#i wish I was one of those artists who's doodles looked like finished work

[wanologic]

just wanna say, most collateral damage stuff is documented like this, really rough sketches and ideas that are all over the place. Heres some pages where I was working on how violet got where she is. Not sure how much I'm keeping, but I do really like the idea that she killed pets specifically as a teen. She liked watching people mourn and miss them, the emotional violence being just as satisfying as the physical violence for her.

And here's some Asanti/Elias sketches - I always knew that I wanted Asanti's anti-magic to be talisman based, but like, not magic circles/cryptic writing or anything, just making marks with intention. Semi-recently I had the thought that she should make handmade crafts and have a collection of paint markers and scrap paper as her main mediums. Maybe she has an online shop that supplements income and helps her find clients.

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[blondeaxolotl]

So, what method do you use when drawing to keep going?

I personally always seem to struggle to finish an art piece and can never get myself to fully focus on learning the entirety of anatomy, etc.

I crave to finish an art piece again, I miss the feeling, but I haven't been able to do it in a long long while, I'm just hoping for a little advice, not sure who else to go to cause I don't have any friends but I look up to you a crazy amount so I figured I'd give this a shot, this isn't forced to answer by the way!

I don't want you to feel like you have to answer this.

If you do or you don't, you're still really cool, your art is awesome and inspiring and your aus are as well.

Heck, you're a pretty damn cool person too, art really does reflect artist sometimes huh?

Anyway, I'll get out of your hair, keep up the amazing work <3/p

When it comes to finishing an art piece that you know you want to finish but suddenly lose the motivation to

What I usually do (this might not work for everyone but it somewhat helps me so it helps you as well then that's awesome) is when I'm in the middle of drawing a piece and I suddenly lose interest or motivation, or something isn't going well which is making me lose patience. I just put the pencil down, and go do something else for a while until I get the urge to continue or try again. Example I go play video games for a while or maybe watch a movie or youtube for a bit, just giving yourself a small break from drawing until that motivation to draw comes back and then you go back to that piece and try again. And basically how ever often that happens (aka losing motivation, patience, etc), you just repeat the cycle until you're slowly getting closer and closer to finishing that piece (You can also doodle on the side as a refresher but I don't recommend starting a whole new piece when you want to finish your first one, usually for me I just end up forgetting the last drawing completely because I accidentally started a new project 😭 but that might be a me problem if it doesn't happen to you then it's a-okay) This is mostly what was helping me finish projects since I have a short attention span and often lose motivation and what not so I constantly do this FDSFDSDSF.

Now for anatomy, I'm not the best at anatomy myself but my first advice is don't immediately give up if your anatomy isn't perfect on the first try, it won't always look good on the first attempt which is why it's okay to go through a few trial and errors before you get it to a point you like it enough to continue. Also I'm not a professional and I suck at explaining things and honestly I know jackshit about anatomy I just wing it most of the time. But I can give you small tips that come in handy when drawing poses!!

We're gonna use a reference for this, when you have a reference for a pose you want to use. A good way to get a hang of the pose is by tracing over it with simple shapes (such as cylinders, circles, triangles, etc) and then redrawing it with those same shapes to again get the hang of the pose, you don't have to really do it but it's a good practice so I recommend it. Then, after you have your pose, you can take the lasso tool (or selection tool) and then just resize body parts to your liking so they fit your style more!!! And ofc now you can draw over it and use it as a base for the character you want to use it for.

Now that's the first method, but I have a second one which is fun, I call it "frankesteining", which is where you grab 2 or more images and then take body parts and paste them onto the main reference picture you want to use.

Like here, you like the pose of the first reference, but wish both of the models arms were on the hips? Fear not! Just grab another image of a model who's arm IS on their hip

Then carefully erase the arm/body part on your main reference that you want to replace with another. Select the arm/body part of the second reference with lasso tool, and slowly trace over it so you can copy/cut it out and then paste it onto your main ref

Like this! Now remember, the reference doesn't need to look aesthetically pleasing, after all you're just using it as a reference, so it's okay if it doesn't look perfect!! You can do this with many body parts as you want btw, just keep cutting and pasting until you get the pose you wanted!!

And finally just draw over it! Using the same methods as the first one, shapes, redraw and all! No one will ever know you were playing pretend dr frankenstein with the reference pictures before this!

Now these are the methods I use when posing characters, they might not always come out right the first time but if you keep trying you'll eventually get something you like a lil more than your last ones!! You can also just use a 3d model posing website/app and then screenshot the pose and redraw it from there. But this is if you're one of those people who for some reason just can't get the hang of those damn 3d model posers (aka me)

GUHH THIS POST IS SO LONG IM SORRY, I hope my rambles helped you out at least a lil bit and I hope you continue your journey in making art, believe in yourself and eventually everything will turn out alright in the end stay strong fellow artist 💜

[sauriansolutions]

Here's a little snippet thing to get myself started at having a blog with, like, content.

I was inspired by the absolute silliness that is the class of TWST item called "Secret Snacks." I just adore the concept that you can boost your friendship with game characters by, apparently, stealthily feeding them illegal snacks during class?

All my (excessive number of) Jade cards have full vignettes *cries* but I just want to keep feeding him forever... help...

"Secret Snacks"

You are sitting next to J.ade in class before lunch. You can hear his stomach growling and whining every few minutes. 

You occasionally catch him frowning down at himself after a particularly egregious rumble, like he's trying to scold his belly into silence. You can't help but let out a quiet giggle at his stern expression, and Jade, realizing he's been perceived, shoots you a sheepish grin.

"So sorry," he mouths, sotto voce.

You reassure him that it's alright. 

Towards the end of class, you notice Jade reaching down to fold one arm around his middle. His stomach's complaints have gotten quieter, but they've also become more frequent, to the point that the gurgles have become a near-constant background noise. 

As you watch, Jade looks up to check the clock for the umpteenth time, then sighs quietly and slumps forward a bit in his chair, lips pressed tightly together in a disappointed pout. You look up, too, and note that here's still about fifteen minutes before lunchtime.

Poor Jade. Since agreeing to switch seats with Leona (who wanted a spot behind the tall student so the professor couldn't see him as well), you've noticed that Jade gets distractingly hungry like this every day, around the same time. 

Jade is usually perfectly attentive and studious during class. But you've heard he also has, what he terms, "poor fuel efficiency. So, you guess that this is around the time his energy reserves from breakfast are nearly depleted. 

His empty, grumbling stomach clearly makes the mer student unhappy and fidgety, shifting in his seat, shuffling papers aimlessly, or doodling in the margins of his notebook. 

You've seen Jade's actual sketchbook, so you know the eel is quite artistically talented. But, humorously enough, as lunchtime draws near, Jade's sketches seem to inevitably devolve from nearly-photorealistic drawings of mushrooms, trees, and plants, to simplistic and almost cartoony renderings of his favorite foods. 

Octopus dishes, you couldn't help but notice, feature prominently. 

You've even caught Jade gnawing on the decorative filigree around the edges of his magestone pen, once or twice. Thankfully, the pens are apparently spelled to be highly durable and shatter-proof. Still, the grinding sound of Jade's razorblade teeth on stone or metal makes you wince every time you hear it. 

Jade, now nearly drooling, is putting the finishing touches on a drawing of what appears to be a steaming plate of grilled octopus. 

... Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing you had something to feed Jade. 

Students technically aren't allowed to bring food into the classroom, but you've seen your fellow classmates covertly munching on candies, meal bars, and the like enough times during class, that you feel like sneaking in a snack or two couldn't be *that* big of a deal. 

Maybe tomorrow, you think, you'll slip Jade one of those packets of barbecue-flavored dried squid that are on sale right now at the Mystery Shop. 

Smiling, you jot down a quick reminder to yourself in your planner. Next to it, you draw a little cartoon eel. You give it a big, toothy smile, and add lots of cute little sparkles in its eyes. 

Satisfied with your work, you close your planner and wait for the bell to ring. 

Classes have been getting increasingly more difficult, as midterms are approaching. 

But now, you think, you have at least one reason to look forward to tomorrow's lesson.

[aur0raaura]

Twin Princes AU

LEGEND

Part one | Part two

Buy me a Ko-Fi!

AAAAND SCENE! Wow wow! I didn't expect for what was supposed to be another doodle comic...end up with me putting a lot of effort-!

Life got in the way plenty of times- making me take quite a bit to finish this...even contemplating on just putting this on hiatus and just do something else-

...but I did it! I didn't let any discouragement, nerves and bad feelings get to me.

Now I'm sure many are wondering- HOW did this come to fruition? Simple: my friend pointed out that my next comic should focus on Kyurem's involvement in this! Many were wondering what sort of role the old dragon played after the previous comic (Family) and the art piece that accompanied it (The Giant Chasm)! So I went for a more artistic approach to this, making the artwork look like a tale at first, but then shifting to a more crude and cold atmosphere- I was going to polish these last nine pages, yet my friend would tell me that the sketchiness helps with the narrative- and honestly, she was right! Thus I tried to add some subtle sketchiness on pages 7-11 on part one! I wonder if people noticed that detail...? Anyways, time for some fun behind the scenes stuff...!

Here's the very first concept of my Original Dragon design, including his human form!

You can tell I did some adjustments in the final product, but I really wanted to make sure this dragon had characteristics of the tao trio in some way, plus-- I wished for him to have a unique sort of feel- kinda ethereal? I also gave a teeny bit of eastern dragon influence because...well...tao trio. The tail is actually inspired by a plasma engine!

It's why I gave it a bit of a swirl to it- ...kinda reminds me of ice cream- His human design...well, I wished to make sure he looked like the princes yeah-? He is their dad after all! So I made sure to reflect that- Same with his clothing as well! Ah right...I should show the design of our princes yes...?

WHOA WHOA WHOA-- those faces... Hmm... I wonder if people can start piecing together why this au is called the "Twin Princes AU" with this and what was told in this comic...? The design in itself was conceptualized by a rough idea my friend sent me a whiiiiiile back, but asked me to refine it further! Make it fancy, royal, elegant--!! You get the point. XD Though this is the finalized design i came up with as I brainstormed this comic! I hope I could convey how magical yet refined they are! As for Kyurem....oh my! What a reveal as well huh?

What a throwback....! I drew these a while back!

Well, there's certainly some familiar design choices...! And another clue to this whole puzzle- unless some of you have figured it out! Let me know through my ask box! ;D

I really didn't expect such a warm reception towards this au me and my pal cooked up last year. To think mixing concepts from our ocverse (GUARDiANverse) with pokemon could work so well...! I suppose fantastical elements mixing with another fantastical setting aint such a bad idea...! This AU has kinda expanded since it's conception... to a point of having other stories of other characters that take place in this version of the pokemon world!

Though for now, I may need a bit of a breather. 20 pages was QUITE the endeavor! Yet...that doesn't mean I wouldn't be opposed to tell more of my tale in other ways! Shoot me an ask, tell me! Who knows, I may answer with a doodle comic! For now, I'll just slowly cook my next idea! Maybe I should give the witness to these tales some spotlight...? I dunno...but honestly, feel free to shoot asks. Well, I hope you all can be patient with me in the meantime!

[muertawrites]

Ok but like!!! I really wish Eddie and Will had some time together because I feel in my heart of hearts they would be good friends and Eddie would be like an older brother to Will but that’s not why I’m here.

I’m here because I can’t stop picturing craftstore!eddie helping Will when he comes in for new paint supplies and stuff. My favorite thought I’ve had though is Eddie stealing some paint he saw Will looking at and knows he isn’t able to afford and giving it to him and being all proud of himself when he sees Will’s face light up 🥹

oohhhhhhhmygodohmygodohmygod eddie would love will. he'd love him so much and just. shower him with brotherly affection. eddie and i have three children and their names are eleven max and will dustin is the annoying neighbor kid who's always in our damn house

i can just imagine like

maybe you're a family friend of the byers. like maybe you and jonathan grew up together and are good friends and because of that will has adopted you as a second sibling.

and maybe you and eddie work together at the craft store. you're doing it part time while you finish up school and eddie makes your shifts not so miserable because he's just. fun. and he goes out of his way to try and make you laugh. and he always hypes you up about finishing your degree and getting the fuck out of here. the guy brings you coffee and food on long nights when you're up late studying and encourages you to take breaks when you need them. he's the mvp.

and of course eddie and will are immediately attached to one another. the moment you introduced them when will came in to get canvases they were soul bonded. will helps eddie come up with campaigns and they draw doodles of characters and monsters together. always shows him whatever painting he's working on to get a second opinion. eddie has like 15 of will's sketches on his wall his favorite is the one will drew of you that he totally asked to keep in a very chill casual way not like someone with a crush or anything

jonathan and eddie and argyle are smoke buddies and jonathan and eddie constantly fret over will like worried hens. the love is so strong. ("doesn't will have a mom" argyle always says "like why are you guys coparenting him he's got a mom and a stepdad right")

so it's will's birthday. and the past couple times he's come to get paints he can't stop looking at the really nice, really expensive oils. they're like thirty bucks a tube. way more than any struggling artist can afford.

so you and eddie pick everyone up at the byers' house (jonathan and all the little ones) in his van to go for a massive round of laser tag (god can you fucking imagine??)

eddie makes sure will gets shotgun ("because it's his birthday and he deserves to ride like a king") and is like wait hold up, gotta give you your present before we go.

he pulls out a bundle of something poorly wrapped in old newspaper.

it's a primary color kit of the super expensive paint. "so you can make any color you need, y'know?"

will almost starts fucking crying.

"how did you even get these?"

"i have my ways" and eddie just waggles his eyebrows

as you're walking up to the arcade you bump eddie super hard with your shoulder and are like "you totally lifted those paints didn't you"

he just shrugs, grinning

will paints eddie a portrait to thank him. it's of him on a mock cover of rolling stone.

now eddie's going to cry

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[agape-bakery]

Hi ! I love your blog and your idea to make a bakery is just awesome ^-^ anyway how are you ? I hope you have a good day :) I'm here to request a female mc who love drawing. And i wonder if you can make brothers react to mc who draw them when they're sleeping, eating or i don't know like you want. If you can of vourse it's not an obligation :3

I wish you a good day \(^-^)/

💫

Thank you so much! I really enjoy the location-themed blogs here like Cafes and such so I'm happy you think the same! I'm doing good! And also, YESS!! I love Artist MCs/Y/Ns because I'm an artist myself! I hope you enjoy these!

The Brothers with an F! MC who draws

Lucifer

He already knew you love to draw and didn't mind that, at least that's one good hobby someone has on his list compared to gambling and parties

If there is something Lucifer appreciates about humans, it's their art and cultures, he might take you to art museums for inspiration and have a date in a cafe and talk to you about the paintings you both saw

If art museums are not your thing, he would be a little disappointed but then again, some artists like more modern artworks and some that are shown online so he understands

And frankly, having you draw him makes him immensely proud of himself for having a talented girlfriend like you, he doesn't ask that you draw him but he secretly wants to

Lucifer occasionally buys art supplies for you but only if you've been good

"So you joined Mammon on going to the casino to draw the people there?"

"Pretty much...."

"Hmm.. I guess you aren't going to get some Copics from me anytime soon."

"WHAT-"

Lucifer is also observant and knows when and who you're drawing immediately

"I can see you staring at me."

His eyes looked up at yours as you looked away, pencil in hand.

"No, I'm not."

He's seen you glance at him several times before looking down at your sketchbook.

It was breakfast and you were sat between a sleeping Belphie and a distracted Beel so you took the time to draw the eldest when no one's looking.

Lucifer hummed and told Beel not to eat so messily as you continued to draw him.

Lucifer has seen many sketches of him and the brothers and when you give him some as a gift, he keeps it well-protected somewhere that Mammon can't steal in his bedroom.

Mammon

He absolutely cherishes every drawing you have, the boy keeps a doodle of him and you as a good luck charm too <3

He might ask that you do commissions and he gets some of it (for giving the idea and managing the commissions-) but one glare and he'll shut up with a nervous chuckle and an "H-hey! It's just a joke!"

When Mammon sees you staring at some art supplies, he checks it again when he's alone and dies inside because of the price and buys it immediately, he doesn't care if he loses a lot of money only a little bit, all he wants is to see your face when he gives it to you

"You better be grateful that The Great Mammon even thought of giving this to you!... Do-don't look at me like that! It was on sale!!"

While Mammon was napping on his couch, you hastily opened your sketchbook and started sketching him and the boy never realized

By the time he woke up, you were already finished doing 5 sketches of him and taking pictures of him for reference

"Oi! What are you doing? Gimme that!"

His heart completely melts because??? you drew him so good??? his girlfriend drew him???? for free??? and out of love????

