#i drew them all in a day this sketchbook will not last long

[snowiwyvern]

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, an you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing, until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smiled was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[zylophie]

🔮 .巫术 — pleasant surprise | featuring: robin

🪄 ★ ₊˚𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎꒱ ₊˚⊹ Robin has always been looking into the crowd eagerly for [y/n]. However, due to their busy schedule, Robin could never find them in the crowd. Only to find a pleasant surprise one day..

🦋★ ₊˚𝘾𝙒꒱ ₊˚⊹ a little suggestive(?) 🔮 ★ ₊˚𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙍𝙀꒱ ₊˚⊹ fluff 💫 ★ ₊˚𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀꒱ ₊˚⊹ I love robin so much, I was in literal tears(of joy) when I found out Chevy was her singer. I have been such a fan of Chevy for a long time skbdksndkdjd. Also, I can't believe I'm willingly writing fluff on my own record.. 💌 ★ ₊˚𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉꒱ ₊˚⊹ If you'd like to request click 'here!' and read the rules~ 🐈‍⬛ ★ ₊˚𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙆꒱ ₊˚⊹ hsr masterlist 🧹 ★ ₊˚𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂꒱ ₊˚⊹ pleasant surprise | featuring: robin

★ Whenever Robin was doing her shows, she would always desperately try to look for [y/n] in the crowd.

★ However, every single time Robins' eyes were darting eagerly around the crowd.. [y/n] was never there.

★ Robin slowly stopped trying to find [y/n] in the crowd eventually, but there's still a part of her that wishes that [y/n] would be there during one of her shows

★ Until one day.. She came across something which immediately brightens her mood for her upcoming performance..

'I didn't see [y/n] in the crowd again.. It's been a long time since they've been to my shows.'

Robin sighs as she dabs more makeup removal onto her cotton pads, before bringing it up to her face. She was feeling exhausted from performing for so long, as well as getting interviewed by her fans.

She remembered how she would always ask [y/n] if they are able to come to her shows, but was always left with a vague answer.

After she was done with removing most of her makeup. She tied her hair into a low lose bun, intending to take a bath afterwards. When suddenly..

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Robin's wings perked up. Knowing who it is outside, Robin couldn't contain her smile. Already feeling more energized than before, she went to go and get the door for whoever was behind it.

"Robin~! I'm back, how was your performanc-"

Usually [y/n] would often visit Robin a few hours after her show is done, so that they could spend a bit of time together. Expecting Robin to still be in her performance outfit still, however, when [y/n] opened their eyes. They saw Robin with a completely new hairstyle. It was also the first time they saw Robin look so disheveled, not only that, [y/n] didn't expected to be greeted with Robin in her lingerie too! [Y/n] immediately closed their eyes and faced to the ground.

"A-ah, Robin! I bought y-your favourite f-food! P-please e-enjoy it!"

Before Robin could even reply, [y/n]'s figure could be seen getting smaller and smaller, as they ran through the hallway after leaving their things behind.

'Ah.. Did they not like what they see? I guess I did look pretty untidy..'

Robin sighed, before shaking her head. Before shutting the door to take a shower, she'll talk to reader later.

THUD!

"Huh? What was that sound?"

As Robin turned around, she saw a notebook had fallen from her desk in her room. Robin moved towards the item to pick it up.

'Strange.. I don't remember this in my room..'

Robin flipped to the first page to see a familiar handwriting of the name who the book belongs to. "[Y/n]'s personal sketchbook".

'Ah, so it is [y/n]'s! I'm a little bit curious of their work since the last time I saw their art it was a few months ago.. Maybe I'll just take a peek, surely they won't mind, right?'

She flipped to the next page. Robin's eyes widened when she saw a fully colored illustration of herself in her performance outfit today! Many thoughts went through her mind.

'Wow, [y/n]'s artworks are always so spectacular!'

'I'm really happy they drew me'

'Wait.. How did they see me in this outfit? It's my first time wearing it and all the details are drawn correctly.. Today's live hasn't been published publicly yet too..'

Robin continued to flip through the notebook, only to find drawings of her only in all of her past performance outfits, until a few pair of words on the back of her today's performance caught her eye.

'Dear diary..'

Oops! Robin realised she may have accidentally stumbled into the wrong area, however, her curiosity was peaked and wanted to continue reading to see if she can get answers from how [y/n] was able to get her outfits drawn to a tee.

'Robin's outfit today was really pretty. It was sparkling, but not as bright as she was! I wish I could talk to her after her performance asap, but whenever Robin is in a new outfit in general. I'll just be a blushing AND stuttering mess! I won't be able to talk to her properly.. I'm so glad I got a seat at the very back! Since the performance was 2 hours, I got plenty of time to ready myself before I see her. Gotta finish this drawing fast!'

Robin's wings flutter in joy. One, because she was glad that [y/n] does come to her shows. Secondly, she realised the reason why they looked towards the ground earlier, she giggled before playing the book down with an uncontrollable smile.

"I'll return it to them later~"

© zylophie 2024. do not steal, copy, repost, edit, translate or use my works.

[angelbaby-fics]

i just saw requests are open so sorry if it’s too late to ask!!!

could i request something along the lines of Daddy!Stucky with a little who loves coloring/drawing/crafts and Steve usually does them with the reader cause he’s artsy but he’s not home so she asks Bucky to do it with her, but he’s not artsy so he’s hesitant but he obviously still does it cause that’s his baby. And it turns out he’s really good at it and has tons of fun

(sorry i just kinda word dumped i hope that made sense)

🩰

Masterpiece

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Okay, first of all can we just appreciate this gif??? he looks so pretty & squishy & i just wanna kiss him all over hehehe 💕 anyways i really really love this idea!!! and i had a lot of fun writing it! :D so i hope you have a good time reading it 💕

When it came to artistry, your daddy was your idol. Steve had been drawing since he was very young, very long ago, and so he was rather good at it. You loved to color alongside him, each drawing the same subject and comparing your masterpieces when you were finished. You were so mesmerized by the way he intuitively connected one line with another, visualizing the whole picture in his head as he brought it to life on the paper. Steve always told you that yours was better, and even though you knew he had to say that because he was your daddy, the compliment still made you beam. 

You’d recently gotten a brand new sketchbook, and you were hopping with excitement to fill it up with art. When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did as you tumbled out of bed was grab your bucket of markers in one hand, sketchbook in the other as you sprinted out to the living room. You scanned the room for Steve, drinking his morning coffee on the couch like he usually was. But he wasn’t there today. Instead, Bucky was on the couch, and he looked up from his book as you burst into the room.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” he said with a loving smile. “Where dada?” You asked, your artistic tunnel vision making you ignore your Baba completely. “Well hello to you too,” Bucky said with a cheeky grin. “Daddy’s gotta work today, so you’re stuck with me, muffin!”

“Oh, okay.” You said, putting down your art supplies and joining Bucky on the couch. You tried to hide your disappointment - you loved spending time with Bucky after all - but you’d been so looking forward to drawing with Steve that day. “What’s wrong, doll, don’t you like me?” Bucky joked.

“Of course! But… wanted to draw.” You replied, whispering the last part. It was no secret that Steve was the one you always drew with, and Bucky played the role of a high end art dealer or a museum curator when you were ready to display your work. You’d never drawn with him, and you weren’t opposed to it, but it just wasn’t something you were used to. “Well I could try to draw with you if you’ll let me, sugar.” Bucky suggested, hoping to still salvage your perfect day. 

“Really?” You asked.

“Sure! In fact, why don’t you teach me how, since you’re the one who’s good at all this art stuff.”

That about changed everything. You were more than eager to teach your Baba a new skill, feeling quite proud of yourself being the highest authority on art in the family now that Steve was away. You tore a page out of your sketchbook and placed it on the coffee table in front of Bucky. Then, grinning mischievously, you dumped your bucket of markers out onto the table. Bucky’s eyes widened at the mess, knowing it would more than likely be him cleaning it up when you were finished, but this was simply part of your artistic process.

“It's good to have all the colors in front of you so you know which one to use next!” You explained.

Bucky didn’t see why you couldn’t have all the markers in front of you in the bucket, but he decided it was best not to argue with an expert. You picked up your first color, dark green, and motioned for your Baba to do the same. You’d easily decided on a simple topic for his first picture, something simple. A scene in the park. It had all the components of a classic coloring picture: trees, grass, birds, butterflies, and anything else your heart desired. 

Once you explained the concept to Bucky, the two of you got to work. Your face down, you were laser focussed on your own artwork. You never once popped your little head up to check on Bucky’s progress. The same couldn’t be said for him, however. Your Baba glanced over every few minutes, smiling to himself at your concentrated face, tongue poking slightly out of your lips as you determinedly colored in each blade of grass and tree leaf. If only he could get you to focus this hard on cleaning your room. Only when you’d finally completed your work did you break your concentration, setting down your final marker with a flourish as you looked up expectantly at Bucky, waiting for the praises to start.

But something caught your eye.

Bucky’s sheet of paper, sitting just in front of him on the table, was an explosion of colors. Abstract shapes swirled into the familiar forms of trees and flowers, but only when you squinted. The sky was purple, the grass was red, the trees burst with fiery orange leaves. Your brow furrowed; this art was gorgeous, but it made no sense. 

“You drawed that?” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah, you like it, babydoll?” Bucky asked proudly.

“It's so pretty and crazy!” You said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Bucky chuckled. “Is that a good thing?”

