#she took like pages of my sketchbook lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eldritch-nightmare · 5 months

Text

celebrating the holidays.

a/n: hi here's my short replacement for the eyeless jack fic. that one is still gonna get posted!! just may take a while bc it's getting longer than i intended it to be lol. anyways i tried to keep the holiday relatively vague but since i personally celebrate christmas, i may slip up a bit. couldn't decide who to write for so i just spun a wheel six times and went with the ones selected.

includes: the bloody painter, nurse ann, jane the killer (arkensaw), eyeless jack, kate the chaser, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread, very brief mention of helen's childhood, literally just fluff, also inconsistent length but that's to be expected atp, reader consumes meat in jack's section so sorry if u don't, nsfw elements in jack's part my hand slipped guys, blood, lotta kissing.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

He never cared much for the holidays, even when he was a child. Honestly, it was the one time of year that he dreaded the most.

He's an artist, so you know what that means. Every year, without fail, he would always get some art-related gifts. Not that he was complaining about that or anything, it was really, and still is, the only thing he had much interest in.

He just... found it to be draining. Apparently, at least according to his parents, he was supposed to find the holidays to be a fun, exciting time of year. And he was supposed to be oh so thankful for getting yet another sketchbook or paints from his relatives or whatever.

That was just too much work, honestly. So he grew to dread the holidays, even long after he became the killer he is today.

He's... not quite sure how he feels about the wrapped gift you're holding out in front of him. A part of him wants to reject it, and he almost does, but the barely contained excitement in your expression made him hesitate.

Your excitement only seemed to grow when he took the wrapped gift from you. While he didn't necessarily want or need a gift, he couldn't help but indulge you, especially since you seemed genuinely excited over whatever gift you had gotten him.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was expecting when he unwrapped the gift. Something art-related, no doubt. And it was art-related, just not in the way he was expecting.

It was something similar to a scrapbook, but it was really... neat. And more so a collection of art rather than an actual scrapbook. The thing that caught his attention the most was that it was just any old collection of art.

It was his art. You... you took or had his art professionally photographed and you put it in this book. It wasn't every single piece of art he's ever made, but it included a lot from different points of his life. It even included pieces from before he had met you.

He does not cry, no. But you do catch the tiniest smile forming as he flipped through the pages. It's... the nicest gift he's ever gotten before.

Helen's not sure how he'll repay you for getting something like this, so for now you'll just have to accept the tighter-than-usual hug and soft kiss.

NURSE ANN

Ann isn't too sure if she's ever celebrated any holidays before. She has no memories of her life before her... death? Is she dead? Well, she certainly doesn't feel alive.

She's rather indifferent towards the holidays, and honestly she probably won't even realize it's that time of year unless you or someone else point it out to her.

If you want to celebrate with her then she certainly won't stop you, just don't expect her to be the life of the party or anything like that.

You will have to guide her through how to celebrate because she simply will not know. But once she gets a hang of how things work it'll be something she retains for the future.

Ann stares blankly at the... tastefully atrocious sweater you were sporting. There were so many colors and the design clashed in a borderline unbearable way but you somehow made it look good.

Her gaze then drops down to the matching sweater you were holding out for her, an expectant look in your gaze. She thinks she understands, though she still glances up at you in confusion.

You explain that while it's not necessary to do in order to celebrate the holidays, you thought it would be fun to wear matching outfits with her. It's something couples do sometimes, apparently.

After your quick explanation, she silently takes the sweater from your hands and puts it on over what she was already wearing.

It certainly looks odd on her, no doubt, but the fabric is actually pretty soft, and the bright smile that lights up on your face makes it hard for her to care about whether or not the sweater looks good on her.

JANE THE KILLER

Jane hasn't celebrated the holidays since all the shit that's happened to her. She's been so focused on hunting Jeff down that it never even crosses her mind. Hell, she hasn't even celebrated her own birthday in years.

But then you come along and you insist on doing something for the holidays. Not because you necessarily enjoyed the holidays, but mostly because you just wanted her to take a break for once.

It'll take a lot of convincing. You'll have to get her to promise you months in advance, if we're being honest.

And if she didn't have such a soft spot for you, she probably wouldn't even humor the idea you had to celebrate. But alas, she loves you, and she finds it hard to say no to you more than she would like to admit.

She huffs in mild annoyance, sticking close to you as you guide her down the streets. She wouldn't normally be in such a crowded place but everyone was so caught up in their own plans for the holidays that no one spared her a single glance.

You wanted to go ice skating. It's not typically a traditional way to celebrate the holidays, at least not for her, but it seemed as if it would be fun. And it would give her an excuse to be close to you, so.

When you guys finally reach the ice skating rink, you're bouncing in excitement and eagerly pulling Jane along to go and put some blades on. She lets you, because your hand is oh so warm in hers and the way the lights shine in your eyes makes her feel... peaceful.