He also draws you but it's just a stickman with a messy face but you still love it all the same

Leviathan

Finally...another Artist...AND HIS GIRLFRIEND NO LESS!!

He's so happy and giddy to show off his art supplies but he's hesitant when it comes to showing off his art because he thinks it's horrible compared to yours

You encourage him and usually learn together with him whenever he feels awful about his art

He's the Avatar of Envy so there are many times where he's compared himself to other artists so you had to be there to keep him grounded

Art Date, anyone??

It doesn't matter whether you buy art supplies or just take a break from school, it was always nice being around Leviathan

You took the chance to draw him while he was across from you and excitedly showed it to him

He had drawn himself (albeit, in a persona) in many games and animes but your drawing was more special than anything he's ever done

He looked away, avoiding eye contact as he gave you his own drawing which was you in your favorite video game

From now on, whenever the both of you wanted to give small gifts, you draw each other!! <3

Satan

A demon who enjoys impressionism art, there's something about the dreamy landscapes and colors that really makes him calm aside from reading

I think he would paint for a change of pace but gets frustrated because of how difficult it is so he goes back to reading

So watching you draw makes him impressed, drawing takes so much time to master

He doesn't mind whatever art style you have, aside from the impressionism style, he would have yours as his favorite

He understands the pain of art block so he often invites you in his room, one where the others wouldn't bother you, just don't touch anything or else you'll turn into some random animal for a few hours

He also encourages that you read with him when you're uninspired! Reading helps the imagination and the mind, and he'd be happy to recommend some for you!

You trust him with your sketchbooks and he trusts you with his books! The both of you knew the other wouldn't do anything which is why he only lets you inside his room

While Satan makes a drink for you, humming an old song in his DDD, you drew him in overalls and glasses

When you were bored, you would always draw your boyfriend in random outfits and would often show it to him (which he all loves)

"Overalls and Glasses, huh? I might wear it tomorrow." Satan grins, peeking at your sketchbook as he puts down the drinks.

Don't get your hopes too high, he isn't going to wear a maid outfit........yet-

Asmodeus

Oh? You draw? Wellll, if you need a model, he's happy to be your own personal model, but it comes with a price ;)

He loves that you draw! And would ask you to draw him

There's many artworks he likes but yours he enjoys the most, even if you aren't his girlfriend

Might ask you if you can design outfits and draw him in certain outfits so he can try them out!

Of course, drawing is not an easy feat so he'll pay you handsomely~

If you do commissions, he gets one just so he can support you

He knows that art doesn't pay much yet it is so overlooked by others

"Everywhere is art, darling, I'm surprised some humans don't know that! Of course, I'm the most beautiful art there is but I'll have you as second~"

He might blush if you draw him without him asking, he think he's desirable enough to draw without a price! After hearing that you just love him might make him blush harder! Aww, you!

He'll give you several pecks as he laughs after seeing your drawing of him! One where he was posing in one of the photos you had of him during your dates

Anatomy is hard so if you want a nude model, he'll volunteer on the spot, sure he has thoughts but if you're fully intent on getting better, he's happy to help!

Beelzebub

He's not the type to focus on art so he doesn't understand it much, that doesn't mean he isn't impressed though!

He has heard of Food Art and Food Illustrations though...Based by the Arty Event, he seems to be good at drawing food! He wanted to try it more but Lucifer forbid him in case he would eat the paper and get chemical poisoning or something-

However, if you could also draw food, he would be so delighted!!! He won't eat it, he promises!

It's fine if you don't, though, he expects that you might not understand working out and sports like he doesn't understand art

Might be clueless if ever you feel bad about your drawings, he thinks it looks really good! But upon hearing how frustrated you are, he would give you hugs to comfort you!

While Beel is a oblivious sweetheart, he fully supports your hobbies and would invite you to diners and restaurants so you can draw while he eats! He might even join you while he's eating

As he eats a huge cheeseburger, you drew him, smiling at how happy he looked

When you gave it to him, he told you how spot on you drew him when he eats and keeps it around him, he avoids it getting dirty at any cost

Belphie suggested that gets a photo frame so he bought one! Now your drawing of him lays on his bedrest safely~

Belphegor

He used to love art as much as Satan and Lucifer does but he doesn't anymore, not until you showed him your drawings

You rekindled a small flame in him that he never thought would come back

He doesn't draw because it's way too much work but he enjoys hearing you draw, the sound the pencil makes when it moves around the paper, and the smell of lead and paper makes him sleepy

He secretly likes those papers that have a nice smell in them so you buy some whenever you go out to get some art supplies

"That's way too many sketchbooks, MC."

"Nothing is way too much-"

Because he always sleeps around you, he doesn't entirely realize that you have a bunch of drawings of him in your sketchbook

It makes him warm when he sees your drawings of him

He wishes he could do more to support you even if you tell him he doesn't have to so like Beel, he keeps your drawings near his bed and looks at it before he sleeps

[joaquinwhorres]

doodles (Joaquin Torres x Reader, Soulmate!AU)

PAIRING ››››› Joaquín Torres x GN!Reader

REQUEST ››››› ya know the soulmate au alphabet? Could i request Torres + b and w from the alphabet?

b...ody art (doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin). g...uardian (it is said that the person who saves you from a near-death experience is your soulmate—drowning, car crash, etc.)

WORD COUNT ››››› 1,255

WARNINGS ››››› none

A/N ››››› Sooo I kind of cheated by combining the two letters. Also the writing style is kinda different from my usual story work, but hopefully both risks pan out.

The first picture to ever blossom on his skin is a bird.

The other boys in class have flowers and suns and clouds and little stick figure girls and boys, but he has a bird. And while theirs are sketchy and smudged and disproportionate, his looks as if it's been plucked from a picture book with its steady lines and cartoonish detail.

He'd been surprised to find it, nestled into the crook of his elbow, only appearing when he raised his hand to answer a question. He's so used to seeing his friends with images that littered the backs of their hands and wrists and thighs, he’d never thought to check anywhere else.

A thought crosses his mind.

More than crosses.

It takes over.

He knows he isn't supposed to.

If his teacher catches him, he'll get into trouble. He's not even supposed to have a pen in class. The rule's supposed to help kids avoid the temptation of sending off doodles to their soulmates. Of course, like all school rules, kids find a way around it, keeping pens tucked away in pockets and backpacks and lunch bags.

He's never been one to break the rules, but this feels like he has to. His soulmate's out there somewhere, waiting for him. It only feels right to assure them that he's waiting for them too.

Joaquin pulls the pen he keeps tucked in his desk in hopes of just such an occasion and quietly uncaps it. Carefully and stealthily, he drags the pen tip across his skin, eyes darting up to track the teacher’s movements and make sure he doesn't get caught. As a result, the drawing isn't very good. The head's too big for the body and the feet too long. He’d attempted to draw the wing twice, leaving the lines thicker than the rest of the bird. But it's there, facing the first and chirping out a note, so they know he's alive and thinking of them in this moment. And that had to feel nice.

He sticks the pen back in his desk, looking up at the board and quickly copying down the problems he’s almost missed. It's not until he reaches forward to pass in his paper that he notices the addition to the doodle. Two eighth notes tweet out from the first bird.

He smiles.

It becomes increasingly clear that his soulmate’s an artist.

Most people don’t have doodles on their arms and palms anymore. Instead they have drawings sketched into places only they can see--secret notes passed between soulmates. But his body is littered with art.

Intricate patterns bloom across the back of his hand, and twist and twirl up his arm. His forearm becomes a comic strip. Constant commentary on their day or whatever social issues are on their mind. Sometimes they leave a panel open for him to finish. His drawing hasn’t improved much from the first bird.

He wishes he could send along words of praise or encouragement even though he knows words won’t go through.

He wishes that they would use this gift to pass along messages like just about everyone else his age does. But all attempts at starting a conversation like that have gone unanswered. Instead, he simply gets to witness their art and their life play out across his skin. And Joaquin has learned to be content with that.

Because while other kids are coordinating their futures around their soulmates and tailoring all plans to match the other’s, he gets to make his decisions free. He gets to sign up for the Air Force ROTC without a shred of guilt or pushback like some of the other cadets have to deal with.

Their doodles are what keeps him grounded. Throughout basic and his first deployment, their delicate designs and drawings keep him company in those moments when he feels absolutely alone. They make him feel human in moments where he’s asked to be inhuman.

Their art has saved his life more than once too. The obvious doodles keeping him from doomed missions and distracting him for just long enough to avoid disaster. But more than those obvious, blood running cold, vomiting from how close it was moments, the doodles save his life because they are a constant.

He’s not the only one who appreciates the art either. The others in his unit laugh at the comics his soulmate still draws on his arms. They marvel of the intricacy of his soulmate’s work. On how they’re able to create such a detailed band of wild flowers around their own tricep. They laugh as he attempts to draw a bird amongst the flowers. He wonders if his soulmate knows they’re a bit of a celebrity amongst the 547th.

He wonders if he’ll ever get to tell them.

That’s the thought that weighs heavily on him as he watches his friends on base turn to dust around him. As he watches planes fall from the sky and plummet to the ground. As he watches the gentle waves and roles of the ocean that cascade across his forearm disappear.

It's five years before another doodle appears on his skin. He almost cries when he sees it. A small cartoon bird wipes sweat off of its forehead as if relieved.

He lacks all creativity in terms of response and just surrounds the bird in a cloud of hearts.

And that's their reunion. After this, life continues on, and their established routine continues. While the rest of the world still feels like a mess, the familiar rhythm of waking up to a new comic, of finding a new illustration branded on his shoulder makes him feel whole again.

The art maintains its affects on others as well. Both Sam and Bucky like to tease him for the "garden on his arm" or tell him he's a "human gallery." But he notices the way they practice drawing on their arms, watches as the other eyes the spot it appears on their own skin and mercilessly roasts it. Bucky has asked Joaquin if he's willing to trade soulmates more than once.

Joaquin's not.

Ideally, Joaquin would have met his soulmate under calmer circumstances.

Maybe they could have met at a Starbucks when they accidentally reached for the same drink and noticed the matching patterns on each other's arms.

Maybe they could have met while his soulmate was taking a tour of the base, and he just so happened to stop and say hello to the guide and realized that he had the same three birds on his shoulder.

Maybe they could have just finally coordinated a time to see each other face to face.

Instead, he catches them as they're pushed from a stolen helicopter.

Later, they tell him that they wish he'd just walked into their tattoo shop. That his first impression of them wasn't screaming and crying and just about ready to vomit all over him. That they wouldn't have blamed him for keeping the connection a secret when the first thing they said to him after saving their life was "Ow! I think you broke my back." (Which, for the record, he didn't. It was just bruised.)

But when he sees the band of flowers encircling their tricep, he can't keep it in. He can't believe he's holding his soulmate in his arms. The person who's kept him company for almost two decades.

So he says something almost as idiotic as they do: "You're the bird."

And that pretty much solidifies the fact that they're meant to be.

[lemonpeter]

My first fill for @peterparkerbingo : Teacher/teacher !

I’ve had a little bit of a writers block, so I’m sorry if this isn’t my best. But I enjoyed writing it and I hope y’all enjoy reading it! 💕 just a bit of spidershield

1.5K words

Warnings: unprofessional behavior between coworkers, fluff, I think that’s it lol

***

Mr. Parker was no stranger to the stares of others. Whether his students, or his coworkers, or even the parents of his students sometimes, he knew that he was watched.

It didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Which was why he agreed to model for Mr. Rogers’ class. And also because he loved being around the other teacher.

The art teacher from across the hall needed a model for his class to do figure drawing. And he’d come to Peter first.

His reasoning was that the teacher had a strong body from dancing for so many years. And that allowed him to stay in positions to be drawn for longer periods of time.

The reasons he didn’t list were that he wanted an excuse to stare at the gorgeous man for a couple hours without seeming weird. But he didn’t need to tell anyone that.

Peter walked into the classroom during his free block, a small smile tugging at his lips when he saw Steve. The other teacher had charcoal smudged on his cheek and forehead and didn’t seem to notice at all. Or maybe he didn’t care.

“Pete! I mean- Mr. Parker.” Steve cleared his throat, grinning a little. “Hey, thank you so much for doing this. You’re the best.”

The younger man waved his hand, laughing. “It’s no big deal, I didn’t have anything going on right now anyways. I’m happy to help.”

Steve nodded. He rubbed at his nose momentarily, effectively smearing another black streak across his face. “Okay, so, the kids will all be here in a couple minutes. You know how most of them wait right up until the bell.” He gave Peter a knowing look. “But you’ll just be right there in the center and I’ll position you once we’re all ready, okay?”

Peter nodded, smile reaching his eyes as he watched Steve. “Sounds perfect. Now, do you want some help cleaning up?”

The art teacher blinked at him, glancing around the room. “I think I’m good, my kids are usually pretty-“

Peter shook his head, brushing his thumb over the charcoal mark on his cheek. “Not the room. Your face. You’ve got a little….” He rubbed at the mark gently until it started coming off.

“Oh! Oh, I’m okay.” Steve’s cheeks colored and he stepped away from Peter’s touch. “Thank you, though. I’m just gonna get more on me, right?” He joked a little. “No point in cleaning yet.”

Peter smiled at him fondly, nodding. “Alright. That makes sense.”

Students began filing in, whispering to those around them as they eyed the other teacher in the room. It wasn’t like it was anything scandalous to walk in on, but everyone loved drama and the chance to start a rumor. It was the most fun part about school. And almost everyone believed that there was something between the two teachers already.

Steve cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention when the final bell rang and the last of his students trickled in. “Alright, I mentioned yesterday that we’d be working on sketching figures today. So Mr. Parker here was kind enough to be our volunteer figure. Isn’t that nice of him?”

A few weak “Thanks, Mr. Parker”s were mumbled, but almost everyone stayed focused on Steve and getting their supplies out of their bags.

“Okay, so-“ Steve made his way to where Peter was standing, mentally figuring out how he wanted him positioned. Then he reached out to move him before pausing. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Peter’s cheeks burned at the words when he heard the giggles from around the room in response, but nodded. “Of course.”

The art teacher’s hands gently guided Peter to where he wanted him, positioning him in a traditional ballet fourth position with one hand in front of him with the other gracefully held above his head. Peter moved his feet into position on his own when he understood.

“Do you think you can hold this position?” Steve asked softly, pulling his hands away to look at the younger man after he was finished.

“Of course.” Peter nodded, not moving at all. He knew that holding his arm up would get tiring eventually, but he didn’t want to ruin the picture. So he stayed as still as possible.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Steve smiled, going to his own seat and looking around at his students. “This is the position you’ll draw him in. You have all of class to complete your picture, it’s due by the bell.”

Everyone quickly got to work, eyes on Peter.

Steve started on his own sketch, an easy smile on his face as he started.

A recreation of Peter began to fill his page. Firm muscle on a slim body, his upper body hidden mostly beneath a loose blue tee. Dainty fingers holding position that lead into strong arms. Thick thighs that Steve wanted to feel wrapped around him that were clear in tight leggings. A soft bulge that the man had to be sure he didn’t pay too much attention to.

His sketch became clearer as time went on, as he was sure to capture every single detail of the man he admired from across the hall.

Just as he finished the gentle smile that curved at Peter’s lips with a stroke of his pencil, the bell broke through his blissful trance.

Steve blinked as he looked up, seeing his students packing up and Peter relaxing from his pose. “Oh, leave your papers at the table by the door. Make sure you signed your name on them,” he called before too many could get out the door.

Peter’s fingers gently massaged at his stiff arm as he relaxed, not noticing the other teacher approaching him again.

“I hope you’re not too sore.” Steve spoke up, his sketch held between his fingers. “I’m sorry if the position I picked was too…demanding. I just figured it would look nice.”

“No, it’s alright,” Peter assured him. “I’m a tough guy, I can take it,” he joked. His eyes landed on the drawing hanging at Steve’s side in his hand and nodded towards it. “I saw you were pretty focused over there. Can I see it?”

The teacher looked at the paper like he’d forgotten it was there and then back at the other man. “Oh- uh, yeah. Sure.” He held the sketch out nervously.

The dance teacher took it with a smile, eyes scanning over the drawing as he took in every detail.

He was quiet for a moment. Two moments. Long enough to make Steve worried that he did something wrong. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not-“

“Shh,” Peter scolded, not looking away from the page in his hand. “You’re ruining the moment.”

Steve shut his mouth again, watching him. Ruining the moment? What was that supposed to mean?

After a few more seconds, Peter finally looked up. “I’m not sure who exactly that is that you drew. He can’t be me,” he said confidently.

“What?” The picture looked exactly like him. Steve may have been a little rusty, but it was definitely Peter.

“Nope, can’t be. Because whoever that is is gorgeous.” The dance teacher grinned at him, the expression a little goofy. “Steve, you’re incredible.”