You nodded eagerly, not wanting him to think you were insulting his talent. 

“How did you even think of that, Baba?” You asked, shocked at his unconventional approach. It had never occurred to you to portray things in a way other than what you considered normal. Bucky had opened a whole new world for you. 

“I don’t really know, it just came to me.” He replied modestly. “Do you wanna try?”

Bucky offered up a clean sheet of paper to you.

When Steve came home a few hours later, he wasn’t greeted at the door as usual with a kiss from Bucky and you jumping into his arms. Normally your absence would make his heart race, but it only took him a minute to turn the corner and see the two of you, his husband and his precious baby, working hard together over a piece of paper. A rainbow rendition of Steve’s famous shield, the star in the center made up of tiny swirls and dots. He already knew he’d treasure this masterpiece forever.

[kaeyas-beloved]

four sides and a bottom

Character: Kaveh

— a box full of your things, that’s it, that’s all

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, aftermath of a breakup

val’s no sympathy november masterlist

gonna apologize for dipping for so long but i'm also warning you that it could very much happen again <3 also i'm a little rusty with writing pls be nice to me :(

Kaveh wishes your relationship could’ve ended on good terms. He wouldn’t be able to kiss you or cuddle up to you with a glass of wine after a tough day, but at least you would still be his life. That and that alone would be good enough for him.

On rougher days, the words you spoke echo in his head, disrupting him as he goes about his day. When his mind isn’t occupied it’ll wander to the last day he was able to call you his, making even simple tasks like working or making a cup of coffee painful. A pang in his heart followed by an uncomfortable weight on his chest, throat blocked, barely able to breathe.

“We’re done Kaveh. No more, I can’t keep doing this!” The architect squeezes his eyes shut, willing away the repeat of the past. Without thinking, he takes his almost forgotten glass and downs a greedy gulp of the dark red liquid, the sweet yet bitter drink coating his throat and stomach, making his head spin and his heart beat just the way he likes it - stuttering and skipping as if to stop and bypass the thoughts he’d rather forget.

As much as the deadline loomed over him, Kaveh couldn’t, for the life of him, work on his latest project. Instead, his eyes kept trailing to the box pushed against his closet, the contents overflowing and peeking out for the world to see. By the fourth glance he groans and stands up, chair dragging along the wood floor and nearly toppling over from the force.

Some days he doesn’t know why he keeps this box of reminders around, other times he knows exactly why. People will cling to the last things they own when it affects them so greatly in life. You, by far, were one of the greatest effects on him.

There’s a clink and a thud as Kaveh sets the box of your things on the table, and it’s almost sad how he’s able to identify exactly what made each noise. He’s only memorized everything in it a dozen and a half times after all. A pocket watch, a picture frame, a scarf, a sketchbook, a ring. Meaningless things on their own or to the outside eye, but to you and Kaveh, they meant the world.

Clear as water he could remember when he gifted each of these to you, save the frame and picture. That was your own doing, something you had set on your desk because you liked looking at how happy you both were that day (or so you said - he thinks it's just because you liked looking at him specifically).

He’d given you the scarf to stay warm one night, the watch because you said it had a pretty design (you scolded him a little after finding out he almost spent all his mora on it for you as a gift. You were still touched nonetheless though). The sketchbook was given after you let slip that sometimes you liked to doodle. You always said you didn’t feel as talented as he was, but he’d always shoot back and say that as long as you appreciated the art of it all, the process, and you drew with a smile, then anything you drew was perfect (you were perfect).

The ring was a promise, one that he hadn’t intended to break. This gift you were too speechless to get on his case about financially because the words of love, dedication and loyalty that he added along meant the world to you. The promise to love you forever, to always take into consideration your feelings, and to one day make you his.

In some poetic, way maybe each item was an accumulation of things he was willing to give, when the reality was that you only needed him. Thinking on it now, it hurts more knowing that his absence was what caused your split in paths. Then again…

“Everything hurts when I’m not with you… I miss you.”

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon // @bisexuawolfsalt

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere // @kaeyastittysucker

[propertyofwhitney67]

if the prompts are still open, can i ask for a lazy day with a GN!reader and a M!Kylar, please ? no smut, just hanging out, maybe drawing or reading together ? <3

Sketching

M!Kylar x Gn!Reader

Prompt Event: Lazy day

Words: 505

Tw: none

Note: I'm so sorry this is so short, I had such a hard time writing this

I sat on Kylar’s bed, propped up by pillows, while Kylar sat at his desk chair. We both drew in silence, not needing to say anything to one another. It was a nice break from the hellish world outside.

I’d look up occasionally, staring out the skylight above his bed, to get the constellations I was drawing right. His room always gave an amazing view of them, much better than the orphanage. Kylar taught me the names of them, but I couldn’t remember them all. The only ones I could remember were Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.

Taking a small break, I decided to watch Kylar who would occasionally look up and blush when he noticed me watching him. He looked so cute with his tongue poking out from how focused he was, no doubt drawing me in some sort of lewd pose. The majority of his drawings of me were like that, but I didn’t mind all that much. As long as no one found them, I was fine with it. “What are you drawing?” I asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

“W-What?” He jumped in his chair, startled by my sudden question. “No,” He shook his head, ”Not till we’re both done.” He held his sketchbook close, not wanting me to see.

I chuckled at his response, “Ok, ok.” I got back to my drawing, which was close to being done. This was turning out to be one of my better drawings, nothing like Kylar’s but still pretty good.

Kylar easily finished before me, he’s always been a quick drawer. He fidgeted in his chair, excitedly waiting to show me his masterpiece. “Are you done yet, my love?” I nodded, finishing up the last details and turning my sketchbook around, showing him my finished drawing. Kylar gasped and quickly climbed up the bed and took the drawing in his hands, forgetting about his own. “This is amazing!” He loved everything I made, no matter what it looked like.

The drawing wasn’t anything crazy, just the two of us lying in bed. Kylar staring at me and me staring up at the skylight. The constellations in the night sky could be seen above us. Kylar started at me like I was worth more than the stars. “You think so?”

He nodded excitedly, crinkling the edges of the paper from his grip. “Yes!”

I put a hand on his arm and joked, “Don’t rip it.” He loosened his grip, “Can I see yours now?”

Kylar quickly jumped up, grabbing his sketchbook from where he left it on his chain. “Y-Yeah!” He handed me his drawing with an anxious smile on his face.

It was a drawing of me, surprisingly I wasn’t in a lewd pose and I was clothed. Much different from what he usually draws. I was in pajamas and looking lovingly at the viewer. “Kylar…”

“Is it bad?” He asked anxiously, afraid I didn’t like his drawing.

I shook my head, “No.” I lightly rubbed my thumb over the drawing. “I love it.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[beanibon]

Mermaid!Wolfwood x Reader Headcanons

The final part of my little mermaid au, I might do little oneshots of cute antics of all the boys but this is my last headcanon one.

Readers family owns a private holiday cabin with a Saltwater lake at the back, Wolfwoods lil family is a small group of bull sharks common in Lake as they wander from the ocean regularly.

TW: interspecies sex, creampie, overstimulation, marking and general biting (this man is feral you can't tell me otherwise), slight drowning warming on this one too, hinted thalassophobia (reader often avoids the lake due to this), slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), belly bulging, breeding kink.

Your family owned a small holiday cabin, often using it for big family reunions or trips during holidays. It came with a seemingly endless Saltwater lake, that every member of your family bar you used to its fullest.

Mer!Wolfwood had lived in the lake for as long as he could remember, preferring the company of his family of Bull Sharks. They were quiet, people didn't go near them, and there was always plenty of food to go around.

Mer!Wolfwood who relished in the solitude the lake offered, minding his business and simply doing his own thing. Spending most of his days sleeping, hunting or getting annoyed by the young Mer!Livio who silently does his own thing besides him. In which Mer!Wolfwood doesn't mind.

Mer!Wolfwood who really, really doesn't like when your family stays at the cabin, the fish scatter, his peace is disturbed by the human children screaming on the bank, the disgusting smell of cooked human food wafting over the waters surface.

Mer!Wolfwood especially despised when your family was in the water, he could hear and sense every disturbance big or small and it pissed him off to the point he grinded his fangs on the rock he slept on.

Mer!Wolfwood who glared at your family from afar, a low, rumbling growl escaping him at each discarded alcohol bottle, food packages, and other various litter at the waters edge. He had half the mind to ditch it back at them.

Mer!Wolfwood tensing at the sight of you, only to relax a little as you cleaned your family's mess, lecturing your younger siblings and cousins on littering.

Mer!Wolfwood favouring watching you instead of glaring at your family, noticing your favourite spot was the wooden dock. Where'd you spend your time painting, reading or simply relaxing. But you never entered the water.

Mer!Wolfwood would hear your family teasing you about this, frowning as you just awkwardly shrugged, shuffling away from the mocking your aunty would spit your way.

Mer!Wolfwood often basked on the shoreline far away from your holidaying family, that's where you found him, eyes peacefully closed as you held your phone dumbfounded at the sight of him. You had quietly approached, kneeling down and tentatively reaching down to touch the strange creature.

Mer!Wolfwood abruptly waking, letting out an aggressive screech, fangs bared as he pushed you away retreating back into the water.

Mer!Wolfwood glaring at you from the water, his growls vibrating the surface at the low octave. Only you didn't leave, instead you sat where you were and slowly brought out your sketchbook, eyes never leaving his.

