#i might draw an actual background eventually…

[gh0stzblogs]

ineffable may - in the beginning

i drew this the other day but didn’t even realize it was ineffable may until now! (when i found the list)

(i don’t remember who the list is by 😭)

[ceylar-does-art]

Moxie brings me great joy and I was having a rough day, but drawing her (and vibing with my friends) helped me feel better <3

Draw your blorbos in self indulgence.

Also queue ran out a while ago and I’m uploading as I finish drawings.

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct. 

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut. 

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging. 

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you. 

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies. 

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make. 

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe. 

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time. 

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.” 

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable. 

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you. 

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization. 

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his. 

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine. 

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes. 

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.” 

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain. 

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.” 

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly. 

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.” 

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.” 

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?” 

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.” 

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.” 

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things. 

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.” 

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying. 

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?” 

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!” 

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.” 

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Then it’s fine.” 

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility. 

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose. 

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission. 

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him. 

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.” 

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight. 

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already. 

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night. 

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had. 

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon. 

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.” 

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.” 

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.” 

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility. 

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.” 

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.” 

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment. 

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.” 

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you. 

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention. 

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?” 

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.” 

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?” 

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?” 

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.” 

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end. 

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.” 

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction. 

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere. 

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.” 

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.” 

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him. 

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink. 

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?” 

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?” 

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.” 

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?” 

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking? 

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.” 

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.” 

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.” 

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you. 

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo. 

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?” 

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.” 

“Clearly.” 

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera. 

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.” 

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint. 

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other. 

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours. 

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features. 

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.” 

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night. 

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly. 

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group. 

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there. 

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm. 

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing. 

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.” 

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.” 

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.” 

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.” 

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow. 

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.” 

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?” 

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you. 

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?” 

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper. 

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless. 

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance. 

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable. 

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-” 

“You haven’t-” 

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.” 

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts. 

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak. 

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing. 

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.” 

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?” 

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you. 

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.” 

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other. 

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.” 

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling. 

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you. 

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…” 

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not. 

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.” 

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes. 

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?” 

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.” 

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak. 

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.” 

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you. 

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly. 

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?” 

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…” 

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?” 

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot. 

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility. 

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.” 

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust. 

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it. 

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t. 

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance. 

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?” 

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming. 

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?” 

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum. 

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder. 

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear. 

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-” 

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.” 

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand. 

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone. 

“Get the fuck off her.” 

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice. 

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you. 

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?” 

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall. 

“She’s not going home with you.” 

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist. 

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?” 

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.” 

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words. 

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist. 

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it. 

“Please,” you beg one last time. 

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm. 

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness. 

Civility. What a broken construct. 

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now. 

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now. 

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE ​​😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE ​​😎Don’t encourage them. 

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date? 

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s. 

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date? 

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything. 

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck? 

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it. 

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE ​​😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE. 

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you? 

NANCE has left the groupchat.

[genericpuff]

On this week's episode of "Webtoon Controversies That Could Have Been Avoided If Only They Had Some Damn Quality Control"-

Oh boy, prepare yourselves, there's some TEA on this one.

Quantum Entanglement, a new Webtoon Originals series from creator Arts Angel (aka Sarah Ellerton) is uh... a teeny weeny painfully obvious that it was made with AI.

AI is getting better, but when it comes to comics, there are still a lot of "tells" you can pick up on once you know where to look. Hands are certainly one of them.

Not knowing how to draw hands efficiently and consistently is definitely an Artist Problem(tm) but it becomes a lot more obvious it was made by AI when you get weird little off-putting mistakes like a fingernail being just a little too long or missing joints (hot dog fingers, eyo) or the distinction between fingers not being clear.

But there's also hair and other detailed parts that are often lost in the translation process between prompt to final piece. Jewelry, text on a screen, phones, that sort of thing. The insinuation of a 'thing' is there, but it's like looking at it through a fishbowl.

And ultimately, a lot of AI art tends to just be a little too 'perfect'. Everything is just a little too smooth for it to look like it was naturally made by a person. Faces end up veering into the uncanny valley territory and there are inconsistencies between the eyes and the rest of the body. Backgrounds become lost in what I like to call "AI goop", becoming nothing more than weird blurred/filtered out insinuations of what's supposed to be behind the character.

Basically, at this point, it's undeniably clear that AI is being used to create this comic. While there are also plenty of signs in the handiwork that show a human was involved in some parts, there are other places that are undeniably filled in with the use of AI. So it's not necessarily a 100% made-by-AI comic, but it's absolutely AI assisted.

But what's REALLY absurd about this whole situation? The creator denies it. To the point of including a disclaimer in the first episode trying to "get ahead" of people who are assuming it's AI by saying, "No, it's not made with AI, here's the proof! Don't look at the blood on my hands or the body in the trunk of my car!"

Now, first off, the absolute absurdity of making yourself look guiltier by trying to prove your innocence before people have even started to suspect you... I'd like to think that this was edited into the first episode after the initial accusations started rolling in but considering it's an Originals series, it's hard to know if it was, as creators typically don't get as much control over just editing their episodes on the fly like Canvas creators do. Typically it's their editors who do that sort of thing for them. And even if it was edited in afterwards, it's still there for people who have no idea going into the comic blind and might not automatically assume it was made with AI, so it just looks like you're bringing up the potential of AI being used completely unprovoked. By planting the idea in your audience's brain that AI is even a question, you're making them suspect everything.

It's kind of like when Dream was suspected of cheating in a way-too-lucky-to-be-real speedrun of Minecraft a couple years back, so he went to all these painstaking efforts of hiring a quantum physicist to "prove" his innocence with a straight up THESIS documenting all of the reasons he couldn't have cheated through math and figures and jargon. Ironically, this just made Dream look guiltier, and sure enough, he eventually admitted he had cheated.

That said, did you notice something in that "art process" pic?

That finished panel isn't even what showed up in the final comic.

So the absurdity of this all, again, just makes Arts Angel look a lot more guilty of actually using AI, especially when it's basically undeniable in so many of those panels above. People don't paint like that.

But that brings us to talking about Sarah Ellerton, aka "Arts Angel", the creator. Many long-time readers of her work are defending this, claiming that she has, in fact, "always drawn like this".

What's insane? She actually is who she says she is. This isn't like some kid who came out of the woodwork with AI and claiming that they had 20 years of experience, Sarah Ellerton's main site, The Seraph-Inn, has been live and crawled by Wayback Machine as far back as 2005.

And you can see the art evolution over the years, starting with Inverloch-

-into Phoenix-

-and all the way to Immaterial-

But here's the thing about that last comic. The main protagonist is, apparently, the same girl from Quantum Entanglement, the newest installment in this series where it becomes abundantly clear the creator has started using AI.

You can see the effects of this being parsed through AI, because she's gone from being a unique character with two-toned hair and darker skin, to being turned into a generic Instagram anime girl. And lemme tell you, AI used in comics has NOT gotten better at depicting darker-skinned characters (I actually tested an AI-coloring tool WT was planning on putting out a year or two ago, it was uh... not great.)

But the most damning thing about Sarah?

She works in IT.

That on its own wouldn't be so telling if it weren't for the 20 years she clearly spent actually honing her craft, only to suddenly switch to using AI as a crutch.

Quantum Entanglement was picked up for Originals in July 2023. It launched two days ago, with four free to read episodes and 6 more under the FastPass paywall. Three months after it got picked up. That turnaround speed is insane for an Originals series. Now, I'm more inclined to believe that maybe she's using the exact same pages she used in the Canvas version (there's unfortunately no way of checking through Wayback, it never crawled the Canvas version, so unless someone has backups of the Canvas pages they're willing to share, we'll never know) but that short turnaround time is insane for a comic that's this insanely detailed. It likely means they didn't need much pre-production time to get a strong buffer going, and that it doesn't take them as long to produce these episodes on a weekly basis so they could be under way less crunch than creators who do this by hand.

By comparison, the winners of the Call to Action contest from last year are STILL working on their pre-production. Many other greenlit Canvas series are known for getting picked up and stuck in pre-production for several months and even a year or more simply due to how the company operates with when it chooses to launch these series and how much pre-production is necessary. Some creators have literally said that their pre-production was done, but WT still kept them waiting to launch. So three months for a freshly greenlit Canvas series to launch is NOT the norm.

All that said, I feel for the people who are trying to defend her. But it's so undeniably AI with the creator herself providing fake proof that it makes it really sad to think that this person was honing their craft for 20 years just to wind up utilizing AI. Being a good artist does not make you immune to the temptation of using cheap methods or developing bad habits. Going through "the struggle" does not make you immune to taking shortcuts that wind up cheapening your work or taking advantage of the work of others.