Steve finally relaxed again, laughing a little. “Oh. Thanks, I don’t know about incredible, but thank you.”

Peter went to hand the paper back, looking up at him when he was stopped. “It’s yours.”

“No, I want you to have it. Please.”

The dancer smiled more, nodding. “Thank you.” Then he paused, going to grab a scrap piece of paper and a pencil.

Steve watched him curiously, chuckling at how he was furiously scribbling on the paper. “Okay?”

“Shh, I’m creating.”

After about a minute of frantic doodling, Peter confidently held up the paper and handed it over.

Steve raised an eyebrow, laughing loudly as he saw the drawing. He just couldn’t help himself. “Why am I a triangle? With just a circle for a head?”

Peter pouted a little before laughing with him. “We can’t all be artists. But that’s not the important part.”

Steve looked lower on the paper, brows furrowing when he saw a number. “I already have your extension. And you’re across the hall. Why would I need-“

“That’s my cell number, Steve.” Peter started to walk to the door. So he wouldn’t be stuck there if he was rejected. “Feel free to call. For anything.”

“Your cell…why?”

Peter sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I want you to call me, Stevie. Clear enough for you?” He bit the inside of his cheek before blurting out his comment. “Maybe you could do some more figure drawing of me. Just not as professional.”

He rushed to leave after what he said, face flushed in embarrassment. What the hell was that?

Steve watched him go, eyes squinted as students for his next class filed in. “Not as professional…what does- oh my god, does that mean naked?”

His classroom fell completely silent and he wished that he could take his words back. He’d forgotten that they could hear every word.

One brave soul decided to speak up after the silence continued. “I say go for it.”

[tenspontaneite]

Pigment

Callum discovers the wonders of elven pigments.

(The first of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine, which is now having leftover sales!) ('Future' chapter; takes place post-s3, naturally not canon to TTM. Oneshot. 4k. Ao3 link)

---

The first time Callum was introduced to the concept of elvish pigment was, ostensibly, by Rayla’s skin. He’d noted the marks under her eyes in the same hurried, panicked glance that picked out the horns, the ears, the alarming points of the weapons in her hands…

He wondered about them, of course, but in the first frantic two weeks of their acquaintance, there really wasn’t a lot of time to ask about it. Not until the Storm Spire, when he sat mulling over the flight-runes on Ibis’ wings, and how they might have come to be there.

“…So, I’ve been wondering,” he said to Rayla, apropos of nothing, while she was tending to her equipment. She looked up as he began to speak, the armour momentarily forgotten. “Those…markings you have, the ones on your face—and the ones a lot of other elves seem to have—what are they?”

She blinked, and for a moment, her fingers rose to her face, as though only just remembering the marks were there. “They’re pigment?” She offered, squinting at him a little. “…Is that a trick question, or…?”

“No, really, I have no idea what they are.” He assured her. “I was never sure if they were tattoos, or…weird elf birthmarks, or something. But—pigment? Does that mean it’s like…ink? How do you get them on?” Tattoos, as he understood them, involved needles. He hoped elven pigment didn’t involve needles.

For a moment, Rayla stared at him, looking decidedly nonplussed. “You…paint them on?” She offered, still thrown. “With a brush? And then they stay there for a while. Half a year, maybe. Depends on how good your pigment is.”

“Huh.” Callum mused. For a moment, he was tempted to press further, to ask about the intricacies of various pigments and the application thereof…but he’d been asking for a reason, after all, and his attention remained there.

If they were painted on...then that boded well. That meant that it was something that he could do, if only for the presence of the pigment and a brush.

It wasn’t much later that, after a guilty rummage through Ibis’ things, Callum stood at the pinnacle of the Storm Spire and painted flight-runes onto his skin. That was his first true introduction to the pigments of elves. As an artist, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. The pigment was white, yet it entirely obscured the darker colour of his skin with only a single, easy stroke. Only one layer, and it was solidly opaque. It glowed a little—then settled utterly dry, clean, and steadfast upon his arms.

For a moment, he spared a thought to wish that his paints could be like that. He’d dabbled in every form of art medium he could get his hands on over the years, and he’d never worked with any pigment like this one. It would be gorgeous to paint with.

But then he was too distracted trying to fly to think about art any longer, and that was the last mind he paid to pigment for a while.

*

After the battle of the Storm Spire, he prevailed upon the use of a finer, neater brush, and filled in the edges of his flight-runes until the shape of each was perfect and immaculate. Ibis watched him with a critical eye, and nodded.

“The spell will come easier if the runes are tidy.” He said, approvingly. “You’ll need to re-apply the pigment every three months. Any longer than that and it will begin to fade—which isn’t so great an issue when the marks are merely aesthetic, but with runes…”

“I can see how you wouldn’t want these fading, no.” Callum said ruefully, and accepted the little bottle of white pigment with a murmur of gratitude. He tucked it into his things for the next time he and Rayla went travelling, and she smiled at him.

“Packing your pigment for the journey, Callum?” She remarked, a little teasing. “Think we’ll be gone that long, do you?”

He laughed, and shrugged, glancing down at one of his arms. “I guess it’s just in case, really. I shouldn’t need to touch them up again for months, but…you never know. Wouldn’t want to end up flightless for some reason.”

“I suppose you are a tad obsessed with flying, now.” She agreed, as if she wasn’t always finding excuses for him to sweep her up into the sky for another flight. She reached out, absentminded, and trailed a fingertip around the curve of one rune with the trace of a smile on her lips. “Still, if it came down to it, you could always borrow mine.”

He glanced up at her, startled. “Your pigment?” He checked, eyes settling on the marks beneath her eyes. “I didn’t know you had any with you.”

“I don’t. Need to pick some up from Ethari, when we visit.” She said, succinctly, and he supposed that was another reason for their stopping at Silvergrove on the way to Katolis. How long had it been, since she last refreshed her pigment? Did she need to do it again soon, or was she just planning for the future?

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating her, feeling his heart flutter with a familiar warmth. If her markings had faded at all since he met her, it wasn’t immediately obvious to him. They looked as clear and lovely as ever; a natural part of her face. It was strange to think of what she might look like without them.

Rayla eyed him, when he’d stared a little too long and smiled a little too softly, and huffed at him. Her cheeks pinked a little, the colour darkening her markings. “What are you looking at?” She muttered to him, a touch self-conscious. Rather than look away, he smiled at her all the wider, and captured the hand she had on his arm to plant a kiss on its fingers.

“You.” He said, very contentedly, and watched with pleasure as her face coloured and her fingers twitched beneath his touch.

“Dumb prince.” She sighed, a smile spreading unbidden and affectionate across her lips. It was beautiful, so of course he kissed that too. He felt the widening of that smile against his mouth, and lingered there for as long as she’d let him before she prodded him away to finish packing.

She gave his arms a strange look, though, when he next bared them. Appraising, almost, with a narrow-eyed sort of consideration. “…What?” He asked, when she’d been staring long enough to warrant the question.

“Your runes are…neat.” She said, tone as considering as her eyes. “Tidy.” She shook her head then. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with all the art you do. Of course you’d be good at painting skin-pigment.” He eyed her, because there was clearly more to this observation than just surprise that he’d managed some tidy brushwork, but all she said when he asked was “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t believe her, obviously. Not with the way she kept shooting half-considering looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he didn’t press her, and she didn’t mention whatever was on her mind. In time, he forgot about it.

Until they were back in the Silvergrove.

*

Rayla asked Ethari, and within the minute he was pressing a small dark bottle and a fine brush into her hands. “I did wonder if you needed any.” He said, as she turned the glass over and the indigo liquid swirled around within. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She agreed, pocketing the vial and the brush both. “It’ll start fading soon. So…thanks.”

He nodded at her, all warmth and familial affection. “Not a problem. Did you want me to help with that while you’re here?”

She hesitated, then, and for a moment…for a moment, her eyes slid to Callum, who’d been watching them idly over the top of his sketchbook. “…I’m good.” She settled on, eventually, and if there was anything particularly knowing about Ethari’s smile then, Callum didn’t notice it.

He kept drawing, content in that she was content, and happy to be in her home under happier circumstances than the first.

But then, later: “I wanted to ask you something.” Rayla said, abruptly, when it was just the two of them in what was ostensibly her childhood room. It had been adapted over the years for a growing teenager, but still maintained hints of the past lingering within its walls. He spotted a child’s doodle of a shadowpaw etched into the grain of the dresser, and suppressed a smile.

He turned to her, eyes crinkling a little at the thought of a tiny rambunctious Rayla who scrawled over the walls and furniture. “Yeah?” He responded, a little distracted, as he wondered if there were perhaps any baby or childhood portraits in residence somewhere. He should ask Ethari. If there were any to be found, surely he’d know.

That distraction fled the instant she spoke. “Will you paint my pigment for me?” She asked, directly, and his eyes shot to her at once. At his expression, she added, “You don’t have to. But it needs doing soon, or it’ll start fading faster.” She paused, looking a little more tentative as she said, “If you don’t want to, Ethari can—”

“No,” he blurted, clumsy, then scrambled to say “I mean, yes, I mean—I mean I’d like that. To help. To, er. Paint your pigment on.” He felt his face heat, in part from how he’d stumbled over the words, and in part because…well. He might not know a lot about elven pigment and elven markings, but he was fairly sure that they were…personal. That painting someone’s markings for them was personal.

His reply settled her, and she huffed, lips twitching with familiar fondness. “…Good.” She said, in the end, and surprised him by leaving the room without further word. He blinked after her, uncertain whether he was supposed to follow, but then she returned a bare few moments later with a towel and a wet cloth that she was already wiping her face with.

“Er,” he offered, perplexed, as she dried her face off and set the towel and cloth both down. He didn’t understand until she plucked the bottle of pigment from her dresser and pressed it into his fingers. “Now?” His voice was something of a squeak, and she rolled her eyes.

“When else?” She asked, procuring a brush and giving him that too. “We’re setting off tomorrow. Now’s best.” She paused. “…That okay?”

Her voice had gone tentative again, and his chin jerked up, fingers tightening around brush and bottle as if worried she’d take them away. “No, yeah, it’s okay,” he assured her, and then laughed, a little nervously. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He cleared his throat, and took a closer look at the brush. It was like the one he’d filled his own runes in with, fine and delicate and short enough that it didn’t seem liable to flick off in weird directions. “…So I just…paint this onto your face?” He asked, after a moment, feeling his cheeks heat for reasons he couldn’t quite put to words. It felt special, in a way that was hard to describe.

“That is how it works.” Rayla answered, dryly, and then tugged him by the rune-adorned arm until they were both sitting on the floor, towel and cloth at close remove. He supposed those were there in case of spillages, though considering how quickly elvish pigment took hold, he wasn’t sure how much good a towel would do. He wondered if there was some sort of solvent, magical or otherwise, that was up to the task of dissolving pigment like this.

“What happens if I make a mistake when I’m putting your pigment on?” He wondered aloud, only half directing it at her. “Do you just have to walk around with it on your face for months?”

She snorted, and shook her head. “Nah. There’s pigment-remover for that.”

A little tension eased from his shoulders. “Oh, good,” he sighed, relieved. “That’s much less pressure, then.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Just paint my face, Callum.”

He chuckled at her, a little nervously, and uncapped the bottle. The liquid inside was so much darker than the pigment he used, and bizarrely true in its colour. Usually, inks tended to look much darker than their actual colour when they were in the bottle. It was only when you painted them onto a page that you could see how light and bright they were. This, though…it was just solid, liquid indigo, as if someone had distilled the concept of the colour of Rayla’s markings and spilled it into a bottle. “This would be amazing to paint with.” He murmured, somewhat distractedly, watching the pigment shimmer in the low light.

Rayla didn’t answer that, which was unusual enough that his eyes darted to hers, and found her looking strangely thoughtful. She shook her head, though, as if to dispel some thought, and started giving the pigment bottle and the brush some very meaningful looks. He laughed, softly, and obeyed the unspoken command; he dipped the brush in, drained off the excess, and then lifted it. It was dyed the same solid, true indigo—a colour that he was about to put onto her skin.

It hit him then, or at least started to; he looked between the brush and her face and felt his breath catch at—at something. It felt a little like panic, a little like wonder, a little like the breathless infatuation she always managed to inspire in him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, and just…stared at her, heart beating wildly at—at the trust, and the honour, that he couldn’t help but feel she’d given him.

She was looking impatient by the time he finally moved, and likely would have spoken if not for how he shuffled closer, until their knees were touching. Her mouth closed, watching him, eyes settling on his own as he reached towards her. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, feather-light, as tentative as he always was when he remembered that someone as amazing as her had deigned to be with someone like him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his hand, thumb tracing tenderly along a cheek that warmed beneath his touch.

He cupped her face in his hand, then, unable to resist the impulse, and she leaned into it without even thinking. Her eyes fell half-lidded for a moment, the smallest smile twitching at the edges of her lips, and he wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, but—but he wanted to, and she was smiling at him, and her eyes were soft and warm in the quiet and low light of the room—

So, he kissed her, and she huffed an amused breath against his lips, lifting a hand to trail affectionate fingers along the side of his neck. “This doesn’t feel like face-painting to me.” She murmured to him, fond and teasing at once, and he wouldn’t have been surprised for a moment if his heart stopped beating for the strength of how much he loved her. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

He laughed, a little breathless, and the warmth of it spilled between them. “Yeah.” He agreed, helplessly, drawing back with her fingers still warm on his neck and his hand still cupped to her cheek, and paused for a moment to treasure the sight of her looking at him like that. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever believe it. “I’ll just…get on that.”

She withdrew her hand, and watched him. Waiting.

His fingers shifted on Rayla’s face, moving to press his thumb gently to the side of the marking under her left eye. Pulling at the skin, ever-so-slightly, to allow for painting it more evenly. Another urge struck him, but this time he suppressed it. He could kiss her cheek-markings later. For now, he was supposed to be painting them. And so…

With an almost reverent care, he lifted the tip of the brush to her face, hovering just above her skin with a heady mixture of breathless wonder and breathless trepidation. He exhaled, softly, and felt her eyes upon him. Watching, warm and fond and expectant.

Finally, with the utmost care, he touched the brush to her skin.

She flinched a little at the touch so close beneath her eye, but he’d expected that. He held the brush steady and traced a slow, perfect line down her cheek, along the edge of the extant marking, like a dark border to the fading colour. And it was fading; he could see that now. It wasn’t noticeable on its own, but with the contrast of the fresh pigment beside it, it was fully obvious that the old colour had begun waning.

With the brush to her skin, Callum’s hushed awe fell in step with the breadth of his skill and practice. He’d never put brush to someone else’s skin before, but that did nothing to diminish his skill. He knew brushwork, and he knew the delicacy needed for fine detail, and…and, in the end, this was easy. Just tracing around an existing marking, and filling it in. There could be nothing easier.

He drew the pigment across her skin in smooth, effortless lines. He traced the borders of her marking and then filled it in, up until when the brush began to run empty, and he had to go for the bottle again. The colour settled fast, immediate, and perfect upon her face, with that gorgeous fidelity he’d never seen in any other pigment or paint or ink in all his life. It was a pleasure to use it, and all the more that he was using it for this.

Callum fell half into an artist’s trance for the remaining minutes it took to finish. He filled the left marking in, stark and perfect, then shifted his fingers tenderly to her other cheek, and repeated the process. When he was done, there was nothing but perfect lines and perfect colour upon a face that he loved.

He smiled, small and satisfied, and set the brush aside. “Done.” He murmured, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, cradling her face in both hands. It felt strange, to risk touching her skin when he’d only just painted it. But that was the wonder of elvish pigment; it dried the moment it was applied, and permitted no possibility of smearing whatsoever. He stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes and felt more happy, more tender, more loving than he’d ever known. “Perfect.” He murmured, reverential, the words meant for more than the pigment.

Her eyes blinked across from his own, and he loved them. Loved her. She brought her arms up and drew him closer, one hand splayed on the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll have you do me some new markings, someday.” She murmured to him, in the end, a small and secret smile at the edges of her lips. He stared at her, spellbound, for the three beats of his heart that lingered between her smile and her movement. She leaned in and closed the meagre distance between them, the kiss soft and sweet and all the more perfect for how dearly he adored her.

He imagined, for a second, drawing that ink-brush again along her skin. Imagined it between her fingers, along her arms, casting indigo whorls about her shoulders. He thought of new pigment, new markings, and the sheer delight of being the one who got to put them there. His heart fluttered. “I’d like that.” He said, against her lips, and she kissed him again.

“Good.” When she drew back, the markings were still stark and beautiful beneath her eyes, where he’d painted them. The sight of them left him a little breathless, even now, unable to shake the sense that he’d been afforded an enormous privilege, a gift of worth beyond measure.

