#ok this is my last drawing before I actually study

[mikeru6]

thought these tags were funny so I decided to draw how I think they’d play out

tags r from @roger-d0dger and @piggyintheflesh ‘s posts, they’re so silly (sorry for the @ )

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

i think it’s really really interesting that most people seem to really like drawing faces and hate drawing hands but i LOVE drawing hands and have such a hard time drawing faces like i always draw the face last bc i have to redraw it 800 times and even then it usually doesn’t come out the way i want. but hands i get that shit immediately and i always wanna add too much detail bc i have so much fun drawing them. is this because i have trouble making eye contact and like looking at hands bc i’m a lesbian? probably but who knows

[vse-kar-vem]

hihi vent post incoming (tldr im pretty sure everyone hates me and also im gonna fail all my exams)

[annievrse]

you know how to ball (i know aristotle)

sukuna x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: college!au where sukuna is the star rugby player, and reader plays in college quiz bowls. w/c: 3k cw: inaccurate quiz bowl rep (i only play jeopardy on tv ok pls ignore the actual content and focus on the point of the fic ok ty), a lot of allusions to suggestive content, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'girl', and wears a skirt. a/n: i i i idk what u were expecting, but it should've been another taylor fic hehe

"Sukuna! Sir!" You turn your head toward the voice. The man beside you huffs deeply but turns anyway, apologising softly.

"Hey, man," Sukuna mumbles, shaking the hand of the Freshman student who's panting like he ran three miles (he probably did). "What's up?"

The kid eyes you up and down like he's never seen a woman before.

"Eyes up here, bro," Your boyfriend bites, giving him a fake smile. The kid nods quickly, gaze avoiding you at all costs.

"Uh–" He stutters. "Gojo was wondering when you were gonna show up to training."

Sukuna pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek. "Tell the freak I'll be there after I walk my girl to her car, okay?"

The kid nods and turns, speed-walking in the direction of the field.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your head, bringing you into his chest. You giggle at the sudden affection and continue walking to the car park.

"Fucking kids."

"He’s eighteen, Kuna," You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I had more decency when I was that age..."

Scoffing, you lean back. "You're joking, right?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow as you descend the steps. "Watch it."

You snicker and pull away from him, digging around in your bag for your car keys. When you spot the miniature stuffed bunny keychain, you grab it.

You can feel Sukuna side-eying you when you unlock the car. "What?"

He points at the keychain. "Is that the little cat thing you begged me for?"

You don't answer, knowing he knows exactly what it is. "Jellycat."

"Huh?" Sukuna's face scrunches up in confusion.

"Jellycat is the brand. And, yes, it's the one you got me. Don't act stupid, idiot."

Sukuna smirks. "I'll buy you more of them if you keep talking to me like that."

Your jaw drops, and you laugh, slapping him on the bicep. "Fuck off."

But before you can open the car door, Sukuna spins you around by the shoulders and presses you into the side of the car, hands roaming under your hoodie.

"I'll see you tonight," He whispers, lips slanting over yours hotly.

"Mmhm," You hum, running your fingers through his hair. Pulling away, Sukuna continues to press sloppy kisses along your jaw. "Be good at practice. Don't spear tackle Gojo again."

Sukuna scoffs. "That was an accident."

Rolling your eyes, you press your hand to his hard chest. "Yeah, ok."

"Bye, baby," Sukuna's hands slide down to squeeze your ass, and you look at the campus entrance to ensure nobody's there.

"Bye, yourself."

He gives you one last slap on the ass, and then he's stalking away, glancing over his shoulder to check on you as you slam the car door closed and turn the engine on.

Entering Shoko's apartment, the smell of burnt toast hits you in the face. You toe your sneakers off at the door and walk toward the cacophony of voices.

"Sorry!" Choso exclaims in the kitchen, wafting the smoke away with his hands. "Not my fault your toaster is fucked."

Shoko gasps and hits him with a teatowel on the leg. She points at him. "Don't talk shit about my appliances when you ruined all of yours!"

You step into the space, drawing the eyes of the three in conversation, and Nanami and Utahime sitting at the dining table with textbooks scattered around them.

"Thank god you're here!" Shoko laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Studying going good?" You giggle, waving at the others.

Shoko glares at Choso over her shoulder. "It was."

Choso throws his hands up in defence, and Shoko turns back to you.

"How's Mr Rugby Player?" She grins.

You smile softly. "He's good."

"Being as annoying as ever, I suppose?" Nanami's voice calls, not looking up from where he scribbles down his notes.

Utahime scoffs, placing her pen down on the table. "Not as annoying as Gojo." 

"Yeah, okay. Don't say his name; you'll summon him."

Rolling your eyes with a laugh, you walk into the dining room. You take your bag off your shoulder and put it on the table to remove your laptop. "What topics are we doing this weekend?"

Utahime points at the list of past regional questions. "I'm doing philosophy and fine arts, Nanami's math, and you're literature."

"Okay," you sit at the head of the table. "Choso, history?"

Nanami nods without looking up. "And Sho is doing science, like always."

"Sweet," You mumble before your phone buzzes.

baby 5:23 pm morning practice got cancelled  5:23 pm so coming to your nerd fest tmr

Despite his teasing, you feel the wings of butterflies flutter inside your stomach.

5:24 pm !!!!! 5:24 pm can't wait to see my himbo of a bf in a crowd of nerds!!!

You can almost see him rolling his eyes.

baby 5:25 pm call me that again and you'll be using crutches at your comp

"Quit texting," Shoko says, shuffling her flash cards. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

With your warm cheeks, you lock your phone and toss it into your bag. "Sorry."

"I'm not nervous," You mumble, checking the fit of your skirt in the mirror for the ninth time in ten minutes.

"Yeah, you're perfectly calm," Sukuna grumbles in his pillow. He lays half-naked under the duvet, his voice the only sign of life.

You glare at him through the mirror and glance at the clock on the wall—7:45 am.

You inhale sharply and duck into the closet to grab your bag. "I'm going."

Sukuna groans, shifting slightly under the blankets. "Kiss."

Despite his usually cold exterior, Sukuna is always soft around you—something you created.

Rounding the bed, you lean over to kiss his mouth, scratching his scalp with your fingers. A deep, raspy groan sounds from the back of his throat, and you have to pull away before he pulls you onto the bed.

"Starts at ten," You remind him, lips hovering over his forehead. "Be there at quarter to."

Sukuna hums, turning over. "Be the best."

"I'll try," You laugh, shoving your feet into your shoes. "Bye!"

"He's here," Nanami rolls his eyes, pointing toward the crowd. Your eyes widen, and you give your friend a side hug.

You weave your way to the hall entrance, small 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' leaving your lips. And when you hear your name, you push yourself up on your tiptoes. A head of pink hair stands out against the rest, and you notice he's surrounded by two other giant guys, too.

"Hey," Sukuna mumbles in your hair when you run into him. You grin into his chest and look up at him.

"Hi."

"Baby," He says, voice louder as he pushes you back. "You gotta get up there."

"I know," You sigh, greeting Negi and Miguel with a wave.

"Good luck," Miguel smiles, and Negi laughs. "We'll be cheering you on."

"Thanks, guys," You nod, feeling Sukuna's hands smooth out the collar of your blouse.

Sukuna shakes his head, ignoring his teammates. "You're gonna do so good."

"I hope so," You sigh, hearing the warning bell before the start of the tournament.

"Love you," Sukuna grumbles, kissing your head. You pull away.

"Love you!" Laughing, you walk backwards toward the stage.

"Give the scientific name for Vitamin K1."

Shoko's thumb moves too fast for your eyes to see before she answers. "Phylloquinone."

"Correct." Multiple claps from the crowd make your stomach turn.

The score is 455–460, with the opposing university in front. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, listening to Nanami answer a question.

"Solve this equation for x. 5x=0.2."

His answer is instant. "0.04."

"Right." The host nods, eyes trained on the cards in his hands.

You look to your left, seeing Choso's determined face despite his anxiety about public speaking. It makes you happy to see his confidence grow.

"Who wrote 'Hope is the Thing with Feathers'?"

A brunette answers. "Emily Dickinson."

Your head shoots up in shock. Shoko's hand finds yours under the table while you cringe at losing your question and points for your team.

"Yes!" The host swiftly moves on. "Cogito ergo sum means, "I think. Therefore, I am." By creating this statement, what did Descartes argue?"

Utahime tilts her head as if the answer is the easiest of the day. "That the mind and body are separate entities, with the mind being the essential nature of a person."

"Correct."

You inhale deeply, trying your best to ignore the score. Instead, you squint into the stage light to spot your boyfriend. To no avail, you wipe your eyebrow. 

"Believed the rational mind repressed the power of the imagination, weighing it down with taboos; which art movement channelled the unconscious to unlock the power of the imagination?"

"Surrealism," A blonde boy on the other table answered.

"Right. When did the three major shogunates (Kamakura, Ashikaga, Tokugawa) lead Japan?"

Choso nearly falls off his chair when he presses his buzzer. "1192 until 1868."

"Yes," The host re-shuffles his cards and places them on the podium before him. "Last question."

475–475.

"Name the novel: Raskolnikov kills Alyona Ivanovna (a pawnbroker), believing the good he does with her money outweighs the evil of murder."

And before you can press your buzzer, the other university's buzzer sounds first. Your heart drops, and your entire body goes hot with disappointment. 

"The Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoyevsky."

"Incorrect."

Your thumb presses the button before your mind can catch up.

"You have ten seconds to answer."

"Crime and Punishment, by Dostoyevsky,” You spit out confidently. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The host grins, turning away from you and to the crowd. "Your 2024 Collegiate Quiz Bowl Champions."

And then the score changes. 475-480.

Cheers from the crowd and your teammates make you jump up. "Holy shit."

"We won!" Shoko yells, circling her arms around your shoulders and jumping. You jostle around as she does so, your face breaking out into a smile, and then a laugh slips from your lips.

Utahime crashes into your back. "Ah!"

You, Shoko, and Utahime hug each other, opening your arms for the boys to join.

And though the room is noisy, the loudest cheers come from the pink-haired man at the back of the room, his two teammates lifting him in celebration.

“Baby, what the fuck!” You hear your boyfriend yell. People around him give him dirty looks, but Sukuna pays them no mind. You, however, feel heat creep down your neck at the unwanted attention. 

“Kuna,” You giggle, waving your hand down as a way of saying ‘lower the volume’. You meet him in the foyer of the concert hall.

“I can’t!” He laughs, almost howling. “You’re so incredible. I’m so proud of you.” 

