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legendofmorons · 10 months

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Smudged pages (Wild)

This is the 1st place prize from my 300 follower event. @daeyumi requested this one, and it took longer than I'd like, but I'm pleased with how it's turned out.

Pairing: Wild x reader

Rating: G

Summary: Wild loves when you draw- so he decides to leave you a little gift in your sketch book.

Warnings: None

Other: Wild is so sappy, y'all- if I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You are an artist - you carry a sketchbook around everywhere. It may be in your bag sometimes, but still.

You find it helps to be able to create art while struggling to stay above the water that is this hylia damned quest.

Between creating art and the lover you've found- you're handling things better than you thought you would be.

Wild has seen you draw before - you like to draw by the fire at night. You've even shown him things on occasion. The odd bird sketch or colored plant life. Or even just half finished lines that didn't quite work out.

He likes to sit beside you while you create - it always calms him a little.

The way your hands are often covered in smudged art supplies is more than endearing. He likes that there's proof of a hobby you enjoy so much. Wild likes to take your hands and trace them while he counts the smudges of charcoal or pencil or paint or whatever you've used this time.

If he has a few pictures of you with art supplies smudged on your forehead - well, that's really not really anyone's buissness. (He will, of course, delete them and stop taking pictures if you ask, he dosen’t want to make you uncomfortable.)

He definitely smiles when he sees that sight, though. Wild has always loved when you allow yourself to just exist.

He's continually amazed by your skill. He looks forward to when you share your art with him. It always takes his breath away.

(You take his breath away.)

So far, his favorite piece you've done was of Epona, with flowers in her mane and a water colore-esque background. It's beautiful, and when you'd shown it to him and Twilight, they had both loved it.

Wild has a picture of that one on his slate, saved to a special folder for your creations.

Other works of yours he has saved in that folder include a sketch of him cooking with fireflies around him, a river landscape, and a sketch of all of the boys and you. There are more, of course, but those are the ones he treasures the most.

Tonight finding you is pretty easy. You're all staying at an inn.

The others split into groups. Though they are all settled across the backyard of said inn, chatting happily amongst themselves.

He spots you talking to Time and Legend by the stairs.

Before he can walk over, he hears his name and stops.

"Hey, Wild?" Twilight asks as he walks over.

"Yes?"

"Do you have any more mushroom skewers? A kid was asking about them."

Wild snorts, resigning himself to helping Twilight entertain the kids.

He'll catch up with you later. You have all night.

This gives him more time to figure out what he can give you as a gift. He doesn't have a particular reason, but he wants to anyway.

He can always ask Sky and Time for advice - as long as he doesn't ask Wind.

The sailor is smart and kind - but the last time Wind gave relationship advice, it was clear that he was still a little young. (It wasn't bad advice perse but none of the others thought that 'shmoopie' was what they wanted to call a partner.)

Wild sets himself to the task of finding the mushroom skewers within his slate, careful to pick the ones that won't give a side effect if eaten.

-------

It's not until after the inn has provided dinner that Wild realizes he hasn't seen you in a while.

In fact, Wild hasn't seen you since you arrived at the inn, and neither have Hyrule or Sky when he asks them.

It's not exactly worrying, but he does find himself a little anxious. He knows this isn't your hyrule, and he's always worried you'll get left behind - which he knows is silly.

And he definitely trusts you- but anxiety has never cared about logic.

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that not only are you more than capable of taking care of yourself - this seems to be a fairly peaceful time.

He relaxes a little, the reminder doing him a little good.

After looking around a little more, Wild finds you sitting on your own with your sketch pad.

You look fairly at peace, sitting on a large rock by the inn. The lowering sun shines across you in a flattering way.

Wild smiles softly when he sees you. He's very happy to see that you look so content. He has to resist the urge to snap a picture. (A habit he's picked up after losing his memories. He wants to have pictures of everything he cares about, so if he forgets, he dosen’t lose it all.)

Wild walks over to you and sits down beside you. He's just glad to be around his beloved partner.

"Hey Wild." You greet, looking up from your work with a smile.

"Hey, (Y/n)."

"It's a nice evening. It makes me jealous of your all's times." You say with a wry laugh.

"It's still odd to think you can't see the stars back home."

"Mh- I guess. It's always been that way, though." The shrug you give is nonchalant.

Wild gives you a surprised look, brows raising as he tries to imagine such a thing.

He can't. Your world sounds foreign and impossible to him. And yet- you exist as the pinnacle of your home.

He supposes he's glad that ypur home existed - as odd as ot seems to him because you would've exist without it.

Wild looks back to the sky - back to the stars.

"That sounds absurd." He says with a snort.

"It feels like that these days."

"Huh."

You look back to whatever you were working on and put a few more artistic strokes down.

"Do you think I'll ever learn all the strange constellations you have?"

Wild looks to you after you ask that, something warm swelling in his chest. "I can teach you."

"I'd like that."

The delighted look that crosses his face is definitely something to remember. It's amazing how easily he goes all smitten and fond around you.

-------

It's not until later that evening that Wild sees your unattended sketch book. And he has - an idea. One that he hopes will make you smile.

What if he puts something in your sketch book for you?

A doodle?

A note?

A portrait of how he sees you?

All three?

Maybe just the portrait and the note. Maybe if you see yourself through his eyes, you'll see why he's so fond of you.

Wild knows that you get self-conscious sometimes. He'd like to help.

His decision is made.

He thinks this is exactly the kind of give to leave you. Non pressuring and personal.

Wild picks up your art book and begins his work.

He takes a moment to try to picture what he wants to draw.

What angles? Should he include a background? Should it be flat or shoukd he add depths and shadows?

Once he knows what he wants to draw, he sets to work.

First, he starts with a light pencil sketch of you. First your head, then your neck and shoulders, then your features. He pays special attention to the skine in your eyes.

It takes him a while, but eventually, he finishes his work, erasing the guidelines and putting in shadows and highlights.

He writes his note, and then he closes the sketchbook.

He will wait until you find it.

He silently hopes he can see your face when you do, though. He also hopes that it makes you smile. He does love your smile.

-------

You are taking a break by a creek, a little ways from the others when you find the two pages Wild left something for you.

The first is a picture of you - all done in pencil, and yet there's no lack of detail.

You can tell that every line, smudge, and stray erased part is full of love and until fondness.

You are posed in a three-quarters view, laughing as your eyes look straight to the viewer of the art.

The background is filled with your favorite flowers, all carefully done.

It's like looking at yourself through a softened lense. Your eyes seem brighter, and your laugh is more genuine.

It's unbearably soft.

The shadows are carefully done, and

You know, without asking or even looking at the note that this is Wild's work.

You wish you weren't so touched by how he's chosen to portray you. Not because it dosen’t matter but so you could better find words to express the feeling.

Then you look to the note.

'(Y/n),

I don't think I've told you how much I love your art. Not enough, at least.

I'm not sure that I can ever tell you how much both you and your art mean to me. I don't know how you feel about it, but I've always seen your art as an extension of you.

You made it after all.

Your art is so amazing. I'm always excited when you let me see what you've made.

I hope you can see yourself through my eyes now. And I hope this isn't rude to do- but I wanted to do this.

I wanted you to know how much you matter to me. I'm so thankful to have you in my life.

I wish we could have met a more natural way- but I'd fight the shadow the rest of my life if it meant I get to have you in said life.

I will treasure every single picture of you I have. You're so stunning - it takes my breath away every time I see you smile.

I appreciate that you go out of your way to make things easier for all of us.

I appreciate it when you stay up on watch with me even though you don't have to.

I hope you know how much it means to me that you treat me like a person outside of being a hero. Thank you.

I am going to keep trying every day to make sure you know how wonderful you are.

And I hope you know that I love you for you, not for what you do.

I love your sense of humor, your smile, and the way you interact with others.

You're my safe place - if that makes sense? I hope it does.

Anyway, I know this is probably silly, but I thought it might make you smile.

Love, Wild.'

Oh- that's really sweet! You need to find him and thank him and maybe kiss him just a little. (Maybe more.)

You can't ignore the way your chest warms, and your adoration flutters like a butterfly.

This is truly lovely - you've never had someone do this for you before. But it's super sweet, and you are head over heels all over again.

(Maybe ass over tea kettle is a better descriptor if we're going to be honest. But that's just between you and Hylia.)

You close the sketchbook carefully before moving to find Wild.

Finding the man is easy enough - he's cooking lunch.

You walk over to Wild, and the sketchbook is still in hand.

"Hey, firefly." Wild smiles at you, stirring the stew before him. He seems to be at ease for the most part.

"I saw the note and picture you left me."

You watch his reaction - his ears flush a little, and he looks a little like a deer in headlights.

But he relaxes enough to say, "Oh! I hope you liked it! I hope it wasn't too weird..."

"I loved it - it's one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me!"

You pull him into a hug, beaming at him.

You can't find the words you want, but you really hope Wild can tell just how much you love his little gift.

You'll hold onto it forever - you should get it framed when this is all over. That's a good idea.

"I'm glad you liked it. I'm not that great at art -"

"You're amazing at art. What are you talking about?"

"Purah and Zelda are better than me. I'm not the best. But I get by. I don't think I'm awful." Wild explains with a shrug.

"You're amazing at it."

Wild laughs, shaking his head a little. But he dosen’t defelct, instead he just says, "Thank you, (Y/n). I appreciate that."

"I mean it."

"I know."

Wild, let's the spoot rest on the pot, turning to fully face you. He's so thankful you're in his life. And he's so glad you liked his surprise.

"After dinner, we can work on those constellations." You say as you smile at him.

"That sounds nice." He smiles.

"So... could I ask you to draw me again later? I ... have never seen myself the way you made me look."

Wild softens more, which seems impossible until it happens.

And everything is - well maybe it isn't perfect but it's very nice.

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu wild #lu wild x reader

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juniefruit · 6 months

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☆ Artist Hyunjin Part Two ☆

☆ AHHHH skz anniversary!!! wishing the boys the best!

☆ Originally written as bestie/roommate, but it's up to your interpretation!

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Word Count: 1,000

Hyunjin is an artist. In every sense. He can see the beauty in all things, big or small. He can observe something that might seem mundane, but he always finds a way to reveal its true beauty.

There’s one shelf in his room dedicated to all of his old sketchbooks. Each and every page is filled to the brim with sketches, sticky notes, and pencil smudges. His room has fairy lights adorning the ceiling and dried flowers preserved and on display. An easel sits in the corner. It’s cozy and warm. His desk, oh my. At least a few miscellaneous cups filled with pencils of all shades and colors, markers, and paintbrushes are always in the corner. Really, he tries his best to keep it organized, but when an idea strikes, and he’s frantically trying to get everything on paper, it becomes the least of his worries.

You do sometimes scold him, especially when you find a paint stain on your sweater. You don’t know how it got there, but it’s most definitely Hyunjin’s doing. Sometimes, you’ll be chilling on the couch together when suddenly his eyes light up, he straightens his posture, and speed walks to his bedroom/studio. “Hyunie, what??” “I finally got it! I need to write this down before I forget!” You chuckle, following him to his room.

One of Hyunjin's bigger art pieces is on display in the living room. It’s an abstract piece that looks great against the beige wall. Hyunjin was reluctant to hang it up, but you insisted. “It’s embarrassing, y/nie!” He whined. “What’s embarrassing about it? This is amazing! And I'm hanging it up if you won’t.” You huff.

It’s very rare that Hyunjin asks you to be his real-time model for a painting. The reason is he doesn’t want to trouble you and have you sit, sometimes for hours, while he works. Instead, he loves to secretly keep pictures of you in his ‘inspiration’ folder on his phone. At this point though, he can sketch you in his sleep. Pages upon pages in his sketchbook are filled with your portrait from all angles. You’re his muse. His inspiration. His hand has memorized how to sketch all the curves and angles of your face and body. Sometimes he’ll be buried nose deep in his sketchbook, and the only sound you can hear is the gentle scratch of the pencil against the paper. You’ll ask what he’s drawing, but he would never admit what it actually is. Once in a while he’ll look up at you and smile, as you sit across from him on the couch. You look ethereal in the afternoon sun, he thinks. Maybe one day he’ll gather the courage to gift you a portrait, or show you a sketch. He knows deep down you would love it. But his nerves are like a blockade. Every artist knows how troubling it can be to show your art to the world. It’s like showing a part of yourself, your soul.

Today was friday, an end to a stressful and high-strung week. To destress, you told Hyunjin to put on a casual outfit. You simply said you’re ‘going out’. He decided upon cafe-brown corduroy pants, a sweater vest and a white blouse under it. The top half of his hair was pinned back with a claw clip. You were taking him to the art supply store. It wasn’t that far, just a few subway stops. He didn’t have a clue until you arrived. His eyes lit up when you told him to pick something out. Like a kid in a candy store, he was snaking through the aisles, his hair bouncing when he walked. As Hyunjin was at the back of one of the store aisles, he had a moment to think. He decided that he’d draw you with the materials he bought. And then show you. He could feel the nerves creeping up his spine just at the thought. But he was set. When you checked out, he chose a few sketching materials like a specialized pencil and eraser. The second you stepped out of the store, he hugged you so tight your face turned pink.