Now, there's no denying that she has never gone ice skating before. Hell, she's never been roller skating. So the moment you two were out on the ice, she was clinging to you to keep herself from falling.

It was embarrassing, and she almost wanted to storm off out of frustration but you never laughed at her. You would help her catch her balance whenever she slipped. You only laughed when you slipped.

You were even fine with sticking to one side of the rink, always keeping Jane behind you whenever another person would skate too close.

And when the two of you decided you had enough, she couldn't help but pull you close right as you go to step out of the rink, planting a deep kiss on your lips and leaving you dazed as she goes to take her blades off.

EYELESS JACK

Similarly to Ann, Jack can't remember if he's ever celebrated the holidays before. However, unlike Ann, he does have a vague idea on how people celebrate the holidays. He's not isolated like her.

He's definitely indifferent towards the holidays. He doesn't care much for them, but he's probably willing to celebrate if you really want him to.

Gift giving is not his specialty, dear lord. You will have to sit him down and tell him bluntly what you want so he can find some odd most certainly illegal way of obtaining it.

Jack is, however, an amazing cook and there is nothing that could change my mind on this, so he will definitely be willing to help you make any holiday meal you may want to try out.

Jack is silent as he watches you cook some meat for the meal the two of you had been spending the past few hours or so making. You had family coming over, and you needed dinner to be done before they arrived, so you had enlisted the help of your demonic, cannibalistic boyfriend.

His nose scrunched up in slight disgust at both the sight and smell of the cooking meat, and he grumbled silently under his breath about what a waste it was to cook it.

His mild disgust only seemed to grow more evident when you cut a piece of the meat off and pop it in your mouth to taste test it. He just couldn't understand how you could eat such a thing. Then again, he can't really judge considering he only consumes raw meat. Typically coming from a human.

You hum in delight at the taste, and perhaps it's an instinctual thing humans do, or maybe it's something else, but you cut off another piece and hold it out for him to eat. He just stares, and it takes a moment for you to realize what you had done, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh.

Before you could eat the piece of meat yourself, he was grabbing your wrist and bringing it back to his mouth, eating the cooked meat and biting your finger in the process. You hissed at the feeling of his sharp teeth pricking your skin, but you don't pull your hand away from him.

The meat was disgusting, no offense. You're an amazing cook so it isn't your fault, he just literally cannot consume cooked meat (or really anything that isn't raw/human) and he's going to feel absolutely awful tomorrow but that's for future Jack to worry about.

Present Jack thinks he deserves a reward for putting up with both the smell and taste of cooked meat, and he licks at your bleeding finger like your blood is the best thing he's ever tasted. To him, it was. It certainly helped to erase the taste of cooked meat.

Once he was satisfied, he was pulling you closer to him and kissing you deeply. He bit at your bottom lip until it was bleeding as well, and he couldn't help but groan as your blood invaded his mouth once more, relishing in both the taste and the little gasp that came from you.

He wanted more. Needed, if we're being honest. He found himself craving for you as his hands fell to the hem of your sweatpants, gently tugging at them. A clear sign of his intentions.

You grabbed his wrists before he could continue, breaking the kiss off and smiling slightly when he chased after you. The two of you were breathing heavily, the air in the kitchen feeling a lot thicker now.

Later, you promised. You still had a meal to finish cooking, and your family would be coming by in just a few hours. You sealed the promise with a quick, chaste kiss before taking the meat off the stove and setting it aside to focus on the next part of the meal.

And he helped you. He was patient, and he knew you could keep your promise.

KATE THE CHASER

Considering her sensitivity to light, it's not exactly easy for her to celebrate the holidays since bright lights seem to be a staple in them.

She's not really much of a holiday person anyway, so it's not something that bums her out.

She's probably the only one on this list that's least likely to indulge in celebrating, and will more than likely turn you down if you bring up the offer.

But she does feel a certain fondness in her heart when she sees you getting excited over something in relation to the holidays. While she doesn't enjoy that time of year, she's glad that you do.

Kate keeps her eyes covered as you carefully guide her through the forest. You had a surprise for her, apparently. Something to celebrate the holidays without actually celebrating.

She wasn't immediately thrilled, but you had promised that there would be absolutely no bright lights involved and that she didn't even have to consider it something for the holidays. That was enough to make her willing to indulge you just this once.

Even with her eyes closed, she could practically feel the excitement radiating off of you as you brought her closer to wherever it was you wanted to take her.

You told her to open her eyes shortly after, and she found the two of you standing in front of one of the many abandoned cabins within the forest. She didn't even hesitate to enter the cabin when you motioned for her to. Kate trusted you.

The sight she saw when she stepped inside was... it was breathtaking, honestly.

The walls and the ceiling were covered in glow-in-the-dark snowflakes and stars, illuminating the cabin in a faint green hue. It wasn't a grand gesture or anything of the sort. It was... it was nice.