The praise makes your cheeks flame, and when Sukuna grabs your face to kiss you, he smirks. But he doesn’t comment. Instead, he places the sloppiest kiss on your lips, and you squeal at the feeling, laughing into his mouth. 

Sukuna leans back, brushing hair out of your face. “My smart cookie.” 

You roll your eyes and grab his hand. “Let’s go. You need to get ready.” 

You pull on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt as Sukuna scarfs down rice and chicken in the kitchen. Sukuna’s rugby game is at 5pm, leaving you 2 hours to get ready and drive him to the field. You’re meeting Shoko there – she wants to see Gojo & Geto play.  

Fixing your hair, Sukuna walks into the bathroom.

Whistling, he stands behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "My girl is so fine."

You purse your lips and shake your head, tying the last bow in your hair.

"My girl..." Sukuna bends down to kiss your neck. "Has such a sexy brain."

You snicker and push him off. "Go get dressed, freak."

Sukuna imitates you softly, pulls away and then gets his rugby kit on with a pout.

The popcorn box is hot in your lap as you dive your hand into the matcha-flavoured kernels once again. You and Shoko sit huddled in the stand, clad in blue scarves. You opted for Sukuna’s training jersey over your long-sleeved top without his knowledge, making Shoko tease you relentlessly. 

“But you’re you, and he’s him.”

You nod to her rant, ignoring her, staring straight at your snack as you pick the next piece to eat.

“There they are,” Shoko draws you from your daze as she points out Gojo running out of the dressing rooms below. The bright blue uniforms are hard to miss, especially against the green grass. You fidget with your necklace as you watch the rest of the team empty out of the dressing rooms, Sukuna being the last one to exit.

The sight of him in his tight jersey has you verbally reacting. “Holy fuck.”

“Settle down, girl,” Shoko laughs. “Not like it’s your first time.”

You giggle, making note of how big his arms are. Sukuna shakes said large arms and rolls his head in a circle before leaning forward, his hands clutching the hem of his jersey. He glances over at Miguel, who plays in the halves and nods once at him. 

After kick-off, in favour of the other team, Sukuna runs forward, tackling the fullback of the other team who caught the ball. The ball slips out of the guy’s arms, and Geto swipes it from the grass. He sprints up the field, dodging and weaving in and out of players, and makes the final steps towards the in-goal. 

Shoko shakes your arm as Geto dives onto the grass, the ball dragging along as he scores, and then you’re both jumping up and down in celebration. Your cheers are so loud they travel to the field, and Sukuna looks up toward you. He smirks, accepting a bro-hug from Geto, who praises his tackle.

The game goes on like this until half-time, with the other team scoring twice. Sukuna is exhausted as he walks off the field, his jersey clinging to his body with sweat. He peeks at where you were sitting only a few minutes prior and sees you gone. He draws his eyebrows together and runs his hand through his hair. 

His teammates funnel around him towards the dressing room, but Sukuna stands looking for you.

“Kuna!” You and Shoko are waving from the bottom of the stands, giant smiles on your faces. Your boyfriend shakes his head, laughs briefly, and jogs over to the two of you.

“You’re doing so good!” You exclaim, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist. His free arm circles your shoulders, and he nods at Shoko.

“Good job this morning,” He comments. 

Shoko furrows her eyebrows and scoffs at the out of character compliment. “Seriously? Thanks?” 

Laughing, you pull away from Sukuna and take in the sight before you, wishing you could capture this moment with your eyes. His face is flush, and his hair is sticking in every direction, the pink darkened to a burgundy. Your mind wanders to a situation far different and more sensual than the one you’re in currently, and you feel your cheeks warm up.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Sukuna whispers, noticing the jersey you're wearing. His pearly white teeth gleam at you, and then he jogs away. Your eyes follow him, gaze trailing down his body until you stop at his ass. He looks so damn good in those rugby shorts.

“Quit objectifying him,” Shoko teases, poking your warm cheek. "We're better than that."

You slap her hand away, eyes watering from the cold air. “Shut the fuck up.”

The second half starts and goes by quicker than the first one. Sukuna finishes the game, scoring three tries in the 40-minute half. They win 42-12. 

“Kuna, I don’t think you understand how good you are,” You ramble on the way back to the car after Sukuna showered and got into sweats. His fingers are laced with yours, and he doesn’t care when you swing them around. "A hattrick? C'mon!"

“Oh, save the praise for the bedroom, please,” Shoko pleads, a disgusted look on her face. “And everything else, god!”

Sukuna has an insult on the tip of his tongue, but you pinch his stomach, eyes narrowing at him. “No.”

He huffs and mumbles something intelligible. 

“Oh, there’s Gojo and Geto,” Shoko sighs in relief, seeing her best friends lingering around Gojo's BMW. “Bye!” 

“See you!” 

“Thank you, lord.”

You whack his large bicep and shake your head. “You’re horrible.”

“You’re horrible,” Sukuna replies. “Wearing my jersey and expecting me not to get hard.”

You gape at his outright vulgar statement. “Ok, your speaking privileges have been revoked.”

Sukuna scoffs. “My–”

You reach up and slap your hand over his mouth. “Shhhh.”

And when you get in the car, Sukuna can’t keep his hands to himself. His large hand covers almost the entirety of your thigh, and you have to calm yourself down to drive. 

“I feel so high school every time I look at you…”

The streetlights go by in a blur, and the radio plays softly as you two go over everything that happened today. 

“I don’t know how you people know questions like that,” Sukuna complains. “How are you that smart?” 

You shrug, flicking the indicator down. “Just like how you play rugby.”

“They’re completely different.”

“Well,” You tilt your head. “If I tried to play rugby—” Sukuna’s laugh cuts you off. “You think I could tackle like that? Know one-word plays?” 

“I mean, you would look so sexy in those shorts.”

“Not the point,” You glance at him, eyes softening at how he’s staring at you.

“You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“The point is,” You swallow, feeling the callouses on his hands rub your skin. “I’ve got my thing, and you’ve got yours. We’re both good at what we do. There’s no comparing.” 

“You know what you wanted, and boy, you got her.”

“I’m just so proud of you, you know that?” Sukuna whispers, his voice barely audible over the song. You nod, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I’m proud of you, too, Kuna. I’m gonna be a WAG forever.”

As you pull into the apartment complex's driveway, the echoes of Sukuna’s deep laughs and your giggles can be heard in the dead of night. 

“I’m sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights.”

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[lanadelnegan]

Ok ! Soulmate au for The one the only JDM

The hot and cold game you feel hot when you are close to them and clod when your car away from them so imagine the reader and JDM always feeling cold until one day when he is doing a convention/panel and for the first time ever he feels warm same with the reader she needs to stand up to ask him a question……and everything falls into place

Love at First Sight

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, assume Jeffrey is single, p in v, sexual tension, flirty texting with jdm, sex in his car, poorly written smut

"Are we pissing our pants yet?" I watch him walk out onto the stage with Lucille resting on his shoulder as he arrogantly chews his gum.

The sight of him in person lights my skin on fire and I feel like the walls around me could burst into flames.

I push my sleeves up a little, regretting my decision to wear a sweater even though it's the middle of December. I'm always cold, so I thought I'd play it safe and bundle up. Clearly that's not working out for me. I subtly wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close." His voice distracts me from my overthinking and I look up at him again. That signature "Jeffrey" smile stretches across his handsome face as women around me scream at the top of their lungs.

Should've worn earmuffs too, I might be deaf after this.

When he finally sits down, his eyes scan the crowd and I restrain myself from joining in with the screaming, keeping my cool and not wanting to draw attention to myself.. yet.

I study him closely for the next few minutes.. watching his body language and the way he fidgets with his hands on the table in front of him. The way his Adam's apple moves up and down when he gulps his water... The way he stares at the floor like he's on another planet when his costars are talking.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

All of a sudden, his eyes dart up, immediately colliding with mine. His expression doesn't change as he stares at me with unreadable hazel eyes.

When he realizes I'm not going to be the first one to look away, his serious face slowly turns into a knowing grin before he winks at me.

My face reddens and I subtly glance around to make sure he's looking at me and not someone else.

When I look back at him, he softly shakes his head before tipping it towards me. "You." He mouths silently.

My jaw drops faintly before I compose myself, bringing it back up into a smile before biting my bottom lip embarrassingly. My head drops, watching my sweaty hands fidget in my lap.

"Alright, next question." The host announces.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my hand. Another employee hands me a mic and I stand up nervously, locking eyes with Jeff again to find that he's watching me curiously. He's casually leaned back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach as he tilts his head at me with amusement.

I look down at my feet and try to breathe. "Um, my question is.. for.. Norman." I change my mind at the last minute, not having the nerve to ask Jeffrey what I had planned. My eyes roam up, finding Norman's. "What do you and Jeffrey like to do together when you hang out off set?"

Norman's smile widens as he looks to Jeffrey. "Should we tell her, man?" The crowd laughs at Norman's teasing before he looks back at me. "We make out." He says with a serious expression. Everyone laughs again before he answers my question seriously this time. "Nah, um.. we ride our bikes. Talk about hot chicks. Watch baseball." He pauses, still thinking.

"Then we make out." Jeffrey chimes in and the crowd bursts into laughter. He smiles proudly at himself as he stares at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Jeffrey asks, reverting my attention back to him.

"Y/n." I say into the mic.

"Y/n." He repeats. "Pretty name. Any more questions for us?"

Here it goes. "Um, yes. Actually, one for you."

He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. "Let's hear it."

I look around nervously and try to mentally prepare myself for the embarrassment I'm about to put myself through.

"Y/n, look at me." He demands and I turn my attention towards him again. "Just me and you right now. Ask me."

He stares at me like we're actually the only ones in the room and my legs grow weak.

"Um.. can I.. can I take you out?" I bite my lip and try not to cringe at myself, bracing myself for rejection. But, the worst thing he can do is say no.

Wrong - the worst thing he can do is humiliate you in front of a room of people and crush your hopes and dreams.

I try my best to push the thought out of my head as I wait for his answer.

"Wow, I love the confidence." He grins. "But, no, you can't take me out."

My heart drops and I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'll be the one taking you out." He clarifies and my heart drops again, this time with excitement. "Come here, sweetheart."

My eyes widen and I can't believe this is actually happening right now. I walk to the front of the stage and he meets me at the edge before smoothly hopping down.

Good god, he's even taller in person.

He smirks down at me, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to me with a dial screen pulled up.

My fingers shake as I type my number in and hand it back to him. He hugs me tightly as the crowd woos and screams.

"Don't be nervous. You are adorable." He whispers in my ear, sending chills throughout me before we both make our way to our seats.

