#i was debating on drawing his face without eyes in the lower right doodle but then i realised a sleeping mask is funnier

[harpuiaa]

ghost trick doodles

[esperanzagalaxy]

Hello! For the RQG requests, bc you said to get specific, I would like to req Wilde falling asleep at his desk and Zolf trying to get him to bed withouf waking him up

 RQG requests #31! i was actually unsure about how to go about this one because i didn’t want to do something too literal and boring, but i also have trouble connecting with zolf and wilde. surprisingly, it didn’t take that long to think of something that felt both very me, and very them, so here it is! sometimes you just gotta get a little silly to make a drawing work. i’m very happy with these! despite how messy they look, they didn’t really need any fixing. thank you for your request! enjoy! <3

 fine brush pen and alcohol markers on  yellow paper.

 ID under the cut!

[ID: a four page comic of zolf and wilde. it's drawn with sketchy black lines and shaded with grays. zolf is depicted as strong, fat, with a serious face, blond hair pulled back in a bun, and beard in a single plait. he's missing both legs below the knee and is on a wheelchair, wearing a sweater and a folded blanket over his legs. wilde is tall and skinny, with finer features, a white button-up and dark trousers. his long brown hair done in a loose braid, and it has a broad white streak running from the top to the tips of the left side. the comic is as follows:

page 1, panel 1: zolf's profile in the foreground to the left as he passes near a doorway, and sees wilde sitting slumped over his desk. panel 2: a shot near wilde, who's shown sleeping over some writing. zolf peeks from the doorframe.

page 2, panel 2: zolf's face looking towards the viewer, with a finger to his lips, making a pensive face. around him, in blocky mauve letters, reads "what shall we do with a sleeping oscar?". page 2, bottom half, and page 3, top half, without corners: four doodles representing the possible plans.

option A is labeled "the sack of potatoes". it shows zolf moving forward with wilde slung over his shoulder, his feet dragging behind them. a list below the doodle rates: "practicality: 3/5. hilarity: 2/5. risk of waking: low".

option B is named "the reverse sack". it's the same base drawing, but zolf is smiling lightly, and wilde is slung over his shoulder but the other way around. he's flailing and cursing, kicking his legs. the list below says, "practicality: 3/5. hilarity: 5/5. risk of waking: certain".

option c is "the mummy". zolf is carrying wilde, bundled up in a sheet with little hearts, smiling in satisfaction while wilde, with only his eyes uncovered, gives him the stink-eye. the list says, "practicality: debatable. hilarity: 7/5. risk of waking: certain".

option d is "baby time". it's the same base drawing again, but with zolf looking calmer, carrying wilde bridal style. his legs hang over the side of the wheelchair, and his head is resting against zolf's. the list below reads, "practicality: 2/5. hilarity: 1/5. risk of waking: null".

page 3, bottom half: the panel is a shot from above zolf's shoulder as he wheels himself over next wilde. wilde is seen sleeping peacefully, looking tired.

page 4: a full page panel with wilde sleeping, his head resting against zolf's chin. he's fast asleep. the panel starts below zolf's eyes and only the lower half of his face is visible, as well as his left hand holding wilde's leg. text above the panel reads, "right, then. let's get ye to bed". end ID]

[sass-and-suspenders]

Abogato

GIF from whatbarisiwore

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Author’s Note: This is a sequel to Dopplegänger, but you don’t need to have read it to understand this story

It would take a single glance inside Rafael’s home office to know he was stressed. If the wastebasket overflowing with crumpled pieces of paper, the haphazardly stacked files across the desk and floor, or the bottle of scotch running precariously low didn’t give it away, then the rumpled, sleep-deprived prosecutor behind the desk certainly would.

Rafael was casually dressed, his weekend commute consisting solely of a walk from the bedroom to the kitchen to your shared office, but tension radiated off him. He had been hunched over a legal pad for hours struggling to write a closing argument. His latest case had been difficult, not to mention high-profile, with the defense matching each of his small victories with their own. Rafael knew the verdict rested on his closing argument and he was determined to make it perfect.

Setting down his gold pen, Rafael ran a hand through his hair and looked over what he had so far. The page was filled with scribbled out sentences, shorthand notes exploding from the margin, and a doodle of a grumpy stick figure wearing a tie (which you would later cut out and put on the fridge). Despite the mess, Rafael managed to cobble together an introduction.

He reached for his coffee, aware that he had hours of work ahead, and was surprised to discover it was warm. You must have swapped out his stale mug of coffee with a fresh one without him realizing. Ever since your relationship began, you had taken care of him: draping a blanket over him whenever he fell asleep on the couch, bringing him food when he worked late so he wasn’t forced to survive on the saccharine contents of office vending machines, coaxing him to bed whenever countless witness testimonies and police reports left him unable to see straight.