He won’t admit he stayed up all night, long after he assured you that he’s actually going to sleep. He’s dialed in, leaning over his desk. A sheet of drawing paper, about the size of a laptop, sits on the wooden paint-stained surace. His eyes squint behind his glasses as he studies each and every stroke of his pencil. Once in a while he even bites the end of the pencil in his right hand as he concentrates. The eyes of your portrait stare up at him with grace and innocence, like a sunny spring day. It was maybe around 5 AM before he finally deemed it good enough and headed to bed. The next day, after you both got back from work/school, he met you in the living room, with his hands behind his back. “I um- I made you something, as a thank you… for the art supplies and, uh- for being in my life.” he extends his hands to show you the portrait of yourself as his face flushes with shyness. “Wow, Hyunie! This- it’s so beautiful! Thank you!” You take the sheet of paper gingerly with both hands. You set it on the coffee table before facing Hyunjin. “Really, you didn’t have to do that. And I’m glad you’re in my life, too. Um-” You look back at the portrait. “How did you make me look so good?” Hyunjin’s heart skips a beat. His hand reaches to rub at the back of his neck with a shy smile. “It’s just you, y/n. I thought that you’d appreciate seeing how beautiful you are in my eyes.” He admits. You hum, totally at a loss for words. “Well, you were right.” You say with sincerity. Looking back up at him, you say, “Speaking of eyes, are those dark circles?”

Read more drabbles & such here~ masterlist

Asks/requests are open!

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids oneshot #skz x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #skz x you #stray kids x y/n

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fresh-new-yoik-watah · 2 months

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Of Duty and Desire

Chapter One

a/n: I haven’t written in so long I’m so sorry guys! I’m in a descendants phase again so naturally had to whip out a story

pairing: Harry Hook x OC (Willow Pan)

important: Harry and OC are 18, but it really does not affect the story

warnings: none!

word count: 1.9k

—————————————

Willow Pan walked as fast as her platform mary janes could take her without rolling her ankles, determined to get to her meeting with Fairy Godmother on time. She was supposed to be presenting the wedding budget for King Ben and Mal’s wedding with Jane, and she had lost track of time going over banner colors with Audrey, who had been picked as the official wedding planner. Audrey was starting to grow on Willow, once getting past her kingdom takeover phase last year, but everyone has their flaws, and she seemed to be maturing finally, which was a big concern Willow had at first at the idea of having to work with her.

Willow spotted Jane pacing outside her mother’s office with a yellow folder labeled “WEDDING” clutched under her arm.

Jane let out a sigh of relief once seeing Willow. “Thank goodness you’re here, I was worried!” She exclaimed.

“I’m so sorry I got caught up,” Willow said. “I’m not late though? I swear I made it on time.”

Jane shook her head, “No we’re good, and it’s mom, she’d just give a lecture about punctuality.”

The two girls shared a quick giggle before composing themselves. Jane lightly tapped on the wooden door, waiting for her mother’s verbal cue before entering.

Fairy Godmother’s office was much grander than the door would lead one to believe, and if Willow hadn’t spent as much of her childhood in these very rooms, she might’ve been intimidated by it. The tall walls were covered in royal blue velvet with gold crests patterned all over, with dark wood panels covering the lower third, meeting the matching wood floor. Fairy Godmother’s desk sat towards the back of the main room, right in front of the large window that faced directly towards the front courtyard.

Fairy Godmother beamed at the two girls, eyes crinkled from smiling, and scurried over like a little mouse, engulfing them in a quick hug. “Hello my darlings!” She greeted, voice endearing.

She led them back towards her desk, moving the plush lavender cushions aside from the sofa that sat in front to allow the girls space to sit.

Jane spoke first, “We have all the proposed arrangements and budgets, we just need King Ben’s approval.” She handed the folder to her mother who opened it and flipped through the pages. “There’s also sketches and pictures to look at,” she added.

Fairy Godmother nodded to herself as she skimmed through the folder, eventually setting it down and bringing her hands together like she always did when she was about to say something serious. “Now are you girls sure you can take this on? There is no shame in backing out,” she said, making sure to look each of them in the eyes.

Willow shook her head, “I’d much rather take this on than prom.”

Fairy Godmother gave a small chuckle, “Well, prom committee will miss you.”

Willow forced a smile, mentally cringing at the memory of a heartbroken Aziz last year being her other reason to avoid prom committee.

“Though, I know you’re part of the Initiation Program as well, so if at any point this becomes much on your shoulders…,” Fairy Godmother continued, trailing off.

Willow had been one of the first few to volunteer for the new VK initiation program, overseen by the original four “villain kids”. It was an improved version of a way to integrate children from the isle into Auradon Prep, with things that aren’t as on the nose as Remedial Goodness 101. Each volunteer would be assigned a student to guide and meet with, and in attempts to limit any precursing bias, students were paired off randomly and wouldn’t find out their partner until meeting in person.

“I appreciate that, but I’ll be okay. Having Jane and Audrey with me makes this much more manageable,” Willow replied, keeping her stance.

Fairy Godmother nodded, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sway the girl’s mind. “I will look these over and get these to the king then,” she said, gesturing to the folder on her desk. “In the meantime, have you gotten to meet your student yet? I might be able to offer some tips and tricks!”

Jane and Willow shared a knowing look, remembering a wailing Fairy Godmother running away from fireworks set off by Zevon in the gym just a month ago.

“I haven’t met them yet, but I will come to you should I need any help,” Willow replied, knowing she would not be seeking Fairy Godmother’s assistance.

She was sure that whoever she got, she could handle it. And maybe she should’ve learned by now not to be too confident, as she was beginning to regret her decision to be a part of the program when she saw which leather clad boy was waiting in the library for her after meeting with Fairy Godmother. Willow knew she was taking a gamble with her chances for which VK she’d be assigned, but she’d naively thought Harry Hook was part of the first semester’s Program. But unfortunately, that was him, sitting in a chair, back turned to her, spinning his silver hook on a table like a top. He looked out of place in the room, too many smooth edges and corners for how rugged he dressed and how disheveled his hair was. His red and black clothes were an eyesore against the school’s gold and blue accents.

Willow inhaled a deep breath, and as quietly as she could, disappeared into one of the many aisles of towering bookshelves. She gripped her program binder flush against her chest and paced back and forth, occasionally glancing through the books, hoping it was just a mistake and that another VK was going to walk through the library doors at any moment, that Harry was simply there for his own separate purpose, but no matter how many times she looked, the doors did not open and he was still sitting there.

“I know you’re in here,” Harry suddenly spoke, still facing away.

She froze, her stomach sinking at being caught. Her eyes frantically scanned the shelves looking for something to use as an excuse to why she was hiding in the shelves, and not that it was because she was avoiding him. She landed on a purple book with instruments painted on its spine. She grabbed it and peaked from around the shelf, eventually emerging and approached Harry.

“Sorry,” Willow apologized, pulling a chair out across from him and taking a seat. She set her binder and book down with a thud, making sure the book laid on top so he would see. “I was just looking for some extracurriculars to go over with you.”

Harry raised his eyebrow once spotting the purple cover. “You think I should do music?” He asked, accent heavy and a smirk on his lips.

Flustered, she moved the book aside. “Simply an option,” she muttered.

He grinned, finding amusement in her discomfort.

The blonde girl continued, speaking more clearly and straightening her posture, “I’m Willow, I’m—“

“Harry Hook,” he interrupted, his icey blue eyes locked onto her as he watched for a reaction.

There were two things Willow knew to be true about Harry; one, his father was Captain James Hook, sworn enemy to her own father; two, he always tried to push people’s buttons, and she was determined not to give him that satisfaction, at least not today and not that easily.

“Nice to meet you Harry,” she said sickenly sweet. She rummaged through the binder and slid some packets across the table to him, explaining his schedule for the next semester, and how many times they’d be meeting a week.

“What if I need to see you more?” He asked, the corners of his lips barely curling up.

Willow kept her composure with ease, having already been used to the many antics of the Lost Boys’ childrens. “Then you may ask to see me more,” she answered, mimicking his own innocent tone.

Harry’s nose flared just slightly as he inhaled. A flame ignited in him then, something that would never be extinguished but only grow. He felt like he had just taken his first breath, that he had not known how it felt to breathe until now. Beneath the soft pastel blues she represented herself through, she had a bite, and he wanted to know deep she could sink her teeth.

“Only if I need to,” he repeated, using his handheld hook to point at her.

Willow wanted to roll her eyes, wishing she could take his ridiculous hook and toss it into the ocean. She grabbed one of the packets and flipped to the third page, pointing at a list that filled the piece of paper from top to bottom. “These are all the extracurriculars you are eligible to take. You’re required to take at least one a semester,” she said.

“What one are you taking?” Harry asked.

She watched him, trying to read if he was looking for a sort of leverage or just out of curiosity. “I take a few,” she replied hesitantly.

“Like what?” He pushed more.

“I’m part of student council, decor committee—“

“I’ll pick decor committee,” Harry interrupted her again.

She knew what he was doing, that he only chose it to get under her skin, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t working. “I suggest you pick one that aligns with your own interests,” Willow said monotone.

“A pirate can’t have a passion for decorating?” He laughed, grinning at her across the table as she stared back without a traceable emotion.

“It’s not as easy as it may seem,” she continued to try and dissuade him, but he was firm.

“Then I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied.

She decided two could play this game and pulled out her phone, the sound of her fingers tapping away as Harry’s own phone dinged in his pocket. He jumped at the noise, patting his pockets down as he looked for the source of the noise.

“What is this?” He asked after taking some time to figure out how to find the notification, then opening a five page attachment from her.

“Homework,” she said smugly, satisfied at the way Harry’s face dropped. “I expect it to be read through and completed by Wednesday, which is our next committee meeting.”

He groaned, running his hand through his dark hair. “Doesn’t the leader or something have a say in this? Seems unprincess-like to go behind their back.”

Unprincess? Did he assume she was a descendant of a princess? Did that mean he didn’t know who she was? That made his motive of trying to annoy her confusing, Willow assumed he was carrying a generational grudge, which she wouldn’t have blamed him entirely for, knowing she’d feel some type of way if someone’s parent had cut her own parent’s hand off.

She ignored the princess comment, taking advantage of Harry’s seemingly lack of knowledge. “I’m leader of decor committee,” she replied.

He didn’t say anything right away, maybe trying to tell if she was lying or not. He was good at hiding his thoughts, his face unreadable as he processed the new information. “Ah,” he sighed, and as if a switch turned in him, he was grinning again, “I’ll be seeing you a lot then.”

Despite her efforts, Harry had won this round, and as much as she wanted to be entirely annoyed at it, Willow was excited to make him committee errand boy.

#fnyw #descendants oc #descendants harry #descendants #harry hook #Harry hook x oc #descendants 4 #descendants fanfic #descendants fanfiction

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squeakyfir · 1 year

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A small hostage (A night at the museum 2 X Child! Reader Fanfiction)

Description:

You, an eight year old child who was left behind on a school field trip gets locked inside the Smithsonian and are held hostage by wax figures of historical figures. Though one was cruel, the other's were a bit mean but they showed a bit of care. So much for being evil. There were questions that needed answers.

Will you live?

Will you die?

Will you see your family again?

Will you even remember this night?

Enjoy!

*I do not own the night at the museum movies. All rights to the characters and storylines belong to 20th Century Studios ™*

Chapter 1

A two hour bus ride to a museum for a field trip is just as terrible as getting left behind. That happened to you. And man does it suck.

Here's what happened...

"Alrighty kids, we'll be arriving at the Smithsonian in 30 minutes" said the bus driver through the speaker. You sighed as you slumped back in your seat. Your whole class was going to the Smithsonian museum for a field trip. Everyone else was thrilled but you could care less. You hated field trips because they seemed pointless to you. The only upside is that it was an opportunity to get out of school. And that was it. The other kids on the bus were getting ansty about getting there.

Your teacher was pretty excited too since it wasn't easy to convince the school board to go on this trip. You opened up your book bag to see your history textbook since you forgot to take it out, your bagged lunch, your sketch book, your cell phone, your headphones, your homework folder and pencils. You also had some money on you in case you saw something in the museum's shops that you wanted. You smiled since your mom left it for you.

Some time went by and the bus stopped. All the kids stood up ready to get off but the teacher had to go over the rules. You didn't really listen but there was one rule that you did hear. "And lastly, if any of you are not here when we leave, we will leave without you".

You grinned. 'Yeah right'. The bus doors opened and all of you got off. The teacher led you all inside the big entrance with the Smithsonian as busy as usual and you all started your tour. You didn't listen to the information that was being told to you all, so you pulled out your phone and headphones to listen to music. Luckily, the teacher didn't notice and you just followed the group.

The whole tour was boring but the wax figures that the Smithsonian had were kinda cool. You especially loved the art galleries. You took an interest in the bronze statue called 'The Thinker'. You smiled and said, "Thats me wondering why I'm still here".