Andy is in the middle of answering a question when my phone vibrates softly in my lap. I pick it up and see a text from an unsaved number. I click on it and my heart somersaults in my chest at the words on my screen.

Don't look at Andy. Look at me.

I look up and find Jeffrey smiling and gazing up at me through his eyebrows. My lips twist into a smirk before replying.

Maybe I'm a Rick girl.

I try not to laugh at myself as I look back up at him. He reads my text under the table before glaring at me teasingly, squinting his eyes. My phone vibrates again.

I could change that.

I silently giggle but when I don't respond, a few minutes go by before he sends me another.

Have we met somewhere before?

No. Why?

Feels like I know you from somewhere. Hmm. Maybe from your dreams. ;)

Oh you'll definitely be in my dreams now, doll.

My heart flutters and we spend the rest of the panel flirting and eye fucking each other from across the room. When the host announces that the time is up, my phone vibrates again.

Where are you staying? I'll pick you up at 8pm.

I smile giddily as I type out the address of the hotel I'm staying in. I drove two hours from home just to come ask that man a question, and holy shit was it worth it.

7:55pm...

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

I hyperventilate in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 5 minutes before I force myself to get it the fuck together.

This is what you wanted. I remind myself, taking a mini shot of alcohol to ease my nerves.

I smooth my silky blue dress down my body and apply some lip gloss before a my phone buzzes on the counter.

You ready, beautiful?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan thinks I’m beautiful.

My heart hammers in my chest as I grab my jacket and not-so-calmly rush to the elevator. I expect him to be waiting in his car for me out front, but when the elevator doors open, I’m stunned to see him standing in the lobby, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He looks up and grins from ear to ear when he sees me. My heels click against the floor as I make my way over to him, checking him out in the process. His dark grey slacks outline him perfectly and I restrain myself from staring too long, letting my eyes roam upwards towards the peppery chest hair peeking through his silky black button down. His sleeves are rolled up a few inches and his hair is perfectly gelled in place. He looks stunning.

When I finally approach him, he hands me the roses and I smile giddily.

“Wow, a true romantic.” I pretend to fake cry and he laughs, rolling his eyes. I think I even see see a little redness in his cheeks.

“These are lovely.” I thank him seriously now and he nods his head once before letting his eyes roam over me.

“You look.. absolutely incredible.”

I blush at his words as he holds his arm out for me to hold onto it. Such a gentleman. My arm slips into his as he leads me towards his black mustang parked right out front. He opens the door and I carefully slide in, shivering from the cold. The entire interior is a leather brick red and it smells like faint cigarettes and strong, expensive cologne.

When he gets in on the other side, he takes my roses and places them in the backseat before turning to face me. I take my jacket off and place it next to them, feeling warm all of a sudden.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at me playfully.

“Hi.” I giggle and my hands hide between my exposed legs. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash towards my thighs as I shift in the seat.

“You are so fucking cute." He reaches his hand out and laces his fingers through mine as we drive off.

"So.. where are we going?"

"Can't ruin the surprise, doll?"

I shrug. "I don't like surprises."

He glances at me with a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I think you'll like this one." His hand squeezes lightly around my thigh.

My legs barely part at the sensation and I look at Jeffrey, noticing the way his jaw ticks when he glances at my thighs.

"So why did you ask me out, sweetheart? Gotta admit, first time anyone's had the balls to do that."

"Why not? The worst you could've done is say no."

"And what if I had said no? Would you still like me?"

"....Probably not." I answer truthfully.

He snickers and I lay my head back on the seat, letting myself admire his beauty.

"It's rude to stare, ya know?" He teases.

"Yeah, I know." I blatantly continue staring.

"Keep eye fucking me and we won't make it to your surprise, doll."

I smile at that challenge, not taking my eyes off of him.

"What am I gonna do with you, y/n?" He shakes his head a little.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?" I tease him and confidently place my hand on top of his on my thigh, moving it closer towards my aching center.

I look at Jeffrey and see his eyes study the rearview mirror before slowly bringing the car to the side of the road and shutting off the engine.

"You want me so bad, huh? Come get it." Is all he says before we're both unbuckling and I'm climbing on top of him.

My lips connect with his the second I'm settled into his lap. Our desperate moans fill the car, mixing with the sounds of other cars driving by.

"I want you to know something first." He breathes into my mouth.

"Hm?" I ask, not taking my lips off his.

"I don't do stuff like this, y/n. But there's something special about you. Fuck, I.. I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"Maybe we were an old married couple in another life." I tease, bringing my lips down to his jawline, then his neck before sucking at his cologne-coated skin softly.

I reach for his pants and unbutton him, puling out his swollen cock and stroking it in my hand while hovering above him.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom." He announces.

"I'm clean.. I promise. Are you?" I don't care, I'm desperate to have him in me.

"Yes, I'll pull out... Put me inside you, baby."

I line him up with my entrance and slowly slide down his full length, moaning at the fullness. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grind on his cock.

"I wanna know more about you." He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

"Right now? What do you wanna know?" I ask in between my moans.

"Everything." He says seriously as I bounce on him, arms wrapped around his neck to steady myself.

"Uh, okay.. I love the color y/f/c. I like to read.. mmm, fuck." I moan, trying to concentrate and list the things about myself. "I can't cook to save my life."

"Keep going." He smiles looking up at me and the streetlights make his hazel eyes sparkle.

"My dog's name is y/d/n. I love music... My celebrity crush? Andy Lincoln." I tease, smiling widely while bringing my hands to rest on his knees, so I can angle myself better and ride him faster.

He smacks a hand to my ass. "Try again."

"...Jeffrey.." I moan and my head falls back when his thumb meets my clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "Dean… Morgan." I moan out on purpose before holding my head back up to look at him.

He chuckles. "Yeah? What do you like about him?"

"What's not to like?" I breathe out as I study his face. "His eyes. His hair. His beard." My gaze travels south. "His tattoos. His body."

"What else, baby?" His thumb rubs faster against my clit and my mouth gapes open.

"His attitude. His voice.... His.. his cock."

"Fuck, baby." He says and pushes his hand against my lower back, bringing me closer to him and pulling my dress down until my braless tits pop out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, making us both groan.

"Jeffrey.. I'm gonna -"

His head falls back against the seat, my nipple popping out of his mouth. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby."

We look into each other's eyes as I come undone, moaning his name loudly and pathetically.

"Fuuuck." He quickly lifts me up, pulling his cock from me and stroking it in his hand before his cum shoots all over my stomach.

And by stomach I mean dress. Fuck.

I laugh as we both come down from our high, looking at my cum stained dress and the puddle of my wetness on his pants.

"Guess you're coming back to my hotel, doll. Can't go anywhere like this."

I frown at him, pouting my lower lip out. "What was the surprise gonna be?"

He presses his smirking lips to mine and squeezes my ass. "Wouldn’t you love to know."

[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

[jezabelle9299]

Stress Baking; Part 1 S.R X Reader

Authors Notes: Spencer Reid x fem! Reader, fluff, reader is a receptionist or assistant at a police station, this part is mostly set up and introduction. Heavily inspired by me having to get rid of the remainder of my finals week stress baking, some monologuing.

Ok. Got to work 10 minutes early. I can set this stuff down, and make another attempt to get the rest of the flour out of my hair.

You were stumbling from your car, laptop bag and keys in one hand, backpack full of study guides and practice tests resting on your shoulders, and two reusable bags filled with pastries neatly packaged in every foil pan the dollar store had to offer.

“Whoa, Y/N, are you ok?” One of the officers said, holding the door open for you.

“All good, finals week baking.” 

“I can see that. Is that flour or powdered sugar up there?” She kind of gestured to your hair, piled on your hair in a high ponytail to keep it out of the way. Honestly it could be either, you’d neglected sleep and eating real meals, opting instead to take out your stress with some, frankly aggressive, stress baking. It helped keep you focused while re-listening to lectures from this semester, and the results served as great apology gifts for the people who had to deal with your bouts of uncharacteristic grumpiness during the week. In response to the officer's question you tossed a vague shrug and walked through the door.

Something was wrong. Like really wrong.

What had happened on your days off? You hadn’t given so much as a thought to the news, as you were too wrapped up in studying.

And your boss was trying to meet you at your desk. So much for fixing the whole flour situation before clocking in. 

“Y/N, good, you’re here early. Set your stuff down and get ready. The BAU is on their way now, and I need you to help them get set up.”

“The BAU?” you replied, head tilting with confusion.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit… of the FBI?” He responded, with more condescension than was strictly necessary. 

“The FBI? Here? Why?”

“Really? Have you been living under a rock for the last 3 days? I don’t have time to explain it to you, I’m buried with paperwork over the most recent crime scene, and the governor is expecting a call about all this. Right now I need you to start getting the conference room ready, according to these specifications.” He handed you a piece of notebook paper, containing his nearly illegible handwriting, and a list of what the FBI needs. You finally set your bags down, and grabbed a pen to check things off as you went. 

There. Everything’s perfect, now you can finally get some work done. 

And nevermind. A black SUV pulled up, and out came the FBI, clown car style. 5 of them stuffed into one car, that can’t have been comfortable. They were heading right for your desk in the precinct lobby. 

“Hello my name is Agent Hotchner, where can I find your captain?” Said who you could only assume was their boss, as he looked like a child's drawing of an FBI agent, in a full black suit, while everyone else was much more casual. 

“Hi! I’m Y/N, the captain’s in his office right now, he told me to show you to your workspace and he’ll meet you there?” He gave a quick nod and a thank you as you did a quick turn toward the conference room, your bright pink skirt flaring out to its full radius as you pivot. You keep talking as you weave through the hustle and bustle of the precinct.

“There are fewer of you guys than I thought, so there’s a few extra chairs in there.”

“There are more of us in the second car, they’re running a little behind after picking up some extra paperwork. Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan will be here momentarily.”

“Alrighty then, the supplies you requested should all be here, and I’ll be around at my desk if there;s anything I can do for you, just let me know!” 

Just as you started for the door to get some more studying, and maybe some of your actual work done, a dark haired woman spoke up: “Sorry, but what is that?” She gestured to the small pile of foil tupperware filled with baklava, brownies, cupcakes, and cookies. It felt a whole lot sillier now that you had to explain it to the FBI. You could hear who you assumed were the other agents coming in behind you, but your focus was on the 5 already staring at you, while you tried to formulate an answer that kept you from seeming completely insane. “Oh-uh, I’m a college student, -and it’s finals week -um, when I get stressed I bake, kind of excessively. But-um don’t feel like you have to eat them, I mostly just needed to get them out of my kitchen.”