He cherished these small, often silent, gestures, but what he loved most was sliding into bed beside you at night and waking up next to you in the morning. Without a doubt, asking you to move in with him had been the best decision he ever made. The change in the apartment was evident the minute you unpacked: you filled the space with warmth and love.

As well as numerous cat toys.

When Rafael asked you to live with him, he hadn’t fully considered what it would be like to share the apartment with a third roommate: your grey tabby. It would be safe to describe Rafael’s relationship with your cat (christened Rafaelito much to Rafael’s displeasure) as one of tolerance. Rafael tolerated finding cat toys in his briefcase. He tolerated cat hair on his expensive suits. He even tolerated the occasional hairball that managed to fall directly inside one of his shoes (and never, if he were to think about it, in one of yours).

And Rafaelito, well, he tolerated Rafael’s existence.

In between sips of coffee, Rafael looked over his introduction. As he read the words aloud, trying to find the right rhythm, Rafaelito strutted into the room. The tabby immediately noticed the lawyer behind the desk and shot him a withering glare, making Rafael feel as if he were the interloper. When it became clear Rafael had no intention of leaving, Rafaelito made his way around the desk, pausing beside Rafael’s chair, in order to glare at him in close proximity.

“Vete,” Rafael ordered, not bothering to look up from his papers, as he waved his hand towards the door. “I’m working.”

The tabby tilted his head, feigning ignorance. How convenient, Rafael thought, that the language barrier seemed non-existent whenever words like ‘dinner’ or ‘treats’ were called out in English or Spanish.

The standoff lasted a few more seconds before Rafaelito jumped onto the prosecutor’s lap, using him as a springboard to get onto the desk. The sudden impact caused the contents of the mug Rafael was holding to go flying, sending droplets of coffee all over him and the papers on his desk.

After a string of expletives and confirming that the damage to his files was superficial, Rafael turned his attention to his sullied sweater. As he blotted at the stains, Rafael scowled at the tabby (whom he had witnessed make the jump from the floor to the desk numerous times before) and calculated the odds that your beloved pet was a sociopath.

The fuzzy sociopath in question was stretched out across multiple folders bathing in a sunbeam. If it wasn’t for the destruction the cat had just caused, Rafael would have described the scene as cute. Adorable, even.

Feeling a sudden surge of benevolence, Rafael decided to let the tabby stay while he worked. After all, you did always mention that cats can reduce stress levels (although Rafael wasn’t sure whether that included Machiavellian grey tabbies). The only hitch to the peaceful work environment Rafael envisioned was Rafaelito sleeping on his legal pad.

Slowly, Rafael reached out for the pad, naively thinking that he could pull it out from under Rafaelito without him noticing. His fingers didn’t even graze the paper before the tabby’s green eyes popped open and narrowed at Rafael’s impending invasion of his space. With a flick of his paw, Rafaelito sent the lawyer’s gold pen flying over the edge of the desk.

Rafael huffed, mentally adding a check mark to the sociopath column.

As he bent down to retrieve the pen, Rafael could feel the tabby smirking at him. Drawing inspiration from Indiana Jones, Rafael picked up the pen with his left hand as he simultaneously snatched the legal pad with his right. The immense satisfaction he felt at wiping the smug look off of Rafaelito’s face was diminished by the knowledge that his opponent in this battle of wits was a cat.

“Truce?” Rafael offered.

The tabby huffed, considering himself the victor in his crusade against the Harvard-educated lawyer, but returned to his nap, leaving Rafael and the valuables on his desk alone (at least for now).

With an armistice in place, Rafael returned his attention to his closing statement and found that words were flowing more freely from his pen. The showdown with Rafaelito had the unintended consequence of helping him overcome the writer’s block that had plagued him all weekend. For the next couple hours, the only sounds in the room were Rafael’s pen scratching against paper and the tabby’s unusually loud snoring.

When Rafael finally set down his pen, he had filled a dozen pages with his cramped scrawl. As he flipped through them, he heard the muted sounds of the television. Rafael shoved aside the temptation to join you, reasoning that it was better to finish this now rather than have to pull himself away from you later.

Rafael sighed, tearing his thoughts away from you, and leaned back in his chair. He began murmuring the summation under his breath, careful not to disturb the sleeping tabby. Every so often, he would pause to debate his word choice, remaining oblivious that the snoring had stopped long ago. It was only at the end of the speech, when he was interrupted by an assertive meow, that Rafael realized he had an audience.