Mer!Wolfwood raised a brow, creeping closer until he was towering over you, water dripping from his glistening skin as he stared at the sketchbook in your hands. You nervously showed him the picture you drew of him, watching as he let out a deep hum, squinting at it.

Mer!Wolfwood tensing as you reached a hand out to him, feeling your hands gently brush his still dripping hair from his face. The sensation of your touch made his muscles relax, yet he still retreated back to the water disappearing.

Mer!Wolfwood who hissed at a loud splash, chasing away his food, only to see your form struggling in the middle of the lake, eyes darting frantically at the deep water and endless pit at the lakes centre.

Mer!Wolfwood panicked as he swam for you, grabbing your body as you fought against his hold, eyes wide upon realisation that it was him. Hands squeezing his shoulders as he brought you to the dock, lifting you onto the wooden surface.

Mer!Wolfwood trailing a hand over you body as you gasped for air, curling yourself into a tight ball as your body shook along with your cries.

Mer!Wolfwood who blinked in confusion, looking around for your family only to realise they were all still on a boat at the centre of the Lake. Gaining enough confidence to hoist himself up and curl around you.

Mer!Wolfwood who hummed a deep tune, arms wrapped around you as he stroked your damp hair. Eventually resting his chin on your head, eyes glaring out at the boat and your family who hollered loudly on board.

Mer!Wolfwood untangling himself from you to slide back into the water, feeling your soft hands reach out to feel his tail, stopping him in his tracks. Dark eyes fixated on you as you jumped at the attention, but still shuffled forward feet dangling into the water.

Mer!Wolfwood growling as he dove back in, surfacing to pull you in with him. You screamed in response legs instinctively wrapping around him as you desperately clung to him, nails dug deep in his skin.

Mer!Wolfwood who moved your legs till they dangled from his shoulder, teeth nipping at your inner thighs as his hands squeezed your ass. Slowly pulling down the swimsuit clinging wetly to your body.

Mer!Wolfwood feeling you hoist your upper body back onto the dock, yet making no move to pull yourself up and away from him, squeezing his head gently to encourage him on. Submerging a hand to mess with his hair as if to encourage him.

Mer!Wolfwood huffing out as he began hungrily eating you out, sucking, lapping and nibbling at your pussy. Hands pulling your thighs to get closer, wishing he could hear the noises he was certain you making above the waters surface.

Mer!Wolfwood never slowing for a second, despite the boat pulling back up to the dock or the way you tried to yank him away with your hand. Instead slapping you away as he dove back in, this time more ruthlessly than before.

Mer!Wolfwood smirking as he knew how hard you were trying to not give away the fact you were being eaten out by some strange creature just below the water, reassuring them you were just getting use to the water as they walked away, hand clasping over your mouth as Mer!Wolfwood pressed a thumb roughly on your neglected clit.

Mer!Wolfwood cackling as you came on his face, him eagerly lapping up every morsel of your arousal.

Mer!Wolfwood surfacing to look at your blushing face, panting lewdly as you hid your face in your arms, weakly shooing him away as he dragged his tongue up your abdomen.

Mer!Wolfwood startling at the sound of children, feeling you shove him under the water as you tiredly greeted them with a bright smile. Ruffling their hair and indulging their conversations.

Mer!Wolfwood pouted as he watched you return you swimsuit bottoms and get out of the water, your cousins leading you away in favour of food being served in the kitchen.

Mer!Wolfwood risen from his sleep by vibrations in the water rousing him as he lazily swam to find the source, surprised to see you sitting on the beach in a silk robe as quietly tapped at the water.

Mer!Wolfwood crawling up the bank to you, watching as you swallow, face red in the moons light as you shrugged off the robe, your body bare beneath the fabric.

Mer!Wolfwood letting a satisfied deep chirp, a toothy grin stretched across his lips. He gently pulled you closer, teeth grazing your soft flesh as his arms spread your legs his cock unsheathed as he bit down on your collarbone, thrusting up into you as he did so.

Mer!Wolfwood squeezed your thighs as you cried out, eyes wide at the sudden intrusion. It was inhuman, oddly slicked wet and massive inside your equally wet cunt. You would never mention to anyone how you had already prepped yourself prior, face red with embarrassment.

Mer!Wolfwood ruthlessly ramming into you, teeth marking every inch of your body, hands finding your breasts and squeezing. He squeezed so hard you let out at pained cry, hands flying up to try and loosen his grip.

Mer!Wolfwood flipping you onto your stomach crushing you with his weight, thrusts as rough as ever, his teeth began marking your back, a hand pulling your hair back watching your face contorted between pain and pleasure.

Mer!Wolfwood growling as your moans reached his very core, causing the pace to pick up even more. The sound of you two echoing along with beach with the waves lapping at you two.

Mer!Wolfwood who didn't stop even as he came inside you, flipping you back over and pounding into you, the waves washing away the sand sticking to your stomach.

Mer!Wolfwood mesmerised by the way your breasts bounced at each thrust, taking one in his mouth and licking at the perked nipple as he came in you again. Yet he still relented, pounding into you all the while you pleaded him to stop or the very least slow down.

Mer!Wolfwood only tired when the first light of the sun touched the waters surface, stuffing you full one last time. Eyes admiring your fucked out face, shivering body, and the way his cum oozed from your leaking cunt.

Mer!Wolfwood trembled in glee, resting his prickly chin on your stomach, raised slightly from all the loads he stuffed you full of throughout your sinfilled night.

Mer!Wolfwood pulling you into the water, cleaning you up as your fingers brushed his hair. Leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips, scratching his jawline as he purred in response.

Mer!Wolfwood who no longer dreaded your family holidays, happily awaiting your return so he could indulge you with his desires and love. Happy to feel your soft hands claw lines into his back as he bred you dry.

A/N: all done! Hope you guys enjoyed this little AU, I went overboard with Wolfwood I just adore him too much.

[cup-o-stars]

How long have you been creating art? I LOVE your style, and you inspire me to keep creating!!

Thank you very much! So sorry to ramble at you, but I like talking about myself because it's a topic I'm actually informed about:

Technically I've been creating stuff since preschool. I drew with my siblings as kids (our dad was an artist), but just dinky little characters I could cut out like toys, ha. Similarly, in school people knew I could draw, but I only made gross or weird things that made my friends laugh. (I probably have some cringe, child art somewhere, but I wouldn't know where to look.)

I think that means I properly "started" in middle school. All my friends went someplace else, so I doodled to pass the time alone. Mostly- again- just things that made me laugh, but also more actual OCs and concepts. One day a teacher saw some of my joke-ish notes in class, looked through my sketchbook, and gave me a job making posters during lunch. (I could put anything I wanted on them so long as it wasn't sex/gore/drugs. That said, I dialed back on my ugly, violent monsters, which the teachers did not like me drawing.)

Over the years I came up with a lot of story ideas, and the more ideas I had, the better I wanted to get at drawing. Despite that, I never committed to practicing until a pal of mine showed off a piece of realism, and another friend showed his own character designs. My competitive side and jealousy kicked in, so to finally and completely answer your question, I think I got more serious about art in highschool, lol.

These are some OC's from freshman/junior year:

And here's some art of them from this year and last-ish (or the year before) for comparison:

Improvement has been slow because my foundation-lacking process has always been slow, and I'll probably keep unlearning my haphazard way of drawing for years to come. But the more I learn the basics, the quicker I get, and the more fun I can have!

I'm very glad people enjoy my One Piece stuff because I myself love One Piece, but I'm VERY happy that people are inspired by me to keep creating at all!

[dangus-doo]

I draw a pen doodle every day until I forget

Day 365: Rodimus Prime (& Winston) (Mtmte)

Today marks a year. 3 hundred and sixty-five days of me drawing little pen scribbles in my sketchbook. I had no idea that I had the ability to focus on anything for that long.

Doing these has been so much fun! It was so nice to be able to draw a whole bunch of my favorite characters and get them out in the world for people to see! But at the same time, I don’t really know how much my art has branched out since I started last year.

A lot of the time, these dailies would be the only drawings I would make during the day. It was good consistency, but I don’t think I will grow much as an artist if I keep just doing these every day. I want to do art professionally someday, so I need to grow my art and storytelling significantly. So I think this is going to be the last one of these specific challenge drawings I do.

This doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop posting on Tumblr! I’ve grown to like this place too much. It just might be less often, and hopefully more fully formed artwork. (And it might not be a ballpoint or felt pen.)

For my final drawing of this challenge then, I thought it would be nice to mirror the first drawing I did of this challenge (Hot Rod) with his more mature? Wiser? Older form, Rodimus Prime (and his IDW design is my favorite to draw.)

I also drew my Dog Winston. Because he’s cute. And he’s got a little bow tie!

Thank you all for checking out my art! Whether you saw all 365, or you found one or two. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!

[hrts4wonu]

minghaos who takes his time when drawing any portrait of you, making sure to get every detail of your beauty

a/n: oh my god jasmine??? i just started reading your fanfics last night and let me tell you, i was so damn obsessed; i'm not sure if this is a hard thought or anything but i did try to make it smut (with a little bit of fluff and comfort)

wc: 1.7k

-

today was like any other day. well, not technically. today was your boyfriend's project's due date. he was supposed to draw a portrait of the person that means a lot to him; though he first thought of his very own mother, he remembered the first few words you said when you met him.