Hotchner spoke up again, “It was a kind gesture, thank you.”

“Studies actually show that the physical activities and sensations associated with baking are grounding for people with anxiety, as it heightens awareness of the body and presence in the moment; which both reduces stress and improves mood.” Someone spoke from behind you. As you turned to see who it was you saw him. Heaven in a purple scarf.

[bullet-prooflove]

Now you're sayin' that you wish you would've cleaned up But you know I don't care about that

For Lee Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @queenslandlover-93 @newyorkrican922 @bryandechartisasmolbean @lovethis-lovethat @goblinenby @foxfables @solar-raccoon

Companion piece to

Wild Bloom

A Boy from Bozeman

The Worry Doll

Lee can’t believe you’re here, sitting in his kitchen, sipping coffee out of a chipped mug as you pour through the journal of wildflowers he’s been collating over the past couple of years.

“Sorry I wish I would have cleaned up.” He says as he shifts some of the sketches he’s been working on to the other side of the table. You must sense his agitation because you reach out, your hand coming to rest upon his stilling his motion.

“Lee it’s ok.” You say softly, squeezing his hand lightly. “You should see my desk, it’s far worse.”

He actually does want to see your desk. He wonders if it’s still the same coordinated chaos that he remembers from your daddy’s house. Jumbles of paperwork and post its organised into piles that only you knew the meaning of.

He looks down at your hand and something inside him starts to settle. Your thumb chases over the hollow of his wrist and that gesture is so familiar that it sends a shiver of anticipation ricocheting through his body.

“You’ve done excellent work here.” You tell him as you pull away, your finger instead tracing over the pencilwork of his drawings. “There’s a lot of good data.”

His cheeks colour at your compliment. He doesn’t hear a lot of good things about himself, especially the things that he’s passionate about. He keeps his hobbies hidden away from the rest of the world because he doesn’t want anyone to see those parts of him, they’re for him and him only.

“We’ll still have to collect soil samples.” You tell him as you close the journal and pass it back to him. “Take some pictures. Do you have time to take me up there?”

“It’s my day off.” He tells you as he tucks the notebook back into his jacket, the one that’s hanging over the back of the chair. “Do you ride still?”

You pull a face, shaking your head in response to his question.

“Not since the last time I was here.” You tell him, propping your chin up on your hand. “We usually hike it in California.”

He wants to ask about that, if your stay here is temporary or if you’re back for good but he keeps his mouth shut because honestly he’s too afraid of the answer.

“I can take you on Dolce?” He says, tugging on his jacket. “She’s as sweet as anything and it’s a nice, gentle ride.”

“It’ll be like old times.” You say, giving him that knowing smile as you raise to your feet. “The two of us on a horse, heading back to the place where it all started.”

That field had been your spot before once upon a time. The two of you used to head up there to study because it was away from his siblings and everything else. There were a lot of firsts, first kiss, first time, first heartbreak. Your entire history is sowed within that field of wild flowers.

“I’ll saddle up Dolce.” He says as he picks up his hat from alongside the door. “Then we can head right up there.”

***

Lee realises the trouble he’s in the moment he gets you settled on the horse in front of him. You still fit just as perfectly against him as you did all those years ago. Your back is pressed against his chest, his thighs bracketing yours as your ass fits snugly against his groin. His arms encircle your waist, hands gripping the reins as he prays to god that his errant body behaves itself.

It’s about a mile into the ride that you settle back into him, the scent of honey and orange blossoms flood his senses and he finds himself nuzzling the side of your throat as he whispers in your ear.

“Oh baby, you were lying to me about not riding back in California weren’t you?”

“You can take the girl out of Montana.” You respond, tipping your head back into his shoulder as his lips ghost over your pulse point. “But she has to come back sometime.”

He smiles then against your skin, his heart lifting because this thing between the two of you it’s never really died. You stay like that until you reach the field, he feels your sharp intake of breath through your ribcage as you survey the land before you.

“Christ it’s beautiful.” You say as Lee climbs off of Dolce. His hands come to rest on your waist as he lifts you down gently and you find yourself looking into his tortured gaze before he takes your hand and leads you into the pasture.

“I did this, I started the wild fire.” He tells you as he gestures at the field of wild flowers. “I was up here thinking about you, smoking a joint, I got a little high, tossed the butt into the grass…”

That entire night is a haze to him after that, he remembers it in fragments. Him trying to put out the fire with the canteen he carried, the realisation it was already out of control. By the time he made it back to civilisation it was consuming everything in it’s path.

“It burned for two days.” He tells you, shaking his head. “And it destroyed fucking everything.”

“Not everything.” You say, your fingertips caressing the velvetlike petals of a fire poppy. “Something beautiful blossomed out of all it.”

“That’s what I want for us.” He tells you, his voice rough as his thumb chases over the curve of your hand. “Something wonderful to bloom out of all the damage I caused. Do you think that we could have that again?”

“Well.” You say, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t planning on going back to California anytime soon.”

Love Lee? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @nowjumpinthewater @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Seventy-four

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

(Tweltfth grade)

"Just one more year, and we can get out of this prison," Marella mumbled, dropping her bag beside her desk.

"Or you could just skip class like I do," Keefe said, joining the science lab table.

Sophie sighed. "How do you have all honors classes.

He shrugged. "To be fair, I don't know either." He let out a laugh. "I barely even pay attention to the teacher. I just wing it on the tests."

Marella glared. "Ok, that's not even fair. I have to study my butt off to be in this class."

Dex took the last seat at the table. "You look rough," he commented.

"Yeah, well," Marella spat, "I've been surviving of energy drinks all summer. School had to come make me actually have a circadian rhythm. Not happy about it."

He held his hands in surrender. "Ok, ok. Jeez, I can tell."

She shot him the finger. Before he could retort, the teacher came in to introduce herself. Sophie pulled out her notebook to write down the information that she needed.

At the end of the day, Sophie went to the administrator's office. She paid her class dues and claimed her parking spot.

She located it in the parking lot. As a senior, she was able to paint her parking spot this year. She figured she'd paint her's as a black swan.

She jumped a little when unexpected arms wrapped around her from behind. She eased when she realized it was just Keefe. He nuzzled the top of her hair, making her giggle.

She turned around to greet him. He tightened his hold on her waist and leaned down to kiss her. Sophie tilted up on her tip toes and circled her arms around his neck. He lifted her up a couple of inches of the ground. That made her squeal a little bit.

When she was let down, she told him, "You should come to Lowe's with me. I'm going to get the stuff to paint my parking lot."

He grinned. "I'd love to. What are you going to paint."

"A black swan. You?"

"I'm thinking of doing the house from Up."

"Ooh, that sounds cool!"

With that, they went to get the paint from the store. Them and their friends decided to wait until Saturday to do it together.

Saturday came, and they all gathered together at the school. Sophie was currently struggling to get the basic silhouette of the swan. Maybe if she sweet talked Keefe.

"Hey, do you think you could help me, Bub," she asked in a sing-song voice.

He snorted. "Sure."

He took the paint brush from her, carefully making an outline of the swan. She kissed his cheek when he gave the brush back.

Sophie glanced at what he was doing she gasped when she saw his drawing. It was extremely detailed. Still, Keefe was looking funny at it.

"That's really good," she told him.

"It's missing something, though," he mumbled.

"The balloons?" Sophie asked.

"Yeah, but I want to do something different for them," he pondered. His face lit up. He passed Sophie a paint brush. "Here, pick a color and paint your hand."

Sophie picked the red up and did what she was asked. When she was finished, Keefe pressed her hand onto the pavement. He grinned when she lifted it up, revealing a handprint.

"Yesss! Here, sign your name on it." He turned around. "Hey guys, come over here. I want you to do something."

When everyone finished their hand prints, he drew the strings to attach them to the hand. They smiled at their work.

[jkoo-njoo]

college crush - 4

summary : college au l when the frontier between a crush and an obsession blurs, how can you draw the line?

pairing : shy n clingy bf! jk × black fem! reader

genre : fluff, soft yandere | headcanons

word count : 3980, on going story

warnings : a bit angsty in the beginning with very harsh self-talk, description of self-neglect and implication of suicidal thoughts because Jungkook has low self-esteem

author's note : thank you so much @armydgirl for commenting “I need more of this” under the last chapter because it motivated me to finish this in like 2 days when I’ve been stuck on this for months. I’m really thankful for everyone who’s been reading this story so far ! There is one last chapter left. What do you think will happen ? (∩˃o˂∩) enjoy my loves and as always, all comments are well appreciated ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ₊˚⊹♡

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4/ when imagination and reality combines, your dreams come true

- No-thing : there is no good or bad

The morning after you received the apology letter from your secret admirer, and now intruder, you were feeling pretty excited

It’s like their morbid obsession rubbed off on you and you were kind of starting to feel the same ? towards them ?

Was it ok though… to feel this way. You didn’t know

Anyways !

Even though it sounds like you are not making much sense, you’ve had a very fulfilling sleep actually

And it is now time to tackle the daily tasks your world awaits from you : attend classes, study and work

Before leaving you remember to put up the little surprise for your admirer

You already prepared the note in response to their apology letter the night before, so you just install it evidently in the middle of your main table with a glass of water

(you figured since you want them to clean your place they will be thirsty afterwards — hence the water)

Then you attended to your occupations

With an intrigued heart beating hard in your chest from anticipation, and a slight smile on your face

- Any-thing : signs follow, they do not precede

Because Jungkook didn’t have class this morning but he knew you did, he decided to pay you a visit

This visit is special : it is the first one in a few weeks, right after the apology letter

For some context…. it was not looking good for him. Like, he’s been going through a very tough period

When he took the hoodie with him on his last visit, he felt so proud of himself for having the courage to take a piece of you and bring it back to his home

He has never felt this euphoric

He would put the hoodie up to his nose and smell it to ingrain your body odor in his brain

He would wear it to bed and hug himself imagining it was you cuddling him with your arms circling around his waist and messaging his back to soothe him

The euphoria lasted a few days

He didn’t even go back to your place or send letters in the meantime like,,, he was fully satiated

Then your sent started to fade away progressively and he figured he needed to go back to your place

But he realized that… you were kind of actively using this hoodie. You must have noticed it was gone

What if you knew it was him ? What if you were hating him for stealing something from you ?

In his defense, it wasn’t exactly stealing because he planned on putting it back

He wanted to put his scent on it and give it back to you, so you could get intoxicated about him the same way he was about you

But his doubts and insecurities started eating him alive

“What if she thinks you stink ? She would never accept back a hoodie from a dirty man.”