His eyes flicked up from the page to find the tabby in front of him.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to interrupt?” Rafael chided before resuming his speech.

The tabby meowed again.

And then a third time because Rafael hadn’t immediately acknowledged him.

“What? What do you want?” Rafael asked, setting aside his legal pad. He clasped his hands in front of him and turned his full attention to the cat on his desk. The beginnings of a frown played on Rafael’s lips; he was so close to being done, to getting to enjoy the last sliver of the weekend with you, and had no patience for further disruptions. Especially those caused by sassy tabbies.

Rafaelito meowed in response, his tail curling around his front paws.

“I don’t know what that means.” Rafael ignored the look the cat shot him. A look that, you would have pointed out, was eerily similar to the one Rafael gave Carisi whenever the lanky detective offered unsolicited legal advice. “Do you want scritches? Trea-“?

The cat meowed again, cutting Rafael off.

“What did I say about interrupting?” Rafael asked, his eyes narrowing at the tabby. “If you want attention, go see Mamá. I’m work-”

Rafaelito interjected again.

“Don’t take that tone with-“

And then again.

Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Clearly, your cat lacked the basic manners needed for polite conversation and, short of removing him from the office (an action that would undoubtedly spark retaliation in the form of hairballs in shoes), Rafael wasn’t sure what else he could do. Whoever claimed that cats lowered stress levels was a charlatan and Rafael was tempted to prosecute them for fraud. He tried to recall the feeling of serenity his apartment once held, but his reverie was cut short by a string of meows.

Without thinking, Rafael meowed right back.

Rafaelito paused mid-meow, stunned at this new development, and stared at the lawyer with wide eyes. After a few seconds, he let out a tentative, almost questioning meow. Rafael responded in kind and soon a volley of meows in varying pitches and volumes could be heard in the office.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt when movement near the door caught Rafelito’s attention. Rafael followed the cat’s gaze to find you standing in the doorway, holding a plate of banana bread and trying not to laugh.

“I thought you might be hungry,” you said when Rafael noticed you. “But I’m obliviously interrupting something important.”

“I was practicing my summation.”

Rafaelito meowed in confirmation.

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” you smirked, walking over to Rafael. You kissed him softly then set down the banana bread in front of him. He popped a piece in his mouth before replying.

“You didn’t let me finish. I was practicing my summation until your cat,” Rafael paused to gesture to the tabby who was the pure picture of innocence. “Interrupted me.”

“Mm-hmm.” You bit back a smile. Rafael could complain about the cat all he wanted, but you knew he had a soft spot for Rafaelito. You’d often catch your boyfriend giving Rafaelito treats or making room for him on the sofa or in bed. There were probably more photos of the tabby on his phone than there were of you.

“You know,” you continued, ignoring Rafael’s feeble explanation. “You really shouldn’t be meowing at him. You don’t know what you’re saying -it could be something inappropriate or offensive. As an ADA, you wouldn’t want to be charged with a feline-y.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Hate speech is a misdemeanour.”

“Fine. Do what you know what is a felony, though?” You asked, barely concealing your glee.

“Don’t, cariño,” Rafael warned. He knew you well enough to know where this was going.

“Purr-jury!”

“If you’re going to continue to make cat puns, you need to leave.”

“Really? Is there a claws about that in our lease?”

“Out,” Rafael said flatly, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. How’s the closing argument coming along?” You leaned against the edge of the desk, facing Rafael. Displeased at all the attention the prosecutor was getting, Rafaelito trotted over and headbutted your hand, his way of demanding scritches.

“Almost done. I’m just reading it over.”

“Do you want another audience member? It might be helpful to have a human perspective in addition to the feline one.” Rafael narrowed his eyes at you. “Oh, c’mon, that wasn’t even a pun!”

Rafael harrumphed, but began his speech, speaking as if he were in front of a jury. You listened intently, nodding occasionally. Yet another thing you did for him: you let him run his arguments by you, always giving him your full attention. You were the only one who could listen to him agonize over word choice at length without complaining or considering homicide.

For the most part, Rafaelito remained quiet, content to receive scritches from you. It was only when Rafael reached the conclusion that he let out another meow. Before Rafael could admonish the tabby, who evidently didn’t learn his lesson about interrupting, you spoke up.

“Hm, yeah, you’re right,” you addressed Rafaelito before turning to your boyfriend. “This part is a little clunky.”

“What? That’s not…How did you know that he…It’s not clunky,” Rafael sputtered, looking from you to Rafaelito.