The glow of the stars and snowflakes was bright enough to illuminate the cabin but dull and dark enough that she didn't have to shy away from it.

That wasn't the only thing you had planned either. She's not sure how much time and effort you put into doing all of this, but you had set up a little space in the cabin. There was even a small projector set up, as well as some food that you knew she enjoyed.

It's definitely the most romantic thing she's ever experienced. And if this is how you want to celebrate the holidays with her, then she definitely won't mind doing this sort of thing again next year.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Similarly to Jane, Liu hasn't really celebrated the holidays since everything that happened. He knows when that time of year comes around, and it makes him feel nostalgic, but he always found it hard to celebrate alone.

He's the one on this list who'll be most excited to celebrate the holidays with you if you ask him to.

It doesn't matter what you wanna do. If you wanna decorate your home, if you wanna give gifts, if you wanna make a meal, if you wanna just stay in and watch some movies and order takeout then he's down.

Sully doesn't care for the holidays and he finds the whole time of year to be annoying, to be honest, so you'll only be celebrating with Liu.

And you decided that you wanted to decorate your home a bit for the holidays. It was a simple way to celebrate the holidays, and you didn't even have to leave your home to get any decorations since you had some stuffed away in a box in your closet.

When you had told Liu that that was your plan, he was eager to join you. It's been so long since he's been able to do anything for the holidays, and he was just... really excited to finally have someone to spend them with.

You made sure to put on some music to play in the background while the two of you got to decorating, and you'd tell him where to put certain things if he didn't know what to do with them.

You two chat with each other as well during all this, sharing random memories and stories from your childhoods. Some were happy, some were sad. Sometimes, Liu would trail off mid-story and you'd have to change the subject to something lighter.

At some point, when a particularly romantic song played, you set down the decoration you were holding and pulled Liu away from the one he was setting out so you could take a break and dance with him.

It got the brightest smile out of him. The brightest one you've ever seen.

The bitter sadness and nostalgia that comes with the holidays lingered. It would always linger, honestly, but it was easier to deal with when he's with you.

And he was excited to make new memories with you. Ones that'll make him smile when the holidays roll around again.

#sigh keep forgetting how i tag stuff here hold on #the bloody painter x reader #nurse ann x reader #jane the killer x reader #eyeless jack x reader #kate the chaser x reader #homicidal liu x reader #the bloody painter x you #nurse ann x you #jane the killer x you #eyeless jack x you #kate the chaser x you #homicidal liu x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you

90 notes · View notes

blackbackedjackal · 1 month

Text

So to put this in perspective. I was about 5-7 when The Burned Furs was happening. I literally went to see Pokemon: The First Movie IN THEATERS, while this was going on.

By the time I was using the olde internet was about 10 or so. My family had a home computer system with Windows 98 and kept things upgraded over the years due to my dad needing access to "the internet" for work. I was left alone a lot as a kid (busy father/neglectful mother) and this was around the time of "CHECK OUT WWW.POKEMON.COM FOR MORE DETAILS" kind of time of the early internet + advertising. Like I was still using AOL dial-up for a lot of my original internet deep dives. Then, when things like Neopets took off, I was using the computer religiously. I stayed (mostly) on kid-safe spaces, but of course, the internet was, and is, the internet and I eventually branched out. I wanna say I was looking up pictures of Inuyasha to print out and use as art reference, as well as Digimon and Wolf's Rain. I know one of the earliest pieces of furry media was Renamon porn around 2002-2004, as well as a lot of art by Dark Natasha through her website.

At some point around 2005-2006 I stumbled onto VLC. I remember because I saw some furry art by an artist and really liked his style and was emulating it for a bit. At this time, furry art was still ruled by many people emulating Animalympics (which I only knew of because my family owned one of the first official releases of the VHS copies), as well as Osamu Tezuka's deep stylistic influence on the furry community in the 80-90s. The Disney influence from TLK hadn't fully seeped into the community at that point, and, being a little anime kid, I was genuinely fascinated with the art style. One of the first pieces of art I posted online was something I drew inspired by some furry fox art I saw on VLC, but then hyperfixated more into the general "I wanna draw a cool edgy anime wolf" kind of thing.

My first OC, Jade Shadowblood (lol) I made when I was about 9-10. I still own the sketchbook where I first drew her. This was sometime around 2001-2002. She was an Inuyasha self-insert character and intended to be "me" if I was in Inuyasha. I always refereed to her as "this is me if I was a wolf demon" to my friends at the time when I showed them my art in elementary school. I got the idea to make more "wolf demons" of my friends when they asked me if I could draw them as wolves at school. I took a lot of design inspo from Neopets/Neopets Adoptables at the time, and a lot of my original OCs were in fact, based off of kids who were my friends at the time (I have all of these original pieces still saved to this day).