“Scratch that : she would never accept the hoodie back from you at all, because she hates you.”

“You broke into her home so many times and stole from her. Don’t you think there’s consequences to your actions ?

“Karma exists and she’s out to get you”

“Don’t even think you have a chance with her anymore. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t love you and never will again.”

“Hell, I’m sure she forgot you since you don’t even send letters anymore.”

“You’re nothing but a fleeting bad memory, plaguing her brain.”

“Stay away from her, you monster.”

The mental self-harm was so harsh, he absolutly didn’t leave his room anymore

Not to study, not to work — not even to eat

He didn’t go to photography class anymore because he couldn’t even have the guts to face you after all this

He felt so so bad for so long

At some point, he was truly starting to decay and felt like he wanted to see you one last time before dying.

So, he showered for the first time in like a week

Dressed up in all black, popped on a large black bob

And went out, looking for you

It was something like 2 PM on a Wednesday

According to your schedule, you were supposed to be at the campus library studying a bit before your afternoon classes

And like clockwork, right after entering the library, he spotted you from afar

You were at the very end of the long hall, sitting alone with your books and your computer.

Your back was facing him so you couldn’t notice him staring at you with tears in his eyes

How could he let himself rot away when you were the light he needed in his life ?

How could he leave you this way when you needed him to protect, love and provide for you ?

It was inconceivable that he wasn’t taking care of you anymore, and that he even entertained the idea of never doing it ever again

He needed to bounce back immediately.

So, he sprinted back to his place,

Shuffled through his desk to grab a piece of paper and a pen,

And got to work.

He was still crying uncontrollably while trying to put his thoughts onto the paper

After 3 crappy letters and lots of crossed-out sentences, he figured he needed to calm down in order to properly deliver the best piece of literature ever

The one letter that could melt the heart of a statue and that will recover your relationship, without a doubt.

That’s when he came up with the apology letter you received.

Shortly after writing it, he decided on an express delivery to your place,

So you could read it and contemplate on his fate during the night or whatever

And while you do that, he would come the next day bearing gifts :

a brand new hoodie to replace the old one, a flower bouquet to decorate your house and give you a piece of himself and some of your favorite fruits to nourish your tummy and your soul

Their job was to make you realize that he was very serious about this relationship with you.

To remove any doubts about taking him back into your life

This was his plan, and to him it was infaillible.

Fast forward to today

There he was, in front of your door, with his arms full of gifts for you, and on the verge of throwing up and pissing himself on the spot

He waited there a good 10 minutes until someone across the corridor unlocked their door to come out of their room.

Since the last thing he wanted to do was get caught, he hurried inside your place.

He closed his eyes, and almost started to hyperventilate but he managed to calm himself down.

One — inhale… exhale

Two — inhale… exhale

Three — inhale….

On the exhale, he slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by the silence and stillness of your room.

He felt so at ease, so happy to be back — where he belongs.

After a few more seconds in contentment, he decided to install his things and get back out

But as he emptied his arms onto the table, he noticed you left a note on it

He wasn’t sure if it was for yourself or for him, so he took it out of pure curiosity

Upon reading it, his heart almost jumped out of his chest

It was your answer to the apology letter.

You responded to him !!!!

Oh my God.

You finally acknowledged him

AND you deliberately wanted him to alter your living space to clean and order your things

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

This was a gift from God

He was so happy, he fell down on his knees and held the note right over his heart

After getting down from the high, he arranged his gifts onto your table and got to work.

He never cleaned a place this meticulously in his entire life

This was almost cathartic

Like he was cleaning his sins away and prepping for a squeaky clean new slate for your relationship to start again from

When he was done he felt very proud of himself and was so happy to have been able to tremendously help you for something you needed

He didn’t plan on writing anything because he didn’t expect you to answer to him ;

But since you did, and he executed your request, he took a piece of paper and one of your cute bullet pens to write back to you :

“I cleaned your whole entire place just as you asked, my princess. I will always do absolutely everything that you ever request from me, with immeasurable joy and love every single time. I can’t wait until I can permanently take care of you and provide for you at all times. I can’t wait until the day I can hold you close in my arms, look straight into your gorgeous sparkling irises and tell you that I live for you, for you are my entire life. I bought you a new hoodie as I promised. I also bought some beautiful scented flowers and your favorite fruits. Please accept all of this as a proof of my endless unconditional love for you. Take care of yourself my angel, and never forget that you are the light that guides me through darkness. If you ever need me again, I’ll always be right here. — your secret admirer”

He has to physically contain himself from taking anything before leaving

But it’s less difficult than last time, because he never felt so fulfilled in his entire life

He realized that he feels the most joyful and alive when he does things for you.

He is now convinced that he truly lives for you, and that you are promised to him.

After a long and exhausting day, you finally went home.

The excitement and curiosity was eating you alive.

Did they come today ? Did they notice the little note ? Did they clean the house ?

You were truly hoping that they did come, and that if they did, they didn’t ignore you, because that would be sad.

As you open the door, you immediately notice how your room smells fresh and fruity

A quick look around reveals that your room is very much clean, as if it had been ran over by a cleaning crew

But the most surprising thing is the pile of stuff on your table

There were : a new and very cool hoodie, apples raisins and peaches, and a large bouquet of flowers with a very sweet scent.

You were filled with glee and contentment

This is the confirmation that this really isn’t a prank by your friends, but that there is truly someone out there that is invested in you

That is so cute ?!

You are so caught up with all of these gifts and new realizations that you almost don’t notice the letter

A new letter from your secret admirer !!!

This is a gift from God

After reading it… you feel like crying.

Nobody ever made you feel this way. Nobody ever went out of their way to make sure that you were good, that you had everything you needed, that you were taking care of yourself.

To have someone you don’t even know care that much…. is something indescribable.

You couldn’t not develop some feelings back for them, even if you wanted to

They were becoming a constant presence in your life and you truly didn’t want it to stop.

This night, you both fell asleep under the same sky, and asking the same stars to reunite you, for you belonged together.

- Some-thing : flowers bloom, even in concrete

The next morning, Jungkook is going to the local cafe for his occasional dose of caffeine, when he sees something that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

You are walking around the campus, with the brand new hoodie he gave you just the day before.

You must have felt his eyes bore holes into your sides, because you turn around and look right into his eyes.

Realizing you’ve met eyes with the cute nerdy guy from photography class, you politely smile and wave your hand at him

Then, you keep going your way, oblivious about what you’ve caused

He could only instinctively wave back at you with a shy smile

He keeps staring at you walking with a bouncy and bright demeanor until you are out of sight

This whole encounter is so overwhelming to him that he has to rush to the nearest campus toilet

He just saw the literal [love of his life] walk around outside with something he choose specifically for her and smile at him.

You were accepting and proudly using his gifts for you. His proof of his love for you.

It is the absolute and ultimate proof that you are also totally in love with him

He could not contain his emotions even if he tried to. It was too much

So, he locks himself inside a toilet to hide his boner and cry from joy

He is as hard as he is happy. This is everything to him.

Literally all of his dreams are coming true.

So, he decides that from now on, he’ll send you more gifts and love letters than ever

Because he just cannot get over the fact that he can send you stuff and you will just… use them ??

Absolutely crazy and groundbreaking.

The next few weeks, on top of following you everywhere and taking pictures of you, he started stalking you on social media

If he felt like a pretty discrete and laid back admirer before, he definitely feels like a total stalker now

But he isn’t a creep, and you’re receptive to his moves. So it’s not bad, right ?

Anyways

He was mainly in search of a potential wishlist you posted or some posts where you expressed your interest in something

He has bookmarked almost all your “I want this 😖” & “I wish 😿” tweets

Each time he would find a post of you wanting anything, ranging from :

New clothes or cute jewelry to plushies plants and books,

He would buy it and deliver it to your place with an affirming love note attached

Saying stuff like :

“you deserve everything that you ever want and need my love”

or :

“as long as I’m alive, rest easy and know that you will always be taken care of”

But, he also had his own wishlist of stuff he wanted to offer to you

Recently, he bought a cute platted skirt that would would perfectly hug your waist and make your legs stand out — in his opinion — just because he thought it would fit your style

(and it did)

He had tons of carts scattered everywhere on the internet, even on lingerie websites,

Not because he wanted to see you in them but because he wanted you to feel good, comfortable and valued in your own body

Ok he’s obsessed with you but. He’s still an asexual

Talking about that, he is not worried about his sexuality, in fact he is so grateful he fell for you because your were so open and accepting

He overheard you talking about never feeling like anyone would love you just for you, and being scared of being used for your body and never finding true love

That there are multiple ways to love others, and that a relationship shouldn’t revolve around sex

He knew that he had all of his chances and he was the absolute best candidate that met all your standards and that could please and fulfill you in the right way.

Also, he doubled the amount of time he spent at your place

(behind your back, as always)

With each visit, he brings your favorite fruits and sometimes restocks your fridge and cupboards if he sees you’re running out of everything

How does he even manage to finance this lifestyle, you ask ?

Well, do you remember: he is a talented photographer.

He was booked and busy before, but retired when he started college due to lack of time and the loss of all the passion and drive necessary to keep up that kind of side hustle

Now that his passion and drive was back — all thanks to you — He started selling his services as a photographer and as a video editor again.

And he was making bank !

You are such a blessing in his life, he will never be thankful enough for your existence.

You were creating all these opportunities for his to grow as a person and improve his life, it was crazy how he changed so much in so little time.

And to recap the state of The Plan ™️ : he’s making Big Moves.

He was slowly but steadily becoming a known and stable occurrence in your life

Half of the plushies you owned were bought by him.

Some of the coolest clothes and shoes and jewelry : bought by him.

The books that you were obsessed about recently ? You guessed it, bought by him.

Even the only pieces of lingerie you had were bought by him.

He was nourishing your body and nurturing your heart.

Seeing you walk around campus proudly while constantly wearing the very outfits Jungkook once daydreamed about has been an insane experience

Knowing that you were eating the food he bought for you and consuming the letters he kept writing and gifting to you….

(he still checked your bins regularly to make sure you were still accepting him)

It made him feel immense pride and contentment.

He was at his peak in terms of interaction in his life right now.

He never made it this far in a relationship

And he knew he wanted more ; but he didn’t want to burn his wings by flying too high too fast.

He knew that patience was key

And he was right because eventually, you were the one to cross the bridge.

- Every-thing : no matter what happens, the universe expands and time flows

One day, you left a note asking for the number of your secret admirer.

It was random, truly, because you usually never answer to their letters directly.

