#just a sketch of something I had in my head

[otterloreart]

Obviously my first magical girl sallys were made pretty fast and I had been mostly focusing on doing patterns and colors without as much regard for the shape of the outfit so I've been working on some additional sketches as seen above.

design details under cut

Here's my earlier design:

I originally had both the bat skulls on the head and bat wings + a thread/needle/spiderweb design going on. I'm leaning towards one or the other rn.

I was actually struggling a lot with where to go, I'm not the *best* at making magical girl designs, so I went on dolldivine.com and played with a few character creators to get a feel for the magical girl clothing genre:

i was going to wait until i had something more final to post but somehow just drawing these like. 2 designs was so tiring! a surprising amount of thinking went into this!

[sockmeat]

Imagine m!reader is an artist who says that they plan on drawing/painting Angel and Angel thinking that they're going to draw him all sexy like and keeps inviting him to come to his room to get some 'nice references' on how to draw him but when m!reader actually reveals their picture of Angel, it's actually Angel smiling while covered in flowers like holding a bouquet with a flower crown on, so real sincere soft looking paintings instead of the lewd stuff Angel was expecting.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭…(𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 587

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Angel finds out you plan on drawing him, he's pleasantly surprised to find out the nature of it.

(𝐀/𝐍): shamefully looking into my inbox with month old asks... nony x6 i am very sorry

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): sex talk, not really actually it's brief mentions, but then there's super cute gushy stuff yayyyy

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ You mention in passing that you want to draw him, thinking nothing of it

♡ Angel wouldn't let that slide though

♡ Obviously Angel gets drawn often, but he couldn't care less about that

♡ To know that you, somebody he's actually attracted to, wanted to draw him...

♡ You would never hear the end of it

♡ Angel pesters you constantly about it

♡ He does assume that you meant a sexual drawing, even though you were very calm and casual when you mentioned it. He just thought you were ballsy (and maybe already drew some)

♡ He never forgets to bring it up in conversation, if it's just to you or with others around

♡ He'll slip in the fact that you've been drawing sexy pictures of him in any conversation he can. If it seems like he can't, he changes the topic until he can

♡ He also never fails to offer you personal references for the drawing, even a "test drive" if you "aren't sure" how to draw him intimately

♡ You always stay polite though, merely gently rejecting or laughing off his suggestive comments with a flustered demeanor

♡ While Angel was bragging about the "sex art" you were making of him, you made one little doodle of him in your sketch book every night

♡ None of them were sexual like Angel had assumed. Each had its own sweet theme, from Angel surrounded by flowers to him during a moment of peace

♡ There were some made from your creativity, like Angel Dust with a bouquet of his favorite flowers

♡ But most of them were from real moments where he hadn't noticed you'd been drawing him. From him cuddling with Fat Nuggets, when he was smiling in a conversation, him in your favorite outfit of his, to him in his messy pajamas

♡ You made each drawing with pure infatuation

♡ Which is exactly why you put off showing him for so long. You were so nervous he'd feel uncomfortable by your art you hadn't noticed how desperate he was just to have something from you

♡ Eventually, you decided to just show him anyway

♡ You invited him into your room late one night and Angel made such a show of "getting ready" for you

♡ He came with his favorite pink robe and was surprised to see you still in your casual clothes with a notebook on your lap

♡ Angel sat next to you as you flipped through the book, which was entirely dedicated to him

♡ Every time he thought he would finally see himself in a sexy pose, he didn't

♡ His heart warmed as you explained the intention behind every doodle and how much thought you put into it

♡ Eventually, he completely forgot about why he was there in the first place

♡ He became so relaxed, his head found place on your shoulder as you droned on about your drawings

♡ You both relaxed into the bed as conversation moved from your art to random topics

♡ It wasn't long until Angel shuffled into your arms and fell asleep

♡ But you were so relieved, you couldn't help but fall asleep with him

[star-spacer]

Peace and All Else

Part of my Heart Pirates x Reader series: The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces

With a life as chaotic as yours, you preferred quietness where you could find it.

You were someone who valued your peace. Not just as a personal preference, but for your job as well, as any interruption could result in an errant stitch, ruining the clothing, or a needle through the finger.

This need for quietness was ironic, considering you were on a crew of pirates, whose lives were marked by nothing but unending chaos. 

Paradoxical. Peculiar. But when you were a pirate crew who had a doctor at the helm, it didn’t seem that strange. You were simply one oddball amongst a crew full of them. Which lent to many, many escapades that echoed throughout the Tang. It was never silent, whether it be the noise of her machines humming away, or the sound of the galley’s mealtime preparations, there was always life in her halls. 

You wouldn’t trade it for any other thing, but sometimes everyone’s antics were a little overwhelming, and you had to slip away to seek out a moment of peace. Innevitably, you’d always end up in a few places. Namely: your storage-room-turned-workshop. 