Someday, he hoped, she’d afford him that gift again.

*

Callum saw the fruits of Rayla’s thoughtful consideration and furtive glances a while later, when July came around and he was startled from thinking about her birthday by the arrival of his own. She cornered him with palpable satisfaction, and gave him a parcel that she very clearly expected him to be delighted with.

She wasn’t wrong.

He unveiled an array of small bottles; thirty-six hues of true and perfect elvish pigment, distilled for the purpose of painting. He beheld them all with a nearly breathless joy, finding the little parcel of pigment-brushes, the bottle of solvent, the masking-fluid….

“You like it?” Rayla asked, with a broad and decidedly smug smile on her face. She clearly already knew the answer.

“I love it.” He pronounced, and set at once to trying them out.

The very first thing he painted was her. She watched him, and huffed as she saw the familiar lines of her own face taking form on the page, pleased and exasperated all at once. She never did seem to understand why he drew her so often, but that was okay. And, with these pigments…

The colours were spectacular, brighter and more intensely pigmented than anything he’d ever seen. He found himself utterly swept away in the delight of using them, and hours later, emerged from his artist’s trance to the completed work: Rayla in the early evening of the Silvergrove, her hair and eyes gleaming softly with the gentle illumination of the lights and moon-moths around her. It was one of the finest works he’d ever produced, and at the sight of it, he concluded the process of falling helplessly in love with Elvish pigment.

Rayla, for all her embarrassment at being painted, seemed to approve of it too. “You picked that up quickly.” She noted, handling the edges of the thick paper with the delicate care it deserved.

“These pigments are my new favourite thing.” He declared, arranging the bottles a little more tidily beside him. His eyes rested, a little consideringly, over another wide sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, growing quiet and solemn, and eventually reached out to take it.

He had his birthday traditions to observe, after all.

The second thing he painted with the elven pigments was his family portrait, atrophied and truncated by tragedy. There was no Sarai there, and hadn’t been for years. No Harrow, and that was a new pain. He felt the ghosts of their absence in the lines he didn’t draw, in the colours that never fell upon the page, in the voids of grief that they left in his life.

But there were new faces now, too.

With quiet, exquisite care, he drew himself. He drew Ezran, older now, wearing a mantle that had come for him too soon. He drew Bait in his brother’s arms. He drew Aunt Amaya. And, tenderly: he drew Azymondias and Rayla. The outlines took form, and as the hours passed, elvish pigment filled them in.

In the end, he had his family portrait again. Changed, and echoing with its empty spaces, but…

Quiet, from her place beside him, Rayla slipped her hand into his own.

“Come on,” She said, with the small but tender smile that he loved. “Zym has a present for you too. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t give it to you today.”

Callum exhaled, and let her fingers tighten around his, pulling him up to his feet beside her. His own smile slipped onto his lips. “Then we’d better go find him.” He said, casting a last glance at the portrait on the table. He didn’t resist it when she tugged on his fingers, pulling him away.

With a strange, quiet serenity, he followed her out into the light.

---

end.

This is word-for-word what was published in the Rayllum zine 'Falling For You'; I have made no changes. It’s the shorter and less impressive of my two pieces, but I hope you liked it anyway.

I’ll potentially be making some minor edits to the second piece before posting, given I intend to continue it - in fact, I’ve already got like three extra chapters of it written, though small ones. I’m considerably more excited about that one, so stay tuned!

[frobin]

Okey serious question here. How much do you actually believe that Oda ships Frobin? Like do you think he actually have like doodles/sketchs of them in a pairing kind of way? like for the strong world film riding the motorbug? (Personally i would love it to be true but he has stated one piece isn't about romance in that way)

Hey there anon! Thank you so much for your question and I hope I can answer it seriously enough. Also once more sorry for the late response. I felt like a question like that needs some research and that is what I did these last few days.

So... I think I'll start with the tl;dr because that way people can read that and ignore the rest.

So, long answer short: I 100% believe that Oda has one or more sketchbooks with drawings of his characters that are absolutely self-indulgent. I am 98% sure that he has drawn Franky and Robin in a romantic way at least once (and supported the ship). I am 80% sure he still is shipping FRobin.

Little disclaimer: I actually have no idea if any of this is true. I pull everything in my arguments out of my own experiences and knowledge and since I'm not a 46 year old Japanese Mangaka my perspective might be WAY OFF.

argument - reason- example - conclusion... behind the cut (or in the google doc)

So, why do I think that Oda has a secret sketchbook?

Simple answer is that he is an artist. He is drawing a lot and no artist will publish everything. That can have multiple reasons like imposter syndrome or because the artist thinks it’s not good or interesting enough or they just forget. There are even more reasons I forget and every person has their own.

For Oda I can imagine two big reasons as to why he would keep secret sketchbooks.

First: He is a horndog. You can skip this part if you don’t want to read about it, to the second reason.

Anyway, we know thanks to answers in the SBS, the way he likes to draw big-breasted women and how some of his characters are classified as perverts that he can be considered one too.

Let me show you a few of a few lewd SBS questions he likes to answer in a funny way:

Chapter 228, Page 46

D: How are ya, Odacchi? I know how much you like getting butt-naked, so this must be a favourite season for you. <3

O: Yes, yes. I just LOVE getting completely naked. In the summertime, after I take a bath I just run STRAIGHT OUTSIDE!! And when the girls' softball team running on the sidewalk looks over at me, they say, "Yup, it's really summer now!!" ... AS IF!! I'D GET ARRESTED!!!

(x)

Chapter 433, Page 68

D: If Lady Robin can use her Hana Hana Powers to make any part of her body sprout somewhere else, does that mean she can do it with her ample bosom as well? "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Boy, I'd like to take a hit from that sometime... P.N. Ero Ero no Mi Devil Fruit User.

O: "Ichirin-zaki" (Single Sprout) "Nirin-zaki" (Double Sprout) "Nyurin-zaki" (Breast Sprout) Very clever!! NO IT'S NOT!! STOP THAT!! I'm sure she CAN do it though ♡

(x)

Chapter 798, Page 64

D: Oddachi, I'll give you a pornographic book, so please answer my question. Sanji won't allow anyone to waste food, but what will he do if a woman does so? P.N. Smoker's Cigar

O: I think he would grab the plate and eat it up. Now please give me the pornographic book.

(x)

Nowadays I’m sure there is a focus on those lewder questions compared to the beginning because that is what 13 year old boys laugh about and we all know that is Oda's main demographic (of course).

I think a very good picture of that is given by Tekking101 in his breakdown video of SBS Volume 100.

“Let’s get diving into these questions (...) now, this is a huge moment. I mean, not many Manga manage to reach 100 Volumes, Okay? Now I know Oda usually starts these off with questions relating to boobs and things that don’t really… you know, aren’t really relevant but you know, this is a big celebration so we’re gonna dive right into it. I bet the most important things that we need to know about the One Piece Story are right here in these pages, okay? I printed them out. That is how important this is. So let’s start off, shall we? Epic voice, Barry!

‘Mister Oda, there is a UFO over there with huge big-breasted beauties on it. That memorable 100 Volume of the SBS is about to begin.’

[pause] Yeah, like the first five of these are all related to boobs in some way. You know what Oda? Sticking true to your guns! Godspeed, Sir Oda. Godspeed.”

(end at around 2:30)

So, Oda is a man who likes beautiful women and who draws.

Coming to the conclusion that he will draw his own characters in suggestive poses, naked and even doing adult stuff is not hard.

Obviously he would not show these sketches just around. He would probably keep them in a secret sketchbook that he keeps at a safe location. Maybe his wife and some close friends know about it? Maybe it is his and only his little secret.

I don’t think it would be unlikely to learn about this years into the future, maybe the next generation of Anime Fans will hear about this.

And it would not be the first time that something like this happened.

Not that long ago the daughter of Osamu Tezuka - groundbreaking Mangaka, known for his works of “Astro Boy”, “Kimba the white lion” and many more - found his adult Furry art. Source; Japanese article;

It’s a fact that many Mangaka did indeed start their career with art of the more risque kind and/or as doujinshi artists.

So again, I have no doubt that Oda, a known pervert, has one or more secret sketchbooks with „the p0rnography“ in it. Is there only hot stuff in there? Not necessarily.

The second reason to keep a secret sketchbook would be to collect information in there, that could be considered canon but he is not willing to use it in the Manga. Maybe they are not important enough or will be used later.

What am I imagining here? Anything that could be considered too weird for the normal sketchbook but isn‘t too risque. Funny things that might still not be „appropriate.“

Like a sketch of the male Strawhat ding-dongs with the sizes beside it. All the lewd jokes the fans did about Luffy's stretching qualities? I’m sure Oda thought about them too and drew that in the past if he had the time and it made him laugh enough.

But also maybe there are scenes in there that never made it in the Manga. The Strawhats interacting with each other in their daily lives, ideas for colorspreads and maybe chapter-titles. Oda probably has noted/sketched down a lot of unofficial stuff somewhere.

Another example, even an artist like Oda himself would have needed to exercise drawing two people kissing. Why not use Characters he thinks that might work out together?

Why not Franky and Robin? I would imagine he sketched up a few panels of Franky and Robin having a romantic date, going shopping together in Dressrosa, having a conversation that we never got to see because it was too on the nose.

Which brings us to the second point of me being very sure that Oda had drawn FrankyXRobin at one point.

I’m sure in those sketchbooks there is at least one drawing of them doing anything couple-related together. Again it does not have to be downright nasty but it could be them holding hands, kissing or even just Robin leaning onto Franky while reading, like all those fanarts that exist out there.

It’s not hard to imagine. Even for other Characters I think that is possible

And there might even be proof for that idea. The sketch of the Strong World movie you also mentioned, anon. The one movie that can be considered canon is Strong World. It was basically written/directed by Oda. Shiki the antagonist had an appearance in the Manga.

This sketch is drawn by Oda. Robin is holding onto Franky.

Can it be read as romantic? Yes. Can it be read as Robin holding onto Franky because there is nothing else to hold onto? Also Yes. But couldn't she just have used her power to keep herself secured on the bike without holding onto Franky? WELL YES. Could Oda never have thought in these circles like I do right now? I hope he did not because I hate it and I don’t wish it upon him.

In the movie Robin is NOT holding onto Franky. Now the really interesting thing - that is neither proof pro nor anti FRobin - is that we can see the sketch provided by Oda as a “between the scenes”.

In the movie Strong World the old trio is collecting information at the Pirate assembly. The next time we see them they use the Batta GT-7000 to slowly approach the destroyed village, which had been ravaged by the animals, and start to look for their friends. No need to hold onto Franky and no need for Brook to lean back. They are looking around.

The sketch is clearly not the same scene as the one we see in the movie.

In conclusion the drawing is indeed a between the scenes drawing. And yes if there exists one, who is to say there aren’t more?

Talking about Animal-Bikes...

Is there any meaning about the fact that in the opening scene (that is part of the talked intro after the opening ‘We Go’ - a huge thanks to antiherofangirl, ccb0nnet, JFL_Estudios and Maems, over at twitter!) Franky and Robin build another grasshopper-based vehicle? Maybe not but I still feel like it’s quite a callback.

Where did the idea to put this in the beginning come from? a) an editor had the idea inspired by Strong World; b) maybe it’s another sketch that Oda provided.

Neither seems very far-fetched in my opinion.

So yes, I am very sure that Oda has drawn things that we would consider FRobin.

Now to the last point (the first being Oda having a secret sketchbook, the second me arguing that Oda might have drawn FRobin).

As I said in the beginning I’m very sure that at one point Oda did and kinda that he still does ship Franky and Robin. Because even though every Interaction of two characters can be depicted as romantic or platonic, Oda used ROMANTIC TROPES with Franky and Robin.

They have never kissed on screen but we had

finishing each other's sentences

coordinated clothes

one using the others lap as pillow

hand on cheek caressing

and we can’t forget that Robin had answered Franky's invitation to ride on another animal-themed bike with a heart.

Edit: I didn‘t say anything about „no romance in OP“ so ask again if you want me to talk a bit about that. Sorry!

Those are things an author of Oda's level would not write or draw without being aware about how teasing this is. He has to be aware that every single line he draws will be analyzed to the end of the universe and back. People earn money by saying their opinion and interpretations about the Manga on Youtube.

These interactions are not something outlandish like “There was once an Anime Scene in which Robin was wearing something blue and exactly 28 episodes later Franky was wearing something violet and then 39 episodes later they both stood beside each other for exactly 69 seconds.”

Whenever I think about these facts, things that are not about interpreting but are factual, black ink on white paper but also about the little things, about how Frank and Robin help each other to become better, how they support each other… I want to say YES! ODA IS 100% on board! While in reality I’m 80% sure and 20% of me is wondering if I’m not actually analyzing too much into it. If maybe he really is abandoning ship. Maybe I will become the person who will curse his name and throw my Mangas and fanfictions in an active volcano?

I don’t know and it’s impossible to say what is going to happen.

And with that I've concluded this answer, and it only took me around 2k words and four days.

[margarethx]

I have some slightly controversial take about Sam Wilson fandom here, so maybe don’t reblog this post... Comment if you want, but I really don’t want to start arguing with anyone. I just need to vent and will probably delete the whole rant later.

So...

I know that Sam’s fans complain a lot about the treatment he gets in the fandom... I still do that from time to time and I probably will continue doing it in the future. But I’m starting to feel very, very tired with the people who act like their love for Sam can only be expressed through:

1) criticizing other people’s content,

2) hatered/dislike for Bucky or Sambucky,

3) complaining about other people in the fandom.

It’s so weird. We criticize the people who make Bucky-centric content with barely any mention of Sam and tag it with his name, because it’s annoying, but at the same time there is quite a big number of fans, whose posts in Sam Wilson tag are basically:

“omg he never gets recognition”, “MCU fandom hates Sam”, “Everything is about Bucky, where is Sam?!” “some of you only like sam when he’s with bucky :/”

And... sure. There’s a lot of truth to these statements. But saying that over and over again won’t fix the problem, especially if you yourself don’t do ANYTHING to remedy the situation. You’re flooding the tag too... Just in a different way. A few months ago I had this habit that I liked to follow people who wrote posts like these. Because I had this assumption that: if you complain about Sam being treated badly you probably love him a lot, so we should get along. I love him too!

But I realized that a lot of those people literally complain for the sake of complaining and than don’t even try to post Sam-centric content on their own. Why not??? You don’t have to be an amazing creator to make a good post. It’s not just about realistic fanart and 30k words fanfic with a complicated plot. You might write some weird HCs about Sam instead. Or a joke. Incorrect quotes. Ideas for fics you’ll never finish, but might inspire other people. Doodles that took 2 minutes of drawing. Edited photos. Favourite screenshots. Prompts. Learn to make poor-quality gifs of Sam’s cool fightigh style. Write a short scene analysis. Or ask other people how they analyse some scenes to start a discussion. Link some edits from YouTube.

And if you cannot think of a single thing to make on your own? Well. You can always promote art made by other people. Go through the tag and reblog things you loved. Find a good blog and search throught their archives to find older content. You can compile a post with fic recommendations so other people read what you enjoyed and see how good the content about Sam might be. Or recommend your favourite creators in general. Send encouraging asks to artists who you love so they feel motivated.

--- ----- ---

But these people do none of that. I can scroll throught their blog for 10 minutes and everything about Sam Wilson I see is complaining that people like Bucky more. Or that Sambucky is popular. (As if all the best Sambucky stories aren’t just fans expressing their love towards Sam through Bucky’s eyes...) I’m not trying to say that you have to be a creator to criticize the fandom, but it’s weird when you only yell at others for not posting enough about Sam when you didn’t post anything about him either unless it’s complaining. Kind of ironic...

Also! If you don’t promote other people’s content they get discoraged from posting. It’s a fact. I have probably over 80 different half-made and finished drawings with Sam Wilson on my tablet, but I have zero incentive to post any of them, because every attempt in the past ended with these posts getting 4 notes. Or 10 at best. So why bother? I can look at them alone. And I don’t remember these people who complained about the lack of Sam content supporting my Sam-centric art with nice comments.

You cannot expect the fandom to mass-produce content for you if you don’t encourage it. I got no feedback, so now I just sort of... write or draw for myself, because I enjoy it and have no incentive to publish any of that when no one’s interested. Instead I just make writing prompts or analysis of tfatws, because there’s a bigger chance I’ll have an interesting disussion with other fans in the comments or I’ll inspire other creators to make more art by posting that. I enjoy both of those things very much, but one evokes a reaction I want and the other just... doesn’t. (It’s not even about validation... even if it’s nice to get compliments. It’s just: “when other people are clearly not interested, why make the art public at all?”.)