Now, maybe Sarah trained AI around her art. If this didn't play out the way it did, I'd be willing to give her benefit of the doubt and assume that. Training AI off your own work, while still up for debate as to how ethical that is, at least doesn't hurt other artists, because it's your own work the AI is "stealing". There are definitely ways AI could be used to make life easier for artists without replacing the art process entirely, the same way artists have learned to use 3D assets and digital art filters to make their process more efficient and boost the quality of their art up to the next level.

But the fact that she's being so cagey over it, claiming she's not using AI period when she very clearly is, providing "proof" that actually proves she definitely used AI, while operating under a penname that's strangely similar to a name Grimes - former tech wife of Elon Musk and staunch supporter of AI - used for one of her studio albums-

- that's what makes it a lot more clear she's using it maliciously.

The AI is very likely trained off another artist's work. Maybe someone whose art style is similar enough to hers that she could integrate it into her own and pass it off as legitimate. Someone whose art style is cartoonish but still modern, like if Disney made anime. Someone who's so prolific and consistent in their stylization that training an AI off it would seem like a no brainer to those who want to replicate that style quickly and easily.

Damn. What a disappointment. Do better, Sarah.

And for god's sakes, Webtoons, pay more fucking attention. I've been steadily picking away at moving the entirety of my comics over to other platforms on a weekly schedule, but at this point I kinda just wanna dump the last 30 or so chapters onto ComicFury all at once so I can ditch this platform for good, especially if it turns out AI comics getting greenlit is a feature, not a bug. The ratings for Quantum Entanglement have dropped significantly overnight, now sitting around 5.09 and still dropping, but is Webtoons going to do anything about it? That remains to be seen.

[saltedpineapple]

AHEM hi. I made another

And if you're wondering, this is @grimproduct 's beautiful oc and her name is Yue. I usually don't share stuff with oc's added to the story thing, it's more of a guilty pleasure that i am really shy bout. BUT, this is my friend's oc and i kinda like her storyline and she's really pretty and fun to draw so- I made this just as a gift for my pal Don't mind the background or the composition or anything of that, I had a plan and it crumbled right before me/lh

Here's the progress shots:

First of all, i love reading the tags you guys add, its really sweet and fun to read/gen/pos Second of all, i was trying to be smart and plan everything and act like i knew what I was doing (i did not) but eventually i didn't follow that idea and things went south. I tried to search references for trash and stuff and i didn't find what i needed but i found fancy trash?? It's weird BUT HEY I FINISHED IT/POS Honestly im learning either way and im really proud of that. Even if takes me a few years to get there , im gonna take my time and try to develop my style again/pos By the way, hoping my friend will see this. Might take a break from tumblr again. I actually am doing like , a redesign of the silly monkeys but in my style and how i would make them look. I kinda wanna do a thing where everyone reposts it with their own designs and how they interpret the characters in their own style, because trust me when i say i will be looking through every single one-. I dunno yet but im hoping- ANYWAYS , ENJOY

[owatazumi]

Ok this is a ff idea for Heeseung or maybe the whole hyung line…but I kinda wanna see how they would react to catching you singing in different scenarios

For example: Hee = u were laying in bed with ur headphones in. Jay = u were cooking. Jake = u were drawing/writing. Hoon = u were in your room dancing and thought u were home alone.

(Doesn’t have to be exact…I was just giving u some ideas)

enha + reader best friends/relationship getting caught singing no warnings a/n: thank you squoxie for this cute request, omgomg i really hope you enjoy it !! i added all the members bc i feel like i don’t do headcanons and stuff like that enough so here you go !! hope you enjoy it nonetheless<3

heeseung and you were on the way back home, the windows rolled slightly down, the breeze hitting softly against your face as you tap your foot to the song that hee put on… «i hear the secrets that you keep, when you’re talkin’ in your sleep» and as soon as you start singing along to the song, heeseung couldn’t help but smile at you in such a tender way. he liked the song and he especially liked you so this just made the whole ride home better…

“i never heard you talk in your sleep before, you know? maybe because you don’t hide secrets from me…”

jay had been bugging you all week long to cook with him sometime, telling you that it would be a great way to bond further so eventually you give in and agree to his idea. a playlist of his and your favorite songs was playing in the background as you two run around the kitchen in a hustle, occasionally bumping into each other, maybe on accident, maybe not… «꼭꼭 숨었다가 웃으면 나타나, 어디서 온 걸까» but as soon as you started singing to dimple, jay stopped everything he was doing to listen carefully to your beautiful voice…

“i told you it would be great to cook together and i’m glad you agreed or i wouldn’t have heard your beautiful voice…”

jake was pretty busy with his game, not paying much attention to what you were doing so you made yourself comfortable on his bed, softly humming and singing to the songs you put on that you found when he went with you through his playlists one time… «come closer, i’ll give you all my love, if you treat me right, baby, i’ll give you everything» and needless to say, he was immediately thrown out of his gamer mindset as soon as he heard your voice singing along to falling. jake turned around in his chair, putting down his headphones and made himself comfortable beside you on his bed, cuddling close to you as you chuckle softly since he was accidentally tickling you…

“this song reminds me of you… i always have to think about you when i listen to it and im absolutely not complaining.”

sunghoon and you felt a weird craving for some snacks in the middle of the night, silently making your way to the kitchen to not wake up the other members. while he was rummaging through the shelves, searching for something that might interest him you were snacking on your cereal, phone in your hand, scrolling through socials as you sing a random song… «i want you to know, that if i can’t be close to you, i’ll settle for the ghost of you, i miss you more than life» sunghoon froze as soon as he heard you singing so softly, his heart doing jumping jacks. he noticed that you probably didn’t even notice that he heard you so he carefully sneaked up on you, looking over your shoulder with a soft smile…

“that wasn’t too bad, was it? mind singing the rest of the song for me?”

sunoo wanted to have a movie night with you since he had a few days off and he wanted to spent some time with his best friend again. you actually knew one of the songs that played in the movie so you couldn’t help but sing along, feeling all excited about it… «우연히 너의 메일을 알게되면서,모니터 앞에 널 밤새 기다릴때» and sunoo immediately started singing along with you, smiling brightly as you two started swinging side to side slightly, vibing and even harmonizing to i think i did together…

“i’m so glad we chose this movie! i really like this song and it’s much more special when we enjoy it together, right?”

jungwon had one earbud in his ear and you had the other one as you two walk along the river, the sky freckled with bright stars. he didn’t seem very focused on you, he was very relaxed, just enjoying the moment as you two casually walked together… «i knew it when i first read your lips, only angels speak like this» as if out of reflex, both of you turn your heads toward each other, your gazes connecting as the stars shine down on you…

“i’m glad you know this song too… it would be embarrassing if i told you that i think of you when i listen to it without you knowing the song.”

ni-ki wanted you to come along to one of his late night practices, the vibes were different and you had the whole studio to yourselves so nobody was interrupting or annoying. you were both vining to one of the songs that he recommended you to play, laughter and chuckles echoing through the room as you two enjoy the time together… «sippin’ bubbly feelin’ lovely, livin’ lovely, just love me, just love me just love me» ni-ki had to stop for a second, mesmerized by both the way you moved so comfortably, trusting him enough to just dance however you wanted and the way you started singing along to the song as well…

“not bad, i have to admit. maybe we should do this more often, what’d ya say?”

<33 @squoxle @echoofnoise00

[mouwrites]

hi hi! can I request some headcanons about the ninja (+pixal, if you're up for it) having an artist s/o? okay thank you, also I love your writing!

Oooh yess!! Where my artist ninjago enjoyers at⁉️ I’ve come to nourish you <3

Ninjago - Ninjas (+ Pixal) with an Artist s/o

Jay

Immediately asks if you can draw/paint/etc him

If you agree, he will ask again in the future

….honestly he’ll probably keep asking even if you say no

What can he say? He wants to inspire you ;)

If you have art block, he immediately jumps to pose dramatically or arrange a bowl of fruit or something

He’s equally enamored with the quality of your work and the fact that it came from your hands

He loves all your work, even the pieces you decide to scrap/re-do

“What are you doing?? That was perfect!”

“Jay? How long have you been standing there-”

On that note, he loves to watch you work

Even when you don’t know he’s watching… (he’s a little obsessed)

But the plus side of this is that he knows the exact products you use, and he can see when you’re running low

He makes sure to replenish your stocks for you :) so you won’t ever have to worry about running out mid-project

He also makes sure to flaunt your work as much as possible, especially the pieces he “inspired”

He truly thinks you’re the best artist in the world, and he WILL fight someone over it

Cole

I see Cole as a pretty artsy guy himself, so he’d be thrilled to have an artsy s/o

You might not expect it, but he’s really in tune with his feelings, so to me it makes sense

He’s not quite as artsy as you, but he knows how to appreciate it

He’s more into the performing arts himself, but he has no less respect for other types of art

He’ll totally arrange work sessions for you both, which vary depending on the vibe you’re working with

Feeling like doing something a little dark or moody? Dramatic piano. Candles. Wine/grape juice in wine glasses.