Anyway, I joined DeviantArt in 2006 when I was 12-13 under the handle ShroudofShadows. I heard the name on Xiolin Showdown and thought it sounded cool for an internet username. This was my first real venture into social media. I scanned in and posted some of my old art, and continued making art inspired by Inuyasha, Wolf's Rain, Neopets, etc. It wasn't until about 2007 or so when I shared Jade on DA that one of my friends asked me "is this your fursona?" and I was like "what's a fursona?" and well, here we are I guess?

My first webcomic was started at this time, I found out about other people making wolf comics with their characters and I was like "I wanna do that too". The OG Wolf Song was heavily inspired by Inuyasha/Wolf's Rain, but because I also liked Don Bluth, an inspiration Kay Fedewa also used for her art, I got lumped in as "copying" Kay Fedewa because our styles were similar.

Kay got started with The Blackblood Alliance around the same time I did, and did influence about 5 or so of the original pages. Even though I knew my characters and plot were different and eventually would deviate from looking similar to her art, I just leaned into it since people were accusing me of copying her when we just happened to be posting around the same time. I had no idea who she was prior to people comparing me to her.

Wolf Song, ran for several years, but due to being bullies by TheRoguez/RayJ and her band fo merry fuckwads who made it their goal to "remove" wolf comics off of deviantart (the great sparkledog cleanse) and people like MirrorZan and BlueShineWolf having some very public drama in the wolf comic community, I eventually stopped working on my comic to do a big re-write. I wanted to FINALLY get out from under the "oh you're just copying these people" bullshit because I was like "I literally don't know who this is until you name dropped them". I stayed in my lane with Wolf Song and didn't branch out too much to other wolf comic artists since we were all getting harassed at this point. I didn't really know who to trust outside of the friends I had made in my early DA days.

By 17, I was applying for colleges and didn't have time to work on Wolf Song anymore. This was also around the time the other Wolf Song, the one on youtube, began taking off more and my comic was buried under the popularity. I figured "eh ok" and dropped the project while focusing on school.

I never felt like I really fit in with any one place/group. I had my own space and the fans of my comic which made me happy, so I avoided social media/fandom stuff for a few years. I was always on the fringes of the furry fandom, but due to coming across some really racist proboards forums about the furry fandom when I finally looked into it and saw "N*ggers can't be furry/therian/otherkin", I was like "ok fuck you too" and never wanted to participate in the fandom.

#jackal's journal #Wolf Song is still up in fully btw like #I never deleted anything online #I had no reason to #I had nothing to hide and this was my portfolio for college basically #fucking hell this brought up so many old memories

37 notes · View notes

ecrisparfois · 2 years

Text

sketchbook

summary : Y/N drew Draco in the middle of class, and got caught.

warning(s) : Umbridge

words : 1.3k

A/N : This is inspired by a real life event lol, so very self-indulgent. I miss story with plots :( Working on one but tbh I rather read than write because even though writing is one of my hobbies, not writing is also my hobby. so, yeah.

Umbridge class is might be the last class you wanted to be in right now. It might sound a bit harsh, but you rather have death eater disguised in Mad Eye Moody than her. Despite what he did last year, he's clearly way more competent than the women standing in front of the class. Speaking of the disguised defense against the dark arts teacher last year, you remember how he turned Draco into a ferret. You snorted at the memory, your pals in the neighboring desk send you a look of concern which you return with a reassuring shook.

You glance at the sight of Draco in the other side of the class. The sight of him under the morning sun caused you to gasp softly, stunned. He seemed just as bored as everyone else in the room; his lips curved down makes unnoticeable pout; his eyes looking back and forth from the blackboard to his textbook; his slender long finger holding the quill, dip it to the ink bottle in front of him every other minute; his head laid flat on his palm, his elbow on the desk helping his arm support the weight of his head; white blonde hair of his look so soft, reflecting the morning light.

You instinctively grabbed the sketchbook and pencil in your satchel. Ready to draw the Slytherin across the room. You took out the needed supplies without second thought. After all, fuck this class. Draco's beautiful features under the good lighting was too precious to be missed. You tossed your textbook to the side, flipping your sketchbook and readjust your seat to get a better position while drawing Draco. As if he knew of your activity, he stayed still like a good model. He didn't move much and his facial expressions didn't change.

An hour later, after glances you took of him so often, Draco beautiful features imprinted on the paper of your sketchbook. You grinned in satisfaction; looking back and forth from the sketch to Draco across the classroom. Not bad, just need a little completion. You just about to continue to go on a few small details when out of nowhere, Umbridge showed up behind your shoulder.

"Ms Y/L/N," your hands freeze at the painfully sweet voice. "What are you doing?" she asked sweetly, but her eyes already attached to the sketch.

You opened your mouth to answer and give her excuses but immediately shut it close as you realised 'bored' was not an acceptable reason to draw your classmate.

"Is that Mr Malfoy?" she snatched the sketchbook from your hand before you even have time to process what she was doing.