(flashback)

those few sweet words that came out of your mouth like it was nothing; "i love your artstyle, maybe you should draw your future girlfriend, yeah?" you chuckle as he turned to look at you. "pardon?" he says, a little confused.

"i'm talking about me, hao." he laughs at your straightforwardness and displays a warm smile at you while he remains seated.

you laugh along comfortably, sitting next to him while staring at the canvas that was filled with colorful strokes of red, orange, yellow, blue and pink. "you assume too much, don't y'think?" he teased as he cups your cheeks, tucking your hair behind your ear. "well, you never know, do you?" both of you chuckle together before he picks up his paintbrush and finishes his artwork.

(end of flashback)

that was long ago, yet, the memory itself never fails to melt his heart. though, he couldn't deny; he has drew you before. a couple of times actually.

the problem was, all of them just seemed bad to him. he doodled and sketched your face everyday in class; thinking that everytime he drew you with a different pen or pencil, his sketches get more terrible each day. (and yet he still managed to get good grades even though he doesn't pay attention in class because he's always drawing you)

and so, he never showed you, until you found his sketchbook in his room on your 5th monthsary. he was pretty embarrassed about it, but your praises on his drawings were enough to boost his ego and confidence.

while he quietly sits down on his chair, staring into his computer, he slowly turns to look at you with a nervous smile on his face.

"darling," he starts off, standing up and approaching you on the bed. you hum in response, dropping your phone and looking back at him. "do you want to become my reference? it's for an art project."

you nod, changing your position on the bed. "what do you need me to wear? a dress, or--"

"need you nude, baby." the temptation from his voice was enough to electrify something inside of you; feeling a bit flustered from what he said. "..if you're comfortable with it, of course. i wouldn't want to make myself look like i'm into creepy things like this, yeah?" he adds. "if you really don't wanna, it's fi--"

"mm." you shook your head no. "it's fine," though it seemed aberrant to minghao (because of how much of a gentleman he is), the longing ache in you was basically killing you.

a few minutes later, you slowly got out of the bathroom with a robe on. you were nervous of him judging you, the way your body was built, your skin tone, or maybe that was just your neediness that's getting to you.

he puts on a smile and gives you a warm hug, "take it off when you're ready, hm?" minghao whispers in your ear, leaving a small kiss.

you nod, "yeah."

minghao slowly lets go and stands behind his canvas; squeezing out all the paint onto his palette. he quickly grabs his paintbrush and starts speaking up once more, "hey," he sat down on the tiny chair. "there's still time to back out if you're really not into thi--"

"minghao? is there something wrong?" you throw your robe to the side, crossing your arms which squished your tits from below a bit.

he shook his head, "no, not at all." he looks away and focuses back on his canvas.

minghao couldn't help but stare at you for a bit longer, he didn't know what to say or do at all. it's not like there is a problem- it's that you're there, with no clothes on, and you're on full display.

but besides that, you're gorgeous.

absolutely admirable and so, so, so, so, so beautiful. to him and only him. maybe even to the whole world.

countless hours pass by and minghao was finally done with his work, "baby?" he stands up and dusts his hands off.

"did you fall aslee- oh." you quietly let out muffled moans as you try fingering yourself on the sofa; if only you could see the greed and devotion in his eyes while he painted your figure, he would've dropped his paintbrushes to the floor and take care of you already.

the sweet smile on his face disappears and instead turns into a wicked yet sinister smirk.

minghao cups your cheeks. "let me help you baby, yeah?" he coos, crouching down to give you a soft kiss on the lips before falling onto his knees.

"p-please.." you beg, withdrawing your hand from your pussy but before you could wipe it on the couch, minghao grabs it and slides it in his mouth, licking your small digits that were unlike his long, veiny hands. "hao.." you whine at the sight.

"what is it, pretty girl?" he places his hands on both of your thighs, spreading them apart. "need me?"

you nod. "i've been longing, hao."

he starts kissing your inner thighs; wet lips enough to get you even wetter than you were 10 seconds ago. though your legs were now resting on his shoulder, he still had a firm grasp on them. his nails dug onto your skin, leaving temporary crescent-shaped nail marks onto them.

"so have i, darling." he replies, leaning in towards your pussy, his nose bumping with your clit.

you whine when you feel the pleasure; it's overwhelming, yes, but it feels so good that you can't even utter a single word. not even a single one, the only thing you can let out is a moan.

he licks your pussy's lips and starts eating you out, the sweet taste not leaving his tongue. "f..fuck, hao,"

"mind your language or i'm gonna leave you aching on this sofa, y/n." he threatens and you slightly look away in embarrassment when you saw his bloodthirsty eyes darken in lust. "you wouldn't want that, would you?" he leans back, away from you as the wind's cold breeze comes in contact with your skin.

you shook your head no gently, replying to his question. "well, it's not like you could ever leave me hanging like that, hao." you tease.

he scoffs; "there's always a first time for everything, sweetheart. you should know that." he stood up and quickly switches your position in missionary, pinning you down on the sofa and pressing your legs against your chest and his.

"but, hey." you look at him in confusion as he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. it was long and veiny, t'was so outstanding and beautiful. something so out of this world. "contrary to what mingyu said before," he breathes, fixing his position on top of you as he leans close enough to your ear. "most of the greatest works of art don't know how great they are not because they're unreal, instead, it's because they don't see the talent in the artist's eyes that were enough to make the painting as appealing as it already is." his hot breath against your ear makes you tremble, "you're just like an artwork, you know?" he teases.

"really?" he nods. "you think so?" your cute puppy eyes, begging and pleading for his angry, red tip was enough to send him to the edge but as punishment, he will make you wait longer.

after a few more minutes of teasing, he finally gives in and thrusts inside of you.

you moan loudly, holding onto his body, yet it seemed so unfair because you were basically naked and he still had his shirt on. "mm.." he looks at you, stopping his thrusting as he felt a little confused.

"what is it, hm?" you slowly tug at his shirt and he finally gets it. "ah, i see." he smirks and takes his shirt off.

he goes back to thrusting inside of you and you let out another moan, "m-mmh!"; he grunts as he thrusts even harder, not stopping for even a breath.

you squirm, putting your hand over your mouth to keep your mouth shut yet you can't help yourself but moan even louder. he notices this and he stops for a moment, leaving you hanging which made you ache for more (though it's not like he could pull out because your pussy was basically sucking him back in), grabbing your hand pinning them over your head as he fucks into you.

"h..hao!" you moan loudly as you felt him hitting that 'sweet spot' inside of you. "hao.." you breathe, starting to pant as your legs start trembling. "i-.. i'm so close.." you whine continuously as his hand lets go of your wrists, traveling down to your nipples.

he rubs them gently, leaning in and licking them clean. minghao does the same for the other breast making you moan and yearn for more;

"i..i'm gonna cum, please.." you beg.

"please what, baby?" he smirks, pulling his lips away from your lips and staring into your doe eyes. "tell me," he starts. "tell me what you need, i'll give you everything. every single thing just for you, my lovely, pretty girl."

you look at him with desire and thirst. "need to cum, please.."

everything was testing him; no, no, no.. that's not the right word, is it? let's try that again-- everything was arousing him. it felt like you were tormenting eachother using their own bodies. everything was so tempting to him, he couldn't help but give in; "cum for me, princess," he says with a smirk on his face. "do it, make me proud, okay?"

it wasn't that long until you reach your climax and you came on his cock. he helps you ride your orgasm until he reaches his, planting his seed inside of you.

the both of you catch your breathes together before he pulls out of you and places a warm, loving kiss on your temple; "come on, let's clean you up, hm?" despite being exhausted, you shot him a smile and he stood up, carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. "mhm.." you manage to say, still trying to catch your breath from what had just happened.

"hao, i love you." you say, with a smile on your face as you return his kiss back, instead, this time it was on his lips. "i love you too, baby."

a/n 2: sorry this took so long,, i had work and i was slightly busy.. but anyways, i'm FINALLY done! it didn't turn out how i expected it to be yet i still think it's a little better than what i usually write. besides that, i'm really, really glad to make a minghao fanfic so please ask / request for more <3

[electromignion]

Bridgewater doodles dump!! (Different characters wahoo!)

I’m sorry I’ve been away because of 🥰 university 🥰 but I have been in fact keeping on doodling Bridgewater related stuff from when I last posted to until even today! (This is an euphemism to not say I actually draw them every single day) so here’s a dump (Anne, Olivia, Vipin, Jeremy and the Legend Tripper)! (I will post my uni doodles another time these are bigger more complete doodles 🫶)

First of all here’s Anne Becker in the 1980s!! I did 1980s!Becker only once so!! Please don’t mind the fact it was quick doodles djdjjd

The one on the bottom left was how I would have pictured her working at the station, I don’t know why but I mostly picture her with long hair when she was younger and that then she cut it for a sort of pixie cut (probably after Thomas’s disappearance)

Olivia and Vipin doodles!! Wanted to try out that new sketchbook and I wanted to try something more realistic with my brush pens, and also had added more piercings to Olivia following @stillwinchester’s idea 🙏

Jeremy Bradshaw my beloved!! Wanted to draw him with something else than his usual outfit I draw him with, gotta admit, I like that one!! I think he’d defo have some shirts with that kind of motif for summer

Jeremy Bradshaw doodle, I wanted to try another outfit and face angle so yeah, drew him with eyes closed and a mothman kinda t-shirt ksksks + a Legend Tripper doodle too!! I was also trying a new outfit for her, I mean I see her as totally fashionable to be interesting to people as she has a very distinctive style, let’s just say that I LOVE designing her!!