“We have a very smart cat, Rafa. In fact, he’s so smart that he could be your co-counsel. An abogato, if you will.” You grinned, showing no remorse for your bad pun.

Rafael crossed his arms and shot you a pointed look.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist! I’ll take Rafaelito, so you can work in peace.”

“Thanks, cariño. Te amo.”

“Love you, too,” you smiled at Rafael before calling to the tabby. “C’mon, Rafaelito, let’s leave Papi alone and go watch some trashy reality TV.”

Knowing his work was done, the tabby jumped off the desk and strolled into the hallway. You followed after him, winking at Rafael before closing the door behind you.

Alone in his office, Rafael finished off the banana bread while he read over the conclusion again.

“Coño,” Rafael muttered under his breath. “It is clunky.”

Tag list: @madpanda75​ @obsessionprofessional​ @madkingcrowley​  @im-like-reallythirsty​ @burningg-red​ @nikkijmorgan​  @misssirenlove​ @zoeykaytesmom​ @mommakat32​ @thatesqcrush​ @southern-magnolia​ @evee87​

[rosegrl18]

Of Shining Sparkles and Hogwarts Houses pt. 2!

@iris-14cheonsa, @zarahjoyce

I’ve officially written the Sorting blurbs for each of our sparkling heroes! They’ll be under the cut, so let me know if you think they need anything (ie: more detail, more dialogue/thoughts, etc.)

Juru:  Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the Great Hall, off to the side of a stool and a stand with a rather battered, worn, old hat sitting atop it. She held a short piece of parchment, a far cry from the sheets she usually held during a Sorting Ceremony. She lowered her eyes and began to read from her list.    "Atsuta, Juru." The teenager's eyes were glued to his sketchbook, his hand feverishly moving across the page. As soon as he stepped foot inside Hogwarts' castle, he became enthralled with his surroundings. Sena, who was standing behind him, tapped him on the shoulder a few times. "Juru, your name has been called. It's your turn to be sorted!" The teenager was still too engrossed in his drawing to hear her. He wanted to capture every centimeter of the castle. By now, his friends were used to his behavior. The other students and staff, however, were not. Everyone just stared at Juru as he drew and made various noises. If no one stopped him, he would continue drawing for hours and no one else would get sorted, so Tametomo decided to take matters into his own hands.    "Oi, Doodle Boy! Get your head out of your sketchbook and your butt on that stool. We don't have all night." Now, everyone was staring at Tametomo due to his outburst. Chief among them was a shorter woman, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair, and pink clothing, who sat at the staff table and looked at the five with a disapproving look. Sena turned around to glare at Tametomo, but his words seemed to give Juru the push he needed to finally focus on something other than drawing. "Right, Tame-kun!" Juru scrambled up to the stool and sat down, wishing for his Sorting to pass by quickly. He looked down at the ground, as if it were more interesting than anything else, even as the old Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head. I didn't realize the ground was so interesting. Does looking at the crowd make you nervous? Juru's eyes flitted around the room, trying to figure out what was happening. Was he having one of his visions again? You have visions? What was going on? I can answer that for you. I'm the Sorting Hat and my job is to sort you into one of Hogwarts' four houses. This is your Sorting ceremony! Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me look inside your head, I'd like to get to know you better. The Hat probed around inside Juru's head, reading his thoughts, memories, and his feelings. Hmm, I see. You're a polite and kind young man, but you're also quite naive, self-depreciating, and socially-awkward. Slytherin is definitely not an option for you. You have a knack for drawing, but it’s a hobby that greatly distracts you. However, that doesn’t make you any less of a leader or someone who has a very astute mind. You’re level-headed and you bring out everyone’s strengths. Ravenclaw would love to have your creative and astute mind and Gryffindor would love your hyperactive, energetic, and strong-willed personality, but I think there’s a much better place for you. You are the glue that keeps you and your friends together. Without you, your friends would be at a great disadvantage. You would be happiest in...“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Tametomo:  “Imizu, Tametomo.” Even though he wasn’t a student, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore still thought it best if he went through the Sorting Ceremony with everyone else. He sat down on the stool and waited not-so-patiently for the Hat to make its decision. So, your job is to read my mind and figure out the best place for me based on what I'm thinking? Yes, and most of your thoughts are revolving around your lack of patience, leadership, cynicism, arrogance, sarcasm, and a girl. You'll be sorted, but I'm not one to rush. Patience will serve you well. A girl? What girl? There's no girl!  So, the "Supersonic Princess" doesn't mean anything to you? Tametomo's cheeks began to burn. How did the Hat know about Sena's nickname? That's easy. She's in your thoughts and I'm a very wise Hat. If you think it, I'll know about it. Just sort me already! I will, I will. Patience really isn't your strong suit. I will give you a piece of advice, however. I am very good at giving advice. Life is far too short to never take a chance you've always wanted to take. Just sort me. Alright, alright. I'll move along to the important part. Please take some time to consider my advice? Tametomo scoffed and rolled his eyes. You’re not a very patient person, but I’m not going to rush to judgement. Let’s see here. Hmm, Ravenclaw would love your analytic, strategic mind. Your strategies are why you and your friends have so much success. However, you’re also very ambitious and strive for a much higher position than just a strategist. You have a good heart, but it lies underneath a thick blanket of arrogance, cynicism, and sarcasm. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff definitely aren’t for you. I’m torn between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, but I shouldn’t be torn for long because now I can see where you truly belong. It’s...“SLYTHERIN!”