My precious Draco, you cried silently as she brought the sketchbook to her desk.

Draco shoot his head at your direction as he heard his name mentioned. He furrowed his eyes at you in disapproval, you refuse to meet his eyes in embarrassment. Your face growing warm as Umbridge flipped page after page of your sketchbook. You prayed to whatever God that might exist to keep Umbridge's mouth shut and to give her a bit of compassion not to humiliate you in front of the whole class. It seemed like God must be nonexistent, because Umbridge sent you a wickedly sweet smile that made you loath the sight of her even more than you did before.

"Ms Y/L/N. Do you think you're a good artist?" she asked with a mocking tone. "Your sketch is awful." she added before you could answer. Her hands dangerously brought your sketchbook up and flip it for the class to see.

It was a few weeks ago, Hermione in library reading her book. She flipped to another random pages, Daphne and Pansy painted each other nails. And last, she showed the whole class your latest sketch of Draco with his bored face. The whole class wasn't laughing at you, instead they send you an emphatic look. Umbridge seemed to be unsatisfied with the lack of humiliating response from your fellow classmates.

"You have a crush on Mr Malfoy? You drew him quite often," her questions pushed you off the edge. How dare she barge in to your personal space.

"That's none of your concern. You could insult me for my drawings, but you shouldn't ask about my personal life because you don't have the right to." you snapped at her. You know it was a bad move when you heard a few gasps from your classmates.

Surely, Umbridge face turned sour. "Detention, Ms Y/L/N. Don't talk to me like that and don't sketch anyone ever again. You’re an awful artist; to be sketched in your Merlin awful drawing is the biggest insult anyone could ever receive," she spat venomously.

She walks right to the middle in front of the class, still carrying your sketchbook. You expected her to return the book to your hand, but when she muttered 'incendio' your heart dropped. Seconds later, your sketchbook had burn to ashes. You don't know what exactly you must be feeling. You’re mad, sad and embarrassed all at the same time. The class was dismissed right after that. She leaving after sternly told you to go to her office after dinner for detention.

You’re so embarrassed you can’t look at anyone even when they pat your shoulder softly in attempt of reassurance.

"Hey Y/L/N," a soft voice calling your name. You turned around to find Draco standing behind you.

"Oh, hello, Malfoy." you nodded at him before realizing he must think how much of a creep you are for drawing him 'quite often' without his permission. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean to creep you out or stalk you or anything. It's just I found you quite attractive when the light fell right on you," you rambled.

He just chuckled. "You think I'm attractive?" he smirked and rise his eyebrows.

Damn it! You should think through your words before sputtering things and embarrass yourself.

"Uh, no. I mean, yeah. Everyone is attractive to draw if they have the right light. Anyway, I'll stop sketching you. It's awful anyway, sorry again," your voice gradually got quieter. You look at the ground as if Draco was scolding you.

"Your sketch is lovely." he said with a genuine smile. You gaped at him in astonishment. "I'm flattered you choose me as one of your models. Thanks for sketching me 'quite often'," he put an emphasis at the last two words. You smiled bashfully. "Walk with me?" he offered. You just nod.

For that day, you were not sure if you should be mad for Umbridge destroying your months of works or do you have to be grateful for the newfound friendship you have with the boy you had a crush on for sometimes.

Bonus:

You walk to your room to find a package on the bed.

"Dray, what is it a package on the bed?"

"What package? I don't know just open it!" your husband yells back from kitchen.

You look at the fancy wrapping paper investigatively. You tear it to get a clue of what inside. You can’t believe your eyes as it sets to a familiar front cover of your old sketchbook. It was the one Umbridge set on fire! A note falls to your feet. You pick it up.

Yes, it is what you think. You should be thankful to have an exceptionally genius husband, like me. I like the drawings by the way, I think I look better on your sketchbook ;)

Love x

D, Malfoy

"Do you like it?" Draco asks softly, sneak his arm around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder.

"I like it. I love it, I love you," you jump on him, make him chuckle.

"I love you too." he kiss your temple lovingly.

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction

316 notes · View notes

wosemi-sama · 1 year

Note

Hello I loved how you wrote Vivid bad squad one how about Wonderland x Showtime with S/O that always draw them and kinda has notebook of them as drawings

aaa thank you! this is such a cute idea lol >0< i hope it's to your liking!!♡

wonderlands x showtime x reader

tsukasa tenma

Tsukasa loved your drawings and always wanted to look at them when you finished one. One day, you were sitting on a couch at the Tenma's living room as Tsukasa showed off his poses. You had your sketchbook out and were drawing, but Tsukasa thought nothing of it.

"I have to use the bathroom. I'll be back."

"Of course, my love! Take your time!"

Tsukasa noticed that you left your sketchbook open on the couch. He was one to respect your privacy, but curiosity got to him and he looked at the page. It was of him... posing. He flipped the page and it was also of him. He kept flipping through the pages... was this sketchbook just dedicated to drawings of him..?