Also, if you have any Bridgewater art idea you want me to try to picture do not hesitate!!! I will try 🫶💜

[thedragonagelesbian]

@isayashai replied to your post “I should write smthing......”:

kyr x sosiel sketching/painting fic 👁 ? cyrus x halsin cuddles? 👀

​wahhhhhhhhhhhh thank you <33333 yes much to consider.. it's not a full fic, but you inspired me to write a lil something for kyr & sosiel!!

Wrong. And wrong again. Paper crumpled, charcoal smudged, one hand heavy and aching, the other still a fist wrapped around the ghost of Graham's collar, both trembling in the wick-thin light of the guttering candle.

Another sketch. Another scowl. Tore the page from his sketchbook, tossed it aside, and tried again.

Grapes on the vine turned to strips of whipped, peeling skin.

"Sosiel..." Eyes like his own that he could not recognize no matter how many times he drew them, dredging warmth up from the recesses of his memories only for it to turn cold at the tips of his fingers. Again, again, again, he had to get it right-- "Sosiel."

Kyr's voice was sharper the second time, but it was his hands that broke Sosiel from his stupor, palms cool against the fever pitch of his cheeks. Sosiel blinked, and suddenly he was in the study again. In his body. Sore from base of his skull to his knuckles to the pit of his empty stomach, stiff even in his thoughts as he looked up at the Knight Commander.

"What is all this?"

Sosiel realized for the first time that he had destroyed half his sketchbook in one sitting, desk and floor alike littered with his failed attempts.

He shuddered.

"A foolish endeavor, nothing more."

Kyr glanced down at the last thing Sosiel had drawn: a man whose smile had become a snarl despite his every effort.

"Your brother?"

"Trever..." Sosiel couldn't say his name in anything other than a whisper, the kind of frightened prayer that came at the end of the world. "A-as best I can remember him, but I can't... I see him so clearly in my mind's eye, as the good, kind man I knew him to be, and yet every time I try to draw him, the image is distorted. As if my hand knows that it is a lie. And now when I try to think of him, it all blurs together. Everything that the Hellknight told us, all that vile cruelty taints my memories."

He spoke faster and faster, as if trying to catch up to that memory of Trever before it slipped from his fingers entirely, words and images spilling.

"If I forget him now," tears bleeding together, suddenly slow, "the only thing left will be a monster."

And Kyr. Aeon. Judge. A dhampir fit for hating other monsters. Would do his duty if they found him.

And would that not be justice?

"It will not be the only thing." There was something in Kyr's voice. A slight, hesitant quiver against his usual dry deliberation. "Remember what Halaseliax told us: as long as someone is alive, they can still change. Trever still has that. Will always have that. The possibility for redemption."

Whatever Sosiel had been expecting Kyr to say to comfort him--perhaps nothing at all, perhaps his wounds were not worth tending, made to be borne alone--it was not that.

Not after Kyr had warred with himself so bitterly just to let one cultist leave Terendelev's lair.

Sosiel looked up at him through watery eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

Surely you of all people must believe that we can all change for the better.

I have not changed.

"Yes." Kyr's thumb traced the tears along Sosiel's cheekbone. "I am trying to. Believe. In this, in second chances and salvation and choosing to be better. We will give Trever that chance when we find him."

These sketches--messy, brutal, unforgiving toward subject and artist alike--had made for poor worship of Shelyn. As, it seemed, did most of Sosiel's drawings these days, dwelling on the mutated flesh of Areelu's lab and the Ivory Sanctum. Whatever faith he still nurtured, a seedling of beauty tucked away, preserved but hidden, it flourished now. Not as any fruit or flower, something that would inevitably spoil and rot, but evergreen, pine needles all the more beautiful for the snow their boughs supported.

"Thank you..." Sosiel's voice broke with his body, unable to sit upright any longer. He crushed himself against Kyr instead, too feverish for his usual worries about impropriety. Instinctive, safe, hopeful as he nuzzled the other man's chest. Listened to that death-slow pulse beneath his shuddering. "Thank you, thank you."

It took a moment--it always did--but Kyr wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. "You're welcome."

[ninjapaste]

dude your art is so GOOD!!! Do you take any classes or have any tips to share? that resource post you reblogged the other day was helpful but i've felt so stuck in my art. I don't know if you have anything u learned that just made something click for u or anything like that?

Tysm anon!!!👍

In terms of your questions, I apologise i advance for the long answer im about to give and possibly things you already know haha:

I guess in terms of what classes i take, Ive gone from GCSE to A level Art and design (Fine art), and both courses have helped me to learn the importance of observation studies.

However, its moreso all the art i practice in my own time that has played the biggest part in my art improvement journey. I adopted art as a big hobby around 2018, and really ever since then I tend to draw/create for myself every day, however big or small it may be.

I guess my first tip would be to indulge in a 'sketchbook' or space to work in freely, it could be any form but the importance is that its personal and can be picked up whenever. I find that having a sketchbook to draw in has really helped with productivity and creating new ideas. I think you can go into a sketchbook space with any mindset and it can work wonders, like for example if you wanted to focus purely on challenging yourself, you can do that! If you just, want to doodle without thinking, go ahead! After all, its a sketchbook for you and nobody else, so go wild!

My next tip would definitely be, when you are feeling stuck in art, to take inspiration from a wide range of different things be it in real life or on the internet, a building or a really cool tree, since I find it defintiely fuels the creation of new ideas/concepts that can provide a path out of that creative rut. I guess to an extent there may always be periods where you have that 'I have no idea what to draw!' Feeling, and thats okay! Sometimes its refreshing that helps the most. But I often see that the solution to being in a rut is usually REFERENCING, wether it be trying to accurately draw the anatomy of an arm or if I just saw a cool design/pose/style on Pinterest and i drew a bunch of wacky characters from it. In fact, I find that places like Pinterest or Resplash are such good resources to hone imagination and generally most art skills by looking at and drawinf from all the cool images (and get some of that inspo!). And if im not using Pinterest, im usually using an art book as reference! (The itsv and splatoon art book helped me so so much lol)

On the topic of REFERENCING, its mega important! Depending on imagination/memory feels pretty good at times but its always beneficial to have image references in your process when you find its good to have them. I woudl always recommend having a reference when drawing poses/expressions/anatomy because the more you use them, the more you learn about how an object like a face muscle, a torso or even light behaves and looks and the easier it is to draw/depict them.

The next tip is uh YOUTUBE, or any account/person who's art inspires you in particular. I found that certain channels like Ethan Becker, Marc Brunet, Marco Bucci and more have helped me the most to gain confidence in drawing and learning how to practice it better. Of course, theres a lot to learn from a plethora of other channels too, even ones that dont specifically promote themselves as teachers! Also, if theres a certain style/art approach or an artist that appeals to you, study it in any way you like! Analyse an artist's work or ask/find out about their personal process (or even watch a speedpaint/art stream)! Sometimes it can be a big inspiration booster and skill boost to do just that (plus the 'artist' could be any piece of media/thing too!! Like a game or something).

Ok ok last paragraph haha, on the topic of your last question. Thinking back, its hard for me to define any specific moment or thing that gave me a 'click' moment. Its more like a process of growth that starts with learning and understanding a new thing, then familiarizing myself with using it successfully/'correctly' by studying and practicing, so that eventually its like muscle memory or easier to use in my work.

Hope this helps!!! If theres anything else you want to ask, dont be afraid to dm or send another ask!!

[skzoologist]

Hii! How are you? Congrats on 100 again! You deserve that and much more,

So for the event I would like to request the prompt "Awh, but come oooon, he's sooo cuute!" ☕🧋,

Human!SKZ and Faerie!Bae

(Focused on Bae, Jisung, Chan, Minho pls)

-🐿️

word count: ~1.4k

warnings: none

genre: fluff, crack

a/n: When you dropped this off, I already knew how it would play out instantly, the scene vivid in my head. The concept itself is cute, and I like how it turned out! I can only hope you'll like it too, and thank you for taking part of the event, it means a lot 💜 I only just now noticed that somehow my banner completely, on accident, matches with your requested members. My preferences are showing I think- 💀

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

It was a chilly autumn day, the sunshine  playfully bouncing off the vibrantly-coloured leaves and the morning dew that briefly stopped there for a quick break. And while the wind had a certain, cold bite to it, Bae was still drawn out of his little hut that was carefully nestled between branches, perfectly out of view, no matter from which angle you tried to look at it.

Of course it was well-hidden, faerie folk was only a thing of legends and myths amongst the circle of humans.

With a sleepy yawn and a little rub at his eyes, he grabbed his bag and tossed it across his shoulder, smoothing out his now slightly wrinkled clothes. His kind had always been careful about their looks, never wanting to look anything less than their best. That was why Bae’d put on his favourite pieces, the glittering fabric loosely hugging his form and granting an almost ethereal glow to it.

After one last look in the mirror and double-checking his bag’s contents, he unfurled his translucent wings and took off, into the vast city of humans.

It didn’t take long for Bae to arrive, despite his tiny stature and the distance he had to cross over. That might have been because he loved to sneak into the place regularly and just quietly observe these exceedingly unique and different creatures, especially if you compared them to the ones living in the forest.