After your welcoming into the folds of the Heart Pirates, they were kind enough to clear out an empty broom closet and convert it into a mini workspace for you. You had initially protested that it was too much, but Shachi had quickly shushed you by saying you’d pay it back by repairing everyone’s stuff and fixing up the infirmary’s linens. 

Eventually, those bolted shelves were filled until with rolls and rolls of fabrics, projects finished and not set in marked piles on your desk. Your walls filled with papers, ideas and sketches (both yours and not) displayed proudly. An almost-too-big-couch crammed right into the last unoccupied corner of the room, with a lopsided mannequin that Ikkaku fixed up for you standing proudly right next to it.

A home away from home.

Well, just a home now. You didn’t have any other place except with the Heart Pirates.

And in this peace, you could relax, and unwind. Pick up a thread and needle and weave your love into every fold and stitch of the fabric in your hands. Love that you hoped your nakama could feel.

Your hands jolted as the door to your workshop slammed open with a cry of your name. You grabbed the nearest object, a spare pincushion, and lobbed it with deadly accuracy at the intruder. Penguin yelped as the item beaned him right on the forehead, the brim of his hat barely protected him against your wrath. “What was that for?!?!”

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?! AND TO NOT SLAM MY DOOR?!”

“Sorry, sorry! But can I hide in here for a bit?”

You squinted at him, anger giving way to suspicion. “Why…?”

“Please!” The man clasped his hands in front of him, stepping into the room. “I’ll do anything!!”

An idea sparked in your head. “If you take my dish duty tonight… You can stay for as long as you want and I won’t rat you out if anybody comes asking.”

Not that you particularly hated doing the dishes, you knew the importance of equal distributions of chores (Law drilled that into every members’ head on the daily), but just this once, you had something pressing you’ve been wanting to do, so the extra time gained from Penguin taking on your duty was exactly what you needed.

Penguin didn’t even flinch. “I’ll take it!”

You grinned and let out a little ‘yos’. “You can hide behind the couch, There’s space there, and the floor’s padded.”

He was full of thanks as he dove behind the furniture, shuffling coming from it as he settled there. To complete the look, you walked over, grabbing the blanket on there, and draping it over the back of the couch, making it look natural.

Just as you were patting out the last of the wrinkles, slow, steady footsteps approached your workshop. A knock announced Uni’s presence before he stuck his head in through the open door.

“Hello, Uni. Can I help you with anything?”

A drone of your name. “Have you seen Penguin anywhere?”

You had to resist a smile. “No. Are you looking for him?”

A nod. Slow eyes tracked across your workshop but ultimately landed back on you again, standing next to the couch. “He used my gloves and didn’t clean off the grease.”

Wincing at that, you wondered why the hatted man thought that was smart in the first place. Uni’s gloves were far bigger than Penguin’s, but they were also slimmer, so shoving his mitts into those could’ve popped a few stitches. “If you want, you can bring them here, and I’ll fix and clean them up for you,” you offered.

Uni shook his head. “No need. I have spares. But I’m going to find Penguin to make him clean off the ones he used.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re fine, Uni. See you around.”

You waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before cracking a smile. Penguin shot you a grateful thumbs up and a grin when you peeked your head over to look at him. “It’s pretty comfy down here,” he said, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Mind if I sleep here a bit?”

“Be my guest,” you drawled, wandering back to your desk and picking up your pencil. “I’m sure the dust bunnies appreciate the company.”

I appreciate your company, was left unsaid, but you hoped Penguin understood.

Peace returned to the room, only interrupted by the sound of your pencil and paper as you sketched your way through clothing patterns. Then, the quiet whistles of Penguin’s snores began to fill the air. You paused your work, before shaking your head with a fond smile.

You didn’t know how long you worked before there was a small flash of blue and Penguin’s snores being cut off for something to hit the floor where he was. Knowing that it could only be Law’s fruit, you got up to investigate what was Shambled into your room to swap with Penguin. 

A note, attached to one of your missing pincushions by a pin.

“That bastard,” you muttered, reaching down to grab everything from the floor.

‘Stop hiding people in your workshop’ the messy scrawl of his handwriting read. 

You snickered, sitting back down at your work desk and depositing the pincushion in its rightful place on your table. Your lamp flickered on, and you moved it so it shone over the drawing on your table, a revised boiler suit for Bepo that had more ventilation, so the poor Mink wouldn’t feel the heat as much when things inevitably got hot in the Polar Tang.

Yes, you valued your peace. But your workshop was a sanctuary, too. Not just for you, but every single one of your nakama that wanted to wander through your doors, in search of help, repairs, or just plain comfort. Peace came in many forms, and your nakama’s peace was yours.