Sena:  “Hayami, Sena.” As soon as her name was called, Sena rushed up to the stool and sat down. She was eager to see where the Hat would sort her. Professor McGonagall placed the Hat on her head. Well, you should be an easy one to sort. You have a very vibrant, excitable, bubbly, hyperactive, energetic, and vivacious personality. You’re a super speedy athlete, well known in track and field. Your speed is the reason you were given the nickname "Supersonic Princess". Were you a student, you'd be a wonderful Quidditch Seeker. Because of your hyperactive, excitable, and energetic personality, you have a habit of rushing headstrong into situations, ones that could prove very dangerous. Let me give you some advice. If you're not careful about which situations you rush into, things could end very badly for you, so be very cautious. The one who cares for you most can't always protect you. Sena was confused by what the Hat meant by "The one who cares for you most can't always protect you", but didn't hear the Hat elaborate further. I know exactly where you belong. The answer is very obvious. It's..."GRYFFINDOR!"

Shiguru:  Shiguru was the last of the quintet to be sorted, considering his last name began with "Os". Professor McGonagall called his name off the sheet of parchment she held and Shiguru calmly walked up to the stool. "Oshikiri, Shiguru." Shiguru sat down on the stool and the Hat was lowered down onto his head. Let me take a look. The Hat looked around inside Shiguru's head, surveying the young man's memories, thoughts, and feelings. Ahh, I see a rather serious, composed, and calm individual. You are very taciturn, strict, stern, cold, and aloof. However, this is only an act you put on in the face of others. Your true self is a very concerned, sympathetic, and protective individual. You follow your leader and support him, but otherwise, you march to the beat of your own drum. You're a renowned actor, which undoubtedly involves rehearsing and memorizing lines. You are rather unconventional in your sword fighting techniques, right down to creating your own techniques. That proves you have a creative mind. When it comes to training, you are very hard working and diligent. Hufflepuff would be happy to have a fellow like you, as would Slytherin. You are adaptive and come at situations from various angles, rather than just one. You have different "faces" for different people and situations, but you always return to being yourself when around friends or when it's truly important. However, I think I know the best place for you. I've never made a mistake before and I won't this time. Let it be..."RAVENCLAW!"

Sayo:  "Oharu, Sayo." Sayo was calm as she walked up to the stool and sat down after Professor McGonagall read her name. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head and immediately began searching around Sayo's head. Aren't you a cute hat? How are you searching around in my head? You remind me of a dear friend of mine, as you're both sentient objects who talk. She's a sentient jewel capable of human speech, a Mashin. She was once a Kiramai Stone, but she was given a sentient form. It's a real shame she couldn't come along. That was true. The Mashin had to stay behind at CARAT while the Kiramagers traveled to Hogwarts. Muryo and Mabushina thought it was for the best that the Mashin didn't accompany their partners, as they didn't know how anyone would react to the magical stones. You're a curious one, aren't you? I'm using Legilimency to look around inside your head, or reading your mind. Ravenclaw would fit a ready mind like yours, curious and intelligent. You're a doctor, which only confirms that you have an intelligent, curious, and ready mind. Being a doctor means you have a knack for research and determining what ails people based off reading scans and medical charts. Hufflepuff would like your empathetic, soft-spoken, lady-like, dignified, gentle, kind, graceful, elegant, approachable, and serene nature. The Hat couldn't determine which House to sort Sayo into. She had too many traits common between both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The Hat debated between the two Houses for nearly five minutes, approaching a Hatstall. Everyone waited with baited breath as they listened for the Hat's decision. This was a very difficult decision. I have to admit that, in reading your mind, I had a great difficulty in determining where you belong. However, I think I know the answer now! "RAVENCLAW!"