The streets were always busy and lively, even at night, lit up by all kinds of lamps and lights. That was his favourite time to just sit down somewhere, concealed, and to simply soak in the different sounds and feelings. Hours would go by quickly, as he either just watched, or even drew into his little sketchbook, the sky desperately wishing to shine its stars through the smog-filled atmosphere.

Regularly was Bae joined by an animal or two, the creatures more easily sensing him, even through his concealing magic. He didn’t mind, of course not, the fluffy friends never harbouring ill intent. If anything, they wanted his body heat and gentle scratches, enjoying the sensation of his hands gliding through their fur or feathers, only happier by the glitter that’d usually gotten left behind.

And just as he was watching the sun fully rise, a cat purring and putty in his hands, he’d heard voices. Quite loud ones at that, sounding a bit distressed on the empty streets. 

Given how Bae’d decided to stop at a relatively empty place, surrounded by more nature than the others, it immediately drew his attention in. The shout he’d first heard sounded almost pained, sensitive ears able to pinpoint the emotions hidden inside even from far away.

Wanting to investigate, because it both intrigued him and somehow simultaneously pulled at his heartstrings, he petted the cat’s head a final time and bid it a silent farewell. An appreciative meow could be heard in response, pulling a small smile onto Bae’s lips as he was carefully flying down towards the distraught sounds.

The closer he got, the clearer it became that yes, something really must have happened, because someone sounded like they were on the verge of tears, only something fragile preventing their tears from falling.

The faerie’s eyes landed on a trio of boys; one cradling his leg, one assisting him, and the last one kneeling beside them in blind panic. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the seemingly injured one who was now openly crying, instead the kneeling boy’s face was glistening with rivers of tears, apologies endlessly flying out of his mouth, no matter how much he was gently hushed and comforted.

Taking a seat on a tree branch right above them, Bae folded his delicate wings and watched, trying to make sense of the situation.

The problem seemed to be an injured ankle, the one who sported the injury quiet, merely grimacing in pain. His hair shared the same shade as an oak tree’s bark, the strands hiding dark eyes beneath. The one who was trying his best to help had curly hair that shined in a similar colour, although this one was more akin to a pine tree’s skin, deeper and duller. His lips were pulled down, sadness residing in his own chocolate orbs, despite the serious aura that veiled him.

And the last one…

Well, he looked like he was about to have a panic attack, chestnut hair gripped between shaky fingers, pulled from their residence.

Normally, Bae would do nothing in a situation like this, after all, his kind was hunted and kept as pets, and that was only the best possible scenario. It wasn’t his problem, he had nothing to do with it, and yet…

And yet, he found himself flying down, concealing magic slowly unfurling and revealing his tiny, softly glowing form.

The faerie all but ignored everyone and their reactions, his goal to erase the root of the problem, nothing more. Bright light surrounded him, the intricate patterns in his wings shining with the same, deep blue shade as magic pulsed through his veins, concentrated into his hands. He carefully touched the injured limb, hovering above it for only a few seconds, the injury now gone in the blink of an eye.

Tired after the sudden use of healing magic, he let himself flutter down onto the silent male’s leg, letting out a muted sigh there.

“Did you really somehow luck out and get a faerie, a mythical creature, to help you out with your sprained ankle, Minho?” - the curly haired boy asked, disbelief clearly written on his face.

The previously injured boy, presumably Minho, just nodded, stunned into silence with his mouth left slightly agape. The third boy was in a similar state, doe eyes just widely staring at Bae, unmoving.

Right until he suddenly seemed to have come back to his senses, hugging Minho in relief and sobbing into his shoulder with another string of apologies. With the male being jostled, Bae was forced to fly up from his resting place, not happy about it at all. As if sensing this, the curly haired boy looked at him with an apologetic gaze, enough to ease Bae’s temper magically.

It was weird, how Bae felt drawn in by these people, humans at that. Almost like they were a safe place, something he’d been looking for all these countless years ago. As if they were a part of what he’d been searching for all this time, visiting cities throughout human history. He didn’t have an answer to this mystery, and probably wouldn’t have one for a good while. But what he did know was that he didn’t feel the urge to hide again, to conceal himself and erase their memories of their meeting.

While he’d been deep in thought, the boys started talking, quick glances thrown his way.

“So, Channie hyung, can we keep him?” - it was the doe eyed boy, excitement rolling off of him in waves, now that the problem seemed to have been solved. “Naur, absolutely not, Sungie! You’re talking about a faerie over here, we can’t just keep him!” - the curly haired boy, Channie, answered back, a deep sigh leaving him as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Awh, but come oooon, he's sooo cuute!" - those dark eyes widened impossibly more, a pout taking its place on the boy’s face. “Naur! Sungie, we really don’t w– Minho, take that faerie out of your shirt’s pocket. Right this instant.” “I dunno what you might be talking about.” “You damn well know what I’m talking about.” “But he looks so cosy in there, doesn’t he?” “He could fly out if he wanted to, Hyung, just sayin’.”

With the biggest sigh, Channie, seemingly their leader, threw his hands into the air and muttered something about kids and how he would go bald at this rate. The other two, Minho and Sungie, celebrated, the former giving the faerie a candy he’d just unwrapped.

Content and happy with his place, Bae remained there, munching on the strawberry-flavoured candy as he let himself be taken away, knowing he wouldn’t come into harm’s way. It was a gut feeling, one that only strengthened with each smile sent his way, or with another snack gently held at the entrance of the pocket.

[blood-red-ocean]

really glad u loved the idea! i was afraid it's too silly cause I'm not thinking properly right this moment(it's past 3am in my country)

anyway, thank you for agreeing to write for femSal! can't wait to see what you come up with!

Sorry it took so long, this is my first request so I wanted to make it perfect!

Fem!Sal x Reader

The original request can be found here! This work is inspired by @classyfruit's genderbent Moreau art! Word count: 2.3k. Warnings: None

There may be typos <3 -----------------------------------------------------------------

The crunching of leaves underfoot ignited a kind of childlike joy in you as you wove your way through the trees. The snow was melting, the harsh winter finally coming to an end and at last, you were able to return to your favourite place in the Village.

The sun would no doubt have melted all the ice away by now – or at least you had heard from your neighbour that the lake was liquid once more, he had seen it on his way back from his foraging trip and he wanted to let the Village’s resident ‘water baby’ know. As soon as you had heard the news, you packed your satchel to the brim with your sketchbook, pencils, and snacks enough to last you hours, and off you went.

The sun warmed your shoulders and face as you went, and you took a moment to let your head fall back, relishing in it. Three months cooped up inside your house had taken its toll, and you were ecstatic to be out in the fresh air again. As you approached the lake, a slight breeze kicked up, sending the faintest of ripples across the surface, warping the reflections of the nearby trees. The ground was soft and muddy from the melting snow, but thankfully your usual spot – a large, flat rock, jutting out over the water – was free of dampness. You climbed atop it with a grunt and settled down, letting the sun warm you for a moment, basking in the feeling.

You frowned slightly into the distance a while later, your sketchbook open in your lap. You chewed absentmindedly on the end of your pencil, waiting for inspiration to strike you. The sunlight was casting thin ribbons of parchment-coloured light through the gaps in the trees on the opposite side of the lake to you, and you just couldn’t figure out how to encapsulate it within a drawing. But damn, you wanted to.

A faint splashing sounded from below the edge of your rock seat, and you put your sketchbook aside, leaning slowly over the edge and looking down. The sight of silver, shimmering shapes darting just beneath the water’s surface brought a smile to your face, and you readjusted to lay on your stomach, reaching down. As you gently trailed your fingertips along the surface of the lake, you giggled as the shimmering shapes nibbled your fingers curiously, some of them bumping up against your hand as they swam by.

“Well, hi to you, too,” you whispered. The fish swam beneath the surface of the water as if dancing, and you smiled softly, watching them. You pushed yourself back up to a kneeling position, feeling in your satchel for the container of mealworms you had brought with you, scattering some of them into the water. You sat back again and started to draw, oblivious to the larger rippled which were approaching from elsewhere in the lake.

The next day found you back at the lake again, not wanting to miss a day of being in your sanctuary. The sun was high in the sky, which was just as clear as the day before. You were distracted as you made the same walk as yesterday, and you didn’t notice the object on your rock seat until you were about to sit down. You made a noise of surprise and peered at it. It seemed to be an old boot, something from far before your time. It was covered in algae and aquatic moss, and the sole had been eroded over time. You looked around, thinking that somebody was playing a prank; but when you saw nobody, you simply shrugged and picked the boot up, placing it beside the rock in the soft mud. Again, you drew, this time paying close attention to the mud below the rock, trying to emulate the textures and patterns of it. Again, you fed the fish gathered near your seat some mealworms. And again, you were oblivious to the ripples rolling across the water’s surface.

The third day you went back to the lake, a sight saddened you somewhat. There, on the muddy bank, beside the untouched boot, was a small bone. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be a fish skull. You held it delicately in your hands, turning it this way and that, intrigue mixing with your faint sadness at the poor thing’s state. Holding it as if it were glass, you bent over by the edge of the lake and let it roll out of your hand into the water, fading from view as it sunk to the depths. You settled yourself down on your rock perch again, pulling your sketchbook out of your bag and, with one hand drawing and the other holding an apple you took occasional bites from, you began to sketch the intricacies of a piece of driftwood, floating atop the water. It bobbed up and down, slowly, as ripples coursed across the water’s surface. This time, just before you left to go home, you leaned over and whispered to the group of fish swilling in lazy circles beneath the steadily elongating shadow of the rock, telling them a fairytale from your childhood. Something you did quite often, even if it didn’t quite make sense.