The tour had to stop for lunch and you sat by the fountain to just nibble on your food. You weren't that hungry but your mom knew you would be bored and packed you some fruit gushers. You loved your mom and she loved you so much. You two were a team but your dad is a whole other story.

You didn't realize what time it was and saw one of your class mates stand up to leave. You put your food back and stood up to follow. The tour continued and you went back to the music. It was long and tiring but when it was almost time to leave, you all started to head back to the entrance but you needed to use the bathroom. 'They won't leave me'. You went to the bathroom to do your business and you took your time since you knew they wouldn't leave you.

When you finished, you came back out and saw that the students were gone. You went outside and saw that the bus was gone. "No way". You ran back inside and looked around to see if they were anywhere but they were all gone. You couldn't believe this. This is illegal! Since the adults who were monitoring the other adults, you decided to do a little tour of your own. You went all around the place. A couple people glanced at you and wondered why you were alone. But you remembered what your mom said about 'stranger danger'.

You kept walking around until you came around a large room that resembled a cathedral. There was a small black wall with Egyptian hieroglyphics and a skull sarcophagus. You reached out and touched it, only to hear, "Hey"! You turned around and saw one of the night watch men coming towards you. "What are you doing? No touching".

"No, I didn't touch it".

"Oh really? Put your hand on it and touch it, cause I stand there and I wait all day for a little girl like you to come in and put her precious nail polished nails all over the exhibits".

"Ok, I'm sorry. I thought we all lived in a free country"?

"We don't. It's the United States of don't touch that thing right in front of you".

"Ok, just leave me alone" you said backing up.

"No, I'm not gonna leave you alone. You don't touch the exhibits".

"Would you relax"?

"Why should I relax"?

"Because your freaking out about me touching it" you said with sass.

"Do not touch it".

"Don't yell at me".

"Do not touch it".

"Don't yell at me".

"Do not touch it".

"Don't yell at me".

"I'll yell at you all day. I will literally call your parents and yell at them to". You sighed loudly and said, "Fine. Fine. I'm sorry. Better"?

"Yes it is. Now, don't touch it, understand"?

"Yep" you said with a smile. The man started to walk back and you saw his key card fall off his belt. You took that chance and snatched it before he saw you. You now had access to basically any part of the museum. You went to a metal door and saw it required a key card. You scanned it and it worked. You grinned and started going down a hallway and then down the stairs to the archives.

You checked your phone and saw that it was getting late. You didn't want to get caught either so you had to hide down here in the darkness with a ton of wooden crates and more wax figures. You didn't know how long you would be here for so you went inside an empty crate to sleep but you obviously set an alarm. The alarm was for one hour.

You awoke to your alarm, wide awake and hopped out the crate. You then heard banging sounds and talking. You put your phone away in your bag and wandered towards the sound and had to be careful to not get caught in case it was workers.

But what you discoverd instead was something way more interesting and confusing.

There were men in old outfits of French soliders, men who were literally in black and white, men with chain armor attire and one was wearing an Egyptian uniform. You stood on the other side of the shelf with crates and had an opening that was big enough for you to see through. The Egyptian man was speaking and he said, "I am Kahmunrah. I am half god, once removed by my mother's side. Rightful ruler of Egypt, future ruler of... well, everything else".

You kept listening to this talk and he then said, "Now, I have lost some men. So, I am in need of some new generals to join me in my little plan of conquering this world. Ivan the Terrible. Napoleon Bonaparte. And young Al Capone. Some of the most despicable, most feared leaders in all of history. Gentleman". Kahmunrah tried keeping a straight face but he failed and smiled like you when you were having fun with your mom.

"Really, it's just fantastic to meet you all". The other's nodded their heads and took it as a compliment. "Now all I ask is your allegiance, and in return, I offer you the world. Literally. Are there any questions"?

"Yeah I got one. How come you're wearing dress"? You giggled a little but had to stop yourself fast since you didn't want them to know that you were here. "This is not a dress. This is a tunic. It was the height of fashion three thousand years ago, I assure you. Are there any other questions"?

The man named Ivan who had a Russian accent said, "Da, this dress you're wearing, do we have to wear one of these too"? You once again tried not to laugh and then heard Kahmunrah say, "No, of course not. Were you not listening? I just told Mr. Capone here, that this is not a dress. It is in fact a tunic. Very big difference. Are there any other questions"?

Napoleon raised his hand but Kahmunrah then said, "Any questions not about the dress? Tunic". Napoleon put his hand down then Kahmunrah said "Alright then. Moonlight is wasting and the time is short-"

"SHORT"! You jumped a bit at Napoleon's sudden outburst then he said, "Why do you look at me when you say short"?

"I'm sorry. It slipped out". You tried looking over at the other men but then knocked some things off the shelf. They all looked towards you and you made a run for it. Kahmunrah then shouted, "GET HIM! BRING HIM HERE"! You heard footsteps running after you and you turned around a corner to then run into one of the French soliders. He instantly grabbed you and brought you back towards you the others.

When he came back with you in the light, the others were very surprised that it was just a kid. The solider held you by the shoulder firmly and you were now face to face with these strange people. "Well well well, what do we have here" said Kahmunrah.

"It's just a kid. But aren't you supposed to be in bed by now" asked Capone.

"No, I can stay up if I want to" you said struggling to get lose from the solider. "Why are you here" asked Kahmunrah.

"I was on a field trip and my class left me here".

"Well, no matter. Where is Mr. Daley? He has stolen my tablet and I want it back. Where is he"?

"I don't know a Mr. Daley now let me go". Kahmunrah gave you a look of irritation and said, "Tell me where he is or else".

"Or else what" you sassed.

"I'll have my men kill you".

"Hold on. I dont know you that well, but I don't kill kids" said Capone.

"Me as well, I do not murder children" said Napoleon.

"Well... if they give me a reason as to why, I might". You, Capone and Napoleon looked at Ivan like he was crazy but he didn't know what was wrong with what he just said. "What"?

You had enough of this. You slammed your foot down on the soliders foot and kicked Kahmunrah right in the shin. You ran off and heard Kahmunrah shout, "GO! GO! ALL OF YOU! GET THAT BRAT! BRING HER HERE"!

Well... tonight will surely either be a memorable night or your last night.

#night at the museum #al capone #fanfiction #fanfic #x child reader #kahmunrah #natm #natm fanfiction #natm fandom #will add more tags later

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maddiebiscuits · 9 months

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i don't know how to phrase this any other way so i hope you don't find this rude or anything: you are (imo) a very skilled, very prolific art toaster. it's great quality artwork obviously, but your turnaround is wicked crazy fast to me. what does burnout look like for you? how do you manage to toast so many arts? what dark magics must you employ??

The hard truth is I worked in journalism for two years between 2010-2012 and customer service/hospitality starting at 16 years old in 2007 all throughout my life until 2022 and I don't want to go back to any of it now that I'm almost 33 - that's the main motivator to keep my freelance gig career doing art commissions going as long as possible. Fear and loathing of going back to that work environment keeps me focused.

In action...I'm not quite sure if I ever experience 'burn out'? I do experience art 'block' in that I can't think of anything to draw on my own or feel really unsatisfied with my work...so I just goof off with my canvas or do studies, but this doesn't interfere with doing commissions where I am told what to draw.

I just enjoy the physical act of drawing. Sometimes when I'm bored and restless and going for a walk doesn't help, I just draw more. When I was a kid I would just come home from school and draw crap between playing Gameboy/N64/Gamecube or browsing Elfwood/Newgrounds/DeviantART/Gaia Online, so it's literally just a habit now. If I don't draw for a long time I feel anxious and unwell. Somehow I just programmed my brain to think that art = leisure fun time, even if it's for work. I also tend to get into a "zone" sometimes and just put on video essays or music and a few hours later I'll have worked through some commission stuff.

I have three 'task lists' for my workflow:

A public trello board organized by work order types (N/SFW link)

A personal trello board organized by type/date in chronological order

A coloured tagging and folder system in my emails where I can just see the actual dates/timestamps of my last correspondence with a client so I know exactly who in my taskboard needs to be prioritized for their next WIP update

I hold myself to a standard of sending a client a WIP in stages:

rough draft (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

line art (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

final render (1-14 business days)

tweaks (1-2 business days)

So ideally, the client gets a finished commission in 3-6 weeks, so about 1-2 months. For larger projects I send more WIPs and the process is obviously longer. For simpler stuff like chibis, it's rarely a full six weeks. Over holidays I add an extra two weeks to my noted turn-around to account for IRL time off. On all my terms of service I have a maximum four months turn-around, essentially doubling the time I know my work flow is just in case there's some sort of medical or equipment emergency in my life that I need to account for that gives me a buffer (I also notify all clients)

Monday to Friday I wake up usually...late morning/early afternoon? I do anywhere from four to eight hours of artwork, broken up by walks, stretching, eating, cleaning, cooking, hanging out with my partner, etc. I look at my personal trello taskboard and emails to see what must be done and what can wait. I try to get at least 1-2 things done in a day though, be that sketches/line art/renders/revisions.

Right now I am looking at my email and task board, and the client with the highest wait time chronologically is someone who is waiting for their final render (sketch and line art already revised and done for them). Last email correspondence with them on the email says 9 days ago (so 7 business days, I'm supposed to take Sat-Sun off). Their order was paid in full and confirmed by me on November 9 and it is currently December 13, so I'm at about the 5 week mark (not accounting for delays in clients getting back to me of course) and I am very much On Course for my work load, no one has been without contact from me for 14 days or more so I'm pretty ahead of my game right now! I could take tomorrow off if I wanted, or only do 3-4 hours of work if I feel like it.

However the more work you finish and post, the more you show prospective clients your ability to finish orders and show your audience more art for engagement, so ideally I always like posting stuff when I can, it just creates a cycle of positive production and income.

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slic3d--br3ad · 4 months

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I'm bored and I don't want to get off my ass and be productive so I'm gonna put a list of 16 out of 50 (bc of word limit) of my Tales of Arcadia fanfic WIPs below. Not chronologically sorted.

A Week in the Lap of Luxury - 5 years after Toby became the Trollhunter and the Guardians of Arcadia brought a semblance of balance to the magic and mortal realms, Eli Pepperjack is sent on a week long diplomatic trip with Nari to establish a union between the Guardians and the elusive Bellroc and Skrael. They agree to an allyship, but not without establishing some terms of their own. I got the title from Annie (1982). The synopsis sounds cool but don't be fooled; it's a polyorder smutfic, 15 parts with an epilogue currently planned. Focusing on the actual plot is hard so I've been avoiding it lol.

Arcane Order Eli - Exactly as it says on the tin! I've posted one concept here on Tumblr but I have quite a few variations drifting about my folder, I can't stick with just one draft. ;-;

Drawn To You - Eli is the creator of a popular online comic series titled Trollhunters, though nobody knows that except him and his childhood friends Aja and Krel Tarron. Despite his online fame and the hard work that comes with maintaining such a popular series, not to mention the feedback he can get from the harshest of critics, Eli manages to make his own “double life” work well. That is until his secret is one day discovered by the person he would least expect. An oldie! I think I came up with this before 3Below aired. I really shipped Steli way back when so they would be the endgame couple ofc. I was inspired by Check, Please! when mapping out their relationship progression.

900 Year Pact - After trapping Morgana inside the Heartstone, Merlin falls into a deep slumber within his tomb. Before he leaves, he entrusts Nari with the Time Map and instructs her to hide within Camelot. However, Nari goes against his orders when she spots a possible good future with Bellroc, Skrael, and her working alongside Merlin’s Trollhunter to restore the balance. Before Bellroc and Skrael can revive King Arthur as the Green Knight, Nari summons them both to a meeting spot and makes a risky proposition: when Merlin awakens, she will unlock the Genesis Seals with them and remake the world. Until then, they will travel alongside her, Douxie, and Zoe in the human world. She tells them about a chance of restoring the balance without using the Seals and urges them to try once more with her to create a world where all beings can live in harmony. They reluctantly agree. Nari has no way of knowing if the good future will come into play or not. She can only hope that Bellroc and Skrael will warm up to humans by the time Merlin awakens in the far future. Ooooo, this was fun to draft! I have a few one-shots planned but nothing concrete.

I Can't Let the Arcane Order Take Nari So Now I'm Living in the Body of Their Leader?! - Not gonna add a description because I already have the fic posted on Ao3. I should really continue this....

Our Creepslaying Oaf - A school accident leads the supposedly normal high schooler Steve Palchuk to find out that he can change into a weapon. Afterword, he is transferred from his hometown Arcadia Oaks into the infamous DWMA and is enrolled as a NOT student to better control and understand his powers. On his first day, he meets many peculiar students, including the lively and athletic Aja Tarron and the nerdy yet sweet Eli Pepperjack, and soon gets caught up into a “love triangle” with the two, as they both wish to become his meister. Soul Eater AU. Endgame Stelija but I only have some sketches saved. I haven't really thought out a plot.

Eli Pepperjack's Bucket List - In a light-hearted attempt to make Eli say the word fuck, Steve pushes him to make a bucket list that he must complete before the end of the school year. He'll get the geek to loosen up while he's at it. Another oldie! This was way before 3Below came out. Hell, this might have been before Trollhunters season 3 came out! I have one chapter written and the second in process.