Feeling colorful? Open windows. Flowers in vases. Candy and fruit. Maybe some cartoons playing in the background.

Point being: he knows how to get a vibe going

He really loves to work alongside you, even if you’re not doing the same thing

Sometimes he tries to sketch or paint, but more often he’s just watching you work or practicing moves

(You guys totally have a shared studio btw; wood floors and barre for him, easel/supply cabinet/whatever you need for you)

You guys definitely help each other out too

He’ll teach you a few moves so you can be his dance partner every now and again, and he’s more than happy to be your muse in return

He doesn’t really do performances or anything (dance is just a side hobby), so he has all the more respect for you if you publicize your work

He loves all your work, but he’s also a great source of constructive criticism

“I like this one. It’s darker than your other pieces, though, isn’t it? More drab.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I was thinking. I think I was just in a mood when I made it.”

Kai

He’ll make requests, but mostly for things he thinks would be cool

“What if you did one with, like, a car shooting flames from its exhaust pipes? Oh! And the driver is super handsome with a flaming cape and swords and sunglasses that are made of pieces of the sun!”

“That is insane. …I’m starting right now.”

He really admires your art, and he’s honestly a bit jealous of your skill

He actually has a pretty creative mind, just not the means to express it

So he’ll be shy about it, but eventually he asks if you can give him some pointers

He doesn’t want to keep asking you to bring his sharks flying in jets over volcanoes to life forever, after all

He’s gotta learn to be independent!

So he’ll quietly join you while you work, watching you closely and trying to follow along

He gets frustrated when he isn’t instantly as talented as you, and you have to laughingly assure him that skill takes time

He only gains more respect for you as he tries to stay calm

He learns to truly admire your work this way

And with his admiration came a tenfold increase in support

However you share your art, he’s the #1 supporter

Posting online? He’s already liked, commented, and shared on 7 different platforms. At a showcase? He’s dressed sharply, stationed not-so-inconspicuously in front of your piece(s) and getting others to talk about them

Zane

He also has a deep appreciation for art

He doesn’t always understand non-logical things, but art has a way of resonating with him

So to have a partner who makes art…

It adds a whole new level of emotional depth to your relationship

You already make him feel complex things, so seeing art that’s from you is truly an experience

The wistfulness he gets when looking at normal art is only amplified when he remembers that your hands produced it

He likes to be with you when he admires it, squeezing your hand while he takes in the little details

He’s a quiet admirer, but he’ll absolutely attend any events you’re featured in/support any online presence you have

He never gets tired of looking at your work; or looking at you work, for that matter

If you let him, he’ll watch you work

He’s dead silent, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on how easily you get creeped out

Eventually, when you finish, he’ll stand up and join you at your side, admiring the final product

You know he likes it when he reaches for your hand with a smile, letting you rest your head against him

The most you’ll get verbally is “it’s beautiful,” but trust me, he feels so much more deeply about the piece (and you <3)

Lloyd

Lloyd is more curious than anything when he finds out you’re an artist

What kinds of art do you do? Can he see your work? Have you always liked art?

He’s eager to see your work, but he’s not sure he can “appreciate” it properly

You have to reassure him that there’s no one way to “appreciate” art, and however he feels about it, that’s just how he feels

Your response only increases his interest

He ends up getting more into art because of you

The art of appreciation, if you will

He wants to be able to understand your work more so that he knows how to support you

He mostly spends hours just staring at your work, trying to notice the little details

He’d love to watch you at work, too, if you’ll let him

He asks questions all the time, but still tries not to annoy you

He’s actually already a natural at “appreciating” art, but the fact that he’s always trying to learn only makes him better at it

So you can do nothing but smile while he tilts his head, carefully formulating his next question

They’re surprisingly deep at times:

“Do you think this piece uses smoother shapes because you were feeling relaxed, so you moved more slowly? Or perhaps you were just emulating your calmness subconsciously..?”

“That could be it. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Oh, sorry, am I overanalyzing? Sorry-”

“No, no, you’re totally right.”

You’ll ruffle his hair affectionately, and he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder while he continues to examine your piece :]

Nya

I’m gonna be honest, I don’t see Nya as the type to get all deep over the meaning of art

Like, if it’s pleasing to the eye she’ll appreciate it, but she doesn’t think about it too much

It’s just too abstract for her tastes; the pseudo-reasoning of art critics gets on her nerves

But for your work she makes an exception

Well, not really an exception—she doesn’t take to pseudo-reasoning

She knows you, she knows your feelings, so when she sees your work, she sees a piece of you in it

It’s something she doesn’t see in other art pieces; she doesn’t know the artist, so it’s nothing more than a visual piece for her

But with your pieces, she can dig deeper because she knows deeper information

That’s why she loves your work, and why she loves watching you work

You’re the only artist that makes her feel like she really understands art, and for that she appreciates you

(She still thinks that most critics talk out of their asses though)

On that note, she will fight your critics. She will hunt them down and make them regret ever trying to “understand” your work

“Tch, look at this idiot. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about! He doesn’t know you!”

“Nya, he’s complimenting my work-”

“But he doesn’t understand it!”

Honestly you think it’s a little funny how she’s unintentionally become one of those critics who argue about a piece’s meaning

Only for you though ;)

Pixal

She has a vast trove of knowledge, but feeling is something she often struggles with

There are few things that actually give her profound emotions

Your art is one of those things

The fact that it came from you, that your hands crafted it…

It stirs something in her, and suddenly the shapes and colors come to life

She asks you about it often, trying to understand

“Why is it… calming?”

“Well, I suppose I used some pretty muted colors, and the imagery is kinda peaceful… I dunno, does it calm you?”

“Yes. It makes me feel calm.”

Obviously you’re proud of her for better recognizing her emotions

And she’s proud of herself!!

Your art helps her understand a part of her that she’s only beginning to explore

And, since it comes directly from you, she credits you with the help :)

She loves to see your finished work, but she also finds herself mesmerized by your creative process

Watching the piece come together, each motion bringing it closer to completion, helps her understand the art itself

She tells herself that it helps her understand her feelings, too

Even though she knows that not every piece is dedicated to her, she always thanks you for showing her your work <3

Thanks for this request!! And thank you for reading, take care you little rockstars <33

(divider by saradika)

[parchmentknight]

another drawing of "guy stands in his undergarments against single-coloured background"

poor kieran... someone feed him

these are so fun to do, even if they aren't pushing me out of my comfort zone, nor super "creative". these i feel should be more "warm-ups" but i digress.

might actually draw kieran doing stuff eventually, and maybe re-do the micah drawing

[mcbride]

Daryl Dixon Rewatch S1E06 - Coming Home

it's the first ep with an English title and the last of the season. overall, i wanna say i was actually surprised how much i did enjoy watching. the complete focus on Daryl without all the background noise/storylines/characters, the way he still means what he says, but he's actually using his words and lots of sass instead of the typical nodding and grunting. good job!

but i gotta confess that if i hadn't known beforehand that Carol was going to be a part of this show, i probably wouldn't have bothered 🤷‍♀️. the fact Carol's not only back on screen, but she is such a great part of the whole vibe of the show, was actually unexpected. this show is straight up showing us Carol is the driving force in Daryl's relentless journey to get back home.

whoever tries to convince you Daryl is conflicted about where he belongs and where he wants to be is lying to you (pointing at you, Z!!). he literally spends 6 whole episodes reminding everybody he's got a home, people who love him waiting, a promise to keep, and a need to get back asap.

it doesn't mean Daryl does not form connections while on that journey. because he does - the strongest with Laurent, obviously, however, none strong enough to hold him back from his ultimate goal, which is going home to keep his promise to CAROL!

anyways, let's get to the season 1 finale:

the super!walkers fighting scene in the arena is pretty epic: from Daryl's super cool kill with the French flag to that Daryl/Quinn team up! the cherry on top being Daryl throwing that walker head at Genet. Loved IT!

Quinn eventually does help Daryl escape, and later, unfortunately, almost kills Isa, who is once again totally helpless against any kind of threat (killer nun, my ass!). in a scene eerie similar to the one in Daryl's underwater premonition a couple of eps ago, Daryl prompts Laurent to kill walker!Quinn with a "God will forgive you."