The fourth day arrived and with it, dark clouds, heavy with rain. That didn’t stop you, though, as you simply grabbed your raincoat from the hook by the door and set out towards the lake again, slipping and sliding and laughing in the muddy puddles on the way. The lake had swelled with the overnight showers of rain, the boot now having been swept away. The rain had ceased for now, and you slowly climbed atop your rock again – stopping in your tracks as you saw something on the very edge. You peered closer and your eyes widened at the sight of an eel skeleton, curled up neatly on the edge of the rock. You looked around again, more vigilantly this time. The only footsteps in the muddy earth were that of your own, and the trees looked undisturbed, as well.

The eel skeleton looked beautiful, in a delicate, morbid way. You stepped off of the rock and to the water’s edge, where the mud was the softest, and you started to dig. With shaking hands, you very carefully lifted the skeleton and placed it in the makeshift grave, covering it up again and placing a rock on top. You took a moment to be pensive, and as you stared into the water, you saw ripples distorting the reflection of the trees. Following them with your gaze, you could see that they originated from the center of the lake. Stepping closer, just below the surface of the water you could see a faint, misshapen shadow lurking below. You frown and take another step, the water lapping at the toes of your shoes. Just as quickly as you had seen the shadow, it darted away, and the rain started to fall again, stirring the surface of the lake, rendering anything underneath invisible.

There were no peculiar objects on your seat the next day. The sun was high in the sky again, the lake still swollen from the previous day, and your fish friends had resumed their usual habit of circling for food beneath your rock perch. You laid on your stomach, fingers trailing through the water again as they swam excitedly. Lost in thought, the shadow moving towards you beneath the surface of the water went unnoticed. What was very much noticed, however, was one of the fish flying out of the water, soaring in an arc over you and landing with a wet shlap in the mud to the side. Gasping, you half rolled and half fell off of the rock, hastening to pick up the frantically flopping and flailing fish, gently placing it back in the water to join its friends.

“What the hell…” You breathed. There was another splashing sound and another fish flew out of the water, narrowly missing your face as it soared across your field of vision, landing back in the water. Returning to the rock and looking over the side of it, you saw all of the group still there, unharmed and circling as before. Mind reeling with questions and confusion, you looked around, trying to figure out what happened.

“I’m tryin’ to flirt with you!”

The sudden disembodied voice startled you, hands gripping the rough surface of your perch so as to not fall face first into the lake. Sensing movement out of the corner of your eye, you turned, and your gaze met those of someone almost completely submerged in the water. Their eyes were dark, a slight frown on their face as they stared you down. It looked as if they were wearing a crown of bones, and you gulped.

“Hey, are- are you okay?” Trepidation and intrigue combined in your chest to create a potent blend that kept you fixed to the spot.

The figure didn’t speak at first. And then: “I was tryin’ to flirt with you. Didya not like my gifts?”

The voice carried a tone of insecurity, confusion and determination. It was low and husky, like the vocal version of the crunch of gravel as it is stepped on – and it had a kind of warbled tremor, like the ripples of the lake itself. But it was pleasant, and you wanted to hear more. You sat back down on the rock and crossed your legs, pulling your sketchbook out of your bag and running your fingertips along the spine to soothe yourself.

“Flirt with me?” You asked.

“Yes,” The figure responded. The water rippled around them as they started to move up out of the water, and you saw that the figure was a woman, her skin tinged the same green-blue as the lake. “D’you not like my gifts?” She repeated.

“I… I didn’t realise they were gifts, to be honest.” The woman sloshed closer through the water, coming to fold her arms on the edge of the rock and rest her head upon them. You continued, “I hope I didn’t offend you with my actions.”

The woman stared up at you for a long moment. “Nope,” She said. “I see you here a lot. You’re good to the critters here.” As she spoke, you could detect the faintest lilt in her voice, which somehow made you want to hear her speak even more, if that were possible. Silence fell between the two of you, and without knowing what else to do, you grabbed a pencil from your satchel and started to sketch, not really paying attention to anything but her proximity.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Huh? Oh—” You glanced down at the paper before you, realizing that you had absentmindedly begun to draw her. “I’m just sketching. Would you like to see?”

You held the sketchbook up before you, going back to the first page and flipping through them one by one, telling her the backstory of every sketch. The view of the mountains from your bedroom window, the jewels of dew on a spider’s web, the iridescence of a raven’s wings in flight. Her eyes studied your sketches, focusing hard as she listened. Without a word, she splashed back under the water, leaving you alone. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as she left and, with a dejected sigh, you turned back to your work, the pencil scratching over the paper.

“Look out! Outta the way!”

“Wh—Woah!” You leaped back as she emerged from the water, her arms full with weeds and grasses from the depths of the lake. She sifted through them, inspecting each piece and discarding some of them with an unimpressed grunt. You turned back to your artwork, but you were distracted now, curiously glancing up at her every so often. Her deft fingers worked at the pieces of grass, twisting and turning them in her hands, and after a moment you realized she was weaving something. You became mesmerized by her movements, a slight frown on her face as she concentrated.

By the time she had finished, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the surface of the lake reflecting its orange glow. She held it out to you with a wide grin, your fingertips brushing her palm as you took it from her. She had weaved the grasses and weeds tightly into the shape of a fish, mirroring the fish that you often fed. It was intricately weaved, and your head spun trying to make sense of where each piece of grass started and ended. Gazing back at her, a blush crept up your neck at her intense gaze. As the chill of the night air started to settle in your bones, you were tempted to stay here for a while longer, if only to see her grin again.

“Thank you…” I trailed off questioningly.

“Name’s Sally. Sally Moreau,” She grinned, making your heart jump in your chest. “But you can call me Sal.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Sal. It’s beautiful.”

“So’s you, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Her boldness made your blush grow even more, and you shivered regretfully against the chill of the growing darkness. “I…” The words were hard to force out, as you slowly packed your things back into your satchel. “I should go home.”

Sally’s shoulders seemed to drop a little, but she kept the grin on her face. “Comin’ back tomorrow?” She asked, hopeful tones lacing her voice.

“Yeah,” You smiled. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” That night, you fell asleep with a smile on your face and Sally’s grin burned into your mind, the woven fish standing proudly on the top of your bookshelf. Somehow, you knew that today had been the start of something wonderful.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Week 4 - Sweets

And on we go...

Prompt: Sweets

Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin, Ori x OC

Words: 2 365

Warnings: Tension, fear, seductive cake

“Welcome,” the King greeted, and—even though he’d spoken in a calm, measured voice—his voice was booming across the mostly empty chamber.

The two hitherto taciturn men hastened to his side. A short, hushed conversation ensued, and then the King turned back to his potential captives.

“I’m informed that you were found trying to camp in a warg-infested region,” he said, his tone heavy with disapproval. “Very bad idea.”

Elya cocked her head; his inflexion and speech rhythm struck her as odd as well. It seemed to her that the King and their handsome guide had acquired the language by studying an old book, only ever practising amongst themselves, but she was only surmising. Mayhap, it was only disuse or misplaced gravitas which made him speak in such a stilted, cautious manner.

“What is a warg?” Bilbo exclaimed, taking another eager step closer to the throne.

Only when three sets of brows drew together warningly did he realise that he’d better not rush towards a foreign dignitary as if he were a common merchant in his festival stall.

“A dangerous beast.”

More whispering. The King frowned in visible disbelief.

“Where can I find one? I’d be very interested in studying—” Bilbo went on, but was interrupted by a massive, beringed hand being raised commandingly.

“You’d meet them only once,” Thorin chuckled. “Ori can show you a drawing and explain. After you’ve eaten. Kíli tells me you’ve only had smelly water?”

His brow wrinkled again as if he was unsure about his halting translation.

“It was broth, thank you very much, and it was quite nourishing,” Bilbo replied sharply.

“Cakes then,” the King said with a careless shrug. “Fíli?”

At once, the golden-haired warrior turned on his heels and exited the hall.

“They’re quite good,” Ori whispered into Elya’s ear. “The King honours you.”

Twisting her head this way and that, Elya—overtired and overwhelmed by the recent developments in her first and foreseeably last research mission—struggled to pinpoint what it was that irked her about the strange people who’d effectively captured them.

When the King stood, it hit her like a punch to the gut. They were all uncommonly short for men of such brawn and overall physiological structure.

“Dwarves?” she whispered under her breath before she could stop herself. Her fingers itched to fumble in her backpack to retrieve her sketchbook once more.

“Ah! Yes, that is the word!” Ori cheered with a bright smile. “Dwarves. Yes!”

Elya’s eyes almost bulged out of her skull—she’d always imagined dwarves as small, old men with long beards and pointy hats, carrying lanterns and spades while digging holes in people’s back gardens.

She’d never considered that even the silly ornaments theoretically could have been young and gorgeous before ending up harassing cats and tripping burglars in the dead of night.

“May I draw you?” she asked breathlessly, turning around to face Ori again for two very good reasons. First, the way Bilbo was staring hungrily at their host made her stomach churn uncomfortably, and second, she found that she was inherently desirous to look upon that pale, freckled face as much as she possibly could.

