat, leaving him in a white button down and suspenders.

“Put this on before you freeze.”

Ren pointedly looks down to the coins in his hands, and Kisaki juts his chin to the side, signaling for him to just toss it down onto the street.

“B-But I saved this for two months for you!”

“Just throw it.”

“But it’s money!”

It’s mostly yen coins mixed in with a few 10 yens, and Kisaki sets his mouth to tell him it’s nearly worthless, nothing worth holding onto, and that he could just barely afford a few lollipops, much less an assassination, but he just sighs out through his nose and lets the kid dump the coins into his hand. He pockets it, trying to remember the last time he’s had loose change in his possession, and hands off the coat to Ren who quickly puts it on. It drapes him like a blanket, the arms too long and the hem of the coat dragging along the ground, and Kisaki sighs again.

“Get in the car so we can get this over with.”

-

“This is your place?”

“It’s a shithole.”

“It is.” Kisaki agrees as he cuts the engine, eyes taking in the dilapidated apartment building. He’s seen many like it, but this one might just be the worst. A small section of the building looks to be burned, as if a fire started in a unit and took out a few apartments and no one ever bothered to repair it.

There’s loiterers lingering all around; teens looking to get into trouble, or maybe looking to stay out of whatever trouble is in their homes, junkies scratching at themselves as they pace back and forth, and hookers in dark corners with their johns.

“That’s what my mom calls it.” Ren continues. “She says we’re gonna move one day. She’s been working a lot to save up money.”

“Where does she work?”

“She won’t tell me.”

“Stalk her like you did me.”

“But that’s bad.”

“So you can do bad things to me and not her?”

“Well,” he shrugs. “You’re bad.”

“I guess I am.”

Kisaki opens the middle console and bypasses the gun stashed inside, inside pulling free the pair of brass knuckles and slipping them into his back pocket. “Does your father have a gun?”

“No, they’re illegal. The officer at my school says so.” Ren peers into the console and goes wide-eyed at the sight he sees.

“How big is he?”

“Really big—bigger than you.”

“Where does he work?”

“The… um, the lumber yard.”

The aluminum bat that he keeps under his seat is pulled free, and then he’s signaling for Ren to get out of the car as he steps out into the cold himself. They join at the front of the car, and like bees to honey, a few women who look as if they’re standing on their last leg make their way over to him, dollar signs reflecting in their irises as they take in the sports car he’s just gotten out of.

“Which apartment is yours?”

“It’s this way.” Ren sets off in the direction in which he pointed to, and Kisaki holds up a gloved hand to the women steadily approaching, stopping them in their tracks as they huff and send him scathing looks.

They’re heading in the direction of the apartments that had been burned down, and Kisaki considers offing the father and the mother and just dropping the boy off at one of the orphanages that actually give a shit about the kids in their care. Killing the dad would stop the mom from getting her head knocked left and right, but it wouldn’t fix their problems. Few people had what it took to pull themselves out of a hole like this one, and the woman was clearly lacking a few vital things up top to have ended up in this predicament in the first place.

“Goddamn fucking bitch. Where is it?!” The near snarl brings Kisaki out of his thoughts, and he reacts in time to snag ahold of Ren’s shoulder when he tried to dash for the apartment. A heavy smack sounds seconds later, followed by the sound of furniture and glass breaking, and another sigh, this one heavier, leaves him as he leans the bat against the wall and starts rolling up his sleeves.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” He mutters to himself, crisp sleeves rolling back to reveal toned, bronze arms. The muscles in them flex as lithe fingers wrap around the handle of the bat, and he rolls his shoulders once before taking a step back, raising his foot, and slamming it right below the lock.

It’s been a while since he’s done a house call, but he adjusts quickly. He rushes in —best to catch ‘em before the shock of the door bursting in wears off— and lays eyes on two people, a man and a woman. He aims low and hits a knee, and there’s a crunch that makes his eyebrow twitch and a scream that brings forth a wave of amusement.

The man stumbles, face screwed up in pain and spit and curses flying. He’s built like a brick house, and the physique reminds him of a certain taxing restaurant owner, so he swings the bat again, this time cracking a few ribs and sending the man sprawling down to the floor.

A floorboard creaks behind him, and reflexes kick in as he swings before he looks. A soft gasp and a shout of ‘Sir’ makes him stop just in time, and he turns to see he was about 3 centimeters away from caving the woman’s face—oh.

Even with the budding bruises, the haggard clothing, and the teary, snotty face, Kisaki has to blink twice and bite down on his tongue to make sure he hasn’t died and somehow snuck his way into Heaven—disgustingly cheesy, he’s aware, but he’s a romantic, you know, and the sight of you is enough to ignite something inside him that had been extinguished for quite some time.

He takes in a slow breath, and the tepid, stale air of this should-be-condemned apartment feels like a breath of fresh air, and he knows what this feeling is. He had felt it once, back when he was young and full of a puppy love for a woman that could just barely stand the sight of him.