Laurent says something that sounds like it will be the whole point of Caryl's French adventure. "Sometimes you have to do horrible things, and no matter how bad you feel, if there is no other choice, God will forgive you." this feels like the key to breaking out of the cycle Carol has been stuck to since she was banished by Rick. (i'll probably post my s2 spec and theories next week!)

next, we see Daryl watching lovebirds Sylvie and Emile saying goodbye, they have to separate (i see what you did there, Z!), and reassures Sylvie that Emile will be alright before she asks him if he's ever been in love. BOY, has he ever!! Daryl's non response is quite telling. he knows what it feels like to say goodbye to the one you love without knowing if you'll ever see them again. and he's not alright, he's all the way in a whole different continent, separated by the Atlantic ffs.

we get some new insight into Daryl's origins when he and Isa share stories about their fathers. Daryl believes that his grandpa never returning home from war ruined their family for future generations and worries the cycle might repeat itself. has Daryl been reading about generational trauma? sharing this with her will bite him in the ass, later!

Isa's confession of her lie about the drawing gets absolutely no reaction from Daryl because it had zero influence on what happened next. Daryl didn't stay cause he believed in a new Messiah, he stayed because the kid was about to get in trouble, when Codron attacked his home; he stayed because it was a way of finding help getting him closer to a radio or boat to actually get him home; he stayed so he could take the kid to a place where he would be safe, and Daryl could finally leave without feeling guilty.

the great Daryl and Isa exchange looks compilation is trying too hard to show us, yes, Daryl has made a connection to these people, and is fairly content at the Nest with Laurent and the most mundane activities like peeling potatoes. they are showing us Daryl could stay here, make this his new home. why not? HE MADE A PROMISE! no matter what he could never be happy here, this is not his HOME.

Losang gives him a way out, but also tries to convince him to stay. "Sometimes, when a person leaves home, he comes to find he belongs someplace else." and it's true, if Daryl didn't know where, with whom he belonged. and it's not with Laurent and Isa.

it's really embarrassing how Isa tries to manipulate and guilt trip Daryl into staying with them using Laurent and Daryl's history. it has been like 2 months tops, and they acting like Daryl himself gave birth to Laurent, and wants to abandon his kid. bitch please, he has kids he actually raised and a wife back home!!

Daryl resents his grandpa for abandoning the family to fight in someone else’s war, and that's exactly what he would be doing if he chose to stay in France. that's what Isa will never understand - he had a whole full life with people who looked up to him, relied on him, loved him, before he even met her and Laurent. he wasn't lost. the connection he found with the people there isn't new to him, he has Judith and RJ, he has Connie and Zeke. but most importantly, he has a HOME (Carol!!!).

there's this beautiful emotional moment of Daryl quietly saying goodbye to a sleeping Laurent, and it's clear this kid means a lot to him. however, not nearly enough to make him stay. he still chooses to LEAVE. so many people trying to convince him he belongs with them, and he is still 10000000% sure he has to go back. there truly is ZERO hesitation.

i lost count how many times Daryl actually tried to leave, but it was always the kid's safety that kept him around again and again. he is so close to getting on that boat, literally fiercely fighting walkers to get to the beach, to get closer to HOME, and the same happens AGAIN. biggest FML moment for Daryl. Laurent, who is surrounded by walkers, is calling his name! FUCK ME!

and finally, we get to the highlight of this finale, Carol's badass entry. the way she's so absolutely calm with a big dude pointing a gun at her, PLEASE. she knows he's fucked around and is about to find out. no one takes Daryl's belongings and gets away with it.

"if you're lying, i won't be back." and she rides off on Daryl's bike. ICONIC. LEGENDARY. EPIC.

21 days left until the premiere of THE BOOK OF CAROL!!!!!

[shuuen-no-cimory]

Also of course, it ain't me if I don't crossover my current hyperfixation with my ultimate current hyperfixation. So... Degrees of Lewdity x ProjectMoon! (This post is full of me yapping as I explain each drawing, so I guess, be ready?)

First, I'll go hard with Whitney as R Corp. 4th Rabbit Team. The initial idea was that he reminds me so much of RHeath LMAO But eventually I love the idea because I think he'd go along with Myo well. Plus... Somehow imagining Whitney in Rabbit Team Hatchery shenanigans seems... Interesting.

Next is Eden. If anyone notice, I originally designed him based of 2 Abnos: Der Freischutz and Big Bird. Der Frei was, of course, a nod to his title as a Hunter, and a marksman as well. For Big Bird... Yeah definitely there's the Big Bird in DoL, yet I think temperance-wise, Eden does felt similar to Big Bird. A creature living in a forest, thinking they protect others by doing the action that definitely doesn't seems to be out of protection. As for RRH, oh think about this: Being hunted down while getting marked. One by a hunter, and another by a wolf. Oh isn't it just reminds me of something...? Right

Funny enough, before I designed the school LIs properly, I reimagined them as The City's feathers. "If they're living in the City and has to work with one Wing, which one they'll work on?" I've talked about R. Corp Whitney earlier so I'll talk about the others! Robin, L Corp. - I can imagine him with the pressing needs to survive under the weight of Bailey's rent ends up either being sent or signed himself up as an agent for L Corp. The Wing doesn't ask that much requirement as per Hokmah's story while the agent supposed to have a great pay (being a wing and all). Hence, I think he might work for L Corp. Sydney, K Corp. - The idea was that after graduating, Sydney might follow Sirris path in science. Being the obedient child she is (as we sees on the game before they get corrupted), she probably choose to do what Sirris might do hence her as K Corp. researcher. Oh anyway, truly this is just a fyi that doesn't seems to be related to anything, I reimagined Harper as Dongrang in this scenario, with the whole Teary-Thing problem exist. Oh, lucky enough for Sydney to help producing K Ampule that definitely just as seen in the canon Limbus story. Just saying. Kylar, W Corp. - This one actually a rather fun idea. This is set with the idea that Kylar work as the Clean Up Member, with parents that's definitely unaware with how their child work but nevertheless proud with him. They'd even use WARP Train solely to be sent off by Kylar each time, much to Kylar silent dismay. If only they know what Kylar has to clean up among the 6 seconds they went into the train... Read one of the reblog tag and yeah. It has to do with Love Town. And pretty much how Kylar had to regularly assemble his parents again and again each trip they made.

LCB! SYDNEY LET'S GOOOO!!!! This idea came as I made my LCB-esque ID Card for Sydney. The idea of LCB Sydney's background was that it's pretty much what happened in the game, but make it The City-esque and seen from Sydney's eyes. It's fun imagining her as a Dieci Fixer who was caught in a complicated issue which she rather dip out from as she hasn't fully grow the backbone to face it yet. Oh right, in this AU I reimagined Ivory as Abnormality and both Sydney and Kylar got their EGO. Sydney got their Longing Phase EGO (HE, Gloom) while Kylar got the Haunting Phase EGO (WAW, Wrath). I actually had a draft of how the EGO works and its gimmick but let's talk it later on lol

When Yield My Flesh event is up on Limbus, my head doing the funny by thinking, "Damn... Jun Wren sounds cool..." then I remember Tingtang exist like jfgdjfgbjd HE FITS BETTER AS TINGTANG WHY DIDN'T I THINK ABOUT IT ON A SIDE NOTE, I also had the thought on how Bailey MIGHT kills it as either a Kurokumo or a Middle. After all, Middle never forget... Just like how Bailey never forget your rent LOL

And last but not least: Sydney and Robin as L Corp. Agent! Robin will be a high Temperance agent which work for Safety Team, while Sydney is the high Fortitude, high Prudence Disciplinary Team Captain. Oh, if you do notice: I made Sydney's cross looks like Penitence EGO Weapon. It's actually based of this idea of how One Sin and WhiteNight's dynamic thematically fits Sydney the Faithful and Sydney the Fallen. The name of both Abnos' EGO Set-- "Penitence" and "Paradise Lost" respectively, both fits the image of each Sydneys. Hence, I draw them in both EGO Sets!

[idoodlestuffsometimes]

DRAWING BACKGROUNDS: TIPS AND TRICKS

So many people are afraid of drawing backgrounds and I think it's a shame, so here's some tips and tricks, because I'm not perfect at it myself but I think the hardest part is really just knowing where to start.

First off: Perspective

Yeah, yeah, that's the scary word. But I promise you, once you're familiar with the basics, backgrounds are a LOT less intimidating. Don't get discouraged if WHEN you have trouble with it. Even professional artists struggle with it. I promise you, screwing it up is good and normal. That's how you learn after all!

Now I'm not going to go into detail on how to do it here, because honestly there are a thousand and one free resources online and in libraries that can explain it far better than I ever could in a singular broad-strokes tumblr post. But I AM at least telling you you should familiarize yourself with these basics:

Important Terms: Horizon Line: A horizontal line across your canvas, showing your viewer's eye level and providing a location for most of your vanishing points. Vanishing Point: Integral to drawing in perspective. The sides of a 3D object get smaller as they become farther away from the viewer in space. This point is where the parallel lines of a side eventually meet.