[bogusbyron]

i never shared this, because it was just a sketch i wrote late at night while i was thinking about MsurM era javert. it's also not enough to post on AO3, being just a character description, so i'll post it here.

in case you wanted an explanation of my MsurM javert headcanons from the eyes of valjean..... (800 words)

The day was bright, yet the air was crisp - the citizens of Montreuil-sur-Mer all donned what coats and shawls they had. The overcast sky may as well have been glaring sunlight, and many a folk were squinting against the light of the day as they made their ways onwards.

One figure stood high amongst them, of course. He stuck out like a bramble in a bush, a watchtower on a distant hill. That much had not changed for him - at least, not to Jean Valjean.

What a formidable figure he had become! he thought, as Javert became clearer as he approached from the end of the street.

True, the new Inspector’s uniform he wore was certainly wont to make him stand out - surely that was the intention - and it contrasted his guardsman uniform in Toulon, which was worn by all guards. But there had been something about his presence, his gaze, the way he would hold himself, like he knew best, like he himself was the very system that was oppressing Jean Valjean and all these other souls - how could he not have attracted Valjean’s attention? His glare was relentless and haunting. Often his hat would cast a shadow across his face in the harsh yet dim lights of the prison, in the galleys - but even still, those icy pools like something from mythology would pierce through even the darkest of rooms, and bore themselves into Valjean’s skull.

Valjean, at the time, being burdened with far more pressing matters, had not bothered to remember much of Javert’s face. He remembered his name, yes, and how each of his features specifically came together to form the figure he recognised to be Javert - but now he could see him, really see him, and almost study him.

His hair, which had begun to silver at the temples, had grown long, and  he styled it by pulling it back and tied with a riband - unusual and eccentric, certainly, but Valjean could not comment, having a similar and arguably more eccentric haircut himself, as Madeleine. Valjean vaguely recalled Javert’s slim sideburns as a guard which had touched the corners of his jaw. Now they appeared much like the overgrown hedges of a neglected household, and the heavy squareness of his jaw only reassured this. His silhouette resembled that of a wolf’s - or a tiger, when he flashed his teeth.

Valjean had noticed also, when Javert came to introduce himself to the Mayor as the new Inspector, a scar on his face which told a story indeed. He’d chosen not to inquire about it - it was far too early in their acquaintanceship for amiable conversation between the two, and anyway improper. The scar was certainly not subtle, running the length from his bottom lip, past his piggish nose, nearly touching his eye. It made Valjean thankful for the placement of his own scars, easily covered where hair grew. He only had to drape his hair down his eye when he spoke to Javert - the man had spent a vast amount of time in Toulon staring, surely he would remember the placement of the scar?

His figure, always imposing, had somehow become even more daunting. He seemed to have put weight on, around the neck, shoulders and chest, and coupled with his notable height, what resulted was a broad and prodigious man that made effortless work of threatening unruly crowds with his sheer presence.

The final change that Jean Valjean had noticed, and perhaps the least important, was his sudden lack of hair. It had not been very long at all in the grand scheme of his life since he had last seen Javert, but in that time, he had lost nearly all his hair atop his head. Valjean knew he had had it, occasionally on a hot day Valjean would have seen him lift his hat for a brief moment in the sun - it was nothing to be remarked upon, simply black and cropped short. It was in Madeleine’s office Javert had taken his hat off in respect and it was only then did Valjean realise he had been expecting more hair. He had almost flinched.

Though he often avoided meeting them, and thus never got a good enough look to say, Valjean suspected that Javert’s eyes were unchanged. On bright days such as these, he could sometimes be found donning his strange tinted eyeglasses. They were almost as threatening as his unguarded eyes - with the wall of dark glass in front of them, it created his very own Panopticon, and Valjean imagined it worked just the same.

They passed each other in the street now, and Valjean felt his gaze, or so he thought he did. He nodded politely anyway, and did not see if it was returned. An icy chill found its way through Valjean’s body and he shuddered.

[glitchedcosmos]

Don’t leave.

[driftsart]

More than meets the eye

Tiny reminder: I DO NOT ship Blitzbee! Therefore this is NOT Blitzbee art! Blitzwing is like a mentor to bee. :)

[heartorbit]

start remembering ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[sjokomila]

[rainbowpufflez]

More things for moots >:3 this time @johnbleepingzoidberg ‘s PerfWorld fankid Valentin Sycamore !!!

Also I couldn’t help myself

[kil9]

2 best buds chilling on a hot day

(what theyre listening to)

[cupajoscafe]

apparently 2023 is the year i draw death note smut

[cryptidm0ths]

[mewkwota]

Thinking very hard (A de-stressor doodle)

[sysig]

I invite you to imagine (Patreon)

[shepards-folly]

Like an angel crushed underneath god’s boot [+ wip images under the cut]

[king0fcrows]