Within and Without - Even though the odds are against them, Bellroc and Skrael manage to thrive without her. Barely. Order angst with a side of Skraelroc. I wanted to explore how Bellroc and Skrael might have thrived in Nari's absence. 5 parts planned plus a smutty epilogue. Title is inspired by The Great Gatsby.

Familiar Faces - Eli tries to keep his uncanny photographic memory a secret, but his memory may be the key for helping the new boy and his big sister to find who murdered their parents a year prior. And maybe get on better terms with his former bully. Another oldie; this one was conceived after 3 Below season 1 came out. I was hooked onto Kreli then lol.

Krel & the Phantoms - A year prior to present day, the three members of the band Ash Dispersal Pattern - Jim, Aja, and Douxie - died abruptly from food poisoning. Now, Krel struggles to move on from his sister’s death. Even though he wants to be a musician like she was, he feels that he must embrace his role as head of their family’s company instead. When listening to his sister’s demo tape, Jim, Aja, and Douxie miraculously appear in his room as ghosts. While initially thrown for a loop, Krel agrees to "join" their band and help them spread their music posthumously. I wrote this after watching Julie and the Phantoms ofc (rip no season 2 ;-; ). I imagined a Krel/Douxie endgame with a side of Steli.

Decade - Ten years after his family moved away, Steve Palchuk is back in his sleepy childhood town of Arcadia Oaks. Steve can hardly remember a thing about his past in this town, nor why he ended up moving away in the first place, but maybe that a good thing. He quickly makes many new friends, with one new friend in particular being Eli Pepperjack, a boy who enjoys Halloween themed sugar cookies and retro movies. But things aren't always what they seem, and spending time with everyone causes Steve to uncover long-buried secrets from his past. Inspired by Kanon. I really imagined the bulk of it while I was on a train trip to California. One chapter written, second in progress. Steli and angsty Jeves, can't decide the endgame yet.

Arcadia Oaks - My interpretation of how the story could go after Jim reset the timeline. As is with Arcane Order Eli, I have too many what-ifs and drafts in this folder, nothing concrete.

Can You Keep A Secret? - A lewder alternate take on the events of episode 3, where Eli’s mind is gutter trash and Krel ensures his secret’s safety by means even he doesn’t understand. Kreli smut, conceived after season 1 came out.

Heroicz - Firefighting is hard work, but at least his Pepperbuddy makes it worthwhile. Originated as a spicy one-shot, became a plot. After my increased interest in animated works like Fire Force & Promare, I just started typing up a vaguely supernatural Firefighters AU, the FWB concept being the only thing I kept.

seabound - MerMay Kreli AU. Never quite sure what to do with this one.

Theater Rush - Steve (or Krel, I haven't yet made up my mind) will have the lead role in the school play but they have trouble acting out a kiss. A large storm stops them from going home right away so Eli offers to let him practice kissing him. Things escalate. Mmmm, smuuuuuuuuut.

#ihateblocks #mostly my own reference

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demonicsoulmates-art · 1 year

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Art Class - Some thoughts and notes

So, yesterday (17 April 2023) I had my very first official art class.

I've always been self-taught, and I find my art extremely lacking in some areas. After growing unhappy with my latest sketch, I contacted a colleague who I knew has a degree in Art, asking her if she knew of any classes. She offered to teach me (before you say anything: yes, I'm paying her), and yesterday evening we had our first lesson.

More under the "read more" because this is going to be really long.

She asked me to bring my most recent drawings and, between the digital drawings I printed and the pencil ones, I had I think 16 drawings. This also prompted me to get a folder where I can actually store it and keep it organized, so... Great.

I won't show the drawings I brought, but looking at them, my teacher said we need to work on anatomy and volumes (the depths).

She showed me some of her anatomy drawings and a book on anatomy. I'll either borrow it next time, or find a similar one at the library.

She proceeded to show me mannequins - you know, those very common ones you see artists use. She explained how normally, a human is actually 7 heads and a bit or an half, not 8, which is the "heroic" proportion used in comics. And then we looked at the mannequin, and she asked me to draw him.

So, as you can see, we started from the very basics.

First of all, though, she asked me "where do we start?"

The answer is "composition". She made me check the paper sheet and asked me to decide where I wanted to put it, and to find the highest and lowest point. Then, she asked me to divide that in half, divide those two parts in half, and again.

We didn't focus on the deeper anatomy, BUT we did focus on the proportions of the human body, and where the various parts of the mannequin/human body had to go if we looked at the various divisions I made.

The one of the left is the first drawing I made - she taught me where all the parts went, and how I could check proportions if the model/mannequin/whatever wasn't in a still position. She made me see that the hand takes from chin to forehead, the foot is the same length as the forearm, and how arms are way longer than I thought (they reach the halfway point of your thighs). Also how the bigger chest part ends where the last rib ends. It may seem really stupid, okay, but the realization stuck for me only when I saw my teacher point it out on her own body...

The second sketch I did in class is the mannequin walking, seen in side view. I fucking hate side view. Again, though, we looked at the proportion of the body parts and where they should go. My teacher made some corrections as I went, and I had to delete it and re-do it a few times.

Then, shit became harder by a ton. My teacher brought in a horse doll (the ones children use) and put the mannequin on it.

Again, we found the highest point and the lower point, but from my drawing you can see I didn't get it right. But the horse part for the composition was hard. She asked me how I could divide the paper, and I proposed in three parts and I did, but again, you can clearly see I screwed up because I thought the horse would be bigger.

We checked how the mannequin and horse related to the three parts, and we saw the back of the mannequin meeting the back of the horse was right at the end of the second part. Again, we divided the mannequin and then tried to see where it's body parts needed to go in relation to the horse. With some trial and error, we managed to do it, which makes me really happy. I also pointed out some horse anatomy to the teacher which she didn't notice herself that made the drawing better (I used to do horse riding, and my teacher then also gave us a lesson on horse anatomy fjdkdldl).

Somehow, an hour passed. My teacher gave me two sheets with drawings of mannequin figures doing things.

She asked me to do sketches of mannequins in various positions and to understand where the body parts go - or even not do the full mannequin but a skeleton like in the picture (so, I really need to get that anatomy book lmao)

The second sheet focuses on movement instead, particularly from the side.

I asked her if I could send her my homework sketches before the next class to see if what i was doing was correct, and she was really happy because she said she usually has to beg students to do it lol.

Since I want to improve and I want to use this blog more, as it deservers, I'll show y'all my future homework and stuff too

#my art #artists on tumblr #art class #sketches #practice #anatomy

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mysandwichranaway · 11 months

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It's been on my mid for a while, but i gotta ask, what kind of sandwic are you? ham,grilled cheese. veggie, bacon? Tis an important question. Now that we've got the important stuff out the way, how long does your average digital art piece take? Usually, for, me even a simple portrait will take atleast 4-6 hours. Do you have any tips towork digitally more efficiently while saving time? I use ibis paint x btw so yeh

Definitely a cheese sandwich, with maybe ham in it, but i really like croque monsieur too.

my average piece takes at least 8 hours, though usually i spend upwards of 27. On simple sketches i will take at least two hours. I think it's really important to know your keyboard shortcuts to work efficiently, and create or configure them as you please too. The more comfortable you are with shortcuts, the easier processes like selecting, changing tools, undoing/redoing, changing values/saturation/brightness, etc, will be. Roaming the menus to see what the program can do and where it is, is also a really good idea.

Also, i would recommend downloading PureRef, it's a fantastic tool to have your references always visible, and it's really easy to use. Identify the processes that take more time and create a reliable workflow. That way, you know exactly where on the process you are, what's next, and how you can save time.

For example, when doing lineart, i have an automatic action (a feature of clip studio paint) that creates a folder for lineart or a folder for color, the folder for lineart has two layers, named and marked: "lineart" and "sketch", the folder for "color" has several layers and folders, the first one is "base color", then a folder named "color parts", inside which there are five layers "hair", "eyes", "skin", "clothes", "etc", and then another folder named "multiply" that is set to multiply so all the layers inside are automatically in the setting to multiply too.

Organization is KEY to working fast and efficiently. a regular piece has four main folders, "character lineart", "character color", "background lineart" and "background color". This is indispensable because you don't have to be fighting for your life trying to find where that one dot is that you can't erase, and you always know where everything is:

(those top layers outside the folders are for color correction, ambient effects like dust particles and that kinda thing)

And here is how my folders look inside:

I don't know if IbisPaint has automatic actions, but you can make a file where you have the template that you can open to copy the folders or layers for easier access maybe?.

otherwise, my process, regardless of what i'm drawing is always the same: i import 3d models and pose/arrange them how i need them, then i sketch features of the background and then characters. For characters, first the face, then the hair, then clothes, then shoes, then details. Then, i do lineart, from top to down. Then i carefully select the outer edges, mirror the selection, and color inside in the layer "baseColor", then i color the different parts starting from hair, then skin, then eyes, and then color. Then i decide the lighsource, and do the shadows in the multiply folder. Then, on top of the multiply folder and outside, i apply the light and color effects corresponding to that part of the drawing (either characters or background).

This process of course can change, you can add or subtract layers as you need, or adapt them to your process. sometimes i have "glasses" layers, sometimes i have separate layers for pets, secondary characters, or folders for the foreground.

Anyway!!! i hope this makes sense, and that it is useful!!! you don't have to follow my process step to step, it's just an example!! i hope you can find a flow that works for you, and if you have questions, tell me, and i'll do my best to answer!!!

#yes i love asks!!!!#ask #random #tutorial #art tutorial

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sanversandfriends · 2 years

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One way to spark a writer's enthusiasm about a WIP is the promise of accompanying fan art. Not only is it exciting to see your story brought to life, but to paraphrase @Morganastorm24, even a small shift in perspective can inspire you to take a wildly different approach. Today, she'll share some of her inspirations along with advice on how to get started or unstuck.

Tell us a little about yourself. How long have you been creating fan art? What were some of your first subjects and what ships/characters in the SG universe have you illustrated?

I mentioned in my writing answers that I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, and the same applies with art. I'm generally a very creative person - writing, drawing, crafting - you name it, I'll happily do it.

I inherited my creativity from my grandparents, or so I'm told. My grandfather used to drive buses back in the 50s and 60s and on his breaks he'd park up somewhere and sit and sketch his surroundings. For no reason other than he wanted to and liked doing it. He also enjoyed woodwork and crafting miniature models of things out of wood. He built me my very first dolls house and I helped him to decorate it and furnish it with miniature furniture.

My grandmother was a seamstress for the theatre and made all the costumes for various productions. She'd sketch the designs out first, and then sew all the costumes by hand. She was also a writer, though she kept her stuff very private, because it was a hobby for her but not one that she felt comfortable enough to share. Sometimes, I can understand why, because I feel the same. Growing up, I loved spending time with both of them because they shared their skills with me.

What are your favorite mediums to work with?

Photoshop is a big favourite of mine, because you can do pretty much anything, so long as you can find the right images to merge together. I also love using pro-markers and other comic book markers. What kinds of scenes do you enjoy illustrating? Do you have any favorite tropes or themes? Imagery that you like to work with?

I love to do anything, as long as I have a clear vision of it in my mind (when using photoshop), or I have an image I can use as a reference (when I'm drawing by hand). The only thing I can successfully draw freehand without any reference is a horse (my lifelong love of the animals showing through there). When I worked in a children's nursery, we often drew large images for the kids to decorate which would then be displayed on the walls. I was always the one who ended up drawing said images, and to be honest I loved it. When I left that job to start my current one, I was gifted two of the last things I'd drawn - the rose from Beauty and the Beast, and the Coca Cola Christmas Truck. I've kept them to this day, and they're in a protective folder in storage.

Any advice for aspiring fan artists?

One thing I learned in art lessons when I was at school (and it has stuck with me to this day), is that if you're struggling to draw something, change the perspective. My art teacher told us the following story about a disabled man, and I've tried and tested this method myself. It really does work!

A young man in a wheelchair was asked to draw his wheelchair. He hated the thing, saw it as a hindrance that cut him off from everything that he'd been able to do before he was confined to it. It was a reminder of his past life and everything he had lost, so when he tried to draw it, he was full of anger and resentment, and eventually threw his pencil down in frustration, declaring that he couldn't do it.

Instead of giving up on him, his teacher took the wheelchair, turned it upside down and told him to try again, but don't draw it as a whole. See the individual shapes and draw those. Focus on one shape at a time. So the young man did. He drew what he could see - circles, squares, triangles, rectangles, cylinders - and when the teacher took his piece of paper and turned it round, he had drawn a wheelchair. All because changing the perspective of the subject and breaking it down into basic shapes had made his brain approach the task differently. So if you're ever stuck on something and you don't know how to move forward, or do what needs to be done, try looking at it from a different angle. It could be literal, like turning the chair upside down, or it could be figurative, like seeing a circle instead of a wheel, a tube instead of a handle, that sort of thing. Change the perspective and you might just surprise yourself.

Thanks for sharing with us, Morgana--and for making us continue to swoon over Alex!