“Me? I—yes, if that is your desire. Unfortunately, you shall not be allowed to take your art when you leave. Nobody, as you were told, must learn of our existence.”

At first, Elya had found that imperative ludicrous and had fostered not even the slightest intention of respecting it, but as she now stared up at the invaluable riches displayed on and in every wall, she started to understand.

Thus, she nodded with more conviction than before.

“Tell me about your studies,” the King demanded, going as far as to step off his dais and join his unexpected, improbable guests at the foot of his throne. “What are you searching? Have you found it?”

“I feel like we’ve found more than we’ve bargained for,” Bilbo muttered under his breath. “Things we didn’t expect to find anywhere, let alone on a deserted island.”

As she was a reasonable woman and thus was standing very close to the only person she knew and could trust, Elya had no problems making out his words, though, and so she lifted her hands and conjured up her blankest, most innocent expression.

“I’m a mere assistant,” she said in a breathy, whistling voice. “There is very little I could tell His Majesty.”

Whirling around, Bilbo gave her a dumbfounded, distinctly suspicious look.

Thorin II hummed pensively and opened his thin but sensual lips to reply when the door swung open with a bang and an impossibly rotund man strolled in, carrying a platter heaped with sweetmeats and cakes.

“Impossible,” Bilbo commented under his breath; he couldn’t help doing the math in his head and coming to the conclusion that it was not possible that a single man could lift, let alone bear, such a weight.

Moreover, the newcomer didn’t even appear to be strained in any way.

“Ah, there comes Bombur,” the King announced and waved his hand in a generous gesture of invitation. “The cakes are made with a local fruit—Ori will show you a picture of it so you might recognise it—that is quite tart when eaten untreated but very sweet when stirred into a dough and consequently baked.”

Both Elya’s and Bilbo’s eyes narrowed—in their experience, it was unusual that a royal would know not only his cook but also the ingredients of his meals by name.

Instinctively, they both bowed, eyeing the offered treats uncertainly.

On the one hand, they’d not consumed anything but insipid broth and stale biscuits for weeks, but, on the other hand, taking food from strangers was dangerous in more ways than one.

“They are digestible,” Ori promised in a quiet voice.

“How would you know? You’d also claim that this tray is easy to lift,” Elya replied in a discreet hiss without taking her eyes off the impressive figure of the King who was presently entirely absorbed by Bilbo’s stammering explanation of their doomed expedition.

“A pebble could not carry Bombur’s platter, but they could eat themselves through the cakes. Trust me!”

Despite not understanding how rocks could do either of the described things, Elya realised that she wanted to believe the one who’d brought them out from the cold, windy wilderness into a warm, beautiful underground kingdom.

Hence why she extended a grimy, slightly trembling hand and picked up a dense bun, covered in a sticky, fragrant syrup—her mouth was watering instantly.

“Elya!” Bilbo said warningly, but it was too late. She’d already sunken her teeth into the fluffy pastry and was moaning indecently at the countless unknown flavours bursting across her tongue like fireworks shooting across a night sky.

“Oh, it’s so good,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her shameless behaviour.

“My girl!” Bilbo chided. “Did I not warn you to refrain from actions that might get you entangled irreversibly?”

“They said they’re dwarves, not fae,” Elya chuckled, wondering whether her undeniable, witnessed fall would entitle her to another sweet. After all, if she’d bound her soul, hand, and heart unwittingly to this strange folk by partaking in the sugary feast they’d laid out, what difference would it make whether she ate one or ten?

As she reached out slowly, Bilbo’s eyes followed her every movement, but he didn’t object any further.

Feeling the King’s intensely blue eyes on him, he squared his shoulders and joined his assistant—after all, he knew how important it was to show appreciation and interest for any potential host culture.

“So, Ori has admitted that we’re dwarves?” Thorin asked calmly as he watched Bilbo chew cautiously. “I didn’t expect him to be quite that forthcoming. How peculiar…and interesting! I wonder what other secrets my nephews and the little scribe might have entrusted you with.”

Ori flinched; he was evidently afraid to have committed a faux pas. His ears were turning dark red as the princes, also eyeing the pastries longingly, exploded into raucous laughter once more.

Bilbo nodded cautiously. “They had to tell us something about you and this Kingdom to convince us that they were not merely trying to catch their evening meal.”

At that, the King visibly bristled. “We do not eat the poor souls that find themselves stranded on our shores.”

His handsome features tightened. “However, you were not washed astray, were you? You purposefully set out to find us here. May I ask why?”

Bilbo shook his head vehemently. “No, we were searching for new species of plants and animals.”

“To steal them?” Thorin’s voice was sharp and accusing now, making Elya wither where she stood. She was unsure whether to step closer to her boss once more or whether to seek refuge behind the ginger dwarf who was still watching her with a small smile.

Blowing up his cheeks and rubbing his nose, Bilbo kept his peace. He instinctively felt that he didn’t want to lie to this mystical ruler if he could avoid it.

“Only if we had the feeling that our finds might change the world for the better.”

He’d discussed the potential risks with Elya on their long voyage, and they’d decided that—except if they were to find the cure for cancer or an ingenious solution to pollution—they’d disturb as little as possible.

“Do you know where you are?” Thorin interrogated sharply. “If I was to toss you back into the ocean, would you find your way back here?”

Bilbo swallowed thickly before exchanging a meaningful glance with Elya who shrugged sheepishly. She’d been the one to take most of the day-to-day notes, but neither one of them was a trained sailor.

“There has been an element of luck,” Bilbo then admitted. “We’d had our sights set on a group of islands…”

“You would not have liked the closest one,” Thorin grumbled. “The pointy-eared savages might well have tried to poison you. The rivers running through their lands are sluggish with dark enchantments!”

“As I said, luck,” Bilbo repeated.

When Elya nudged him in the ribs discreetly and coughed into his ear several times, he went on, “Also, we’ve already been informed that we’re not to take anything from this island. No specimens, no recordings, no notes—thus, robbed of our meticulous archives, I dare say that we’d never find our way back here. You are safe.”

“You’ll remember, though,” Thorin commented provocatively.

“Not if there is a nifty potion baked into these treats,” Bilbo joked, earning another thunderous gaze from the dwarven ruler.

For a while, the hall was eerily silent except for the soft sound of enthusiastic chewing.

“I respect your inquisitive mind,” Thorin finally said. “You must be tired. If you’re willing, I shall arrange for you to be awoken at dusk. You can accompany me, and I’ll attempt to show you a warg if you’re still so eager to see one.”

“That would be wonderful,” Bilbo exclaimed, his scientific curiosity once more overruling his sense of self-preservation.

He was about to shake hands with Thorin when another gnawing doubt overcame his mind.

“What about Elya? She’s been acting very foolishly, but I’ve yet to see another woman in these halls. You won’t…abduct and imprison her for her impudence, will you?”

Thorin’s dark brows drew together in earnest vexation. “There are many things you’ve not yet seen, Bilbo Baggins. If you give me your word that you won’t breathe a word about them to another soul, you might, in time, discover all you’ve been wondering about. As for the young lady, no, we shall not detain her against her will.”

Relief drove a peal of laughter up Bilbo’s throat, but it never burst forth. Once, he would have confidently vouched for Elya’s unwillingness to be left behind on a deserted, wild island. Now, he was no longer so sure.

“Worry not,” he said instead. “There are few that would even want to hear from us or believe us. Your secrets are safe.”

“I doubt that,” Thorin muttered, his expression mellowing into something neither Bilbo nor Elya could describe or fully understand. “Now, Balin will take you to a suite of rooms where you can rest.”

They’d been so focused on the breathtaking spectacle of the King that they’d completely missed the discreet, noiseless entry of a white-haired, aged dwarf who now stood a little distance off, wearing a richly embroidered tunic and a beatific, welcoming smile.

“Come,” he crooned in a low, melodious voice. “The young ones have done well in bringing you here. Follow me!”

Sensing their nervous confusion, the old dwarf gave them another reassuring grin.

“We are an old people, and we honour our traditions, but you mustn’t be afraid that we’d do you any harm.”

His speech was more fluid and sounded almost natural, Elya noticed.

When she brought it up, he gave a flattered chuckle. “Thorin and I have been abroad. The young ones were born in exile. I might have practised more than the King has, though.” Again, he chortled merrily.

Exile! The word echoed through Elya’s mind, but she decided against probing further as the memory was visibly painful to their stalwart guide, leading them unerringly through the endless, sombre tunnels.

“But…”

“Ori is my apprentice,” the creature called Balin explained kindly. “He’s a good lad and eager to be of service.”

“I’ve noticed,” Elya replied carefully, throwing a vain glance over her shoulder in hopes of seeing that luminous creature lurking in the ever-shifting shadows only to be disappointed.

“What dread are you seeking?” Balin asked.

“No, nothing.” Elya felt herself blush furiously. “I—Will I see him again? He’s insinuated that he could show me a few drawings.”

At that, the wizened, bearded dwarf gaped at her in open, genuine surprise. “Did he now? How uncharacteristically brazen of him! Do you want this to happen? I can arrange for him to meet you after your repose if that is your earnest desire.”

“I’d like that very much,” Elya blurted out, earning another unfathomable look from Bilbo who’d never believed her to be easily impressed with men.

“So be it then.” Balin grinned cheerily. “That will surely cheer the old boy greatly!”

@fellowshipofthefics

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