--- ----- ---

Like I said. I’m not going to call out any specific person here. But there were a few people who harshly criticized me in asks or in private messages for “pretending to love Sam” just because I like Sambucky too. But if you scroll through my blog you’ll find that at least 95% of the posts are about Sam. And if you scroll through theirs it’s 3 posts - all of them about fandom not loving Sam enough. (I just checked.)

But I guess I’m a “disgrace to the fandom”, because I acknowledge that Sam might have a love interest while you said you hate Bucky, so... Apparently your love for Sam Wilson is more real if you despise more popular characters he interacts with. ...Be honest with yourselves. Some of you just like to whine and complain, but prefer to disguise it behind love for Sam, so it sounds justified.

And yes. There should be more content that is only about Sam. Or about Sam’s non-romantic relationships. Sure. But if my two choices are: “get a Sambucky fic about Bucky loving Sam very much” or “get a post where someone cries about Sam not being loved enough for the 10th time”... then pardon me for preferring the first option.

If any of you spent half the energy you waste on complaining on making a single post about your supposed love for Sam the tag would be much more full of good content. But it seems like making actual content requires more effort and talent, so you just stay there whining that other people don’t provide you with what you want and demand. And give zero encouragement and promotion to those who do the work.

So continue doing that if you wish. But I won’t waste all my energy on making my weekly “this fandom fucking sucks” post. I prefer promoting cool art other users made (now or years ago) and creating my own posts that might not be always 100% about only Sam... but are still focused on him. Because I like this fictional little guy. I’m not going to let this weird purity tests ruin my enjoyment. If the pretty drawing of Sam has Bucky on the other side of the canvas I still have a cool drawing of Sam to admire. So it’s a win for me.

--- ----- ---

[Reminder: please don’t reblog this. I really just need to vent. Comments are okay, I can discuss this. I just don’t want some peope to see that and go yell at me all over again. I was already harassed for allowing Bucky or Steve on my mostly Sam-Wilson-centric blog...]

[Also... if you think this is hypocritical of me to complain about complaining... Maybe. I don’t think it’s comparable here, but whatever.]

[insomniac-arrest]

Hey, youre the only author I follow on this side and I have a big question... For 5 years by now I try writing a book myself. I have everything! Toughed-out characters, a fully developed plot, sideplots, a map of the world, etc. But... I just cant get it on paper. I draw a lot. Some scenes or just the characters to have refs on hand, colors, clothes and stuff but I just cant put down ONE Chapter in words! Maybe its because I'm a perfectionist and struggle too view my work with the eyes of my friends (who all say my writing is really good) I dont know, I'm never happy with my writings and dont wanna put out stuff I dont like. Do you have maybe some tips? I really wanna publish my story! It makes me sad that it takes soooo much time...

“Perfect is the enemy of done.” ― Catherine Carrigan

I wish I had some easy advice for this dilemma, but the truth is that it’s a toughie. It kind of reminds me of when I used to put off doing essays in high school. I’d make my outlines and think about it in my head. I’d plan. I’d wait for the right moment. Then the due date would pass.

If I got a shitty essay in by the due date I was usually good, it was fine, even half-baked essays usually got me B’s (this isn’t a brag on myself, this is just because the American school system lacks rigor). However, if I missed the due date then I was pretty much screwed. The clock was ticking and the task just got bigger and bigger in my head. It was due! I could do it! Nothing was stopping me! I just needed to actually do it.

But I couldn’t. It was too big in my head. It loomed too large. After the due date passed it had to be perfect or else it had to be nothing. And I would just, never turn it in. By college I stopped doing this, but by then I was studying things that I loved and looked forward to reading about and taking tests on.

There are a couple approaches to your dilemma I can imagine:

1. Go do another project: yep, let it go. Set it aside. Forget about it for a while so it becomes less scary. Time and space can do wonders for the creative process.

In the meantime, I recommend honing your craft. Write silly stories, write stories without plot or structure, write fanfiction and terrible prose, write something for the sake of writing. Honestly, there’s a lot of tried and true wisdom around the artistic statement: start small, get good. Painters do all sorts of tiny doodles before they attempt a masterpiece. Begin with doodles. Learn to build a scene before you build an entire house with it, my friend.

However, if that doesn’t help, then here’s option two:

2. Do some emotional exercises: Walking away from projects works, but not always. It’s something I’ve done in the past and I’ve talked to other people where it’s worked really well for them. Some distance from any projects is good.

However, I see a lot of online advise that’s like “if you don’t like it then walk away!” And that stuff frustrates me because I’m like “I don’t want to walk away! I want to fight for this!” Plus, whenever I have just “walked away” I’ve literally never gone back to any those projects. I don’t regret writing them, but I think we as artists need to emphasize the importance of finishing as well. If you’re serious about this then some parts of it are gonna suck so bad. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna be hard. You’re gonna feel shitty because the story is not how you imagined it. You’re going to doubt yourself. Do it anyway. Do it anyway.

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear” —George Adair

I have a mood swing disorder so I do a lot of emotional exercises that are primed to help me distance myself from my emotions. “But you’re supposed to feel your feelings!” You say, and that’s true. Feeling your feelings is step one-- you have to let in, life is suffering, sit with it, look at it, feel it. However, the next step is taking action. You do the thing anyway.

You are not your emotions. 

You have control of how you react to your self-doubt and fear.

Acknowledge them, feel them, and then let them pass like clouds above your head. Then act. It’s okay to be a little hard on yourself here-- like a kind mother. She loves you unconditionally but she also has you do the dishes and put your toys away. She has you do the necessary and hard things, because she loves you.

By the time I was able to write essays in college and actually turn them in I had been to a lot of therapy and then I just . . . started writing. First I wrote for fun, like a madman possessed by a spirit, and now I write for the challenge of it (but at a much slower pace). Writing still often scares me or frustrates me, but that’s okay. It’s normal. They are just passing clouds-- stormy or otherwise. The clouds can’t touch you, not really, so I do it anyway.

Choose whatever path sounds best for you! Writing is a very personal process. It’s hard, but also an incredibly rewarding process. Good luck!

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

(This is based off the lovely prompt you gave me a while ago, and I decided to incorporate it into the kid!verse. Khaleel is five years old now.)

Part 14 of Jimercury Kid series

Freddie’s hands were shaking as he held the wrapped package in his hand and he cursed himself internally, wishing his nerves would settle long enough for him to just open the door and give Jim his damn present. He had never been this apprehensive about giving someone a gift before; he usually couldn’t wait to surprise his loved ones, to see the absolute delight on their faces when they unwrapped the paper and saw what he had bought them. It was usually something expensive, something unobtainable to them, something grandiose that only someone with his paycheque could afford.

That’s what everyone wanted, right? Big, expensive presents?

Not Jim, apparently.

Jim was a simple man. That’s part of the reason why Freddie had fallen so hard for him, aside from his unmeasurable kindness and rugged good looks, of course. And being a simple man, he preferred the simpler things in life; he appreciated the lavish gifts and parties that Freddie treated him to, of course, but Freddie knew fully well that he could have been a road sweeper and Jim would still be in love with him. That’s the kind of person his husband was.

Which was precisely why Freddie was in the predicament he was in now.

--

He had been trying to figure out what to get Jim for his birthday for weeks, enlisting the help of Phoebe and Mary to scout out all the local department stores in search of the perfect gift. Phoebe found a nice pair of garden shears, which would come in useful, given that Jim’s current ones were old and rusting and Jim was always talking about replacing them. Practical, thought Freddie, but not exactly the most personal of gifts. Mary found a lovely ceramic cat ornament, its features hand painted by the artist; Jim would love it, Freddie knew, but he had already bought him a similar gift years before. In the end, Phoebe and Mary purchased the presents to give Jim themselves and the search continued.

It was their son who ended up inspiring Freddie, though that was hardly surprising because Khaleel was always inspiring him. Freddie had come home from a long day at the studio and found the little boy painting at the kitchen table with Phoebe, old newspapers spread out to make sure he didn’t make a mess. They had been at it for a while, judging by how many paintings there were scattered around; paintings of flowers, and dinosaurs and, of course, every one of the cats with their names scribbled underneath in felt tip.

‘These are lovely, Bijou.’ Freddie beamed, after Phoebe had excused himself to wash the paint off his hands. ‘You’re so talented. We should hang them up in your room.’

Khaleel nodded enthusiastically, adding one final dab of paint to his wonky picture of Garden Lodge before setting it beside the others. ‘Daddy said you paint too, Baba.’

‘Did he now?’

‘Yeah. He showed me a painting of Delilah you did. It was pretty.’

Freddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes fondly. He had thought he’d thrown out the unfinished portrait of his favourite cat, but he should have known Jim had held onto it. ‘Baba doesn’t really have time to paint anymore, darling. I’m too busy with my music.’

Khaleel looked disappointed. He glanced down at his messy fingers and began to fiddle with them. ‘Your painting made Daddy smile so much, Baba. You should do it again. It’s pretty.’

Freddie was at a loss for words. He had always loved art and still found himself doing the odd sketches and doodles now and then; but painting was something he had given up long ago in favour of singing. He simply didn’t have the time or the patience to commit to it. But Khaleel’s words were now engrained in his mind.

‘I’ll think about it, Bijou.’ He said softly, before leaning down to pick the child up. ‘Come on, you’re going to need a nice, warm bubble bath to get all this paint off you.’

He smiled as Khaleel squealed with excitement. (1/2)

It had taken Freddie a while to figure out what exactly he was going to paint. He still had the old brushes and materials Phoebe and Joe had bought him years ago, when he was ill and had temporarily been inspired to try his hand at art again; but as he sat there, staring at the blank canvas in front of him, he realised he had no idea what he intended to make for his husband.

He considered finishing the painting of Delilah but couldn’t summon up the motivation to continue it. He tried doing a landscape of the garden, but after a few attempts on some scrap paper, he gave up and decided to stick to what he knew best – portraits.

It was only when he leaned back in his seat and surveyed the room a moment that his eye fell upon the large photo frame he kept beside his bed; the one of himself, Jim and Khaleel, professionally taken a year before. There was a copy of it hanging up in the lounge, over the fireplace, but Freddie always kept the original right by his bed, so it was the first thing he woke up to every morning. Safe to say, of all the hundreds of photographs that lived in Garden Lodge, this one was by far his favourite. He and his two favourite boys. His perfect family.

Without giving it a second thought, he picked up his brush and began to paint.

------

It had been two long weeks of staying up late and sneaking around to make sure Jim didn’t catch him, but on the eve of his husband’s birthday, Freddie’s portrait was finally complete, and he carefully wrapped it in brown paper in preparation for the party the next day. He was satisfied with the finished product, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel his gut twist with uncertainty as he stored the painting away in a drawer to keep it from prying eyes. He knew there wasn’t a materialistic bone in Jim’s body but… what if he didn’t like the gift? Phoebe and Mary had bought him such lovely things, what if Jim was disappointed when he got to Freddie’s?

Thoughts like that were why Freddie was now standing outside the door to the lounge, trying to gather the courage to go back in. He had excused himself under the guise of getting another bottle of wine and had quickly darted up to the bedroom to collect the package and bring it down. Taking a deep breath, he finally pushed open the door and re-joined the others, who were already sitting down to start opening Jim’s presents.

‘Mary, I love it!’ Jim smiled widely as he examined the ceramic cat, turning it over in his hands before carefully placing it on the coffee table beside the garden shears Phoebe had gifted him. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much.’

Mary smiled back, ‘you’re welcome, Jim.’ And they leaned forward to give each other a kiss on the cheek.

Freddie’s heart fluttered in his chest. Mary hadn’t been very supportive of his relationship with Jim at the start, most likely out of overprotectiveness and jealousy. But once they adopted Khaleel, she finally had to accept that Freddie had found the love of his life and it was time for her to move on. She seemed a much happier person for it. It touched Freddie to see her and Jim gradually becoming good friends.

Finally, it was Freddie’s turn to present his gift. Despite his best efforts, he still couldn’t help shaking slightly as he watched Jim slowly tear off the paper. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should have gotten Jim a new suit. Or a pair of cufflinks. Or-

‘Freddie…’ Jim sounded breathless and when Freddie looked up, he could see the Irishman’s eyes were sparkling with tears. ‘Freddie, did you paint this?’

The singer nodded, his mouth dry. ‘Do… do you like it?’

His answer was Jim leaning over and pressing their mouths together in a passionate kiss. When they pulled away, the tears in Jim’s eyes had spilled down his cheeks. ‘Sweetheart, it’s beautiful. It’s amazing, it’s perfect.’

Jim wasn’t usually one for PDA, but he was so overwhelmed in that moment, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing every inch of Freddie’s face, while their guests admired the gift that had enthralled him. It was a painting of Freddie, Jim and Khaleel, almost an exact copy of the family portrait hanging up above the fireplace except they were surrounded by flowers; yellow freesias, azaleas, and Khaleel’s favourite, Eden roses, all painted in watercolour.

When Khaleel saw it, he almost fell off Phoebe’s lap in excitement. ‘Baba painted me! Baba painted me!’

After the party was over and their friends had gone home, Jim snuck up behind his husband as the singer was placing the canvas on the mantlepiece and wound his arms around his waist. ‘So, this is why you wouldn’t come to bed all those nights? You were working on this?’

Freddie nodded, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. ‘I was going to buy you something, but I know how you always feel guilty when I spoil you. I wanted to give you something personal, that I made with my own two hands. Even if it isn’t perfect…’

He felt Jim kiss his ear, his thick Irish accent murmuring softly, ‘it’s the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me, sweetheart. And the best thing about it is that it came straight from your heart. I love it and I’m going to keep it with me. Always.’ (2/2)

--------------------------------------------------

OMG THIS IS PERFECT😭😭😭 This is the best interpretation of the prompt, MY HEART😭😭

Call me dumb, but whenever I'd think of Freddie doing something for Jim, it'd always be related to music. Until now, I had never considered art as one of the possible ways in which Freddie could've expressed his love for his husband. But this... this is so beautiful, oof.

I genuinely marvel at your ability to convey so many emotions in these short drabbles. You managed to portray Freddie's insecurities, his want to please his husband and do something special, his nervousness and fear so brilliantly. And Jim's reaction was so sweet🥺 This was truly such a special gift for him, and for their family, I am crying😭

Thank you so much for this, anon💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

[kookoosbunnynose]

Ch.1 || Ch.2

Pairing: Neighbor!Jungkook/FWB!Jungkook x Artist!Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Smut, Angst, Humor

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: Cursing | Slutty Jimin, we love him | mentions of emotional abuse | large jungcock | dom!jungkook | dom/sub themes |a singular use of a sir kink | dirty talk, lots | oral (f recieving) | he so gentle uwu, and then he’s very not gentle lmao

Summary: You’re an art student in need of a partner for your new collaboration piece, who is there to help you but your new neighbor, Jeon Jungkook. You two paint together but leave with much more than a colorful canvas.

A/N: Hello! I know! Dumb bitch finally updated the fic lmao. but i’m really excited about this part and even more excited for the rest of the fic. If you haven’t read chapter 1 yet go read it! 

-----------------------------------

Thankfully, even though you didn’t get to bed by the time you wanted last night, after the whole ‘y/n is a dumbass and got locked out’ debacle, you woke up with enough time to take it slow this morning. Mornings like these were your favorite, no rush. Just you sitting at your vanity getting ready for your day, jamming along to whatever song comes on your shuffle, using various items as a makeshift microphone.

You’re in the heat of Colors by Halsey when there’s a knock at your door, you abruptly cut off your poorly tuned melody, feeling caught. You quickly finish the eyebrow you’re working on as you don’t want the person at the door to see you with the one and a half you’re currently sporting. Good enough.

You rush to your front door, careful not to let your fluffy socks make you slip on the linoleum. When you open the door only to be greeted by your fluffy haired neighbor. He looks good in the morning too? Well that’s just fucking peachy. You’re making this difficult Jeon.

“Good morning.” You smile trying to hide how distraught you are.

“Good morning, sorry to bug you” he smiles sheepishly. “I was just hoping I could steal an egg from you? We’re out.” He asks hopeful.

“Oh, yeah of course. Just a second.” You turn on your heels to grab an egg from the kitchen. When your face is hidden by the fridge door you take a second to take a deep breath before making your way back to him. “Just one?” You ask when you hand it to him.

“Yeah one’s good, thank you y/n.” He gives you a small bow and opens his door. “See you later.”

---

“Hello gorgeous.” Yoongi says as your trio approaches the counter.

“Morning handsome.” Jimin smirks and steps in front of you.

“I was talking to y/n.”

“Her?” He looks over his shoulder at you. “While I’m here? That doesn’t sound right.” He scrunches his nose as if he’s doing mental math.

“I’ll just get your usual started.” He says leaning to the side so he can see your face.