And Maggie!

And Lena!

And...

#Supergirl #Fan Art #Finish the Fic #Sanvers #SuperCorp #Creativity #Getting Unstuck

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reds-self-ships · 3 months

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Sketch: The First Draft

Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

CHAPTER 3: Balance and Flow

"One hot dog for one hero, extra ketchup."

"Thanks. It's not often there's food available at this time of night."

"Yeah, with heroes like you and Batman around, there's more people around at night time these days. Business is booming."

"Good to hear. Well, I won't keep the other folks queuing. Keep the change."

"Give my regards to the big guy, will ya?"

Nightwing swung off into the distance before settling onto rooftop to allow himself five minutes to eat something. It wasn't often there was a break on nights like these, and it was even less often that he had a chance to have a snack.

He opened his mouth wide, ready to chow down, before the communicator beeped in his ear.

"Nightwing," he answered.

"Are you busy?" asked Batman.

"Nope - all quiet around here tonight. Why, what's up?"

"I need you to go and meet a detective for me, Detective Johnson from the GCPD's Organised Crime division, he says he has a lead on Penguin."

"What's he been up to recently?"

"Smuggling in and selling weapons to Maroni and Falcone. If we get him, we can stop an all-out gang war before it even has the chance to begin. I'd go myself, but I'm trying to trace down what happened at the bank. Two Face disappeared before I had the chance to arrest him, and then Bullock said that he apparently never left Arkham. I need time to look over the scene."

"I'll head on over to the GCPD then."

"There's no rush on it for now, Nightwing. You can take the time to enjoy your hot dog."

"Sure I—hey, how did you know?"

"Johnson will be waiting for you. Batman out."

####

As a cold night wind blew through the alleyway, Dryden pulled the collar of his jacket up and around his nose and mouth as a makeshift mask. "Do you really need to smoke that now?"

Johnson took a long drag of his cigar before blowing a smoke ring out, watching as the blue smoke disippated into the void. "Well if I did it in my office, Gordon would take a shit-fit. The rules are a bit more relaxed whenever you're meeting up with a cape anyways."

"Well I suppose it'd be interesting at least. What's Batman like, anyway?"

"Tall. Doesn't say much. Little capacity for bullshit."

"Right. How should I address him, then? 'Batman'? 'The Batman'? 'Mr. Batman'?"

Suddenly, a voice came out of nowhere: "Just 'Nightwing' will do just fine."

As Dryden jumped backwards towards the wall, Johnson very nearly swallowed the cigar whole. "Jesus—!"

"Nope, pretty sure I'm still just Nightwing," smirked the hero, now standing just a few feet in front of the detective and the sketch artist.

Johnson turned to Dryden. "I forgot to mention, they have a habit of doing that. Catches you off-guard and nearly gives you a heart attack." He straightened out his coat. "It's worse when they disappear when you're in the middle of talking to them and they make you look like something that wandered out of Arkham. Oh yeah, any update about that bank robbery?"

"Batman's looking into it, so I'm filling in for the moment." He leaned against the side of one of the spare patrol cars as though he owned the damn thing. "New guy, too, huh?"

"Yeah, Ethan Dryden - rookie cop and sketch artist, working the case with me til he gets to know the ropes."

"Nice to meet you."

Dryden only managed to squeak out: "N-Nice to meet you, too."

"I hear you guys have something for me?"

"Yeah, we got a good tip. Some abuela with too much spare time on her hands called in saying that she saw some suspicious behaviour, some guy meeting some other guy in a car, exchanging a suitcase of cash. Thought the description matched The Penguin, got Dryden to draw up the description and it's a perfect match for Cobblepot himself."

Johnson handed the hero a faded-looking manila folder with the case notes, which included a photocopy of the drawing that had been made of Mrs. Guerrera's description.

"Yeah, I'm a Metropolis guy myself, so I'm still reading up on all the bad guys like The Penguin or Harley Quinn or Condiment King."

"Well, for a guy who's never read anything on The Penguin, you sure did a good job drawing him," said Nightwing, opening the folder. "It's like you drew it from a photo of him."

"Really? Thanks. I draw a lot in my spare time, too, so..."

"Well if I ever get more than five minutes, you're welcome to draw me, depends on how busy my diary is. Speaking of, I'd better get going. I'll have a look around Penguin's place and see what I can dig up, you can do what you can in the meantime."

"Will do, Nightwing. And tell the Bat—Goddammit!"

As Dryden snapped back into reality, he looked to where Nightwing, in his tight-fitting costume, had been standing just a few moments ago. He'd vanished as quickly and as silently as he had initially arrived.

"Every time. That gets me goddamn time."

"...Yeah..." is all that Dryden said.

#s/i: sketch #otp: red protector #the gay gay homosexual gay chapter #self insert fic #self insert #self shipping #fic

0 notes

nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Ayato Sakamaki- My Only Human

HEY HEY!!

ANON ASKS

Can I make a request from your x -rated prompts. 36, 40, 57 , With Ayato Sakamaki. >.< if you can.

Idea: Maybe the reader, catches a student at the night school flirting and touching him, but when she thought he would shove her off, he doesn't. She gets super mad at him and doesnt talk to him the rest of the day until he comes in her room after school demanding to the what the readers problem is, and it leads to some rough sexy time??

If you cant thats fine >.<

If YoU CaN’t ThAt’s FiNe, PSSSSHH I GOT THIS

36- That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy.

40- How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me!

57- Fuck! You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!!!

Leggo!!

...

“Yui, question.” you walked through the halls with your favorite adoptive-cousin.

“Y/N, Answer!” she giggled in reply. “What’s up?”

“I needed help! Me and this math thing is not a thing.” you glared down at your folder.

“18, 42, 6.9 and X=17.” she instantly filled in the blanks to the questions you hadn’t answered.

“Have I ever told you I loved you?” you faked crying.

“Only always.” she shrugged. “I see the boys beat us here.” she mused, noticing the Sakamaki AND the Mukami brothers in the respective groups by the lockers, right across from each-other.

“Always beating us here, but never offering to drop us off...assholes.”

“Aren’t you the one insisting on Ayato and you arriving at different times?” she raised a brow as you two slowed down in pace.

“I told it it would be better if I arrived a little bit after him after his gaggling fans dispersed.” you half-shrugged. “The last thing I need are his fangirls trying me.” you rolled your eyes.

“Like that girl flirting with Ayato?”

“Exactly...Wait WHAT?”

Yui pointed in the direction of the Sakamaki brothers. A girl was standing in front of him. Holding her books to her chest with one hand while twirling strands of her hair in another.

“Julia.” you growled. “She always does this!” you motioned to how ridiculous it was that she always flirted with one of the Sakamaki brothers. Especially the one that was TAKEN!

“Ayato won’t let her even touch him!” Yui tried to console you.

“You know what, you’re right.” you smiled a little. Everyone knew you two were an item. She wouldn’t dare.

“He loves you and he wouldn’t let her-”

You two watched as Ayato put on a flirtatious smile, crossing his arms in amusement as he leaned against the lockers.

“Maybe he won’t even entertain-”

Julia trailed a finger up his arm, laughing like a hyena.

“Maybe he’ll embarrass her?”

You watched as he took her hand, raised it to his mouth and gave her knuckles a short peck.

“Maybe-”

“Yui I love you, but I’ma need you to stop talking.” your voice kinda cracked.

You had transferred from day school to night school for him. You had transferred SCHOOLS for him. You dealt with the burden of having to take care of a human girl who was allergic to her own skin (you loved Yui to bits, but damnit if she didn’t get you into trouble all the time) on some days along with dealing with a bunch of perverted, self-important, assholes for him...so why..WHY was he responding to Julia....like he was single.

“I’m going class.” you grumbled. “See you later.”

“Y/N WAIT!”

...(Meanwhile)

Ayato needed to pass his English Lit. Class project, so of course when that Julia girl offered to type his report for him, he couldn’t say no. He had to pretend he wasn’t disgusted by her if he was going to remain in the top 5% of people with an actual brain. Fuck being like the other students.

“Y/N WAIT!”

“That sounded like Yui.” Reiji commented. They were surprised to see you bolted down the hallway at full speed with Yui on your tail. She skid to a stop to glare at Ayato.

“You’ve really done it this time.” was all she said before she ran off. “Y/N!! COME BACK!”

“Smooth move, moron.” Yuma called from the other side. “Looks like I get to play knight in shining armor.” he winked.

“Ayato~” Julia got his attention, “make sure to meet me in the library so I can give you your essay.”

“Yeah, sure whatever.” Ayato watched at Yui chased you down the hall.

... (Lunchtime/Free Period)

You sat in the courtyard, sadly staring at a sketchbook page You liked to paint or draw school life in the quad. You had started with a sketch of the Sakamaki brothers, but it didn’t feel right.

You’d probably get in trouble, but you just had to draw Yuma Mukami who was sitting by the fountain. You looked up every so often, hoping he didn’t see you.

“Y/N!” You heard. You turned your head to the side to see Ayato sitting with his brothers. “COME OVER HERE.”

Wordlessly, you grabbed your sketchbook...only to walk to the other side of the quad. You sat at another table, focusing back on your artwork.

“Hey...”A shadow was cast over your work.

“Do you mind?” you grumbled. “You’re blocking my light source.”

“Hm, I was just thinking you’d wanna see the reference up close.”

Your head darted up to see Yuma, standing in front of you. “May I sit.”

“Do whatever you want.” you grumbled. “I don’t care.”

Ayato watched from the other side of the court yard as that smug playful bastard took your sketchbook from in front of you and began flipping through it. Why hadn’t you sat with him today?? That Mukami dickwad had better not touch you.

He watched as Yuma flirted with you, and thankfully you didn’t seem to fall for his charms. Though that half smile you gave when he gave you a flower that had been growing nearby was enough to make him angry.

“AYATOOOO~” Julia practically threw herself into the spot where you usually sat when you sat with him. “I finished your report!”

“Great. Sure, whatever.” he glared potholes at Yuma.

“So...do you wanna eat lunch together?”

“That’s nice, Maria.”

“It’s Julia...”

“Sure whatever.”

(Meanwhile)

“There’s that smile.” he winked as you looked at the flower.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Also, next time you draw me...let’s have it be a nude painting huh?” He winked, getting up.

“Gross.” you scoffed, standing up yourself. “See you in Biology.” you cringed.

“Y/N!” you heard Ayato’s voice call again. Just ignore him...(Read more below the break)

... (Smut warning)

When you got home, you locked yourself in your room. You had told Yui to not bother trying to make you feel better, because it wouldn’t work. You had just finished your homework when-

“Y/N! LET ME IN!” Ayato angrily knocked at the door. When he didn’t hear anything back, he decided that the window would have to suffice. “FINE! YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE.”

“Oh shit!” you began to run towards the window, hoping to shut it when Ayato practically appeared out of nowhere with a frown on his face.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” he glowered. When you didn’t answer, he grew more agitated. “Y/N, Don’t make me ask again.” Still nothing. “Y/N, You have three seconds to tell me-”

“Why don’t you ask Julia!” you finally snapped. “You sure seem to like flirting with HER.”

“What? I’d never flirt with that disgusting-”

“SO KISSING HER HAND THIS MORNING WASN’T FLIRTING! Yui and I saw you! She touched your arm and you didn’t even move!” you accused.

“Y/N, let me explain!”

“YOU DON’T NEED TO! You don’t love me anymore!” you pointed. “So go be with her! Go flirt with her! Go and spend time with her because that all you seemed to be interested in doing today!”

Ayato gasped, he finally realized what Yui had been talking about when she said ‘You really done it this time.’ He hadn’t even realized it, but he had been busy with Julia all day that by the time he got free time. He thought-

“You gonna let me talk now, Human?” he used the pet-name he coined for you. “I don’t love Julia. And I wasn’t flirting with her because I don’t love you.”

“Huh?”

“She was doing my English Lit. paper and I had to make her think she was worth my time.” he explained. “She had to think I was actually interested in her or else she’d make a scene. She knew what this exchange was. A litle bit of attention and that A+ was as good as mine. I passed by the way.” he winked.

“S-so, you don’t love her?” you wiped your eyes.

“Of course not! How many times have I told you that my heart only belongs to you?” He asked. “Idiot.” he shook his head with an amused smile. “As if that plain, lowly human could ever compare to my own personal descendant of the goddeses that made this wicked world.” he bit his lip.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was running out of time. I would have told you, had you sat with me at lunch today.” he rolled his eyes. “...Y/N, please accept my deepest apology. I wouldn’t hurt you...unless you asked.” he wiggled his eyebrows at the last part. “Now come here.”

He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, taking you in a long drawn out kiss. He purposefully moaned in your mouth, laughing maniacally through each peck.

“Me, and that disgusting excuse- how laughable.” he began kissing down your neck. “I guess I’ll have to show you that you’re mine and will only ever be mine.”

“Ayato~” you whimpered.

“Shush.” he kissed you again. “ Fuck! “ he kept kissing your lips “You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours. .” He backed you up towards the bed. “Usually I’d ask you to suck my dick first, but I want everything to be about you.” he made you sit down. “Aww, you didn’t take off your uniform, so I can take your panties off right now.” he smirked.