He closed your sketchbook, deciding he had looked enough and sat on the couch in silence, waiting for you to return.

emu otori

Emu adored you. And your art. You brought your sketchbook wherever you went. She always got super excited when you showed her your drawings. She would always compliment your art.

On a certain summer evening, you were watching her troupe's performance in the audience as the red and violet skies rested above Phoenix Wonderland.

Emu and her troupe was performing their spin on a fairytale classic. Emu was dressed in this lovely brown dress. You thought she was adorable and couldn't help whip out your sketchbook and draw her.

The show was over and you had finished your drawing just in time. Emu rushed over to you as soon as she could and gave you a peck on the cheek.

She noticed you had your sketchbook out, and looked at the page out of curiosity.

"Oh! Is that me? I look so wonderhoy!!"

A soft smile spread on your face.

"Are there more drawings of me in there? And most importantly... can I see them!?"

You nodded gently and flipped the pages, showcasing your drawings of Emu.

nene kusanagi

You sat in class as you waited for the day to be over. You pulled out a green notebook and started drawing Nene out of boredom. You were sat in a spot of the classroom as to where you had the perfect view to look at her for a reference.

You had finished drawing her hair, face, and head as the bell rung. You slowly got up and put your stuff away. As you were putting away your notebook, Nene approached you. She greeted you as you began to close the notebook. Nene stopped your hand from closing the notebook and examined the page you drew her on.

"This is me, right? It looks nice."

"Thank you. It took me a bit to get your hair right, though."

You began to close the notebook and put it away in your bag. Once you were done, Nene's hands intertwined with yours and you began to walk home.

rui kamishiro

You were visiting Rui's house as he worked on one his inventions. You watched in silence as he worked. You eventually pulled out a notebook from your bag and began to draw him.

After about an hour, you were finished with your drawing. Rui looked over his shoulder and looked at the page.

"Is that me?"

You looked up from the page.

"Yeah.."

"I look wonderful! Would you mind if I hung it up?"

"Not at all, go ahead."

From that day on, Rui would always ask to hang up your artwork of him whenever he found the chance. He's hung up countless of your drawings near his workspace. He thinks your art is wonderful and he adores the way you draw him.

#project sekai #project sekai x reader #proseka #proseka x reader #puroseka #tsukasa tenma x reader #emu otori x reader #nene kusanagi x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #wonderlands x showtime #youve got mail! wanna open it?💌

101 notes · View notes

imagines--galore · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be comfortable woth writing Steve Rogers x reader who's a seamstress/designer that wears mostly WW2 era clothing?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Fluff. No warnings.

A/N: OMG! I love this ask! Like seriously thank you so much! Also I drew inspiration from Edna Mode from the Incredibles LOL. Also I hope everything I wrote makes sense. Its two in the morning and my fingers won't stop typing : P Anywho! Enjoy!

People were surprised, to say the least, when you would present yourself as a designer. And not just any designer.

You were now in charge of updating, mending and designing uniforms for the Avengers.

Was it a real job title? Not really. But then since when had that stopped Tony Stark? He could update his armor on his own, and adjust it to his liking. The rest of his team, however, did not have the luxury. Bruce didn't need a uniform, while Thor had his own godly outfit. Natasha needed her uniform mended after a brutal fight. Not to mention she needed suits that would keep her warm in cold weather, and allow her skin to breath in the hot weather. Clint required a uniform that was sturdy yet easy to move in, since maneuvering was a big part of his gig. And Steve came back with more then a few rips in his uniform, on more then one occasion.

And with the growing roster of the Avengers, Tony had taken this particular step and hired you as the official designer/seamstress for the Avengers.

Every fabric imaginable was at your disposal. Not to mention the technology. You were working in your dream field, and was loving every second of it.

Plus it gave you time to work on your own projects as well.

And that was creating vintage clothing from the 40s and 50s.

Fashions from the years past had always fascinated you, and though you would love to wear the elegant gowns and other period pieces, the design and cuts of women's clothing from the 40s and 50s wouldn't get you stared at.

At least not much.

Besides, there was another more empowering reason you wore clothes from that era.

The first time you had met the Avengers, was after the Battle of New York. Tony had set you up, and you had met with each team member separately to talk about their new uniforms.

The day you met Steve, you had just finished speaking to Natasha and waved her goodbye. You were sitting on the tall stool by the bar within the Avengers Tower and going over your rough sketches and notes. As was the norm, you were wearing pants and a shirt styled after the 40s fashion, a rare occasion since you adored the skirts and dresses that came with those years. Sensing someone approach you, you looked up, red lips pulling into a bright smile as you saw the Captain approaching.