Sure, you would stick a post-it sometimes suggesting a new type of fruit for them to bring to your place for you to try

Or expressing appreciation for an item they bought you recently and that you really enjoy

But it was still very scattered and anecdotical

So much that Jungkook cherished each and every note of yours in a special binder — and if he could frame them he would.

All that to say : that day was different.

You felt it in the air

It’s been 3 months now since the secret admirer thing has started to be pretty serious… with the admiration.

But at this point, you wanted more.

Did you want attention ? distraction ?… love ?

You couldn’t pinpoint a specific need, and you didn’t know exactly what were your motivations ; but you knew something was missing.

Also you needed an answer to your never ending questions

Who are they ? What are they passionate about ? How do they envision their future ?

…Why you ?

Interrogations and curiosity bubbled in your mind like a bottle of sparkling water

You pondered for quite some time about the way you would go to reach your goal

Should you :

ask them to take you on a date, or

invite them over for dinner at your place, or

go to the cinemas with them, or

have a picnic in a park with them, or…..??

The thing is : every option seemed dangerous, especially because you actually didn’t know a single thing about them

Sure, as of now they’ve never attempted to hurt you and they claim to love you much more than life itself

But. You weren’t reckless nonetheless and you’ve watched too much true crime documentaries to even entertain these ideas

So you settled on a post-it note with “can I have the number of my secret admirer, so I can admire them too ?” written on it

Simple is king !

You went to sleep that night with a knot in your stomach and your heart beating loud in your chest as if it were the day before a final exem

The next day, Jungkook entered your place bearing gifts as always without expecting a thing

While checking around as usual, he noticed the post-it on the door of your fridge asking for his number

… Huh ?!

He literally froze in disbelief and read it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

How come you were asking for his number. His. number.

The plan was working like a charm in such a way that he would’ve never expected in a million years

This was so much more than what he could’ve ever asked for

He did try to think about how to make a move to get closer to you ; but he didn’t feel ready yet and wanted to wait more

And now, you’re the one who decided to take matters into your own hands and accelerate everything

It was absolutely crazy

You. wanted. HIM.

Well… not really exactly him

In fact, he noticed you used non-gendered pronouns to address him and realized that you barely knew anything about him

Progressively, he got down from his high and he wiped the tears that fell from his eyes unbeknownst to him

He did want to give you his number, but… the group project in photography class was coming sooner or later and he didn’t want you to connect the dots just yet

He decided to buy a new SIM card from which he will text you

So, he wrote you back immediatly, telling you to wait for him to be ready for you and that he’ll give it to you soon.

A few days later, he came back and instead of delivering the usual LLOTD [love letter of the day] he wrote a note specifically to answer the number question

"Looking at the crescent moon, I see your face in its bright pure aura. Knowing that eventually its going to become a full moon lighting up the sky during the night, like your beautiful face lights up my life each time I look at you, makes me realize I love looking forward to the future only when I know you're going to be in it."

At the end of the poem, he wrote his special number with a heart next to his usual "— your secret admirer" signature

He went back to his place being very much full of glee, and eager to get a response from you.

When you got home from class, you saw his note and your belly immediately filled up with butterflies

Finally, it was time.

Seeing your emotional reaction to their answer you knew you did the right thing

You were going to get your answers to the many questions you've been asking yourself

But, more importantly, you were going to get closer to them.

You pondered for a long time before decinding on what to text them

You wanted to try and write a poem for them too but you felt like you couldn't match their skill and profoundence of their words just yet

You settled on :

"Hey ^^ this is [y/n]. Thank you for giving me your number ! I can't wait to get to know more about you"

Little did you know that… the best was yet to come.

[dragonroilz]

Hey there! I've come across your art ever since I got into Risk of Rain 2 (better late than never, I've been sleeping on this game for years, jesus), and I'm enamoured with it, to say the least. Is there any advice you could perhaps give for an aspiring artist?

you're getting an essay whether you like it or not.

tl;dr of it if you dont want to read

- learn how to take critique

- dont skip fundamentals

- tracing is okay*

- be mindful when drawing

- you wont see good results for a long time

ok firstly, glad you like my art! i try my best on pretty much everything i make so the compliment is greatly appreciated!!

secondly, you have NO clue how much i love yapping about how to draw. im not an expert on how-to-draw-ology but i like to think i know enough to help other people not swing in the dark when it comes to getting better.

learning how to take criticism is THE most important part. not getting butthurt or at least listening to peoples critiques when they mean well is critical to improvement because its specialized advice for you. you have no clue how many young and/or new artists have gotten mad at me for giving critique when they specifically asked me for it. if youre looking to improve you gotta bite that bullet. not all criticism is valid(dont listen to people who are just tryna make you upset), but good and valid criticism can come from anyone. dont unvalidate someone's critique just because theyre not an artist or "not as good" as you. try and get as much feedback as you can and move onto the next piece instead of fixing something to perfection. you will get obsessed in a very destructive way.

learning fundamentals is another step to getting better. that means actually learning perspective, hands, anatomy, and all of the other stuff people hate drawing. its like lifting weights. most people dont like it but if you want to get stronger you need to put in the time to do the painful stuff.

chris christodoulou(ror's composer) actually made a similar comment about the topic of improvement in his field that was along the lines of "if you want to write music, stop playing video games and read a book". he got a lot of shit for saying that but honestly its true.

you need to treat art as a discipline if you want to get better at it. draw as much as you can for as long as you can before it becomes a health hazard. when im not resting i tend to draw at least three hours a day, not counting the 3 to 6 hours additional hours a day i draw during college. obviously a beginner doesn't need to draw that much but drawing daily is a good start.

if you want resources on where to look for fundamentals, Sinixdesign and Ethan Becker were who I turned to for advice that is relevant to the industry. There's definitely others out there but I tend to do more self studying so i don't know the more recent stuff.

something that they'll bring up is that tracing isn't bad AS LONG AS YOU DONT POST IT AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN. it's a good way to see how other people deal with stylization, but its absolutely not okay to post that stuff online. treat it like how traditional painters do master studies. its for your own education, not clout. and you shouldn't be drawing for clout anyway.

last but not least, draw what you love and you'll always love drawing. dont be afraid to hyperfixate and lose interest in things. it will help you continue your art journey. a lot of people in my art school have little to no motivation to draw outside of college because they have no interest in drawing outside of assigned work, which is not a great relationship to have with art if you want to pursue it in the long run. draw what you want to draw when the motivation hits you. if that motivation is risk of rain? draw it. if it's leg muscles then fuck yeah draw that too.

you can stick fundamental practice into your casual art by being mindful of what you are drawing. that can be done by asking questions about what's going on to further the progress of your art. its kind of hard to explain in text, but its basically just keeping in mind how your lines influence the piece.

in the beginning youre going to have ideas and none of them are going to translate to paper. its going to take years before anything will ever compare to whats in your brain and thats just the sucky part. ive been drawing seriously for about 5 or 6 years and theres still a ton of shit i do NOT wanna touch but i have to if i want to improve.

we're all sisyphus pushing that goddamn stupidass boulder and the only thing we can do is acknowledge how far we've come while still knowing that there's more work to be done. but thats kind of the shit that i live for.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

mini update yay-

so lets see, ill start off apologizing for being dead- exam season is around the corner and the only good thing about that will be that i will no longer have to teach or design papers- so i can probably draw a bit again, hopefully at least- so i WILL get back to the requests yall have sent me i promise uwu💕

tho bad news comes in the form of my school principles and viceprinciples bullying me because im a newbie, saying im not good at my job and putting their shortcomings as my fault because who wouldnt like to blame someone else for something they werent able to do- and i feel like the abuse im taking in this toxic environment is convincing me slowly to quit my job and start risking less stable jobs even if it means being my daddies little house girl again for a while. 🙄 at the very least even if im leaching off my parents i still actually HAVE somewhat decent parents and thats not something alot of people could say and im greatful for that.

the audacity was well shown when the principle went on the teachers meeting and was like "some of the teachers here who i will not name dont know how to do their job-" and then told me that i only got my job cuz my dad is rich [which yeah sure my daddy studied 4 years of uni and then credited me sure mmhmm makes sense.] and honestly i feel like im surrounded by 50 year old toddlers-

overall, learning to adult is difficult and im glad some people are helping me figure out how to put together a resume and apply for jobs and all that.... but i guess the next bad news comes in the form of us leaving for russia. i dont hate seeing other countries but having my life uprooted immediately after work ends and summer starts and selling off the car and putting stuff in boxes and yeeting ourselves via plane to live somewhere else for the next 4 years in pure isolation is not something my mental health is gonna be haha about. esp since im gonna have to talk to my therapist and doctor to give me enough meds for me to be able to search for another doctor while im there to give me similar treatment. ughhhhhhh.

overall i feel like i have reached a lovely level of ✨️no longer giving a shit about existance✨️ and thanks to some friends i was convinced juuuuust enough to reconsider ending myself :) in my defense, google was getting annoying for only bringing up hotlines =_=

my eyes cant see well anymore due to constant crying and emotional numbness has taken over me, so i apologize if i may seem out of it or a lil blunt at times when im talking lol i no longer have the energy to PRETEND and hold a mask to seem SOCIALLY appropriate and in this last month of school im gonna be making it everyone elses problem at school.

but other than that im looking forward for school ending so i could just sleep for a while without waking up BEFORE my alarms at 5am.

ok lets see what else uhh... my bday is on 19th and i pray to lord nobody makes a surprise party for me here, the anxiety of being in crowds is already kicking me in the ass im not ready to pretend to have a social battery ugh.

okay thats it mostly, i think.

i actually made this update MINI get it? :D

...ill show myself out...

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Exam Anxiety Sickness

Pairings: Weems x Thornhill x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: reader worries about her exam to a point of sickness

TW: extreme anxiety, vomiting,

A/n before any of you say this isn’t possible, I had a friend that used to get anxious to the point they threw up so…. Yeah. Also, for once I’m not projecting, I’m actually doing ok at my exams :)

Standing in your dorm you did up the last button on your school shirt.

“You will be fine. You studied. You studied hard. You will be fine.” You said to yourself, looking into the mirror with a stern expression. But it didn’t help, not really. You still couldn’t stop the fast thoughts. What if you studied the wrong stuff? What if you blank on the easiest questions? What ifs were running wild in your mind. Making your anxious nature their plaything.

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes trying to stave off the thoughts, drawing a shaky breath and emitting an even shakier exhale. It worked for a second, but that second was fleeting. And when that second was over the thoughts were back and they were angry.