Had he lost his mind?!?

“Have you lost your mind?!?” your legs shook as your panties were discarded who knew where.

“I’ve always wanted to defile you while you were wearing it, so you can think of me every single time you put it on. Mmmmff-” he buried his head between your legs, exploring your depths with his tongue.

You took in a sharp breath, instantly arching your back in his favor. Good, that was his invitation to go forward. “Y/N, you taste so fucking good-” he laughed gleefully. “I wanna bite your clit and taste the blood right from your naughty place.” he moaned, lashing his tongue against your heat.

“Ayato, It feels so-” you mewled. “M-more, please?”

Hearing this, he went feral. He dug his nails into your thighs, sucking harshly at your slit. You had to hold the back of his head to stay vertical, your hands tangled through his lush hair.

“ That’s it, grab my hair. Yank it, pull me back into your pussy-mmm. “ he couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was so hungry that not even a snide comment could leave his lips while he tasted you. He’d never do this with anyone else, love anyone else. He was having too much fun worshipping his beautiful human.

“Ayato- I’m gonna c-cu-”

“Cum. Let me taste you. Let me feel it against me, let me drive my fangs into your thighs while you cum so you can feel what true ecstasy feels like.”

You felt yourself unravel, only to feel those fangs dig into your left thigh. “Ungh! Ayato!!” you cried.

“Fuck, Y/N.” he lapped up your blood. “It tastes even better when you’re cumming.” he bit his lip. “I wanna feel you wrap around me.” he crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a long, messy kiss.

You were surprised when he moved you two so you were straddling him. “Undo my jeans, take what’s yours, Y/N.” he bit his lips.

You shyly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled then down along with his boxers. You were welcomed by a very obvious hardon.

His cock slapped against his stomach as it was set free.

“C-can I, touch?”

“It’s yours.” he winked. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You began stroking him, coaxing a low satisfied moan from your lover. You wanted to be mean and leave him but who were you kidding, you both needed it.

“Is it too forward to ask you to ride my cock?” he asked, biting his lip. “Please?”

He caressed your thighs, coaxing you to slip his dick along the perimeter of your slit. You met his eyes, but could only shyly look away.

“Oh Goooodd-” he sucked in air as his dick slipped inside. You shy rocked your hips, coaxing another moan out of him. His hands rested on your thighs. “Shit, Y/N, Why are you so fucking- Ungh...Shit I can’t take much more.” he thrusted his hips upwards.

A small gasp hitched in your throat, followed by many as he thrust himself in and out of you. You wanted some sort of control too, so you rolled your hips even more against him. “Shit. Ayato~” you moaned. “Fuuuh-”

“Why would I want anyone else when you’re here with me.” he spoke. “Why would I NEED anyone else!” he growled. “You’re mine! I’m Yours, that’s how to fuck it should be!” he seethed. “Fuck your pussy feels so good.”

He was absolutely right, you didn’t think even washing this uniform would get his essence out of it.

“Shit!!” Ayato threw his head back, moaning like you had never seen him moan before. You didn’t even think he could even make such a face. “Y/N!!! “ he cried. “I fucking love you so much, Fuck, S-shit!! Fuck say it back, please.”

“Ayato,” you felt his cock twitch inside. “I love you-haah-aah!”

“ How do you ride me so good? God damn, you’re gonna break me! “ he cried, digging his nails into your thighs. “Fuck Y/N this is what you to do me!!”

You both were loud, sensitive, and on the brinK of breaking.

“I’m gonna CU---AAAHH FUUCCK!” you felt his warmth spill inside you. You were taken aback by him wrapped a hand around your neck and pulling you down to kiss you abruptly. He moaned loudly into your mouth, crying in euphoria as he bottomed out inside your wetness.

“Y/N!” he cried once more. “Fuck I love you.” his face twisted in pleasure, those usually stern eyebrows going soft. “I fucking love you. My human, My only human~.” he hugged you close.

“Ayato~” you replied just as wantonly. “I love you.” you whimpered.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for ignoring me today, now it’s my turn to get revenge.” you heard his breathless laugh. “Shall we continue?”

(I.....AM SO SORRY FOR THIS)

810 notes · View notes

xxlost-cityxx · 3 years

Text

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: Rough anal sex, virgin Katsuki Bakugou, slight choking, slight piss kink/bladder control, brief spanking, rimming, bottom Katsuki, dom Kirishima, begging, crying, anal fingering, degredation and praise

I posted this on Ao3 literally last night, so enjoy.

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

Stupid fucking Kirishima with his stupid fucking face and stupid fucking body-

Again. Once-a-fucking-gain. Katsuki was hard at work. Kirishima had simply aided Katsuki in a surprisingly powerful villain attack- even though everyone knew Dynamight had it under control. But Eijirou's help...made it easier to take down the villain- NOT that Katsuki needed his help in the first place.

The villain landed a hit on Katsuki and he flew into a pile of concrete and wooden rubble, and the next thing he saw was Red Riot, unhardened, nearly body slamming the guy into a wall, digging his forearm and elbow into his neck and his knee between his legs. It looked painful for the villain and it looked like Ejirou was definitely holding back from completely crushing the dude's balls...But. The way Kirishima was looking at the guy, a stone cold face, a deadly glare he hasn't seen since the last time Eijirou had heard Monama talk back in U.A. He was mad. And Gods if that sight didn't make him pop a boner-

So now here he was. Virgin Katsuki pretending he was too good to be around all his druken friends who were surely getting laid tonight, meanwhile, all Katuski would do tonight is ride his dildo until the sun came up.

Bakugou couldn't jack off. It wasn't really a fact, but he's pretty sure that any man would avoid jacking off with even a small risk that you might blow your own dick off, especially if you were gay. Gods bless the prostate. And really, it takes forever to cum riding 6 inches of colored silicone without touching your dick, but the point was, it got the job done and no one knew his secret to having 'thunder thighs' or some shit. He still remembers the first interveiwer who asked about his leg day routine, stating that he had entranced everyone with his thighs or some shit. He never thought he'd be referred to as 'thick' or whatever it was.

He took another shot of vodka, ignoring the pestering jealousy as he watched Kirishima dance with Denki. It was obviously platonic, not only did they repeatedly state in multible interviews that they were 'strictly bromance' and that they liked fucking with their fans's minds, Denki was dating Dead Eyes and Earphones.

Bakugou wasn't even a little tipsy really, it took a lot to get him drunk. It took a lot to get any of them drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying. But Bakugou wasn't going to go home drunk and have drunken masturbation for 5 hours, never was his thing. So he'd stick to being sober for tonight.

He growled as Kirishima's hand was on Denki's hip, Kaminari's back against Eijirou's chest. The much smaller blonde wiggled his hips against Kirishima's surely soft dick. Sero and Mina were laughing their asses off from their seats, Denki smirking and trying to be as dramatic and intimate as he could, a few phones recording them.

Katsuki growled to himself, slamming the shot glass on the bar top so hard it slightly cracked. He stood up and grabbed his coat, oblivious to how red eyes quickly switched from watching the smiling and laughing faces of his friends to laser focused on the ash blonde in a split second.

As Katsuki left the bar, he grumbled to himself until he was outside his place.

An hour later, he was panting. It felt like his entire body was covered in lube by the time he was bouncing on the silicone properly. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the head bump into his prostate with practiced movements, usually a feeling that would have him gasping and shuttering, but he wanted this cock to be Kirishima's. He was sick and tired of riding an inanimate object that didn't praise him, didn't make noise, didn't cum. He wanted to be pinned and fucked so hard he would have to call off work the next day.

He whimpered as his toned thighs easily let him travel up and down the silicone. Silicone. He couldn't even get himself hard, he was soft, even with his ass stuffed and his prostate stimulated, he was soft. There wasn't a twitch, and even his prostate felt dull.

He groaned to himself, sliding off the dildo and reaching for his phone. He quickly unlocked it and pulled up his gallery with his singular 'clean' finger, quickly going to his hidden folder and clicking on the picture that always got him hard. Kirishima did a photoshoot nearly 6 months ago, he was in a kimono that was completely opened with white pants that banded to his stomach. He stared at Katsuki through the picture, a belt in his big, tanned hand. He already felt his cock harden slightly, a small frown painting his face as that was like a weak attempt at mimicking his usual reaction to the picture.

He slid back on the dildo propping his phone against his wall and started bouncing. He imagined those toned hands sliding against his back, barely touching him, and it was almost like he could feel it, his body twitching with slight interest. He imagined his voice, telling him to ride the dildo, training his hole for what was surely a monster cock, Eijirou too nice to let Katsuki destroy himself on his cock right off the bat...unless… What if he would just fuck him? And that got his reaction. His dick was fully hard now, but it wasn't aching with need like usual.

What if Eijirou would slam into him as soon as the dildo was out? Would he let Katsuki adjust, or would he pound him into oblivion with the raw power his body held?

He let out a moan, but the pleasure didn't last long as his phone started ringing. He nearly flinched, scowling at his phone for ruining what he worked hard for, but his face sofened as it was Kirishima calling him.

His mouth went dry, his eyes slightly wide. He doesn't know what really compelled him to answer the phone, but as Kirishima's voice rang through the other end, he couldn't help but bite his lip and shift on the dildo. "W-What do you need, Dumbass?" He asked, cursing himself for starting his sentence off weak. "Haha- Hey, Kat! I just wanted to made sure you were okay. You hit that rubble pretty hard today, and you left earlier than usual." His cheery, sober, voice said. Katsuki closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips up the dildo, the familiar arousal burning in his stomach, finally.

He stifled a whimper, "M' fine, Shitty Hair…." He pretended to grumble out, desperate to think of something to keep him on the line as long as possible. "That's great! I was a little worried, y'know. Didn't want to lose the manliest man I've even known since highschool!" He said, and Bakugou's heart did a mixture of dropping and fluttering. He felt guilty for trying to get off to his voice, clearly ignorant and innocent, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that he didn't refer to him as his best friend which would usually put him down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, gasping as he accidentally his his prostate. He dropping the phone, slapping a hand over his face. "Katsuki!? What was that?" Kirishima urgently called. Bakugou's dick was on fire, his body was alight with arousal, if only Kirishima knew.

He hesitantly picked up the phone. "I'm f-fine~ Shitty Hair!" He replied, cursing himself for not stopping himself from slowly bouncing on the dildo again.

Silence.

He slightly wondered if he accidentally hung up, but there was still static. "I'm not stupid, Katsuki." Kirishima suddenly said. Bakugou froze. His voice was lower but soft, almost like he was hesitant to say it in the first place. "W-..What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, not daring to move on the dildo, even though he wanted to take advantage of Kirishima's tone so fucking bad.

"Are you getting off right now?" Kirishima asked, Bakugou suddenly became aware of how slick and schelchy the lube was. Bakugou's throat closed up, his mouth too dry to produce words. "Fuck…" Kirishima whispered, the sound making Bakugou's eyes widen. "Are you trying to fuck with me…?" He asked, but Bakugou wasn't deaf to the distant sound of Kirishima nearly break checking himself.

Bakugou whimpered quietly, but a part of him prayed that Kirishima heard him, and as his breath hitched over the phone, he knew he did.

"Fuck-" Kirishima groaned. Bakugou gasped at the sound, bouncing on the plastic lightly once again, the lewd noises surely reaching the phone. "C-Come over." Bakugou's stern voice said, once again sounding weak in the beginning. "Already on my way." Kirishima nearly whispered back.

Bakugou's body was on fire, every part of him was twitching. The call ended only a minute ago, and suddenly Bakugou's night was going to change who he was. He was hard, nervous, excited but horny above all else. As soon as he heard his front door open and nearly slam shut, Bakugou gasped, trying to let out his nerves. Heavy, fast footsteps made their way down his halls, and suddenly Bakugou was conscious about how he should present himself.

He didn't have time, and so he let himself be cocky, leaning forward on his hands, arching his back and rolling his hips on the silicone gracefully, and it probably looked a little too good based on how smooth the action felt. But he didn't have room for his usual pride, Kirishima was stuck in the doorway with his mouth slightly open and wide eyes. Bakugou looked at him in the mirror to his side, and his eyes were staring at him.

"Holy fuck.." He groaned, his hand slowly moving to his crotch, but he gripped the inside of his thigh. Mid. Thigh.

Bakugou's eyes widened as he finally had the rough sketch of Eijirou's cock in his mind, and fuck he wanted to go stupid with cock.

"C'mon…" Bakugou nearly whimpered, rolling his hips a little more dramatically. Kirishima groaned in the doorway, slowly walking into the room, Bakugou's position giving him the perfect view of his pink, glistening and stretched hole swallowing the silicone easily, the dildo's girth seemed pathetic to what Eijirou knew he had.

Eijirou knelt down behind him, and as Katsuki smiled, expecting him to caress his body, that didn't happen.

Kirishima quickly wrapped his hand around the smaller man's throat, yanking him back to meet his still clothed chest. Bakugou wheezed at the unexpected and sudden movement, but fuck if his own cock didn't love it already.