“Thank you.” You laugh at them swipe your card and take the blueberry muffin he slides your way. You step to the side and wait for your boys to order their drinks.

“Remind me why we still come here.” Joon asks the two of you as you make your way to the pick-up end of the counter.

“Because we’ve been doing it since we started uni. We’re old and stuck in our ways, Joonie. There’s no backing out now.” You reply woefully.

“What are we? Boomers? We can go to a different coffee shop.” Namjoon furrows his brows.

“Order for Sweets!” A now familiar boxy smiled boy behind the counter says.

“Oh no we can’t. Not anymore.” Jimin says his attention caught by Tae.

“Look who wants to fuck the neighbors now!” You whisper yell at them before stepping toward the counter.

“Ha! You admit it!- Wait, neighbor?” You hear Jimin behind you.

“Hi Tae! Thank you.”

“Hello y/n!” He smiles and leans in to make his voice hushed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you and Yoongi a thing? He covers like half your bill and calls you pet names everyday.” He lists off the, admittedly odd, circumstances of your relationship. 

“Oh, no we’re not. We just flirt back and forth. I think if he had any real intention behind it he would’ve asked me out by now, in my experience he’s pretty straight forward.” You chuckle.

“Ah okay. Would you want him to ask you out?”

“I did in the beginning but it’s been well over a year. As far as he goes, I’m sated with just the flirting.” 

“Ah, I see.” He turns away to grab the next two cups. “Orders for Jimin and Namjoon!” He calls over.

“Why do you ask?”

He pauses for a second. “I was just curious, he’s kinda like that with a couple girls but you seem to be his favorite.”

“Well it’s been a while, seniority I guess.” You shrug and your counterparts join you at the counter. “Oh how rude of me, these are my roommates. This is Taehyung.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, I’ll probably be seeing you guys a lot. I’m across the hall pretty often.” You all chuckle. “I wish I could talk longer but I don’t want to hold up the line, see you!” He smiles. 

The three of you give various forms of a goodbye as you leave to find your usual table. 

“Okay, is no one gonna say it?” Jimin says once you’re seated and safely out of ear shot.

“Say what?” Namjoon asks scrunching his face at his hot coffee.

“What do you mean ‘say what?’” Jimin says blinking slowly at your brother. “What is in those boys’ cheerios?” 

“Fiber?”

“No! You fucking tree!” 

“Y/n really? Now he’s calling me that, too?” You shrug.

---

You take a breath in as you walk into the art studio, the smell of paint and pencil lead tickling your nose. You take your usual seat at a large table and check your phone for your list of assignments. The professor sends you a large list of all the assignments at the beginning of the semester. Giving students the freedom to choose what order they do them in, the only stipulation is that you must have half turned in by midterms and the other half by the end of the semester. A much more doable lesson plan than a lot of your past professors. Being forced to be creative is draining and doesn’t get you far.

You scan down the list of possibilities until you find one that catches your eye. Monochromatic self portrait (any color)? No. Pretend you have synesthesia and illustrate your favorite song? Eh, not today. Collaboration piece? Ugh, I can’t even if I wanted to. I need to find someone to work with. Create 5 random custom colors and paint a landscape using only those colors (5”x5”)? Sounds like I could get that done before I leave. Perfect.

You pop in your earbuds and get to work. Deciding acrylic would be best for a quick painting, you grab a pallet and a sizable glob of each of the primary colors along with black and white. A little red here, a little yellow there, and some white for this one. You continue putting in different combinations until you have five colors you’re happy with not worrying if they’ll make sense for scenery. Fuck it. Who says trees can’t be purple? 

As you dip your brush into your small selection of paints and watch the way the colors glide onto the canvas, it makes a sense of ease wash over you. Breathing life into a piece no matter how simple creates a new little reality in it’s own right. Expands our universe one brush stroke at a time. In the least cringy art kid way possible, of course.

You continue your work, mouthing along to your music as you go. Rust tinted grass and a peachy sky coming together in a way that definitely isn’t realism but ends up having a sunset feel due to the warm hues you chose. Just a few touch ups here and there and you’re done.

You pack up your things and head home with your new little creation to dry completely overnight. It’s already mostly dry but the textured parts still have a way to go. 

---

  “I really need to go grocery shopping. Thank you again, y/n.” Bunny teeth shining as he leaves your apartment with a mug of tea in place of the hot water he showed up with.

Today is day… eight? Of a new routine has developed over the course of the week. Everyday without fail, whether it be morning or evening, an egg or a cup of milk. Jungkook comes over and asks for a small food item, thanks you, and returns home. No big deal, but it’s apparent that those idiots really need to restock their fridge. It’s like having a stray cat that comes around every night after you feed it once. A really big stray cat… with pretty hair, and a cute lip mole, that always smells like fresh laundry and citrus… anyway-

Time to officially start the day and pretend that little mental tangent didn’t just happen. Go team!

You finish doing some light makeup and throw on some ripped mom jeans and a black hoodie. Enough effort to look like you care, but still comfy. You throw your bag over your shoulder, slip your boots on and head out the door.

Finding parking on campus at this time of day is a nightmare and usually takes longer than just walking since you live just off school grounds. So you make your short walk and stop by the cafe by yourself. You usually go alone only once a week; there’s only one day where you’re the only one of your roomies to have a morning class. 

You order, give Tae his morning hello and make your way to class. 

Classes pass with relative ease. You listen and take notes; taking notes more so meaning doodling along the margins of your notebook than anything else. Really putting those scholarships to good use. 

Art history, meeting with the theater department about painting props, studio, home. 

You enter your apartment and are met with Jimin and Namjoon sitting on the couch about to start the obligatory bi-monthy screening of Your Name. 

“Hey! Were you gonna start the movie without me?” You kick off your shoes and take a running leap onto your spot on the couch.

“No! We were waiting for you, we’re not monsters.” Namjoon retorts in defense.

“That’s exactly what someone who wasn’t waiting for me would say.” You narrow your eyes at your little brother at the other end of the couch.

“Would you two stop bickering for two seconds. It’s starting.” Jimin puts a hand over both your mouths from his spot between you.

“Sheesh, grumpy pants.” You grumble when he lowers his arms.

The movie is filled with the same sobs and ‘awe’s that it always is, always ending in tears for at least one of you. Breathtaking animation coupled with a heart wrenching story, no matter how many times you watch it, it never fails to amaze. As much as you would’ve loved more closure at the end of the movie, the ambiguous ending couldn’t be more poetic. 

“Joonie, what would you do if we switched bodies?” You turn to your brother as the credits roll.

“Probably get a discounted coffee.” He deadpans.

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

“More money in my bank account sounds very fun.” 

Your retort cut off by a knock at the door from your neighbor for his daily snack, so you settle for throwing the pillow sitting in your lap in his direction as you stand. Which he tries to swat away only to end up with a faceful of cushion. Ha, get got bitch.

“Do you need an egg?” You say as you open the door.

“Uh- No I’m good? Thank you for asking.” Tae chuckles, you freeze your eyes widening.

“Oh my god, I thought you were Jungkook.” You let out a stiff laugh and shuffle your feet in embarrassment. “Anyway, what brings you all this way?” You joke, attempting to alleviate a bit of the blush on your cheeks.

“I just wanted to see if you’d wanna chill with us tonight? We had a lot of fun last time. Nothing special, but I wanted to see if you were up for it.” He smiles. “You guys are more than welcome to join too if you’d like!” He shouts over your shoulder at the boys sitting on the couch when he notices them sitting there.

“Nah we’re good Jimin and I have a test in the morning, and if I don’t force him to study with me he’ll fail.” Namjoon says from the couch

“I would not!” Jimin turns to him offended.

“Okay, I’ll study alone then.”

“No, please help me.” He deflates.

“See.” Joon smirks. “Thank you for the offer though!” He calls over to Tae.

“No problem, next time?”

“Next time.” He echoes.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He points a slender finger in your brother’s direction. “What about you, y/n? Are you down?” He directs his attention back to you.

“Right now?”

“If that works for you, Kook will be back from work shortly, it’ll just be Hobi and I for a little bit.” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” You smile. “Just let me go grab a couple things real quick and then I’m good to go!”

You scurry to your bedroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror, evaluating the damage the day has done to your makeup. Not bad. You give the apples of your cheeks a quick squeeze to bring back a little color, scramble to find your tinted lip balm, and fluff up your hair a little. There we go. Cute. Now to find something to bring with me so this little panicked face check isn’t a complete lie. Phone charger is good.

With your phone charger in hand and a revived complexion you head back out. 

“Thanks for waiting.” Tae gives you a nod and you smile while you give your boys a wave as you walk out the door.

You walk into the boys apartment and are immediately greeted by a wagging Bread who you kneel to give a plethora of loves, giggling when he hops up and tries to kiss your face.

“Hey y/n!”

“Hey Hobi!” You say as you follow Tae over to the couch with Bread right on your heels. 

“Glad you decided to join us. Kook will be here soon, he left work not long ago.” 

“I gave her the run down before we came over.” Tae smiles.

“How have classes and shit been?” You ask them

“Not ideal. I pulled a muscle in my leg.” Hobi rubs his calf. “With a big performance coming up on friday, but the show must go on, you know.” He shrugs.

“Oh shit dude, will you be okay?”

“He does this at least once a semester.” Tae says waving it off, used to his friend pushing through his injuries. 

“Yeah, it sucks for a bit but I’ll have some wiggle room to rest after this test.” He reassures.

“Okay good, just don’t die.” You chuckle.

“I’ll try not to.” He laughs.

“I’ve been doing a few surveys for my psych classes, would you mind if I get some data from you?” Tae looks to you, taking full advantage of the small lull in conversation.

“Tae no.” Hobi’s face falls and he rubs his temples.

“Do you find Chuck E. Cheese fuckable?” He asks, a genuine question mark in his eyes.

You blink. “What the hell kind of psych classes are you taking?”

“Just answer the question, y/n.”

You look at Hobi for some sort of answer, though you’re not even sure what your question is. “You’re gonna have to just answer him, he’s been on about it all day.” 

“Fucking of course not. Why on earth would I want to fuck a rat? And even if I did, why would I want to fuck a robotic rat roughly the size of an entire kindergarden class?” 

“First of all, he’s a mouse.” Tae corrects. “Second of all, THANK YOU!” He throws his arms up and flops against the back of the couch. “One kid in my class started this somehow and the room was surprising split. About forty percent of the people in that room said ‘Charles Entertainment Cheese’ was sexy! It got pretty heated, people were yelling that the opposing side that we ‘just couldn't handle his raw sexual power.’” He says exasperated with overdone air quotes. “So I’ve been asking everyone all day because I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I suppose I can see how that would plague your mind.” You laugh.

“Anyway!” Hobi interjects, clearly tired of the subject. “How are your things going, y/n?” 

You chuckle at his wide eyes. “They’ve been good. I’ve been spending more time in the studio with midterms coming up. But I need to find someone to work with me on a collab piece. I wanna have it in by midterms so I don’t have to worry about it during finals.” you sigh at the thought. 

“Awh, I would help with that but I already did that assignment and I’m not sure if they’d let me do it again with someone else?” Tae says with a small frown.

“I’d offer but the only thing I am versed in is drawing stick figures and arguably anatomically incorrect dicks.” Hobi chuckles.

“Thanks you guys.” You smile. “It’s alright though, I might just ask Jimin to get drunk and throw some paint at a canvas with me.”

“Hey! This reminds me, a couple days ago when you got coffee you promised you’d show me some of your work when we hung out next.” Tae looks at you sternly, arms tight across his chest. “The time has come Miss y/n.” 

“Ah, I suppose I did.” You say as you grab your phone to show him your album of a bunch of your work. “Okay, but I’m no Van Gogh. Go easy on me.” You warn before you hand over your device to him; you always get a little nervous when you show people your art for the first time.

“Hey hey! None of that nonsense! If the way you talk about art is any consolation, then I’m sure the passion alone is enough to make it beautiful.” Tae gives you a stern look followed by a reassuring smile.

“Do you want me to cry? Because this is how you make me cry.” You chuckle and relent your collection of work over to him for them to inspect. 

They open the first photo and you’re met with a mixture of a ‘holy shit’ from Hobi and a ‘wow’ from Tae, their reactions make you smile and your face heat up. 

“These are amazing y/n!” Hobi says as Tae swipes through.

“Thank you guys so much, really.” You say blushing and all but clutching your chest.

You watch their faces intently as they go through, Tae stopping every so often to zoom in and inspect a certain brushstroke that catches his eye. They get toward the end of the photoset when you hear a key in the front door. You’re the only one to turn your head to see Jungkook walk into the apartment. He sets his keys down on the table next to the entrance and his feet stutter a little when he sees you on the couch with his friends. 

“Hey Kook! Y/n was just showing us some of her art, dude she’s so talented!” Hobi calls over his shoulder.

“It’s really good, you should come take a look.” Tae adds, and you laugh nervously.

“That’s so awesome, I will.” He says looking at you with a smile. “I just need to talk to Tae, for a quick second.” He says turning his gaze toward him and tilting his head toward the hall. 

“Oh, is it about that thing?” Tae grits his teeth and sucks in sharp breath.

“Yes, exactly, the thing.” He confirms vaguely, looking relieved.

“Is everything okay?” You furrow your brows and look at each of them.

“He just has a rash, no worries.” Tae tells you in a hushed tone as he stands up. All you can do is blink in response. Jungkook lets out an exaggerated laugh as they disappear into the dark hallway and out of sight.

Once they are safely in the other room Jungkook flicks Tae in the forehead. 

“Ow!” Tae gasps.

“What the fuck was that for?!” Jungkook whisper yells at his idiot of a best friend.

“I was covering for you!”

“You could’ve said literally anything else! I don’t even have a rash!”

“She doesn’t know that!”

“Exactly, you fuck!” Jungkook whispers flicking him again. “Why is she here?! You didn’t warn me!”

“This is what I get for trying to help you?” Tae says rubbing his forehead with a pout.

“Hey! I was handling it just fine on my own!”

“Oh yeah, your plan to slowly raid the entire contents of her fridge was going so great!”

“I just thought!... I thought we would eventually talk or... something?” Jungkook says realizing maybe it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s how my parents used to get to know our neighbors, they’d borrow each others sugar and shit.”

“It’d be easier to talk to her if you just hung out with her and I invited her over for you. You’re welcome! And your parents weren’t trying to fuck your neighbors, were they! Different goal calls for different strategy.” 

“Dude gross, I hope not.” Jungkook scrunches his nose. “And I don’t… just wanna fuck her.”

“Aww, does Googie have a bigger crush than we thought he did.” Tae teases pinching his cheek.

“Fuck you. But thanks I guess… just warn me next time, will you?” Jungkook relents.

“You got it.” Tae says patting him on the shoulder. “I’m only kinda sorry though!” He whispers as he slips out the door. Jungkook follows him to join all of you in the living room.

“Sorry about that.” Jungkook smiles at you as he and Tae take their places next to you on the couch. 

“No worries.” You assure.

“Kook you should take a look at her work, I think you’d like it.” Hobi says passing your phone over to him and your face heats up a little. “I was just telling y/n how you were really artsy in high school.” 

“Oh, it was nothing.” Jungkook waves him off as he starts to look through the photos and stopping a little longer on ones that catch his eye. 

“It wasn’t nothing.” Tae interjects. “Actually y/n, you mentioned needing a partner for that collab piece? Since I can’t assist, I’m sure Jungkook could help you out.” Tae gestures to the two of you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask him to do that for me.” You shake your head, looking at both their faces.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side for a second. “I wouldn’t mind at all, it would be fun. I might be a little rusty though.” He says with worried eyes.

“Really? you wouldn’t mind?” You light up. “That would help me out a ton. I’ve been stressing over that piece for weeks.”

“I’d be happy to.” He smiles bright. “I’m off on Saturday, we could work on it then. If that works for you, of course.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” You reach out to shake his hand, effectively sealing the deal. “Thank you so much.” you say and squeeze his hand a little.

“So Kook, I’m collecting data for my psych class-” Tae takes this opportunity to stain your moment of gratitude.

“I already told you, I’m not fuckin’ rats!” Jungkook cuts him off.

“He’s not a rat!”

“Which side are you on?!”

---

“Did I call it? Or did I call it?” Jin looks at you with his stupid smug ass face.

“Listen! It’s nothing!” You throw that damp rag you’re wiping down a table with in his direction.

“It’s not nothing! I can smell your pent up sexual frustration for him from here. You guys are gonna be alone for several hours making art together? What is he, Swayze?”

“Men and women can be platonic friends! You’re not thinking very progressively here, old man.”

“Of course, men and women can be platonic friends.” He says gesturing at the air between you. “But you and what’s his fuck, Junglebook, you said? You two, cannot.” 