The Basic Types of Perspective: One Point Perspective: Good for drawing things that you're looking at straight on. Two Point Perspective: Good for drawing things at an angle. Three Point Perspective: Good for drawing things the viewer is looking up or down at, especially at an extreme angle.

[Click images for ALT descriptions]

And if you're comfortable with these and serious about improving your skills for use in storytelling, I also might suggest looking up:

4 Point Perspective: Great for extra wide or tall shots and for camera tilts if you're doing an animation or animatic. I think some other names for this in animation include "banana pan" and "warp pan."

5 Point Perspective: Fish-eye lens. Good for all your angsty anime boy slipping into madness needs!

Some perspective tips I wish someone had told me earlier:

Objects' relation to the horizon line is constant. A super helpful tip to remember when placing a character or object in space is that they will always (assuming they aren't changing in size or moving up or down) have the same relation to the horizon line no matter how far or close they are. If your horizon line is at shoulder height for your focus character in the foreground, any character of the same height in the background will still line up with the horizon line at the shoulders.

How to pick the distance between your vanishing points: 2 pt perspective uses 2 vanishing points, 3 pt uses 3, etc, etc, but how close should they be? Well, first of all, for anything that isn't one point perspective, one or more points will usually be off the canvas. Super annoying, I know, but the closer your vanishing points are, the more warped your drawing will become. Second, a helpful thing to know is that choosing the distance between your points is basically the illustration equivalent of picking your camera lens! Photography buffs will know that wider (shorter focal length) lenses show more space and make the distance between foreground and background more dramatic, while longer focal length/telephoto lenses are flatter, and more focused and intimate. The same is true of vanishing points that are closer (shorter focal length) or farther apart (longer focal length).

2 point/3 point/etc doesn't actually mean you're limited to that many points total on your page. this one confused me a lot when I was getting started, lol. A lot of examples will show you drawings of nice, neat cities or something, in which all the buildings are facing the same way in order to demonstrate perspective drawing. But in real life, buildings don't all face the same direction. They're at all sorts of different angles. So how do I do that??? Answer: Just because you're drawing in 2 point perspective or whatever doesn't mean you... have to actually keep your 2 points in the same spot. You can move them around, just keep them the same distance apart, so you're not screwing up your camera lens.

Other Tips:

Use reference! The instant you try to draw a house, you're going to forget every house you've ever seen. That's just how it goes. Buildings are complicated. Do yourself a favor and collect a few reference images first, buddy!

Consider details (like architectural style, amenities, and materials) Your building will look more like a building when you keep in mind that buildings have gutters and door knobs and light switches and paneling and stuff, and aren't just boxes with roofs on them. Again: reference! You will forget electrical sockets and baseboards exist immediately. Art brains are dumb.

Use details and texture to fill in negative space Giant stretches of blank space tend to be boring and distracting. Put a few suggestions of wood grain or something on that wall back there, bud, just don't overdo it.

Line weight Darker, thicker lines draw more attention, look heavier, and look closer to the viewer than lighter, thinner lines do. Take advantage of this to draw the viewer's attention to your focal points, de-emphasize less important details, and imply depth. It's up to you to decide how you want to use this and what your style is, especially once you start getting into combining or replacing it with shading, values, and color, but a helpful rule of thumb is to try reserving your thickest lines for focal foreground characters and use thinner lines on backgrounds, especially details in the far distance.

Perspective guides If you're drawing digitally, take full advantage of any perspective tools you have access to! A lot of art programs lately have begun adding perspective guide features that let you set up vanishing points and then literally guide your hand as you draw so you stay in perspective. Some of these include Procreate, Clip Studio Paint, and Adobe Fresco. (still sadly none in Photoshop as far as I'm aware, what the heck, Adobe!). Check through the settings of yours to see if it gives you any perspective guides or other similarly useful tools. They're 100% worth it! And for god's sake, if you've got any skew or perspective warp tools, draw your complicated shapes flat and then warp them instead of spending an hour on it! Don't make my mistakes!

[hbystuff]

Process breakdown #1

Here is a breakdown of the butterfly animation. This was originally posted as a twitter thread, but a real blog post seems to be a much better format for it.

Step 1: Static Drawing

I've long wanted to experiment with Bokeh effect in pixel art as a way to avoid drawing background. It ended up being a lot more challenging than just a normal background 😂. Still an interesting experiment nonetheless and I might use it for some other stuff in the future.

Step 2: Rough Animation

I traced the static drawing with a contrasting colour, then roughly sketched the other frames. Seeing it in motion made it clear to me that the form was very obviously incorrect, but I thought I'd adjust as I go.

Step 3: Refined Animation

Before I got to this point, I naively tried to put in the colour. I quickly realized making the "veins" look consistent would be very hard without guides. So I looked up pictures of actual Morpho butterflies to study the wings in detail. Also made the shapes (mostly) correct and doubled the frame count once I was happy with the shapes.

Step 4: Colours

This was the most fun part. I conceptualized the wings as two blue tinted, matte, textured mirrors rotating in 3D space. When two mirrors come together, they start reflecting each other. The closer they get, the less the lighting from the surrounding world contribute to the colours you see. Eventually, nearly no light from the outside world make into the gap and all you see is dark blue/black.

It started looking almost like mirrors as I figured out the rough movements of the reflections; then a shimmering mess of colours as I threw in more details from the static drawing. The key trick to making the complex colours look consistent was to pay attention to every "partition" of the wings to make sure the dark colours creep in and out smoothly.

I also gradually filled in the eye spots and details on the backside of the wings, not sure if many people noticed them but I was pretty happy with how they looked.

Step 5: Shadow

A big part of realism comes from how a moving object affects the lighting around it. In this case: the shadow on the flower. This is a rough version of the shadows as I worked on it. Wasn't too concerned about making it look 100% correct, since the wings probably catch all the attention anyway.

Step 6: Final Touches

I spaced out the movements so it didn't feel quite so frantic. Instead of using the last frame as the resting frame, I used the second last, and only briefly showed the last frame at the begging and end of the motion to add a bit of realism (although in reality, butterfly wings probably don't have enough mass for that to happen, but hey, 🤷‍♀️).

Also spent some time to reduce the palette down by merging similar looking colours. Also reused the darker, subtler yellow in the background to create the illusion of more flowers out of focus.

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 4

Description: Your first date with Simon draws near and it turns out to be absolutely magical

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, reader is not vegetarian; mentions of previous mental abuse by an ex; Please be careful when reading

Word count: 4.368

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Part three is here. Please read this one with a bit of caution.

I´m discussing something that has happened in my last relationship and it might be a bit difficult to read. It´s how I cope. I did something like this in another fic of mine and I realised how much it helped me and apparently others. So I incorporated another experience in this fic, hoping that the toothrotting fluff will make up for it.

Please enjoy none the less <3

It was Friday and your heart was already pumping so many different hormones and feelings through your system that you actually began to doubt your sanity.

You hadn’t seen Simon since he hung up your shelf and introduced you to his dog. The dog. God, the moment you thought he had a girlfriend and had seen how he behaved around you had made you so angry for a second. Thankfully however it was all just a misunderstanding and Simon had given exactly what you had needed at that moment.

Total and complete clarity.

He seemed like the type of man that was not socially awkward per se but definitely a bit of an isolated character. You couldn’t see him at lavish social gatherings or busy events. I think the mask would be too much of a conversation starter for it to not get awkward eventually. If he wanted to wear it, whatever his reason was, you were in no position to question him. You didn’t lie when you told him that it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You were just curious, and if he didn’t want to tell you why he wore it, then that´s what it was going to be. 

Secretly though, your mind was itching with the numerous faces you´d conjured up in the middle of the night. You found yourself awake wondering how his nose was shaped, how plump or not his lips were, if he had stubble, a beard or was he clean shaven? It didn’t matter to you as much as you thought. You´ve had crushes on men before that had shown even less than hair and eyes. Given they were fictional, the cush itself was real.

And so was the one you´d developed on the brown eyed, whisky voiced half stranger living next to you.

When you got out of bed Saturday morning, you dreaded the whole day ahead of you. He´d only pick you up at 8 so you had to occupy yourself for, what? Another ten hours?

“Fuuuuuuuuck” you sighed as you made your daily dose of coffee and got some eggs and toast ready.

Taking it all to your living room you plopped down on your couch and started your TV. Narcos was silently playing in the background as you made some mental notes about what you needed to do before Simon picked you up.