"Riding this pathetic dildo while I was out there concerned about you, hm?" He darkly whispered, his finger tips lightly digging into his neck. Bakugou whimpered, wiggling his hips back, trying to get a feel for the man's clothed cock for himself. Kirishima sighed, almost in disappointment. "Tell me.. What were you thinking about? Riding this pathetic excuse of a dildo." He asked, talking right into Bakugou's ear. Bakugou let out a stuttering breath, squirming in Kirishima's sturdy grip.

"Tell me."

Bakugou gasped at his dark tone paired with his hand gripping his entire neck roughly. He wasn't used to feeling so small compared to someone else, but fuck he was loving it.

"Y-You…" Bakugou gasped out as Kirishima loosened his grip just enough. "What about me..?" He asked, only slightly softer.

Katsuki's cock was aching, begging for the same attention Eijirou was giving his throat. "H-How hard you would fuck me- How big your cock is…" Bakugou finally admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kirishima hummed in his ear, his hand moving to the back of Bakugou's neck instead and pulling him up to his feet. Bakugou let out a guttural moan as he was ripped off the dildo still suctioned to the floor.

Kirishima hummed, noting how the dildo really did look like a pathetic version of himself.

Kirishima dragged Bakugou to his bed, glaring at the blonde when he tried to move. He pulled off his own shirt and pants quickly before joining him on the bed. Bakugou's eyes quickly widened at the sight, his mouth slightly open and his face slightly filled with fear and shock, but quickly replaced with determination. "Better fucking prep me, asshole." Bakugou spit out, laying on his back.

He didn't expect Kirishima's rough nature to continue though. Eijirou glared at Bakugou before swiftly gripping his neck and pinning him further into the mattress. "Excuse you? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now? Order me around again, I fucking dare you." Kirishima spit out a look of fake disgust on his face. Bakugou was shocked by the moan that left him, more than happy with his decisions from tonight, at least so far.

He yelped as Kirishima's hand left his neck and grabbed his hips instead. Kirishima pulled his ass into the air, Bakugou's legs spreading automatically, falling to almost meet his chest. "W-What are you gonna do?" Bakugou asked, eyes wide with arousal. "None of your fucking buisness." Kirishima spit out, digging his thumbs into the stretched pink muscle. Bakugou gasped as Eijirou pulled his rim apart, testing just how stretched he was.

Bakugou saw his cock when he took off his pants, the way it weighed itself down, how his fingertips would definetly have trouble touching each other, and the fucking length- he wondered if Kirishima would actually show through his stomach…

As Kirishima added a finger to stretch and play with his rim, he decided to take down the roughness, only for a couple seconds though. "Use the traffic light system, okay?" He almost ordered, wanting to keep the same sexual energy but also let Bakugou know there was a safe way out. Bakugou's breath stuttered and he quickly nodded, having read enough fanfiction about being fucked by Kirishima and having done enough research to know something as simple as the traffic light system, and he's so fucking green.

Bakugou didn't expect a tongue to enter him though.

Bakugou nearly shouted, gripping at the sheets before pathetically trying to reach for the other man's head. "N-No!" Bakugou shouted, but it was moan filled and an empty request. Kirishima's eyes shifted to Bakugou, lapping his tongue over the blonde's rim before softly shoving it inside as far as he could.

Bakugou was squirming around at the foregin feeling, gasping every time he moved his tongue, it felt so warm, soft and perfectly wet.

Kirishima took his mouth away, licking his lips as he roughly slammed 3 fingers into the unsuspecting hole. He quickly spread them as far as he could, Bakugou's gasp turning into a pained moan. As Kirishima softly stroked his slightly pulsing insides, Bakugou was panting with wide eyes. "Beg." Kirishima ordered darkly, jamming his fingers into Bakugou as far as he could, hitting his prostate hard.

Bakugou moaned out, caving in on himself because of how Kirishima held his ass up. But he wouldn't beg.

After a few seconds of soft finger thrusting and no begging, Kirishima picked up the pace, slipping one of his fingers out, knowing Katsuki won't like the lack of fullness anymore. He jams his fingers into his prostate every time, Bakugou's eyes nearly crossing as he tries to arch his back but just keeps caving in on himself.

"Fucking. Beg." "F-Fuck you.." Bakugou responds, his voice shakey, the defiance fake and fragile. Kirishima's eyes narrow, a frown forming on his lips. "Fine." He replies, shifting one hand to Bakugou's abdomen and pressing, pleased with the slight fullness under a specific layer of muscle. He continued to slam into his g-spot, Bakugou's eyes widening and getting slightly watery. "W-Wait-!" Bakugou moaned out loud, slight panic coating his oh so beautiful face. The tip of his penis kept rubbing against Kirishima's arm, and he knew so much stimulation was working against him. He was either going to beg or piss himself.

"S-Stop! Too much- T-Too fucking much! I have to go you f-fuckkk-ing lunatic!" He moaned out, grabbing at Kirishima's arms. "Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, or you're going to piss yourself, get your clean sheets dirty, all unsatisfied and embarrassed. Poor little Katsuki couldn't hold his little blatter while I fucked you with my fingers." Eijirou cooed, tiliting his head a little before bending down and licking along the back of his thigh to the crease of his ass. He travels up to his sack and licks him firmly with the flat of his tongue.

Katsuki screams.

His clawing becomes frantic, and he's sure he's sobbing, but he's no match for even Kirishima's strength. "N-No! Ei- Stop! I-I'm gonna pee!" Katsuki cries, thrashing around as much as he can. But as Eijirou gently sucks in one of his balls, his resolve snaps. "Please! Please, please, please!" Katsuki finally cries, Eijirou's fingers slowing down and his hand letting up on his blatter. He moves away from Katsuki's cock and smirks down at the red and teary face below him.

"Please what?" He asks, Bakugou's eyes widening. "P...Please… Please fuck me… I want you to fuck me with your fat cock!" He cries, tears falling from his eyes.

Eijirou sighs, content with his work. "Good boy~" He coos, swiftly plunging 2 more fingers inside and spreading them. Katsuki gasps, looking up at Kirishima who refuses to look away from his face.

As Kirishima slowly pulls out, he bends over and grabs the lube from the floor, popping open the cap and pouring it into Katsuki. He flinches and wines at how cold it is, and Eijirou just travels the bottle to his cock, rubbing his hand over it and coating everything with lube.

As he sloppily closes the bottle, he moves Katsuki onto his stomach, Bakugou groaning as he was finally out of that horrid position.

Kirishima places the tip at his entrance, kissing Bakugou's nape, and right as Bakugou prepares for a dreadfully slow slide. Kirishima slams into the hilt. Bakugou's eyes shoot wide and his thrusted up further into the bed with the force, his mouth dropping open as a horrid moan filled scream leaves him.

This is it….he's not a virgin anymore…

He feels nothing but cock, painfully perfect cock that makes it hard to breathe.

Kirishima groans at the tight feeling, his body shaking as he convinces himself not to fuck Katsuki into oblivion.

Eijirou starts off slow, dragging his cock out halfway before pressing in again, the pace making them both groan. God, Katsuki's back tooks so fucking pretty all arched like that, delicate but strong all in one. He always knew Bakugou would look so pretty with his face burried in sheets, his ass high in the air and filled with his cock.

He feels himself slipping, his thrusts slipping into violent, angry lust every so often before he catches himself quickly.

But as Katsuki's sweet moans keep reaching his ears, he finally gives in, grabbing Katsuki's wrists and pulling them back, lifting Katsuki off the bed and using his wrists as leverage, pulling his weak body back onto his cock as he slams his hips into the man's ass.

"Holy fucking shit~" Bakugou's voice calls out as Kirishima's thrusts get rougher, violent. His voice bounced with the thrusts, his moans cutting each other off as Kirishima no longer cares about hitting the man's prostate, pounding into him purely for selfish pleasure Bakugou didn't know he was capable of.

"Fucking pathetic cocksleeve- Such a fucking whore for dick, huh? You fucking-love! -taking my fat cock like this!" Kirishima spits out, pulling on Katsuki's wrists harder. Bakugou's eyes are crossing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

'Ruining me-'

"Not a single thought going through that head of yours, huh? Just taking my cock so good like this, loving how I ruin every other cock out there for you! Only my cock can make you cum, can make you feel so fucking good!" "Y-Yes~" Bakugou's broken voice cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks.

The bed is slamming into the wall so hard the pictures are rattling, and Bakugou can't register anything but cock, pleasure, Kirishima and cumming.

"So fucking good, so~ fUCKing go-od~" Bakugou sobs, not caring of the searing pain in his arms and shoulder blades. But as Kirishima angles his hips, he starts slamming into Bakugou's prostate, and as Bakugou tries to arch in Kirishima's hold, he cums. He clamps around his cock so hard Kirishima moans, letting go of Katsuki's arms and letting him fall face first into the bed as his entire body rocks with unbroken thrusts, shaking with the ongoing orgasm that never seems to end. Eijirou hears the sobbing and groans with pleasure, swinging his hand down to Bakugou's ass, growling as he watches the muscle and fat ripple with the perfect impact.

Kirishima puts his hands in the curve of Katsuki's spine, pressing him down and shifting forward, slightly sitting back on his calves as he jackhammers into Bakugou's swollen, red and oh so fucking soft boy cunt.

Katsuki is screaming but it's so distant to Eijirou, all he can hear is the squelching of his ass and all he can think of is cumming.

"FUCK- EIJIROU~" Katsuki screams, sobbing and begging for him to slow down, not to thrust so hard, not to be so brutal. He can't feel his limbs, all he can feel is the overstimulation as his body is pounded so hard he inches forward on his bed, only to be pulled back just as quickly. He feels like a cocksleeve because he is one.

Kirishima groans, finally slamming into Katsuki with all he has, his cock pulsing inside Bakugou almost like a slow vibrator. As Kirishima completely fills Katsuki's intestines with cum, his own cock spurts out a pathetic amount of it's own cum, his balls drawing up tight and his cock twitching with painful interest.

Kirishima and Bakugou are panting, and as Eijirou gives another overstimulated thrust for good measure, the both moan out.

"F-Fuck…." Kirishima groans, Katsuki panting into the sheets with wide, tired eyes.

He really did ruin Katsuki's chances at fucking anyone else. There's no way he can go back to toys, and there's no way he can fuck anyone else.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines #kirishima #kirishima eijiro #kiribaku #kiribaku thirst #kiribaku smut #mha smut #mha thirst #bnha smut #bnha thirsts #kirishima thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #mha oneshot #smut #aged up

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shirecorn · 3 years

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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.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

good doctor kreizler ch. 2: book of revelations

summary ↠ sequel to good doctor kreizler // the case of the murdered boys continues, and you're suddenly overcome with terrible emotions for seemingly no reason. but laszlo knows why. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 3.3k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of menstruation, nausea, and pregnancy, descriptions of violence against children (yknow how the alienist works lmao) a/n ↠ enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You sighed heavily and pressed your palm to your diaphragm. Your corset was causing more discomfort than usual, but you could look past it. There were deeds that needed to be done. You stood up from your chair and moved to the telephone on the wall, and you caught the side-long glance that an officer gave you. Perhaps it was some sort of confidence that being with Laszlo gave you, but you found yourself saying, “Can I help you, sir?”

“D’ya need help with that telephone?” the man asked, puffing at a cigarette. The smell of it made you feel ill, especially the way he blew it nearly directly at you. “It can be awfully difficult for a lady.”

You gave him a plantative smile, and you said, “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Really,” you said, taking up the end of the telephone. “I can do it.”

The man took a step closer, and he placed a hand on your waist. “You think, because you work for the police, you can be a bitch?” he hissed. “If a gentleman offers you help, you take it.”

The door to the room swung open, and you turned to see your lover there, wearing your favorite emerald-green suit and black coat. Laszlo was a gift from the gods, for sure. He made sure you knew that you were worthy of what you were given in the world, and he strived to give you more. Every time he presented you with a new dress or necklace, you always kissed him to show your gratitude, but reminded him that such gifts were not necessary. “You’re the only thing I ask for,” you would remind him. You knew that the thought of it troubled the good doctor, that he was worried that he wasn’t enough, but, every night, you kissed his shoulder and arm and assured him that he was more than what you deserved. You trusted Laszlo with your body, soul, mind, and heart, and he did the same of you.

Which is why you were thankful for the little fibs he would tell every so often to save face. “I would greatly appreciate it if you removed your hand from my wife,” Laszlo said firmly, his accent stronger than usual; his German gravel was intimidating to those who only knew him from stories in the newspaper. “New York’s finest and all…”

The officer took a step back from you, and Laszlo moved closer to you. “What do I owe this visit, sweetheart?” you asked, pressing your hands to his chest. Laszlo bent down and swiped his lips along your cheek, and you felt yourself grow warm at his unusual display of public affection.

“You left a file at home,” Laszlo said. “I remember you talking about transcribing it.”

You cooed softly, and Laszlo reached into his coat and extracted the file folder for you. “You’re so good,” you told him. “What can I do to repay you? I’m sure I’m making you late to the Institute.”