"Captain, hi." You quickly stood, heels clicking against the marble floor as you did. "I'm Y/n, 'your new designer." He stared at you for a few more seconds, before shaking himself out of whatever stupor he was in and approached you. "Its nice to meet you, Ma'am." You smiled at him. "Call me Y/N." You offered, before hoping onto your stool once more and pulling out an entirely new sketchbook from your bag. It already had a few sketches of the Captain's uniform in it, plus some detailed notes along the margins.

"So, what is it you'd like me to change about your suit?" You asked, smiling at him as you crossed one leg over the other, pencil poised on a new page to start taking notes.

It took a few minutes before Steve began to speak to you openly. He was detailed about what he did or didn't want, and you were precise with your questions as you took notes. Of course the color scheme would remain the same, but you offered to create one that was entirely black, for stealth missions, you explained. He agreed, thinking that perhaps blue and red would stick out like a sore thumb in the shadows.

As you were tracing the shoulder of the uniform from the side, filling in the details as you went along you glanced up at him.

"What about the symbol?" You asked. The Captain stared back at you, confused. "What symbol?"

"Well you have the star as your personal symbol, but now that you're a part of the team, shouldn't you wear an Avengers symbol somewhere?" You gestured to the shoulder you had outlined. "I was thinking perhaps an A right there." You suggested. He glanced at the drawing before looking back up at you. A small smiled pulled at his lips before he chuckled. "I hadn't even thought of that." He admitted. Suddenly his blue eyes lit up and he gestured out a hand.

"May I?" Nodding you quickly handed over the sketchbook and pencil, watching in fascination as he began to do a quick sketch of the symbol he wanted that would represent his alliance. With the way he created the strokes with each sweep of the pencil, precise and elegant, you couldn't help but make a guess.

"Do you draw Captain?" You asked, your eyes never leaving his hand as he began to add in the details such as outlining and shading. The man shrugged. "A little bit." You had a feeling he was being modest. You had worked with designers and had studied alongside future designers, you knew an artist when you saw one.

"What do you think?" He finally asked, sliding the sketchbook back towards you.

Your eyes scanned over what would be the official Avengers logo before grinning.

"Look perfect."

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

It didn't take long for you and the Captain to be on first name basis. But then again it was the same with Natasha and Clint. While you mostly talked shop with the two assassins, with the Captain, now Steve, it was another story.

It was easy to talk to him, to go into depth when designing a new outfit for him. He was a super soldier, and regular clothing sizes didn't particularly make the cut sometimes. So it was the norm for you to be creating other clothes for him as well. He would come to you with an idea or even a rough sketch and you would make it a reality.

Then there were the mission outfits. Oh you loved those! Adding hidden seams and cuts into Natasha's dresses so she could hide her weapons. Helping Clint create a tuxedo that managed to hide several sharp arrows. Short ones of course, but still good enough to use with a crossbow.

Your work remained consistent and up to par, as did your dress sense. Not a day went by when you didn't wear something dapper whenever you went to work. You could always tell that there was a curious gleam in Steve's eyes whenever you two would interact, but you dismissed it. He probably thought you strange for your dressing style, but it didn't bother you. Tony had taken to joking about your style, but only in jest. He was just as impressed with your skills just as any other team member.

Of all the Avengers, Steve became a good friend. And you had secretly admitted to yourself that those blue eyes and smile did comes as a bonus. Not to mention he was in peak physical condition. If you had the guts you would ask him to model a few of your own personal pieces for you, but you would never come outright and say something like that.

At present you were putting the final touches on Clint's new uniform. He had decided that maybe he needed a little more dark purple and you had complied. Working with Kevlar was a pain though. It was hard to mesh the fabric together and create something that would fit with the man's physique perfectly.

You were getting tired, and your fingers were aching from the numerous pins and needles you had handled that day. Not to mention the constant cutting. Your hand was beginning to cramp and you had decided to call it a day.

Your workplace was stationed at one of the floors of the Avengers Tower and you could see the sun beginning to set. Sighing you kicked off your heels, stretching your toes and sitting back in your chair. You propped your feet up on another chair and leaned your head back. You had only just taken a deep breath when you heard the door slide open. Straightening up, you glanced in the general direction before relaxing.

"Oh Steve, its only you." You went back to your previous posture of relaxing. "Hurtful Y/N, that you think so little of me. I am a Captain after all." He feigned being hurt with a hand to his chest. To play along with his little joke, you instantly jumped to your feet, and stood at attention, saluting him as you did. The expression on your one was one of sheer concentration and attention, prompting the soldier to laugh out loud as he approached you.

"At ease, soldier." He patted you gently on the shoulder. You broke the salute to grin up at him. Your gaze flitted to the torn page he held. "New project for me? You do know how to spoil a girl Steve." You said with a teasing nudge to his shoulder as you took the page from him. He shrugged in response. "I just thought it'd be a fun little side project for you. You're always saying you love those." You hummed in agreement as your eyes scanned his rough sketching, already making calculations and measurements in your head.