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a lack of faith in you, more of an educated assumption… And a lack of faith in both of you.” He smirks. Asshole.

“Fuck you.” You deadpan.

“You know you love me y/nie.” He blows you a kiss.

“You’re lucky I do.”

---

You: I can bring the supplies over whenever you’re ready, just lemme know! Thank you for letting me come over there, it would be hard for creative juices flowing with Joon hovering over us all night. Trying to figure out a deep psychological reason for me painting a flower yellow lmao

You: Oh! And wear clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, stains are inevitable :)

And send. 

Okay listen to me you dumb bitch. You can do this. We got this. For fuck sake why are you so nervous? Pull yourself together! Just enough to prove Jin and Jimin wrong. Do it just to rub it in their faces! Fuck. What are you 12? We can hang out alone with him. This is stupid. I’m stupid. It’s fine. Everything is fine! Shut up.

Tight Buns McCute-Dog: You can come over now, I’m just gonna change real quick, the door is unlocked! (: 

After receiving that reply, instead of him just cancelling, you were relieved he was still willing to help you. However it didn’t help the whole sweating from your ass cheeks with nerves, thing. So overall about the same. Great. 

Doing an abstract painting in these mental conditions will result in accidentally painting several phallic shapes. A Freudian Slip of the wrist if you will. 

After a couple deep breaths, effectively shoving half your feelings deep into the crevices of your mind, and changing his contact name, just for good measure. You grab all the supplies you’ll need and walk across the hall. 

You struggle to open your door while balancing your small box of acrylics, easel and canvas in your arms. Deciding to abandon your easel in the hall for a second while you knock on your neighbor’s door a couple times before you turn the knob. 

Bread is already eager and yipping at you for attention while you attempt to bring everything in and set it up to the side of the living room adjacent to the kitchen. 

---

Jungkook opens your texts and mouths a small ‘oh shit’ not wanting to keep you waiting, but quickly regretting his decision to work out right before he saw you. He wanted to look a little extra muscley but didn’t consider that he’d be a sweaty mess after doing so. 

He settles for telling you he’s changing and hopes you take a few minutes to gather your things so he can blow dry his hair a little. 

Your presence in his apartment is made known when he hears his dog barking and scuttling around. He gives his hair a quick tousel, throws on one of his many black hoodies and a little spritz of cologne. 

Jungkook emerges from his bedroom to find you fumbling with your easel. Cute. 

“Do you need help?” he asks through a giggle.

“Nope! Got everything a hundred percent under control over here.” Your sentence punctuated by your canvas falling to the floor. “Shit.”

“Allow me.” he says handing you the canvas.

“Thank you.” you breath and run a hand through your hair. 

“So what’s the plan? I hope you’re not expecting any Sistine Chapel level work from me.” he chuckles.

“A bunch of naked babies and a priest with the ears of an ass? I appreciate that you don’t bring that to the table.” you raise your brows. 

“Point taken.” 

“The plan is no plan. I mean I wanted to go for something abstract because it’s fun and doesn’t require a lot of brain power. Just put the brush where you think it should go.” you mime a couple brush strokes in the air.

“Sounds easy enough, paint from the heart.” he confirms, patting his chest for emphasis. 

“Oh, I did think one of us could be in charge of warm colors and tints, and the other could do cool colors and shades, and see where that takes us.” you look up expectantly, hoping he likes your almost-plan.

“Sounds interesting.” He looks at the empty canvas, eyes scanning for possibilities. “Which do you want?” 

“I’m partial to cool colors, myself.” 

“Then today, I’m partial to warm.” he smirks. “So are we just feeling what we feel in the moment or is there an emotion we’re trying to convey?” He turns to you, eyes expectant. 

You pause for a second, unsure if you should abandon the theme you were pondering for this piece before you knew Jungkook would be your partner in creation. “Is it too cliche if the theme was ‘love’?” You ask him hesitantly. Immediately regretting not just saying ‘nah man, just throw paint at that bitch.’ 

But much to your surprise. 

“Not at all, it’s a ‘cliche’ for a reason.” He states nonchalantly. “Love is powerful. Whether it’s the painful bit or the part that makes you feel untouchable.” 

A certain fondness hits his eyes that tells you he’s speaking from experience but you don’t pry.

“I’m glad you like the idea.” you smile, relief filling you after he doesn’t exhibit any signs of being uncomfortable. 

He claps his large palms together. “Shall we get started, Miss y/n?” His gaze once directed at the blank canvas, now fully on you. 

“Choose your weapon, Mr. Jungkook.” You feign a serious tone, giving him a small handful of various brushes. Keeping a few of your favorites for yourself. 

You push your box paints toward him indicating he can grab what he likes. Normally you’re a bit protective over your art supplies, seeing as not only are they stupid expensive, but you care for your tools a lot. You wouldn’t let your klutzy brother within a ten foot radius of your things when you were growing up and even now your blood boils if he’s anywhere near your expertly sorted colored pencils. But Jungkook is always gentle and seeing the way he meticulously places small globs of white, reds, and yellows onto his palette, you know you’ve made a good choice in trusting him. 

He steps slightly back letting you put the first ceremonial brush stroke of charcoal black diagonally across the upper most half of your canvas. He joins shortly after deciding to start with white in contrast with your black, laying down some bases for shapes and choosing to run his brush through to disturb the various lines you’ve made, dragging the two tones into a fading grey. 

As your mind wanders towards the way his slender tattooed fingers wrap delicately around the paint brush you quickly come to the conclusion that it’s time to play some background music. Absentmindedly sticking the handle of the brush between your teeth to grab your phone and open your music library.

“What kind of music do you like?” You turn to him, the thin strip of wood in your mouth giving you a slight lisp. 

“I’m not picky, play whatever you want.” he says warmly but his brow still furrowed with concentration while he finishes up his base layer. 

As his answer didn’t do much in the way of helping your quest, you opted for the safety of one of those throwback playlists spotify procures for their listeners, the 90’s one to be exact. Everybody loves some good nostalgia, and it may aid in the sincerity of your painting. Past emotions and whatnot. 

The first song that comes on after you hit shuffle is Heart-Shaped Box by Nirvana and you hum in content. Jungkook on the other hand is pleasantly taken aback by your song choice. 

“Oh shit yeah! I love Nirvana!” He smiles brightly, taking his crinkling eyes off his work for the first time since you started. 

“Everybody loves Nirvana.” you tease him and roll your eyes at the possibility of him being one of those frat boys that ‘misses Kurt Cobain so much’ but can only name Smells Like Teen Spirit and maybe Aneurysm if you’re lucky. 

Jungkook, sensing your tone, smirks and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “You think so, huh?” he bemuses, rolling up his sleeve to uncover this inked skin. Across his forearm is a quote reading ‘rather be dead than cool,’ a lyric from their song Stay Away. He watches you with a quirked brow.

“I stand corrected.” you hold your hands up in defense. Trying not to let the way his inked skin hugs his veins increases your heart rate become too apparent on your features. “You do indeed love Nirvana.” your emphasis on the word being placed differently this time.

“Never doubt me again y/n.” He eyes you suspiciously. “I’ll get more tattoos just to spite you.” He narrows his eyes to add validity to his semi-empty threat.

“I will never doubt you again, scouts honor.” you say playfully saluting him. 

“Now start the song over. Your lack of faith in me, made me miss half the song.” he points a finger at your phone.

“I can’t, I don’t have premium.” you let out a heavy sigh.

“What?! That’s dumb. You suffer through those god awful ads?” He screws his face up in disgust. 

“Eh, I don’t mind too much.” You shrug. “I don’t wanna spend the extra money every month.” 

“Okay, I guess that’s fair.” He squints at you as you pick up your brush again. “Why don’t you just use my account? I’ll text you my login.” He says fishing for his phone in his pocket. 

“That’s completely unnecessary.” You laugh, and wave for him to stop. “You’re already helping me out so much with this.” you gesture to the now less blank canvas in front of you.

“I really don’t mind. What’s the worst that could happen? We expand our music libraries? Oh no!” he pretends to gasp and you roll your eyes. “And besides, I’ll sleep better at night knowing I saved a soul from those creepy ass vitamin water commercials.” He chuckles.

“You really don’t have to.” Your eyes softening at his seemingly endless stream of kindness. 

“Already sent you the login, too late.” he says, sucking in a breath as if to say ‘what a shame.’

“Thank you, Jungkook.” you say as you gently grab his forearm and run your thumb over it.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Back to work now!” he declares, sticking his paint brush, that at some point in your conversation tucked it’s way behind his ear, into his small mountain of yellow. 

You work like this together for a while. Humming along to your music, that is now playing off Jungkook’s phone after he insisted he didn’t wanna hear ‘Colonel Suck-My-Ass’ sing about his chicken deals one more time. The two of you working together seamlessly; the way you blend your colors and make textures complimenting each other nicely. Switching sides of the canvas every so often so it remains balanced. 

After about an hour of being immersed in your work Jungkook turns to you. “Noodle break?” He asks you frowning at his empty tummy.

Your brush stutters on the canvas at his words, your stomach not realizing it’s been hours since you’ve eaten until he mentions food. “That sounds wonderful, actually.” 

“One or two packets?” he asks making his way into the kitchen.

“Just one is good.” you smile, setting your brush into your cup of water. You follow him into the kitchen. “Where do you store your liquid?” you ask standing between the pantry and the fridge, looking lost.

“Fridge.” he answers giving his approval to let you grab the two of you some drinks.

“I see you guys finally went grocery shopping.” you chuckle at the butter and cartons of eggs in his fridge.

“What?- oh right, yeah. Finally dragged Hobi out earlier today.” His smile not quite meeting his eyes while he opens up three packets of ramen, and waits for the water to boil. 

“Can I steal a soda?” 

“Yeah, just not the sprite. Hobi can and will throw a fit.” his tone far more serious than the situation calls for.

“Well damn, okay.” you say and grab a coke for both of you. 

“Thank you.” He smiles and your fingertips brush perhaps a little too long when you hand him his drink. 

He pulls the tab, puts the cold metal to his lips and you watch the way his throat bobs up and down with every swig. When you feel yourself staring your ears heat up, and turn your gaze to the water starting to roll in the pot. 

As Jungkook is finishing up cooking the ramen, the song changes to Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, you let out a small gasp and start to sing along. He smiles at your apparent love for the song and starts to harmonize with you to encourage you to keep going. Which, much to his dismay, did the exact opposite.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you scold. “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful voice!” 

“It’s alright, I guess.” He breathes out and rubs the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He looks at you with those big doe eyes. And you swear you’ll only look at them for a couple more seconds, as not to fall under their spell. A half hearted oath at best. 

But you start to sing again, you tell yourself it’s to make the most of the song while it’s on but really, you just want to hear honeyed voice hit your ears again. And it does, eyes closed tightly and mouth wide to control his sound. You can’t hold a tune to save your life but the way he carries your sounds with his, it doesn’t matter. Your song is beautiful.

After your musical interruption, you take your bowls to the table and slurp away at your noodles. All the while Bread is at your heels begging ever so sweetly, which Jungkook scolds but ultimately ends up throwing him a noodle when his bowl is just about gone. 

You take your bowl to the sink but when you start rinsing Jungkook comes over to push you out of the way so he can take care of it himself. You stand your ground for a minute but lose the silent argument due to his advantage of stature. You mutter a small ‘fuck you’ before you return to the canvas, and he smiles contently to himself.

Jungkook joins you back at your station, stepping back for a moment to assess where the two of you left off and what he’d like to add. He lets his eyes run over the varying sized lines and the way they come together but also fight one another in some spots. Some colors as bright as the sun and others look like the depths of the ocean. All coming together in a way that only really makes sense to the two of you. 

You finished what was left of your drink and picked up your brush, dipping straight into your black paint for the second time since you started like you were on a mission. You drew a fluid line near the center curving over a few existing splotches, near the end of your brush stroke it became jagged and split off into several directions. A pessimist would call it a shatter, an optimist would call it several opportune paths, and a realist would probably just call it a painting. But Jungkook did none of those things.

“Y/n, have you ever been in love?” He asked as if he had only asked what time it was. He started swirling some colors together while he waited for an answer.

You blinked, trying not to show how much that question shocked you. “I suppose…” you breathed, actually struggling to come up with a real answer. “I mean, last time I was in a serious relationship was in highschool.” You trailed off. “I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love but I’ve loved someone before… I feel like being in love sticks with you in a different way. More of a life experience than a life lesson.” You scrunched up your face a little, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer even though you yourself weren’t.

He nodded, taking in your words. “I think being in love can be just as much a life lesson as ‘lesser relationships,’ if not more so.” He adds putting air quotes as not to come across the wrong way. “But hopefully you end up with more positive lessons than not.”  

“Yeah, you’re right. Like learning how you love and need to be loved. What you deserve and what you won’t put up with. Learn to let yourself be loved-” You stop your word vomit after that last comment, feeling a bit vulnerable. “Those kinds of things?” you let out a little laugh.

“Exactly.”

“Is it fair to assume that you have?” You question, hesitating slightly.

“That I have what?” 

“Been in love, dummy.” You laugh, strategically placing a light green around the canvas.

He pauses slightly. “Yeah, I have.” The same fondness that found his eyes earlier that day sets in again. Not in a painful or bitter way, you noted. But in the way you’d regard your favorite childhood memory.

“I didn’t rub salt in a wound, did I?” you tensed slightly incase you read him wrong.

“No no, you’re fine!” He reassures. “It was a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like a bitch in the moment, but as they say, time heals all wounds.” he shrugs.

“Can I ask what happened?” You prompted, feeling a little braver this time.

“Well you know, same old story with high school sweethearts.” He paused to fix a spot he didn’t like. “She was a year older than me. She left for university. We tried long distance and after a few months we decided it was too hard. Nothing particularly spectacular.” He tells the story, for what you can tell is at least the thousandth time. “What about you and Mr. Not-Quite-In-Love?”

“Nothing, super special either. Unfortunately, the lessons I learned from him were less than positive. After the initial honeymoon phase, he didn’t treat me the best. Looking back I learned to know the level of respect I deserve, but in the moment his lack of just made me desperate to ‘earn’ it. It was a vicious cycle for about a year but things ended and I grew up. And like you said, ‘time heals all wounds.’” Jungkook looked at you with furrowed brows, not sure if he wants to hug you or the seventeen year old girl you used to be who would see herself as anything less than what she was. But he settled for the former.

He wrapped his arms around you, taking you by surprise. But you accept his embrace and smile against his shoulder. “I’m okay now Jungkook.” You giggle. “It was a long time ago and I learned from it.”

He pulls away. “I know, I’m just sorry it took that dickbag for you to know your worth.” he gives you a sheepish smile, and a fire in his eyes dulls when he looks at you.  

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” you pat his arm before you both turn back to your respective parts of the canvas. 

“Hey, just cause I’m not a complete asshole, doesn’t mean I’m sweet.”

“I’m holding firm at you’re sweet, and you can’t change my mind.” You both laugh and return your full attention back to your work.

Your rhythm returns to where it was before you ate. Both of you humming along to whatever song is playing at the moment, using your paint brushes as microphones if a particularly good song came on. Exchanging a few words here and there. Each admiring the small things the other chooses to add to the work of art. You noticed Jungkook has a habit of biting his lips when he’s concentrating. Cute. 

Now here you finally are after another hour of blending, layering, and tweaking. Both of you put down your brushes down and stepped back slightly to admire what you’ve created. Letting out a sigh at your hard work, taking in the finalized piece. The way the colors run together or bump into one another. The juxtaposition of fluid lines being interrupted by jagged edges. The way the soberness of the colors you put down calm and soothe the firey and vibrant ones he laid down for you.

Ordinarily, when you finish a painting, you never quite feel done. There’s always one more thing you could fix, one more stroke you could add. But not this time. It’s finished. Breathtaking in a simple way. You’ve never felt such a sense of completeness when you set your brush down, and you can’t help but feel you have Jungkook to thank for it. The way his colors and brush work complemented yours was… for lack of a better term, a work of art. 

---

Jungkook puts down his brush, watching you lay down your final touches. Truth be told he’d been watching you out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Checking in on you every so often when you’d put down your tool and furrow your brows in concentration. Smiling when you’d absentmindedly mumble to yourself about what you’re doing. He was in awe of how much of yourself you put down on the canvas, not entirely sure what wordless stories you were telling meant. Though that didn’t stop him from taking the puzzle pieces you laid down and arranging them into a y/n shaped jigsaw in his mind. Perhaps your fondness of calming colors was to tame the wild fire he could see within you. 

And just as quickly as you’d started, you were done, setting your brush down and smiling at what you saw in front of you. 

“Thank you so much, Jungkook.” You breathe still taking in the painting. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it is.” He says just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off your beaming profile. 