Laszlo tilted his head as he thought, and he put his hand on your waist, right where the officer had put his. Laszlo was hardly a jealous man, but the moments where his mood matched his suit made you giggle. He was a world-renowned alienist, but he was truly just a teenage boy in mind and matter. “Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Laszlo said, and you groaned. “And the opera. Please, my beloved, just one night.”

“Las, I told you, I don’t like when you spend your money on me,” you grumbled. “Just, please. I’m perfectly happy taking dinner at home. In fact, I prefer it more!”

“More than Delmonico’s?” Laszlo asked. “What if I invited John and Sara and the Isaacsons?”

“No, Laszlo,” you giggled, and you pressed your thumb into the little dimple in his chin. “The problem certainly will not be solved by adding more people. Can we just stay home tonight and listen to an opera on the gramophone? We’ve both been working very hard lately, I’d just like a simple night with you.”

“A simple night,” Laszlo said softly, pulling the words around in his mouth. “My beloved, I am not a simple man.”

“Boy, that’s the truth,” you chuckled, and you moved from his grip to return to your desk. “Maybe next week, we can go to the opera. Alright?”

Laszlo chuckled lightly, and he tugged you close and laid a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you’d like, my beloved,” he told you. “When can I expect you at the Institute?”

You pulled Laszlo’s left arm up to your face and looked at his watch, ticking away at half noon, and you said, “Around three or so. Would you mind having some tea ready for when I get there? I’m feeling plain awful today.”

“What’s wrong?” Laszlo asked, and you smiled at the sudden emergence of Dr. Kreizler. While his degree wasn’t exactly in physical medicine, he always liked to be the first to examine you for maladies if they arose.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Just a bit of a stomach ache. I assume it’s nearing that time of the month for me, Las, you know how I get.”

“Of course,” Laszlo said softly. “You know, you could have just told me that’s why you didn’t want to eat at Delmonico’s tonight.”

You looked around quickly, finding the small space empty void for you and your lover, and you carefully took the furred lapel of Laszlo’s coat between your fingers and tugged him close, close enough for you to smell the lavender pastile that he liked so much. “Truly, my reason was more than that,” you whispered. “I wanted you to ravage me tonight, for as long as we both can bear.”

You almost missed the way that Laszlo’s breath hitched in his throat, but you were glad you noticed it. “It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “Increase in libido is a common side effect of menstruation.”

You hummed softly and pressed your fingers to his cheek. “I love it when you talk like that,” you said. “You’re so wonderfully smart, Las, I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed to show it.”

“I’m not,” Laszlo said. “You just choose to ignore my intelligence.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” you laughed. “You ought to be getting to the Institute. I’ll see you shortly.”

Laszlo gave you a warm smile and kissed your cheek, and you felt yourself shiver at his lips. God, you could hardly believe how much you loved him. You felt your stomach flutter, and you heaved a sigh. “I love you,” Laszlo said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you soon, my beloved.”

You fixed your jaw and swallowed down the ungodly feeling in your throat. Something was wrong, you could tell. The usual air of the parlor was not there, the cheerful if slightly remorseful lightness. Instead, the parlor was overtaken with a heady sadness that completely outweighed the macabre curiosity.

“Laslzo,” you said quickly, dropping your briefcase by the table, and you joined your lover at the window. He was smoking his pipe, something you had only ever seen him do a handful of times before, and you immediately ran your hand soothingly down his back. “What’s happened?”

“Another body,” Laszlo mumbled. “Another child.”

You bristled. “But-But I thought we had figured it out? The murderer followed Catholic holy days?”

“That was a suitable theory at the time,” Laszlo said. His gaze was fixed to the outside world through the murky glass, and you looked around the room. John was sitting at the long table, absently sketching something, and Sara was studying the chalkboard that was covered in Laszlo’s neat script. “But he’s gone off schedule, and we might as well be back where we started.”

“Not really,” you said softly. “I mean, so he jumped ahead a few days. If the body bears the same marks, if the victim is the same as the others, I don’t see why a change in date--”

“Of course you don’t,” Laszlo scoffed, and he stepped away from you.

You were stunned silent, and you watched Laszlo move back to the table with the heaps of paperwork. “What does that mean?” you asked.

“You’re not looking at the entire picture,” Laszlo said sharply. “You’re only focused on the way he changed the date, not the why. Why did he change his schedule, why is there another body weeks ahead of the next holy day? Now we have to be concerned if it’s even the same murderer. Is it a copycat murderer that hasn’t pinned down the schedule as we have? There are many moving parts to this that you don’t seem to comprehend.”

“Las, I do see that,” you countered. The way he doubted you stung your chest, but that was Laszlo. When he was angry, he lashed out. You had come to accept him, even if the words he said truly hurt. You saw Sara turn to look at you, a hint of pity in her blue eyes, and you sighed. “Look, do we have records of the new victim’s body? Perhaps that will give us insight.”

“Yes,” John said quickly, not even giving Laslzo a chance to answer and cut your feelings even deeper. Why had his admonitions hurt so much more than usual? You were afraid that, if he spoke to you like that again, you would start crying. And then they would be right, everybody would be right: a woman was too delicate to handle crimes like this. “I visited the morgue as soon as I heard. I sketched what I could manage, and took notes of everything else.”

You moved around to join John at the other side of the table, choosing to ignore Laszlo. You could feel his eyes follow you as you bent towards John to look at his sketches, and your eyes followed the charcoal lines of a young boy. Like the others, his eyes were plucked out, his throat slit, and his hand cut off, but a few errant marks on the boy’s stomach made you tilt your head. “What’s this?” you asked, gently tracing the lines with your finger. Soot of the charcoal came off on your fingertip, but you paid little attention to it.

“Our murderer made gashes in the boy’s stomach,” John said. “This one--” he pointed to a particular line, “Was deep enough to view the intestines. Four in total, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern.”

“Everything follows a pattern, John,” Laszlo said quickly. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Four…” you mumbled. “And this sketch is accurate to scale?” John nodded, and your eyes studied it for a moment longer. Four of them, two of them a bit shorter than the others. Those two were situated at the bottom of the boy’s belly, right where the V of his hip bones would be, and the one of them was at the top, just under his breastbone. The fourth, the biggest, longest, deepest, was straight down the middle, bisecting the boy’s navel.

Your vision became blurred. Your breath came in gasps, and you felt dizzy. A terrible sickness crawled up your throat, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to stop the flow of vomit. Vomit. You never vomited, not even when you had viewed past victims’ bodies in person. The smell of corpses wasn’t even enough to make you ill, but your heart quickened when you cast another glance to the sketch.

You fell into a chair besides John, and you gasped, “I think I’m gonna be sick--”

Sara came to clutch your hand in an instant, and John hurried to hide the sketch. “Las,” you mumbled. “Can you get me some water, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Laszlo said quickly. Your other hand was filled by his, and you cast a glance upwards at him. Now, instead of the tepid malice that he had had in his eyes, he had complete worry.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said. “Laszlo, watch over her. I’ll be back.”

“What happened?” Sara asked. “You started to sway and turned a ghostly pale. Did you see something?”

“J-Just those gashes,” you mumbled. “They-They looked like scars my mother had.”

“Scars?” Laszlo asked. “What do you mean?”

You sniffled, and took your hands from both grasps to wring in your lap. “I was born via Cesarean section,” you said. “M-My mother had been sick and fragile since before she was pregnant with me, and her doctor advised against natural childbirth. She had a scar right down the middle of her stomach in the same fashion as the body… A-And, when I was still in school, a doctor found a series of tumors in her ovaries. It had spread through the rest of her, but the doctor tried to combat it by removing the original tumors, and… The scars on his waist match the ones my mother had. I-I just-- Why would the murderer give this poor boy a woman’s scars?”

Laszlo bristled at this. You hardly ever mentioned your family, or him his, and he knelt down in front of you. “There’s something more than that,” he said softly. “My beloved, please speak to me. What’s troubling you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, and you gave a gasp as you tried to steady your breathing. “Sara,” you mumbled. “Can you give us a moment?”

Sara squeezed your hand and nodded, and she quickly excused herself. You waited until the door closed fully before sobbing and leaning forward to rest your head against your knees. “I’m sorry, Las,” you mumbled. “I-I just-- I can’t bear the sight of that today. I’ve felt ill all day, and now all of this, it’s far too much for me right now.”

You had nearly forgotten that you had requested tea earlier in the day, and you watched Laszlo rise from his knee and retrieve the tea cup. He quickly took note of your quivering hands, and he lifted the porcelain tea cup to your mouth. You sipped at it, hoping that it might soothe you, and you wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Laszlo, what’s wrong with me?” you sniffled. “I-I’ve never done this before, why now?”

“You already said that you feel ill,” Laszlo said carefully. “Maybe the sight of the body and the state of it was a shock to your system. Has the nausea passed?”

You shook your head quickly. The ugly feeling of it still sat in the very back of your throat, and you reached out for him. Laszlo set the tea cup aside and came to you, and you buried your face in his stomach from where you sat. Your arms circled his waist and you held him tightly, and you keened up into his hand as he began to stroke your hair.

Suddenly, Laszlo began to move with quickness, pulling you to your feet. You hardly had time to ask what he was doing before his fingers began to undo the back of your blouse. “Laszlo!” you cried. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Trust me, my beloved,” Laszlo said quickly. With his one arm tight to his body, he pulled your blouse off of you, then started at your corset. That sick feeling back came, and you reached forward and braced yourself against the table. Your head hung as you tried to control your nausea, and you whimpered, “Laszlo, what is this?”

Your lover gave a growl, one of deep frustration, and he grabbed your corset by the bottom hem and shoved it down your body, past your waist, to expose your breasts and stomach. You couldn’t help but sigh at the release of pressure on your middle, and Laszlo turned you around to see your bare skin. He knelt down in front of you and pressed his forehead against your stomach, and you watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath. You hardly understood what he was doing, but, if the half year courting him was any indication, he knew what was best. “When was the last time you menstruated?” Laszlo asked, next pressing his cheek to your bare stomach.

Your hand instinctively went to cradle his cheek, and you shrugged. “Several months ago,” you said. “I… They come and go, I suppose. Is that normal?”

“And your breasts?” Laszlo asked next, and you grimaced.

“What’re you getting at?” you asked.

“My beloved,” Laszlo said carefully, and he looked up at you from his place on the floor. His dark eyes were glistening with tears, and your heart sank and adrenaline rushed bitterly into your mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Laszlo, no, I-I’m not-- I can’t be--”

“I think you are, beloved,” Laszlo said. He stood up and shucked off his suit jacket, and he laid it across your shoulders to hide your body from the cold room. “I think that you’re pregnant, my beloved. That would explain every malady you have: the aches, the irritability, the nausea, the delicateness, the increase in libido. Pregnancy offers an explanation for all of these.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, but a smile came with them. “You…” you started, and you sent a weak punch to Laszlo’s firm chest. “You absolute bastard!”

Laszlo laughed and tugged you into him, and you hugged him tightly. Laszlo, your wonderful Las, the father of your child. “Oh, my beloved,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head. “How did I not see it before?”

“Men can tend to be blind to such things,” you said. “But I feel as if a special blockade is up for you when it concerns me.”

“I agree,” Laszlo said. His hand came up to rest against your face, and you leaned into his touch. “My dearest girl…” he hummed, and he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You pressed back, letting a smile grace your lips. “Marry me, my beloved.”

It was hardly even a question. “Of course, Las,” you said softly. “How could I say no to you? It would ruin your reputation, having a child out of wedlock.”

“Thta's true,” Laszlo shrugged. “But I think you would want to marry me regardless.”

“How dare you act as if you know what I want,” you said, but you kissed the tip of his nose anyway. “But, yes, Laszlo. I would love to marry you. Mrs. Kreizler… Is that something you ever thought you’d hear?”

“Not from you,” Laszlo chuckled. “I never thought that you would want the burdens of marriage. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that upon our first meeting.”

“How could you manage any thought during that interaction?” you giggled. “If what you told me was true, you were quite distracted that day.”

Laszlo gave a soft little grunt, and he snuffled his face into your neck. “Yes, well, a man has to learn to multitask,” he said. “Oh my God, I cannot begin--”

The door to the parlor banged open, and you hurried to cover yourself. “Marcus,” Laszlo said firmly. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Doc, this is pretty important--”

“I am having a private conversation with my fiancée, Mr. Isaacson,” Laszlo said, his voice rising just a bit. “You can tell me whatever you wish as soon as I finish this conversation.”

You looked over your shoulder to the younger Isaacson twin, and your face grew hot when your shoulder slipped from the jacket. Marcus’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he put his hands up in a plantation gesture. “Right,” he said quickly. “Um, sorry, Doc. I’ll be--”

“Do hurry it up, Marcus,” you said, pulling your fiancé’s jacket tight around you. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

You watched Marcus leave the room and shut the heavy door behind him, and you scoffed and dissolved into giggles. You buried your face into Laslzo’s warm chest and kissed just over his heart, and you sighed. “I’d love to speak more about this at home,” you said. “I love you to absolute death, Laszlo.”

“And I love you more,” Laszlo said softly.

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