Shower, shave (maybe even exfoliate), pick out a casual outfit, clean up your apartment at least somewhat. Enough time was spent living out of cardboard boxes and not really settling. Being comfortable in your home would surely help making you more comfortable with yourself and therefore comfortable with the thought of an absolute hunk like Simon being interested in you.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unlovable, no. Not at all. But the men than had shown interest in you before were never like Simon. And that didn’t mean just physically.

Your last relationship opened your eyes to the men that you usually attracted. Insecure boys, hiding behind a strong masculine façade and instead of working on themselves, or realizing what they lacked, always bound someone to them that wasn’t yet aware of their own worth.

Unfortunately, you used to be that kind of person. Your ex was one of the most interesting men you´d ever met. When he started to take an interest in you, you were ecstatic and soon after you began dating. Over the years however, he slowly chipped away at your confidence, misused your people pleasing tendencies and slowly…oh so slowly made you emotionally dependent on him.

So much so, that there was a time where you actually thought there was no other man for you on this planet other than him. That his actions and words were only for your benefit even if you felt deep down that something wasn’t right about the way he was treating you.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, however. So, every time you tried to have a talk with him about how his behavior made you feel, he only needed about 5 minutes of constant talking to make you believe he was actually a great partner and that the problem was either nonexistent, only in your head or your fault.

This led to the fact that trying to argument in your favor was something you´d completely lost.

By the time he almost convinced you that you couldn’t do anything right or at least without him, that you weren’t very much intelligent but super sweet, so it was worth staying with you, you had already forgiven him for cheating on you once.

The second time however was your breaking point. The fact that the girl was underage opened your eyes about him so quickly, that you basically ran for the hills. Behavioral therapy and some new complexes were the result of all that. It did work though. Two years later your life was yours again to take and you grabbed it tightly.

Still, some of the things that had happened changed the way you saw yourself.

Simon was different. He seemed confident in a way that didn’t need to put others down for it. He was friendly, mild and cheeky. And you were going on a date with him. You probably would have never asked him so his direct confession that he was indeed trying to flirt and him asking you out first, made your confidence spike like nothing had done in the past two years.

You tried not to let it go to your head. Never again would you define your worth over the attention of an attractive man. But that feeling never once arose when you thought about Simon. Only excitement and juvenile glee. You marveled in it as you practically danced around your apartment, cleaning, putting stuff away, getting a load of laundry going.

Around three o´clock you got hungry again and decided to walk to the market around the corner to get one of your favorite sandwiches.

You walked into your bedroom to put on a pair of lose, flowy beige pants and a black tank top before putting on your shoes. You grabbed your bag and walked outside. The sun was shining brightly, only disrupted by one or the other white and fluffy cloud as you made your way to the market. It was like the busy streets of London as well as the weather congratulated you on a successful and productive day so far. Smiling and humming happily you purchased your lunch and made your way back with an additional fizzy raspberry lemonade you just couldn’t pass up.

Back in your apartment you closed your door and looked around. It was all coming together. No more boxes, the plastic plants all where you wanted them, and the handing shelf finally filled with a colorful display of your favorite books. A deep breath came forth as you enjoyed your meal and lemonade on your couch. It was still a little weird to you to be fully responsible for your own feelings and the actions you had to take to achieve them. Making yourself happy was never something you put much effort into and that had also been something you had to learn the hard way.

Now, you thought about your life and for the first time in years felt content. Like you didn’t need anybody else to feel this way. Just yourself. And with this feeling you noticed, came the confidence and willingness to let somebody else in again.

There it was again. Your inner eye producing a mess of blond hair, brown, expressive eyes and an impressive body. With all the nonphysical attributes he´d shown you so far that made him so endearing, it was hard not to notice how your body reacted whenever you thought about his broad back, his waist or his massive thighs. You didn’t want to objectify him and still, in the late hours of the night you and your mind had managed to get you off so hard, you had to use a pillow over your mouth to drown out your screams and whimpering.

A shiver ran down your spine when you thought about last night. Even though it took you about 15 minutes to calm down enough from your orgasm to catch a coherent thought, Simon still managed to invade your dreams. His raspy voice in your ear telling you to go to sleep. Telling you gently to rest and leave it to him (whatever he meant), holding you close to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and drowsily stroking your back.

Waking up without him though always put a bit of a sting to your chest. That feeling was soon replaced with an embarrassed giggle as you fell backwards into your pillows again with your palm covering your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe these dreams could become a reality. If you played your cards right.

Determined to make this date a success even though you had no idea what his plan was, you made your way into your shower. Humming along to your little radio you turned off your shower to start shaving when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was again, and your heart swelled twice its size. He was taking a shower, singing along to some tune you´d never heard before. It was mesmerizing. Slow and deep. The wall prevented you from hearing what exactly the words were, but the melody alone was so beautiful that you didn’t care.

You´d just finished shaving and were reluctant to turn on the water again when his shot off and the singing yet again stopped. “Bloody hell” you muttered with an airy, fluttering feeling in your stomach. Pampering was the next step. You used your rich body butter and your loveliest perfume. Feeling great and refreshed you used the rest of the time to put on your fluffy bathrobe, sit on your couch and tend to your toes and feet since you decided to wear sandals.

Only five minutes left, and you just finished putting the last efforts into your hair as you heard three strong knocks on your door. Hurrying over to your door you almost tripped over your own feet. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door. Holy gosh darn fucking crap!! That was not fair. It just wasn’t.

Matching his black mask, he wore a black polo shirt that hugged him way better than the other shirts you´d seen on him. His dark washed jeans were held up by a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. You knew he was built but this? The way his biceps was stretching the material and the jeans clung to his thighs made your mouth water. He´d styled his hair only slightly but it sat still adorably tousled upon his head.

You smiled up at him and squeezed out a breathless “Hi”. Simon looked down at you with slightly bulging eyes as he took in your outfit of fitted blue jeans and a flowy, emerald-green blouse. Flitting his eyes to yours again he smiled. “Hi” he repeated in a happy tone.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, closing your door behind you and locking it. Only now did you realize that Simon was carrying a small basket. A blanket attached to it and your heart started galloping in your chest. “Did you cook for us?” you asked in an impressed tone. He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I didn’t cook. Not this time.” This time, oh God help me. “But I did assemble of sorts.”

“I see” you said happily and started leaving the building next to him. “I thought we´re doing casual” you said teasingly as you eyed him from the side. Simon snorted shortly as he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes wander down your body. It gave you a sensation unlike any other. “So did I. But I´m glad I wanted a little more than casual. Otherwise, I would have been fatally underdressed.”

A violent shiver ran down your back when you saw his eye wink at you. Your face was burning, you were sure of it.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you noticed him leading you towards nearby park. “Patience” he scolded good naturedly.

About 15 minutes later you ended up on a slight hill in the middle of a beautiful park. Simon stopped next to a tree and began rolling out the blanket. His hulking form seemed a little out of place there, trying to straighten out the blanket. You felt your features soften as he gave out a small grunt before sitting up on his knees and looked up at you. His eyes were glimmering in the gradually setting sun and he patted the blanket next to him softly.

Grinning you lowered yourself and got comfortable. From your place up on the hill you had a stunning view of the soft, carpet like plane of grass spreading out in front of you. Many other people were out and about, walking their dogs, going for a run, casually hanging out with friends. The glimmering skyline of London was seen in the background of massive oak trees at the very end of the park.

“You hungry?” Simons deep voice seeped into your ears and with an excited smile you turned your had and nodded. You observed as he opened the basket and pulled out several boxes with tuna sandwiches (no crust), deviled eggs, veggie sticks, tomatoes, a bag of tortilla chips and what looked like self-made guacamole. The last item he produced was a bottle of what looked like expensive white wine before his eyes caught yours again. Your mouth hung comically wide open as you stared at the feast in front of you.

“You´re not vegetarian, are you?” he suddenly asked and looked at the sandwiches sheepishly. You almost squeaked the way he looked so adorably worried for a second.

“Vegan, actually” you said dryly and almost doubled over laughing when he gave you a shocked look. He rolled his eyes and handed you a tuna sandwich. “Sorry” you mumbled as you took it from him. Then, something came to you. “Uhm” you said carefully as your eyes fluttered down to his mask.

His eyes crinkled again. “If you don’t mind” he said quietly and produced something else from the basket that almost made you choke on your bite of tuna. The silk scarf dangled promisingly and naughtily between his fingers.

You couldn’t really tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. You looked around you but there were no other people on the hilltop other than you. The next group of people so far away, their heads were the size of a pinhead.

“I´m asking too much, aren’t I?” Simon said as he lowered the scarf back into the basket. “No,” you said quickly. Your voice octaves higher. Did he not realize that this scenario was the beginning of almost every woman’s wet dream? “Give me the scarf, Simon. Please.”