“Hm?” You turn to him. He looks into your eyes, once filled with fire are now a calm ocean. His gaze shifts to your lips after they form a confused pout at his silence, his body leading his brain when he leans toward you.

It’s now or never.

He leans in further looking into your eyes for any sign of apprehension before he cups your jaw in his paint stained hand. Finally taking the leap all at once when you lean into his touch. 

His lips are even softer than you imagined when they meld against yours. He pulls away slightly to look at you a question mark across his features. You put your hands flush against his hard chest and answer his question by reconnecting your lips with his with fervor and you feel him smile against you. He deepens the kiss, putting his free hand on your hip to pull you closer to his warm body. 

He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, testing the waters further. You mirror his action, noting that his lips taste faintly of strawberries. You slide your hands into his soft hair and curl your fingers into fists against his scalp making him groan into your mouth. 

His hand that held its feather like touch against your face leaves it’s place to join his other around your waist. His hands squeezing harshly at your hips, his fingers digging into the strip of skin your shirt rode up to expose, making you shiver against him despite your rising temperature. 

He pulls away to place sloppy kisses along your jaw, nudging your jaw with his nose gently to gain access to your neck. You suck in a breath when you pull him closer causing his teeth to graze your pulse point as his swollen lips leave rosey marks in their wake. He sucks harshly at the soft spot below your ear causing your nerves to flare and a moan to escape your lips. He groans in satisfaction at the way his actions affect you, running his hot tongue over your skin to soothe the marks he made. 

His hands move higher on your abdomen slipping just under the hem of your shirt, making you tense slightly under his calloused palms, he feels your shift and rubs his thumbs below your ribcage to relax your tensed muscles. His gentle fingers vastly opposing his flushed cheeks when he brings his face up to yours again, his hair already messy and his eyes dazed as he looks at your lips like they’re the first glass of water he’s seen in days. He crashes his lips back into yours hungrily causing you to squeak at his desperation. You disconnect your lips leaving almost no distance between you.

“Bedroom?” you ask lowley against his lips, your vocal chords betraying you making the word come out far more shaky and less sexy than you wanted. His shoulders flex under your hands at his request.

Jungkook slides his hands down your ass to squeeze the flesh in his hands when his finger tips graze the back of your thighs. 

“Up.” he says firmly, offering you free transport to his bed. You hop up, his strong arms hold you and you wrap your legs tightly around his narrow waist. He starts the small walk to his bedroom, and you try to ignore the way his stomach pressed against your clothed clit is providing the smallest amount of friction with each of his steps, instead deciding to direct your attention to him instead. You give a gentle open mouthed kiss to the small mole on the side of his neck, you make a small path sucking where his jaw meets his neck, and he hums deeply making his chest rumble against yours in response.

When you reach his room, the smell of his fabric softener fills your lungs as he presses your back against his now closed door. His hands trail from your ass, trusting you to hold yourself up around him, up your sides, he slides your arms from around his neck and to the wall until your hands are effectively pinned above your head. The air between you is heavy for a moment as his dark eyes take in how you look like this, your eyes starry as your chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

He kisses you again, slower this time. You whimper into his mouth when his hips grind his hard dick into your clit. His thighs flexing under yours as he grinds up again harder, swallowing as many of your beautiful sounds as you’ll give him. 

He stops his hips and tucks his arms under you again to set you on his bed. 

You reach your shirt to pull it over your head but he stops you.

“Let me.” He says half a statement, half a question. 

You smile and say nothing but grant him permission by raising your arms above your head. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt grazing your skin making goosebumps blossom on your flesh as he pulls it up and over your head. He reaches for the clasp of your bra slowly and gently like you might break, as if he wasn’t just shoving you against his door with his cock. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out harshly when your hardened nipples are finally released to the cool air of his room.

He quickly strips off his hoodie revealing that he’s been painting without a shirt underneath the whole night. Your breath hitches as all the times you’d touched his arm or chest the hours prior, not knowing there was only a thin barrier between your fingers and his skin. You run your eyes over his bare chest and hard stomach, you knew he worked out but hot damn, those baggy clothes he wears does no justice to what’s under them. However he doesn’t give you much time to marvel before he reconnects his lips with yours leaning into you until your back is on his duvet, you spread your legs to make room for him to settle in between. 

His hot skin drags softly against your nipples as he descends down your frame to pepper kisses along the valley of your breasts. He licks his fingers to roll one of your nipples between his wet digits while he attaches his mouth the other, swirling his tongue in intoxicating circles. You sigh at the small relief his mouth is bringing you and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly when his teeth bite down onto your sensitive bud. You feel the bed bow slightly below you as his hips stutter at your action. He quickly tends to the small sting with his tongue. Giving a gentle kiss to your nipple as he pulls away. 

He sits up and hooks his fingers into your pants, but stops before tugging them down. “Is this okay?” He asks sincerely. 

“Very.” You say, your heart clenching at his concern and help him slide your pants to your ankles, eager to have his soft skin on yours again. 

He brings his lips to your neck again and you wrap your legs around his waist rocking your hips up to rub your neglected clit against his rigid cock that he has yet to spring free. The wet spot on your panties rubbing off onto his sweats. You moan into his ear at the small relief you’re able to bring yourself, arching your back further in attempt to get more friction and he chuckles against your skin.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He smirks down at you and your feeble attempt to feel his cock. 

“Don’t wanna be patient. Want you to fuck me.” You say trying your best not to whine, as you reach for the waistband of his pants. 

He runs his tongue along his lip and leans down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, don’t worry beautiful, I will.” He moves your hands and rolls his hips into yours once to punctuate his sentence. “But I wanna taste you first.” He says and quickly sits back on his knees to slip your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him not worrying about where they land. 

He settles his shoulders under the back of your thighs and makes a path of open mouth kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right before your sex and inhaling deeply as he sucks a bruise into your skin, your face heats up and your hips shake in excitement. 

“You smell fucking delicious, sweetheart.” he looks up at you with soft doe eyes that completely contradict his filthy words. He lingers just a whisper away from where you want him and you roll your hips to meet his lips. He smirks again at your frustration moving his lips to your other knee to make a wet path up your other leg with his mouth, seeing how long he can push you. Stopping midthigh to speak again into your skin. 

“I wanna take my time with you sweets. Greedy little girls don’t get to cum on my tongue.” His eyes darken when they look up at you, his words sending electricity through your nerves and arousal dripping onto his sheets.

You opt for silently nodding as the only thing you could muster at the moment is a whine that you want to keep at bay. 

“Are you gonna take what I give you, sweetheart?” He says rubbing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe trying your best not to roll your hips into his touch and get scolded again. 

“Good girl.” He smiles at your compliance and finally gives you what you want.

He licks a long flat stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue and swirling it around your throbbing clit. Your thighs tighten around his head and he groans against you. 

“Taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He all but moans into your folds. He swears he could get off just like this, with his tongue buried in your cunt and his hips rocking his cock into his mattress. 

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you. He obliges you and wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly, crude slurping noises filling the room but both of you are too lost in the sensation to care. Your hips start rocking against his mouth again, this time your body fully taking a mind of its own, your climax being the only thing you can think about. 

“That’s my good girl, use my tongue to get off.” You moan louder at his words and speed up your movements, balling his hair into fists. As he looks up at you with lidded eyes, he gets lost, lost in your taste, lost in the way your sweaty chest heaves with your heavy breaths, lost in the way his name falls from your lips with your eyes screwed shut.

“I’m s-so fucking close!” your voice comes out in a strained moan cracking at the end of your sentence. 

“Cum for me beautiful, wanna taste your cum.” He says wrapping his lips around your clit again to pull your orgasm from you. He may have called you greedy, but he couldn’t get enough of the way your thighs shook around him. 

“Holy shit! Jungkook!” your orgasm hits you like a wave starting in your stomach and sending fire through your veins. Your hips stutter and Jungkook licks you languidly through your high. All the while your mouth mutters his name in an incoherent mantra. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and climbs over you leaning on his forearms, and captures your lips in his. You taste yourself on them and smile against his mouth.

“You look so beautiful when you cum.” He says placing soft kisses along your jaw. And you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flare at his comment. “Think you can still take my cock?” he says squeezing himself at the base through his pants. 

“God yes.” You say perhaps a little too enthusiastically and he chuckles at you. 

“You really are a greedy one, aren’t you sweetheart?” He says teasingly. “Let me get you ready first.” He says rubbing his thumb in small circles on your clit, your sensitivity makes you jump a little.

He looks down to watch the way your velvet walls swallow his fingers, but he stops his movement, realizing his hands are still covered in paint. 

“Shit.” He mutters almost silently. “I’ll be right back.” He says with a smile pecking your lips before he slips out his door. Closing it behind him just in case, as not to let Hobi unknowingly come home early only to find you spread eagle on his roommates bed. 

What the hell is he doing? Your eyebrows furrow, worried he’s gonna get some sort of convoluted sex toy. Which while you wouldn’t normally object, that’s a tad presumptuous on his part. 

Your mental ramble cut short and worries put to rest when he reenters the room with clean hands. He strips his sweats from his hips and climbs back over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get some sort of paint-chemical related rash on your… lady bits.” He says hesitantly breathing out a laugh against your cheek.

“While that’s incredibly considerate of you. That sentence didn’t do much for my ‘lady bits’.” you know what his venom filled tongue is capable of, so his childish use of words makes you giggle. 

He rolls his eyes at you and cups your face, pulling you in for another deep kiss. His hand snakes down between your legs and when his thumb connects with your clit you squeak and break the kiss.

“Your hands are freezing.” you say with more of a pout than you’re willing to admit. You presume he didn’t wanna make you wait too long so he washed his hands in cold water. 

“Why don’t you warm them up for me?” he quirks a brow and smirks. Bringing his hand up to your mouth and sticking his middle and ring finger between your lips. You happily wrap your lips around his digits; licking, sucking, and humming in content around them.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his boxers as he watches your cheeks hollow slightly around his slender fingers, resisting from pushing them deeper in your mouth and seeing how pretty you look when you gag for him. 

He removes his hand from your mouth, marveling at the string of saliva that follows it. He reaches down to tease your entrance letting your spit and arousal get you ready for his stretch. He slips his fingers into your dripping core and has to hold back from moaning at how well you hug him. 

“Your pussy is so tight, sweetheart.” He breathes. “Your sweet cunt is gonna squeeze me real well won’t it?” He says catching your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help but clench around his fingers. “That’s my good girl.” He says, his eyes darkening and he curls into your sweet spot, you moan at how quickly he seems to be learning your body. Like he could figure out exactly what makes you tick if you stayed in his bed for just a while longer.

He removes his fingers making you whimper. He slips his boxers down a little and uses your arousal and his precum to wet his dick. Your mouth waters and you clench around nothing at how beautiful he looks slowly pumping himself with furrowed brows, until now he’s done a good job of not showing how badly his body demands to be touched just as much as yours does. 

He lines himself with your entrance and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, fighting the urge to slam himself into you to the hilt. 

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he says mere millimeters away from slipping into you. 

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure and gasp at how close he is to giving you everything you wanted since he crashed his lips into yours at the easel. Or possibly before that.

That’s all he needed to hear before he pushed his cock past your entrance and into your wet pussy, the stretch he’s giving you making you thank him silently for insisting on warming you up first. 

“Fuck.” You both moan at how well you squeeze around him. He goes slow, inching in to give you time to adjust. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper. He continues his slow pace breathing hot and thick against your neck. 

He sits up to watch how he disappears inside you. “Look how well you take my cock, sweetheart.” He says picking up some speed in his thrusts. You moan at how well he hits every spot in you that’s been left untouched tonight, his dirty words only further building the pressure in your pelvis. 

His thrusts become harder and you reach up you brace yourself on his biceps, his muscles flexing while he supports his weight above you. He angles his hips up slightly hitting your sweet spot perfectly, and you nearly yelp at the sensation, digging your nails into his arms making him hiss.

“Right there? Is that how your little pussy likes it?” He feigns a subtle innocence in his voice. Like he can’t see with his own eyes how well he’s fucking you.

“Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop.” you beg, mostly to get him to do just that, but also because of the sweaty fog his delicious cock has worked into your mind isn’t exactly allowing you to form the most intelligent of sentences.

He sits back on his knees and pushes one of your legs to your chest, his dick hitting deeper than you thought possible making your eyes roll back and your jaw slack. Your moans become uncontrollable and the words you’re attempting to say just come out in broken sounds.

“Such a good slut for me, look at you falling apart on my cock.” his voice almost a growl. “You gonna cum soon, sweetheart?” He says with a voice like silk to mask how close he is himself.

You can’t do more than nod fractically at his words in fear your voice will betray you. He rubs your clit with his thumb to earn your second climax from you.

And you do, your walls tighten around his cock but his pace doesn’t falter. Your legs shake and your eyes roll back. You cover your mouth to muffle a scream. Your orgasm ripping through you so hard you feel like you might burst. 

Jungkook hisses at how hard you’re squeezing him and fucks you through your high. He reaches to his headboard to fuck into you harder, being selfish for the first time tonight, using you to chase his own high.

“Where do you want it?” He says in a stifled whine.

“Cum inside Jungkook. I want you to fill me up.” You say pressing your nails into his chest. The overstimulation you feel in your core is worth every thrust when he finally lets go and fills you with his cum. His cock twitching as he slowly rides out his climax. 

He collapses on top of you, breathing heavily into your neck. Then rolls over to the other side of the bed, to allow both of you some cool air on your skin. 

“I hope I didn’t go too hard at the end there, are you okay?” He looks over at you with worried eyes.

“No. No it’s okay, I liked it.” you smile, your lungs and heart rate working hard to steady themselves.

After he’s caught his breath a little he reaches into his bedside table to get a small rag to wipe up some of his cum leaking out of you, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable at his thoughtful gesture. 

The post sex clarity hitting your mind, not quite in the way you hoped. As you lay there the height of what you two just did sending your mind go into overdrive.

Oh fuck. You run through the events of the night starting to panic a little. He’s my friend, how did this even happen? I wasn’t gonna do this. I wasn’t gonna let this get more complicated than my attraction to him already was. Shit, I’m an idiot. I mean he did kiss me, but… I can’t let this happen again. I don’t want this to end badly and have to move just because I think with my idiot vagina. It makes things too complicated. Okay, I have to end whatever that was now before things get even more complicated. He won’t mind right? He’s a college dude, he’s probably fine with just hittin’ it and quittin’ it. Yeah, everything is good. Friends can fuck once and then be good, it happens all the time. 

You sit up from his bed and run your hands through your hair a couple times in an attempt to tame it and start to pick up your clothes. 

“Are you okay?” He says, watching you as you attempt to find your underwear.

“Yeah, I’m good, just have an early class in the morning and I should probably get going.” you force a smile. 

“Oh, uh okay.” He says not quite convinced. Though you weren’t lying about that, you really did have a class in about seven hours.

“Hey um,” you hesitate, sliding your pants on just choosing to abandon your underwear. “This was just a one time thing, right?” you ask him, hating the way you said that. 

He senses your tone and feels a little twinge in his chest, but he ignores it, putting on a smile instead. “Yeah, definitely. Why do you ask?” 

“Okay, good.” Another twinge. “I just don’t want things to be too complicated, with us being neighbors and all…” You trail off, trying not to cringe at yourself. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” He pauses, realizing for the first time that this could have negative consequences. “No worries, it’s forgotten. Just friends.” He reassures pulling his pants on.

“Just friends.” You smile and extend your hand to him. You shake on it. 

You pull your shirt over your head. 

“See you later, neighbor.” You say attempting to bring back the way things were just an hour ago. And you slip out his door.

He doesn’t walk you home like he normally does, and honestly you’re thankful. You just want to be back in your apartment where you can pretend that didn’t just happen. Even if that was one of the best fucks you've ever had, you're certainly not going to think about it. What is there to think about? Nothing happened.

You slip out his door, and into yours, met with Jimin munching in your kitchen, presumably after a party and your feet halt in their tracks. 

“Damn babe, you look positively wrecked.” He says with a knowing smirk.

“Jimin, I am so not in the mood for whatever you’re about to say.” you say exasperated.

“Oh, so I should save the ‘I told you so’? Would you rather get it in the morning?” He asks innocently, though he’s anything but.

“Preferably never.” You quip and slip into your bedroom.

Yeah, never is good, we’re just gonna pretend none of that happened.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @taezeus​ @spoopysoph​ @gucci-prince-tae​ @jiminiesthiccthighs​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​ @hermiones-enchantment​ @irissilujm​ @flo-music​ @scalbra​ @sugarrimajins​ @embrace-themagic​ @megsmiiiii​ @nerdycookiemonster-1222​ @livorna​