He should leave, go back to his office and send a cleanup crew to get rid of all the loose ends. He had thought he wanted another woman to send him up in a tailspin, but there were too many variables, too many things that he couldn’t control, too many things that he couldn’t predict, and he was starting to run out of people to kamikaze box trucks for him when relationships went awry.

“Mom!” Ren runs to you, and you wrap him up in your arms, eyes warily watching Kisaki as you try and gauge his intentions.

“I-I don’t have what he owes you.” Ah.

“He doesn’t owe me a thing.” He forcefully drags his eyes away from you to instead look at the writhing man on the floor. Kisaki lifts his foot and settles it on his midsection, grinding the heel of his shoe against the protruding bones. “But I’m sure he owes someone, so I’ll settle the debt for them.” He looks back to you, and a clammy hand tightens around the handle of the bat. “Unless you have any objections...”

Your eyes flicker down to your child’s father, eyebrows scrunching together as you hold Ren tighter, and Kisaki pleads in his head for you to give him an answer that’ll snuff that flame you lit right out.

Ask me to spare him. Tell me how he’s not a bad man, even though he beats you black and blue and forces your son to seek the help of random men in the middle of the night. Cry that you love him. Make me hate you—

“Just... just don’t do it here, please. I don’t want him to see.”

“Of course.”

Ah, hell.

Kisaki guesses this is as organic as it’s going to get.

[honeypawsart]

"BUTTERFINGERS" AU, EARTH-0164

"Hi, my name is Dr. Johnny B. Ohnn. No, not the Ohnn you're thinking of. I'm from an alternate dimension (EARTH-0164). If Johnathon Ohnn didn’t become The Spot because of the supercollider explosion, but rather just accidentally dropped the dark matter capsule. Causing a slow spread of dark matter to corrupt his body over time. That's me."

Dr. Johnny B. Ohnn is an ex-Alchemax lead scientist who designed and began the creation of the Supercollider. On the day of the funding ceremony for his project, he accidentally dropped a canister of dark matter he extracted from a mini-collider test model, which he was to use as a demonstration for the presentation. The dark matter painfully spread to several portions of his body. However, instead of support after his accident, he was ridiculed by his respected friends and coworkers for being so clumsy and unprofessional. "Butterfingers" was a common yet silly thrown at him afterward. Johnny quit his job out of frustration, turning on the Alchemax company to make them pay for his deformities... using them to his advantage.

Johnny is generally very grumpy. This is due to his dark matter deformities being very uncomfortable. It feels like burning, itching, and chronically painful to deal with daily. The black spots feel void of sensation however, it's the white areas that hurt him the most. He uses cold water showers and drinks to help soothe the pain. The dark matter corruption on his body feels like jello, memory foam, or oobleck to the touch; it's solid at first but things can sink into the nothingness void.

The corruption is relatively slow, and by the time he's 41 years old, he's 80% corrupted. At this point in time, although he's still clumsy as ever, he's more confident in his ability to use his powers to his advantage. He adopts the nickname "Milky Way" then (based on another popular chocolate bar candy).

Johnny also has a pet shrimp named Shrimptin Beck. Later on in his isolation, he builds a functional Mysterio robot suit for Shrimptin to move around and help with his crimes. They sort of have a "Megamind & Minion" relationship haha

Johnny B. Ohnn is not a huge fan of his dimension's rendition of Spiderman. Her name is Lucky Charm, and is the exact polar opposite of Butterfingers. But you know what they say about "opposites attract" ;)

Earth-0164 Spider-Man, aka Lucky Charm! Works at the Trophy Bugle casino part-time! The rest of her time is spent saving their city using their very luck-driven superpowers! On their off days, Gwen Amber (lol yes that is my actual first and middle name, cringe is free) works as a regular employee at the Trophy Bugle Casino, owned and run by J. Jameson who HATES Lucky Charm for potentially ruining his business. Butterfingers ended up hitting up a casino after his accident- he always loses and gets frustrated with the hosts and that’s how he and Lucky Charm meet the first time, but she INSISTS on trying to make him better outside of work so they sort of get close as they teach him ya know?? Meanwhile, he doesn’t even realize that out of all the hosts at the casino, the one he happens to bump into is the hero he should hate for being against his motivations.

✮ ✮ ✮ That's all I have for now in the Earth-0164 canon!! I hope you guys enjoy this sort of long, info-dumpy post! He also has an official Spotify Playlist! Fan art is 100% welcome of Butterfingers. I also don't mind if you draw yourself/oc with him. Just please realize some boundaries with him. I will not tolerate any sort of "proship" art of him with any underage characters, since he is an old man (36-41 years old). He's very special to me, so please be respectful about that!

He's also my OC, so please tag me in any posts of him as well! He has a tag on all socials as #butterfingersohnn as well! All fan art is uploaded to his toyhou.se page.

That's the end!! Thanks for reading :D