“You sure?” he asked you. You nodded firmly. “If you need me to wear it while we eat, I will.”

His chest seemed to inflate dramatically. “Let me” he breathed and moved his body closer to you. This is a dream; it must be! Closing your eyes, you felt your hands shaking slightly in your lap as you felt the scarf being put over your eyes.

Simon´s warm breath cascaded over your face as he carefully knotted the piece of fabric behind your head. Your pulse was hammering away when you felt his heat, smelled his wonderful musky, citrussy scent cling to the skin of his throat and face. The deep breath you took before you felt him retreat slowly was nothing you could have stopped and again your ears were blessed with an adorable ´hehe´.

“Alright?” he asked. “Yep,” you breathed. “Can´t see a damn thing.” Grinning you tried to feel for your sandwich a little clumsily.

“Hold on” you heard Simon chuckle. “Seeing as I´m taking your ability to see, I think it´s only fair if I-“ a warm hand touched yours and placed your sandwich back in it. “Help you out a little.” His voice lowered even further. Something you would have bet on wasn’t possible. “Y-You really thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked with a hitch in your voice before taking another bite to occupy your mouth.

“Well. I really didn’t want to pass up an opportunity with you” he answered truthfully. A little strangled sound escaped you seconds before a huge smile split your lips.

You sat for another moment in comfortable silence. “How´s the food?” he suddenly asked. Something was off about his voice and suddenly you realized that he had to have removed his mask. A bead of sweat ran down your back. “It´s delicious” you said as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “Did you make all of it yourself?” Simon hummed. “I did. I usually only cook for myself so I don´t get too fancy with it. But I do enjoy it.”

You carefully patted around you to get to the devilled eggs, trying to remember where Simon had put the container but all you suddenly touched was smooth jeans. “Oh, ´M sorry” you said and retracted your hand quickly. “No worries” Simon said. “What do you want?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Deviled egg, please” you sang and held open your hand.

“Nuh-uh” Simon said and moved in front of you again. “Open up.”

Oh you´ve got to be absolutely shitting me. This cheeky bastard wasn’t really going to…

You obeyed of course, what else was there to do? You opened your mouth and a moment later your lips wrapped around the egg. You could feel Simon´s fingers holding it to your lips before he retracted them in the last second. “Oh my god” you moaned around your mouth full of egg. “Simon, these are incredible.” You heard a gurgling noise in front of you; a bottle of wine being opened shortly after so you brushed it aside.

This is how you spend the next hour. Simon occasionally feeding you with deviled eggs, chips and guacamole. Only the veggie sticks he let you eat by yourself. He handed you the bottle of wine whenever you asked for it and you really tried not to think about how as teenagers, you and your friends had argued many times about weather drinking from the same bottle was equivalent to a kiss or not.

The alcohol settled comfortably into your stomach as did his delicious food.

“Almost time” he said. “Let me get the scarf off you.” Your senses already heightened, you knew exactly where he was on the blanket, when he was in front of you and when his fingertips were about to touch you.

“Time for what?” you asked with a curious smile. You heard a chuckle before the scarf was removed and Simons face came into view. So much closer than it ever had been. He didn’t move an inch, your noses almost touching. His eyes wandering over your face slowly it was almost like you could feel their path burning on your skin. The sun had already set and a warm breeze was wafting all around you, carrying the scent of hot soil, food and the distinct scent of the city.

“You´ll see” Simon murmured into his cloth before lifting his hand and gently touched your cheek. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. His posture was relaxed, his eyes attentive and staring into your soul. It wasn’t like you were any better off. The whole situation was written straight out of a romance novel and the main characters were about to share their first kiss. Even though it was already dark, the lights of the city were still bright enough to see how his breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling in deeper breaths.

A high pitched tone cut the thick air and you saw how Simon momentarily froze before both of you looked over to the skyline of London. Not a second later with a huge bang, a display of beautiful golden flecks decorated the nights sky.

You grinned ear to ear as the fireworks really started and several explosions of light colored your face in green, red and gold. “I love fireworks” you breathed and looked over to Simon with a thankful look in your eyes. He was already looking at you. He stayed seated where he was when you´d moved to see the fireworks better so he was still quite close. His arm was brushing yours when he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“I´m glad” he said almost too quietly.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the fact that this man made you feel at ease, lighthearted and without a worry in the world. You couldn’t remember. You just let your head fall onto his shoulder, looking at the firework in front of you and smiling contently.

Simon´s POV

Simon didn’t dare move. The soft skin of your hand slightly brushing his was enough to make him lose his damn mind. Almost. The first firework had startled him but the way the golden light had illuminated your face and the smile you´d given him had made him forget almost everything.

The moment he saw you he knew that he wanted something special with you. You didn´t mind his mask, respected it even. That was something new he had never experienced with a civilian before. You´d managed to sneak into his life and heart so quickly and with such force it worried him a little bit. Any day now he could get called back to base again. Maybe he needed to speed it along a little?

No. Not with you. You didn’t deserve that. He´d let you know if he had to leave again and just take his chances. For the first time he wanted a kiss more than a night of passionate sex to get the edge off. He could take his own edge off, god knows he had to do it in the barracks often enough.

Your whole being however made him yearn for something that went deeper than that. A hug would be worth more than undressing, a kiss worth more than foreplay.

He took a deep breath without moving his shoulder too much, just letting himself fall into the moment. Watching fireworks, having your head lean on him, his fingers playfully chasing yours.

___ POV

By the end of the fireworks you felt like you were floating. Simons fingers were tangles with yours by this point and it felt so delicate and new, you felt like a teenager again. Your heart was doing summersaults in your chest. Thinking about this evening would end eventually made your heart sink.

The last colorful explosion brightened up the sky and you let out a deep sigh. “That was beautiful” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“You´re very welcome” Simon rumbled, locking his picky with yours. You were glad at this point that your position hid your huge grin. Now that the fireworks were over, the alcohol, food and late hour caught up with you. The small yawn you tried to stifle wasn’t lost on him however and he sighed contently. “Come on. I´ll bring you home.”

He stood up and held out his hand which you took immediately. As if you weight nothing he pulled you upright holding your gaze and your hand for several moments longer.

You helped him gather everything before you made your way back to your apartment complex. He didn’t try to take your hand again which made you wonder a little bit. The both of you talked about anything and everything until you were standing in front of your door.

“That was a lot of fun” you said as you turned to him and smiled. You saw how his cheeks lifted again as he nodded. “It was. I´m glad you liked the fireworks.”

“I did” you said. “How did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?” Simon shrugged comically. “That´s my little secret.”

You giggled. The awkward silence you were afraid was going to come at any second now, did not come. Simon yet again proved that he was a man of action and the direct approach.

“I´d really like to do that again.”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Great” he said happily before stepping closer. He took hold of your hand and lifted it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he waited for the fraction of a second for your reaction. When he saw your almost pleading eyes his clothed mouth came down on the back of your hand, kissing it.

Your knees got week and yet again grew heavy with longing. The breath was propelled from your lungs by the way he did it so gently and sincere.

The soft material of his mask was slightly damp from his breath but you couldn’t care less. He was kissing your skin. His mouth was on you. Cloth or no cloth it made you vision blurr.

Simon let go of your hand after what felt like an eternity.

“Sleep well, darlin´” he muttered almost carefully as if the pet name could somehow be a deal breaker for you.

It wasn’t. On the contrary. You felt like your legs were about to give out.

“You too, Simon” you smiled at him dreamily. Reluctantly you turned around and fumbled for your keys. You opened your door and took another peek to your right in his direction.

He´d done the same thing. Pushing his door open he gave you that juvenile little wave again before disappearing from your sight. Sighing deeply as soon as your door closed behind you, this time you didn’t make it to the couch. Your knees gave out then and there and with the silliest of smiles you glided down your door. Your trusty little toy would have to work overtime until the next time you´d be able to drown in those hazel depths again.

____________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

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@ghostlythots @strawberrygato @whateverriddlerpussy @mysticalgalaxysalad @abbiesxox

[chaifootsteps]

Regarding the anon's question about Hazbin getting rebooted in the future and hoping someone does... that's actually one of my personal goals.

Eventually. A few decades down the line when a reboot becomes feasible, plus after I hopefully launch one of the three main series I'm working on pitching (one of which is Hazbin-inspired, the other two drawing elements from other things I love).

Can't say for sure if it will ever come to that point, but in the hypothetical scenario that it ever does get to that point I have a few plans I'm swearing by if that does happen in the future:

Get as many of the original pilot cast as possible, providing they want to be part of the reboot and can still do the voices. If for some reason studio heads deem I can only pick two from the original pilot, Michael and Ed. If for some reason only one, Ed at the bare minimum and I will fight tooth-and-nail for that.