“It's just botany Y/n” you said looking in the mirror. “It's only 50% of your final grade. You will be ok. You will be ok. Ok? Ok.” You said not really believing any of it. You wrung your hands and took another breath. You were pale from lack of sleep and virtually no time outside as you had spent every hour studying.

You slipped on the mask you wore everywhere, every day, all the time. The calm look on your face did nothing to reflect your inner termoil.

Shoving your hands into the blazer you looked yourself up and down, picking off any lint and grabbed your bag before leaving.

You felt too anxious to eat, the gnawing in your stomach making you feel sick. But you knew if you were hungry in the exam, it would be harder to focus. So, you choked back a few mouthfuls of Mac and cheese in the cafeteria, scraping the rest into the bin and returning the tray before leaving.

Slowly you walked towards the botany classroom. You knew if you didn’t pass this exam your whole future would implode. Gone before it even really started. You wanted to be a Botanist; plants were something that always fascinated you. It ran in your family, gardening. But to get into the course you wanted the expected grade was very, very high. So, you had no margin for error. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nicht. Nine. Keine.

Slowing your pace your stomach flipped something awful. You pressed a hand to your midsection to try and ease the feeling, to no avail. The thoughts pounded in your head, and you felt a migraine coming on. Suddenly your stomach lurched again as the food you had eaten earlier settled in an awkward and awful way.

You felt the blood drain from your face, and you did your best to level your breathing which was coming hard and fast.

Doing your best to stay upright against the efforts of the sudden dizziness you felt you hurried as fast as you could to the nearest bathrooms which just happened to be the ones closest to the conservatory. Pushing the door open with the flat of your palm, your other hand gingerly resting over your stomach as if it would help (it didn’t in the slightest), you rushed into the closest stall trying to get to the toilet in time. dumping your bag on the ground and pitching forwards you heaved, nothing but dry retching at first as you gaged. You felt awful. After nothing happened you drew a deep breath and tried to release it slowly. After a second you let your guard down. Big mistake. In rapid succession things deteriorated.

You gaged again, throwing up properly this time. The small amount of food you had managed coming back up. After you were done you coughed and spat out the foul taste. Sitting back on your hunches where you still knelt infornt of the toilet you felt a hand come and rub your back gently. You startled at the touch, not having heard anyone enter over the sound of you retching.

“Better?” A voice asked and you froze mind working hard to catch up with what was happening.

Marilyn Thornhill, your botany teacher was crouched behind you softly rubbing the small of your back with the flat of her hand.

After an awkward second you unfroze and gave a weak nod. Your brain finally catching up enough to spiral again.

“Sorry I’m … I’m not late for the test …am I?” You asked, turning to face her.

“Oh, honey there’s no way you’re doing that test.” Ms Thornhill said gently. “Can you stand sweatpea?” She asked and you nodded. “Good. Good.” She said. “Ok, you come come honey.” And with that she pulled you up. One hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t fall over. Gently she moved you out of the way, reaching over and flushing the toilet.

“Oh honey.” She said looking back at you. “Are you sick?”

“N-no.” You said fidgeting. She took your hands in hers.

“Honey, don’t lie to me.”

“I-I’m not. I-i just…”

“Just what sweet girl?” And when you didn’t meet her gaze and shook your head she sighed softly.

“Let me take you to the nurse” she said placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you from the bathroom, your bag on her shoulder. “We can do the test another day or just … I’m sure we can come up with something.” She said not taking her eyes off you. Your eyes however stayed trained on the floor as you walked.

Not watching where you were going you felt her grab your arm and stop you. At that you looked up, eyes meeting with the sky-blue eyes of your principal.

“Marilyn, how are you?” Larissa asked before turning to you, her smile faltering as she took in your state. “Y/n? Are you ok?”

Before you could respond your teacher gave you a stern look and spoke before you.

“No. No, she’s not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, whats the matter? Can i help?” Ms Weems asked.

“I was just accompanying Ms L/n to the nurse before she could run off.” Your teacher said giving you upper arm a soft rub for comfort.

“I wouldn’t ‘run off’” you muttered kicking the dirt, both teachers frowned.

“Whats the matter? If you don’t mind me asking.” The principal asked.

“Im-“

“She threw up.” The botanist cut in before you could say you were fine.

“Oh dear. Well Marilyn I’m sure you have classes, i can escort Y/n myself.” Weems said and the botanist nodded and handed her your bag. They both said their goodbyes and weems took your arm, leading you to the infirmary.

“Ms Weems i assure you this really isn’t necessary.” You began and she shook her head.

“I would hate to find out what you deem ‘necessary’ then y/n” she said, and you scoffed making her raise an eyebrow. “Do enlighten me then.” She said.

“Well i wouldn’t say the results of my test anxiety requires a visit to the infirmary.” You huffed and she stopped dead in her tracks.

“You mean to tell me you were so stressed about your exam … it made you physically sick?” She said looking both shocked and worried. You bit your lip, looking away and nodding.

“Alright.” She said slowly and turned around. “Come.” She said and you frowned and followed.

“Where are we going?”

“My office. It seems you don’t need any more stress right now and the best place would be somewhere quiet and calm. My office luckily fits those descriptors.”

“B-but the test?” You stammered.

“Is no longer of importance darling.” She said and you swallowed and nodded, giving into the stern look she gave you. Almost straight after you lamented, she smiled, her features softening.

“Good. Well, let's go. I can make us some tea or hot chocolate?” She asked.

“Hot chocolate please.” You murmured as she opened the door gesturing for you to go first.

“Coming right up darling.” She said and disappeared as you sat on the couch. She returned a moment later with the drinks. And with that you began to relax. Feeling better by the minute. You made small talk with the principal, enjoying her company immensely.

Meanwhile Larissa was scheming all the ways she could tease Marilyn for stressing her students out to the point it made them sick. As if Marilyn hadn’t been run down with a cold herself the past week due to stress. It seems you stressed each-other out. Maybe she needed to organise some sort of vacation for teachers and students.

MASTERLIST

[utahlive]

No episode today (i have a test i gotta study for booo) :( However in usual “no episode today” style, I’ve got some behind the scenes stuff! (+ answering asks). I’m really glad you guys like hearing about this part of the blog :D

It’s a little long so I’m putting it under the cut

So my latest method of answering asks is to write a quick outline/reply and save it in drafts (as opposed to what I was doing, which was copy pasting asks into the notes app and writing replies there. dont ask whats wrong with me; I dont know). Anyway this specific comic had its first ‘script’ (shoutout to @/ghostburface for the ask)

I usually draw out what I imagine happening and then add text to hit the points im aiming for, but I did the opposite in this one. I had a lot of trouble figuring out the actual visuals for this one

(For the record I tried to find the original price of the glasses on the las Nevadas merch page but it wasn’t there. I remember losing my mind over the price tho)

attempt/draft 2 (sort of) since I wasn’t sure about the layout. I was really hoping to just have three panels (as you can see by the “if 3 that would be epic” note above)

And then I transferred it digitally! I did go over the script in DMs with my friend so it ended up as it did I did see one person pointing out the whole “rose colored glasses” thing (shout out to you fr !!). I had a lot of meaning I was going for with this one but I have a hard time finding a middle ground between “so obscure its not there” and “way too obvious”

I also wanted to answer some asks (as per usual :3 because I love talking with you guys)

I wish he would grow it out!! However as anyone who’s gone from short to long hair... the awkward phase is NOT pretty. I did hear on one of his streams he might cut it when the EP comes out rather than the album. because he’s a coward (but I can’t blame him)

who doesnt feel like ripping up their pillow though, amiright fellas? Shout out to all the utahlive fictives out there (I’ve heard of reported sightings). Would love to talk to you guys some day <3 It still baffles my mind that this blog leaves any sort of lasting impression on people (for reals though, I hope you guys are ok!!)

this one isnt directed at me but I just think its funny you say this because summer 2022 I went to the Winchester house with my friends, but we all decided it wasn’t worth the price so we just checked out the gift shop and walked around the outside for about two hours. it’s actually very pretty! super cool architecture

this one is under the “what would you recommend I get at the gas station”

It’s also not a question but I think it would be funny to let you know I wrote and queued that post (and the other one posted that day) at like 5am I don’t know how I missed it because I usually check my posts the next morning before they get posted I know it’s bad I’m trying real hard to get my sleep schedule to be normal (this post is sponsored by melatonin tablets)

GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY 🤺🤺🤺

I assume you’re talking about the mcytblr sexyman poll?? Im already making predictions and bets in my head on this one but Ill be fighting for MY meowmeows till my last breath

[philtstone]

Aragorn/Arwen, 63

#63 -- tujhe dekha toh from dilwale dulhania le jeyenge ok so the soulmatism of it all had me going completely nuts (simrans waking dreams.....i need to lie down) & before i knew it i'd re-read their appendix had 3 literary analysis epiphanies and was neck deep in the wiki page on love death and meaning and the paradox of religion and nonreligion in tolkein i say all that like i didnt just write movie verse kidfic lol. ellie is a shortened version of "nethel" which means sister in sindarin. in a different time in my life i would have named every single one of canon girldad aragorns "many daughters" & also included 5 of them but alas, at this time i am Busy. so we'll pretend that the other 3 havent come along yet. arwen has magic powers she will be fine. enjoy!

“My lady Luthien!”

The words come into Arwen's dream in the common tongue, whispered and full of a child’s awe. He is speaking as if to himself — the text has surprised him, or perhaps absorbed him so that he does not realize his mouth is moving, disrupting the Sindarin read privately in his thoughts with an impulsive, delighted exclamation.

To Arwen it is just as mesmerizing. She cannot know why her dream has brought her here, to this garden of her father’s House she has sought refuge in so many a time. She knows him very little, this child, not ten in the years of Men and so very human about it, with lanky limbs folded up against himself to cradle the book and a mop of dark hair that falls down over his eyes and the very beginning of spots on his chin (of endless intrigue to Arwen, who has only ever seen skin unblemished). 

She has not met him, but knows of him from her brothers’ letters: her father’s ward, sweet and grave and beloved amongst the Rivendell kindred as any novelty in the shape of a child might be. But Estel earns it, too. He is earning his presence in her dream in the same way, sat in the exact spot she always chooses, under bows of trees she has long considered friends. He earns it, though Arwen doesn’t quite know why he’s here. 

Don’t you? ask her thoughts of her self, and she does not answer.

Years pass, and she is home again.

“My lady Luthien,” he says, as she comes toward him, and within his voice is a gentle embarrassment that still manages to tease. 