Make sure every character talks differently. Of the main cast, limit the swears to Husk and Angel as regular parts of their vernacular (Husk moreso than Angel, Angel gets the sex jokes). Have Charlie swear on a few occasions but be a bit nervous when she does except when the chips are down. Have Alastor only swear when the chips are down. And give him 1920's/30's slang (mostly 20's since if I recall he died in 1933).

Give Charlie her pilot spine back.

Depending on the episode length, have 1 song per episode, except on the scant few episodes that are musical episodes in themselves (think the A Canterlot Wedding 2-parter in Friendship is Magic). And only have the songs when the characters' emotions are at the height, for good or bad.

Properly showcase the worldbuilding. Make the hierarchy and the nature of contracts clear. Give Lucifer a bit of his "powerful King of Hell" persona back. Showcase the contrast between Heaven and Hell. Make them feel like fleshed-out places.

Don't have Hell just look like LA but red. It's a place that combines sinners from all different locations, times, and backgrounds with eldritch horrors who live there. Lean into that, have fun!

Slow down the pacing. Have the redemption plotline not be rushed. Take time to get to know the characters. While it would suck if the story was cancelled due to not having later season's greenlit, it's infinitely better for a series' longevity with its fandom to have them wanting more rather than looking back at a show and thinking the pacing was incredibly rushed. Don't ruin what you can tell because you worry about what you might not be able to.

That's an awesome goal. My crusty old ass will be watching eagerly!

[oddballwriter]

HEYAA. I’ve been so obsessed with ur MK stuff lately it’s insane. Wondering if I could request a little blurb with Steven? 🙏 Maybe artistic reader who uses Steven as a muse of sorts? 🎨 Maybe Steven finds reader’s sketches of him and Reader is like embarrassed 😨 that he may be uncomfortable with it? Add and change up anything you’d like!! 😽 ur my fav writer thank you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me

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Summary: Steven always enjoys your drawings and art, big or small, painting or simple sketch and doodle. But he's a bit surprised when he discovers that you have a habit of drawing a certain muse that you have. 

Warnings: There's nothing that I can actually thing of other than it's mentioned that the reader draws Steven when he's unaware, but I don't think it's that bad. Also 'Y/n' is used once. 

Author’s Snip: This was meant to be just a little blurb but I got the writing equivalent of zoomies. You asked for a cookie and I made you a cake with layers, frosting, and toppings. This is insane how did I do this. I think it's because I've been drinking a monster while writing this. I have paused the video that I was previously watching in the background because I am so focused. I'm not even joking this shit is 1517 words long and that is before I proof and grammar checked it. I think this might be the longest writing I've done thus far. Enjoy your free cake, anon.

Notes: This is written in the lens of a world where it's just Steven, so none of the actual events in the show happen.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven always knew you drew. You met at your jobs at the museum, at the time, you were working the front desk while he of course worked at the gift shop. The two of you weren't all too familiar with each other since you only saw each other in passing. You knew him as Steven from the gift shop, and he knew you as Y/N from the front desk. You did learn more details through others. Steven was a chatty guy who had an impressive knowledge about Egyptology and mythos. And you were the person at the front desk who did nothing but sit there and draw all day when not granting visitors entry, or in most cases, taking a second to scan a preprinted ticket and check the schedule.

Steven heard talk that you were really talented in your art. You were able to draw what were basically pictures of things you saw or even made up. He hadn't seen your actual art till one day he found you sat where he usually did for lunch, drawing the statue man that he talked at everyday. And wow, were they right about how well you could draw. Though while you talked to each other you laughed "Well of course I'm able to draw him perfectly. He doesn't move.".

That lunch break was a long time ago. You two started dating between then and now. Steven managed to leave the museum for a new one that actually let him be a tour guide. You eventually managed to find work that let you use your skills in art instead of using it to beat the boredom of your job. And you also moved in with Steven in his little flat, in which he cleared out some of this clutter to make a space for you to work and make your own.

You would draw little doodles for Steven to have. Like Gus swimming around. An Egyptian god that you made using his books as a reference. You even drew him a little alligator with a speech bubble saying "Later" on a sticky note. He still has it by the way. He laminated it using clear tape and has it in his wallet as a pick-me-up when he's upset or as a lucky charm of sorts. You always made drawings for him. But never once had he thought that you would make drawings of him. Let alone how many drawing you made of him.

Steven isn't a man who likes to snoop around regularly, feeling a massive sense of ruining someone's privacy. But you said that he could always look through your sketchbooks and art pieces if he wanted, as long as it wasn't a commission that was still being worked on, which he respected. You, like any other artist, had a plethora of sketchbooks of different sizes that served different purposes. There were your personal sketchbooks, outline and testing sketchbooks, practice sketchbooks, a lot of sketchbooks with a lot of different things they were for. It amazed him just how many you had and how you were able to remember which is which.

He knew which ones were ones he gifted you though. Steven was never confident when it came to gifting you supplies. He wasn't an artist himself so he didn't know what was perfect and what was something you would say thank you for out of courtesy. One of the things he used as a safe play were sketchbooks. The bookstore he frequented had a section of art stuff and found that the sketchbooks were not only great quality but also had various designs on their covers. So he'd get you one almost every time he went.

When he looked at them on the shelf next to your desk he realized that he had never actually seen inside of those ones. He was a bit hesitant to grab one since he didn't know if you would want him to. It's not like he could ask you right now. You were out running some important errands and he didn't want to bother you. However, they were on the part of the shelf that you put all your regular personal sketchbooks, which he was allowed to look at so he took a one random from the collection and flicked through the pages.

Out of some coincidence, it was the first sketchbook he got you, which was admittedly one he got you before he learned what pages were good for actual art. The first few pages were doodles that were likely from testing how the paper held up with the actual process of drawing which soon stopped and the rest of the art was actually taped on like they originally belonged to another sketchbook.

Steven thought of that as a clever use for the pages. You would sometimes make art you thought was nice on miscellaneous papers and would simply take the piece with the art out and stick it somewhere else. But he soon notices a theme amongst all the doodles and drawings, which then follow into all of the other sketchbooks he gifted you.

Him.

Most of the drawings in these sketchbooks were of him.

They were all different. Some were him lounging around or taking a nap. Something that would have made him unaware of you creating a drawing of him. There was one that was him asleep laying in bed from what would be your side of the bed. His face was calm, the limpness of his arms and body was captured perfectly, the sheets drawn with the most accurate wrinkles, and the lighting gave the impression of the light of the morning that came in through the curtains. It looked like you simply took a picture of him while he slept but it was clearly a sketch drawn using a pen and pencil.

There was these bust and face portraits that spanned through out the books, of course of him. The first were already so good in detail considering these had to be drawings of him from memory. But they only got more detailed as they went on. You managed to get his amount of stubble right. You had the little baby curls that lived along his hair line. The crease between his eyebrows he had since he always had a slight anxious expression. That tiny little dimple that he had next to his nose that he didn't know existed until you pointed it out one time.

Steven's mind was boggling to him to see such detailed drawings of him that looked so carefully done even when they were simply quick sketches. They were life-like. They were him. They were Steven. To be honest, how could it not? You see his face all the time. So why wouldn't you have him completely memorized. It was just the fact that you had taken time and pages to draw him and him alone.

It was a bit jarring, for the both of you, when you walked through the front door with a hand full of groceries and other things from your errands and he was seen looking at all the drawings of him. You were embarrassed that he finally saw all your drawings of him and worried that he would think it was weird. He thought that he crossed a line and breached your privacy.

You two avoided talking about it till Steven finally did during dinner later that evening.

"You, uh, draw me... a lot." Steven spoke. "Yeah. I do." you blush as you avoided eye contact in case his eyes showed that your fear of him finding your habit with drawing him was strange was correct. "Why do you draw me so much?" he questions. You sighed, "It's sort of a habit I formed." you confess. You proceeded to explain how it started,

"I first drew you as an exercise to get rid of some art block. I usually draw faces of people I know as a means to do that. So I drew you. It was okay. But when I looked at it a couple days later I thought that I could do it again to improve on detailing some more. Then I used you as a study for lighting and colors.".

"Then, sometimes, I would just draw you when I thought you looked pretty or thought of you. And that's sort of what I've been doing." you explain further. "I thought you would find it weird if you saw all the times I drew you and so I just put them in the books you got me and hoped you wouldn't see them." you say in a timid manner.

"I don't think it's strange. I think it's actually quite flattering." Steven clarifies. "I was just surprised that you think of me as something worth drawing. Especially with such detail." he remarks. You breathe a sigh of relief at that.

"If I'm entirely honest, love," Steven spoke up, "Never tell me that you're drawing me from where I am. I'll get nervous and possibly ruin the position that you're drawing me in." he remarks.