Arwen, firm in her earlier, gentle rejection (he is far too young), cannot help but find this terribly charming anyway. It is just after dinner, and she has found him behind a pillar to the side of where they dine. He holds his cup in both hands. Until her appearance he was studying the carvings on one stone edifice to their side, and seems in every way his mortal age save one: there is a new and convoluted weight in his eyes that was not there in the early afternoon, when he called so clearly and sincerely to her. It seems to have entered like the broken branches of a sapling swept into a fast-moving stream after a storm. 

“I should be greatly flattered, Estel, to be compared thus,” Arwen says, offering that weight a smile. Estel drops his eyes back to the pillar. He seems to start and stop a few times before actually opening his mouth, and when he does,

“I should like to still be called Estel, for a while yet,” and there is great vulnerability there, in his young man’s eyes. It sneaks into her breast and cups a hand over the breath she draws, and despite the glade, and his youth, and the Truth her father has now shared with him, she is compelled: Arwen’s own hand slides over his knuckles, and they are holding the cup together.

“I will,” she promises. “I do.” 

On the edge of the last word do his eyes flick up to hers, canny in a way that sparks beneath her skin. He lives up to his name, she thinks then (not quite knowing why), and when she writes this to him after they have parted, in the letters they now share, he writes back: so do you.

Before Estel, her experience of Death was altogether different. She knew it first in abstraction and then in keen loss. Now she feels its imminance and urgency, in both grand and mundane ways.

For example, earlier this evening, Arwen thought she might die if she did not kiss him. It was a thought that crept over her swiftly, silent and keen as a fresh ice water brook spilling into open hands, very different from the thundering roar of the river spirits she had summoned to herself – until it was suddenly quite the same, roaring, and it must have shown in her eyes. In the late quiet of the night she came to her rooms and found him, there. 

(She has long since known why.)

The employment of her tongue is not new, but pulls a murmur out of him regardless. “My lady Luthien,” he starts, speaking almost directly against her mouth, with a wry amusement that is not so unburdened as to be playful and not yet a warning, either, and then he is properly startled into, “Arwen —!” when her next kiss includes a bite. The rasp of beard against her chin is uncomfortable and delightful. She can feel the rumble of her small victory in his chest. Aragorn has always done so much with just the two syllables of her name.

When she has lost all breath she pulls away, and does not pant — sweet air made salty by urgency comes in and out of her lungs in discordant sighs — but her lips stay hot against his ear and she feels every press of his fingers against the slope of her waist, burning. She thinks of death again; she has fought it off. Twice in one week now, in very different ways.

Aragorn does pant, in his own way. He lets out a quiet gasp and drops his head against the side of hers, not trembling but finding some stronghold deep within himself that begets composure. 

Slowly she begins to comb her fingers through the hair at his temple. In the dark alcove of her rooms (safe), they sway together.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, and she knows: tomorrow the council is held.

“I meant it, earlier,” says Arwen softly, into his hair. It has begun to grey, the strands too hidden yet to shimmer in the moonlight but there nonetheless. Every so often she will catch a glimpse of them and it will leave her wordless, and desperate to touch him. “Your fears are not the truth you think them to be.”

“Arwen.” She can hear the desperation that threatens to choke his own voice. Duty turns the peaceful twilight of her home into a foreboding shadow. There are two large warm hands on her face before she has noticed them move, and then she feels the wetness of her own cheeks: she had not realized she was crying. 

“I did not know it would be so momentous to love,” she says, while he wipes at her tears with war-roughened, gentle fingers. So many things about Men are a paradox. So many things about this man. 

“Meleth,” he says. 

“I meant it.” She repeats herself. “I know who you are in my heart, Estel.”

“You do,” he allows her, and she is not certain he believes it to be enough. No matter, Arwen thinks: her own belief will sustain them. It must, long enough that he has hope for himself as well as for Men, and then they might cross through the door, to the other side of the Dark.  

The Queen finds her husband in Faramir’s study, reading.

“My lady Luthien,” she is greeted, words threaded full of the subtle humour that has turned her head for over sixty years.

Arwen clasps her hands over the laden basket she packed without needing any kind of foresight and sighs thinly. 

“I did expect, mel nin, that you had gone the whole day without food, but I had thought you would be found holding grave council, or visiting the head healer, or even – forgivably – in the stables. Instead, you are here, nose-deep in an ancient poem.”

“It did not come to you in a vision?” he asks, and raises his eyes just enough to catch hers from beneath his lashes. This does nothing to diminish the focus etched into his dark brow, nor the way he holds himself (always it calls to her – it does not matter the shape), nor the deep blue of his mantle sweeping against the floor; he has not paused to change since returning from the Southern Wall. Whatever peace he thinks his feigned innocence will win him, she cannot know.

“Your Steward told on you, my love.”

“Aaah,” his face falls, so dramatically it is amusing.

She holds up her basket. “I have lunch.”

“My beloved wife has developed the sensibilities of a Hobbit,” Aragorn says, in her people’s language.

“Hobbits are good and noble creatures,” she retorts. She always argues better with him in Sindarin anyhow, “and have traditions from which we might learn.” She arches a brow: “Estel.”

“I am eating,” protests Aragorn, somewhat weakly. “I mean – I will.”

“You might do so now. With me – there is no one else here.”

It is a potent suggestion, she does acknowledge. She watches him think about it, proud to note all the little tells which she has known since he was a barefaced and impulsive young man. The same canny look sparks under Arwen’s skin. Once, decades ago, she had met him in the wild woods beyond her father’s borders in a stolen moment between darkness and duty, and convinced him to bathe with her in the river. She remembers her joy at seeing his wet dark hair plastered all over his forehead. She remembers his own joy, and how it fought off the lonesome blanket of the gathering shadow.

“Your thoughts are of something I know,” Aragorn says now, suspicion arching his tone and narrowing his bright eyes, no longer that of a young man but still full of a life that thrills her. “Some joyful mischief that you’re going to coax me into again, no doubt.”

“There is sadly no river in the palace.”

“Aaah,” uttered in a very different tone from before. His eyebrows twitch out of their focused furrow and his face warms with the memory. He lowers his book a little. “Arwen …”

But he does not move from his spot behind the desk, so Arwen places her basket down and sweeps forward, intent. The silver in his hair streaks liberally now, and lines furrow down his cheeks when he laughs – often – but otherwise Aragorn remains mostly unchanged from the presence filling so little yet so much of the many years of Arwen’s memory. Affection rushes through her, swelling like the river, growing like the trees in Lorien. That glade, too, is a memory full of joy. He is much better suited to a beard, though. Arwen tells him this.

“So you have said many many times,” Aragorn says, chuckling. “I have no plans of removing it from my face, beloved.”

“I know,” Arwen hums. “I am only observing.”

Slowly she comes around the desk, on even steps, until they are very nearly touching and she can fold her hands over the top of his book. She takes a long moment to look at him, and though she in her chosen mortality no longer carries the same potency of power that Tinuviel’s blood held before, she conducts her habitual scan of his spirit, the truth of it ebbing through her fingers where they touch. Beyond her duties as Queen (of which there are many, and she both capable and willing) this is what Arwen knows most deeply in her heart how to do. 

Finding Aragorn no more burdened than usual (though perhaps a little distracted) she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Ah –” he clears his throat and touches two long brown fingers to her arm. Unexpectedly, then, Aragorn stage whispers, “We are not … as alone as it seems.” 

“What exactly do you mean?” Arwen, paused very close to his mouth, is compelled to whisper back.

And then,

“It’s alright!” comes a familiar little voice from seemingly nowhere, and all at once Arwen looks down to see the outside shape of the King’s voluminous cloak wriggle. Her mouth parts in surprise. The whisperer continues importantly, “You may kiss Ada if you like, Naneth. We are not looking!” 

“Ssssshhh!” materializes a second, equally familiar little voice.

Arwen tilts her head, mystified, as her husband sets his expression into something communicating exclusively the secrets and patient indulgences of fatherhood. Then he jerks his chin towards the door, eyebrows raised and everything, not a moment before there sounds the sharp cadence of what can only be a young boy’s footsteps (and Arwen would know this boy’s as she knows her own heart) and into the library bursts their only son. 

At the sight of his parents, Eldarion comes to an abrupt halt, and tries very hard to compose himself. 

“Ahem,” he says, straightening. She sees the way his body moves to mimic his father, and also the grass stains on his knees, and the disheveled mop of his curls that means he has definitely spent the last hour running around in the gardens. Arwen is unbothered by this. “Hello Ada, hello Naneth. Have you – have you seen my sisters?”

The front of Aragorn stays conspicuously still.

“Your sisters?” asks Arwen, clasping her hands demurely before her.

“I am afraid my attention has been elsewhere,” says Aragorn gravely, holding aloft his book.

“Indeed,” adds Arwen. “So much so that he has forgotten to eat.”

Minutely, the cloak quivers. 

“Hmmmm,” says Eldarion, lost in focus. “I must find them to create an alliance with the brave rangers in the North,” he speaks, almost as though to himself – he is really giving this quite a bit of thought. He is so absorbed that she could be in Rivendell again, drawn by a dream into her beloved, occupied glade … “For we must defend the townspeople but I cannot do it alone.”

Arwen blinks. Her heart is filled with tenderness.

“They have assigned you the role of orc again?” Aragorn is guessing, sympathetic.

Eldarion droops only a little before springing back up with full confidence. “Yes! But I am determined that we will create an alliance. I am a good orc, you see.”

With hasty goodbyes, he rushes away, taking the excitable sound of his footsteps with him.

A moment of quiet passes. Aragorn’s cloak begins giggling, so he spreads open his arms and herds them out one by one. 

“You must go quietly now, down the hall and into the gardens,” whispers their father.

“Naneth,” begins their youngest, halfway out the room, “Naneth, do you think if we formed a nalliance –”

“An alliance,” corrects Aragorn, still whispering.

“Shhh,” interrupts the other, “or Eldarion will find us!”

“But he must be getting lonely!”

“Oh, ellie …”

Their little voices trail out of the door.

“I believe an alliance would work,” Aragorn offers Faramir’s many inert books, speaking at a normal register once more. The study now empty, Arwen turns back to her husband. His eyes are twinkling. She does not say anything, but moves toward him, as she has done so many times before, and lays her head to rest against his shoulder. In moments the book is tucked away, and the warm hands she knows so well are cradling her arms. 

After a moment he says, “You are well? Arwen?” a gentle question in her ear. Arwen nods. She can now say what she knows, and why they are here: 

She sustained them, and there was hope to be found. 

Aragorn’s fingers rub over the gauzy sleeve of her dress. “Did you have your heart set on lunch?” he asks quietly.   

“I did,” Arwen says, and turns to hold his eye. “I do.”