"It'll take me a couple weeks to get to this though, I'm swamped." You gestured to the multiple projects she had laid out on rows and rows of tables. Steve quickly nodded. "Of course, work comes first." You sighed. "I wish I'd have extra time for my own projects as well, it took me two weeks to complete this." You gestured to the dress you were wearing.

Your outfit for the day was one of your own designs, and it was one of your best, in your opinion. You had paired it with shoes that matched the color of the scarf. For your hair you had gone quite simple, simply adjusting the waves and curls and allowing them to frame your features.

Steve did a once over of your dress. He was silent for a few seconds. "What?" You asked, frowning at the sudden silence. "Can I ask you something Y/N?" He said. Was he actually looking nervous about what he wanted to ask. You gave a nod, encouraging him to go on.

"Why do you dress like that?" He asked.

You blinked, tilting your head in confusion. "Like what?"

He shrugged before gesturing to your overall appearance. "Like you don't belong in this era."

"Oh! Oh my gosh! Steve! Is my wearing clothes from the 40s bothering you? I should've realized I am so sorry!" Your apologies were cut off when he shook his head. "No! No! Its not that." He seemed to be struggling to find the words.

"I mean that since I woke up I've only ever seen women dress in today's fashions. And I always thought dames would dress according to the latest fashion." God knows he had been aware of the fact. Bucky's sisters had always been obsessed with the latest trends. And he was sure that if they had seen you, they would've swooned over your outfits.

You gave a small sigh of relief. "Oh is that all? I thought maybe you didn't like the way I dressed." He shook his head. "I like how you dress, its like being back home. A little." There was no doubt there was a hint of sadness in his eyes this time when he spoke, and your heart went out to him. "Well I'm glad the way I dress has helped remind you of home." You said, giving him a small smile.

"And to be honest," You continued. "There is a bit of a sentimental reason why I dress like this." A quirk of an eyebrow on his part prompted you to go on so you did.

"My grandmother was a factory worker during World War II. When I was little she used to tell me how during those years women really started to come into their own. With the men gone, women stepped up and started to take charge of small businesses and working jobs that men had otherwise occupied previously. And because of this women had to wear practical clothing, like pants and shorter skirts. Sure there was also a fabric shortage, but it only helped women dress practically. Not to mention they had to cut their hair to keep it out of the way."

You glanced down at yourself, smoothing the front of your dress before looking back up at him and continued. "I dress like this because I love the style. It makes me feel pretty and I'm able to do my work efficiently." You paused. "But most of all, I wear them to remind me that women have come a long long way then simply being house-makers and small unknown business owners. And I honestly really just admire the way women took charge while their men were away." You grinned. "Talk about real empowerment."

By the time you finished talking there was a smile on Steve's face and a lingering sadness as well. You reached out to lay your hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" He nodded. "Yeah, just what you said, reminded me of a whole lot of women who I knew took charge on the battle front." He had met some brave soldiers during WWII, but he had also met some incredibly fearless women who were ready to charge the Nazis. Of course they weren't allowed to, so they tended to the wounded, drove them to hospitals, acted as liaisons and secretaries. Their roles were just as important as that of a soldier. And then there was Peggy.

Steve could see a glimmer of that fierceness in you that he had seen in Peggy. He had made his peace with the fact that she had lived her life. And now looking at you, a small thought took root in his mind. Maybe he could find someone to spend his life with as well?

"If you're done here." He gazed around the room, hands now stuffing in his pockets as his feet shuffled nervously where he stood. "You want to get something to eat?"

Alright, so hadn't been expecting that. A bright smile bloomed on your face and you gave Steve a little curtsy. "Such a gentleman. Let me just grab my bag."

He waited for your patiently by the door as you quickly pulled on your shoes and grabbed your handbag, tugging on your gloves as you went. "So where to?" You asked as you stepped up next to him. He grinned, offering you his arm which you gladly took, before answering.

"I know a really good 40s themed diner?"

"Sounds divine."

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x oc #captain steve rogers x oc #captain steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine

67 notes · View notes

caretaker-au · 1 year

Note

you’re probably offline again, and I don’t know if anyone is gonna see this. but your au is genuinely one of my most favorite Undertale AUs ever. I have been in the Undertale fandom for a LONG time, but I don’t think there will ever be something as well written as the Caretaker AU again. the amount of research and love put into it is so cool. it truly does feel like something that could possibly happen in the actual canon and I LOVE it.

your version of Chara is also one of the most best portrayals of them I’ve EVER seen in the entire history of the fandom. when you began releasing the final chapters for the AU, I remember just sitting at my computer and rereading Chara’s lines over and over again. because their character was just so interesting to see in action. even when it was still a comic, their goddamn expressions and words are just so memorable to me. I still and always will have that little sadistic smile ingrained in my brain. (that also includes literally every character in comic even the background ones.) I love how you handle Chara as well, how you made them a horrible person but not totally unrealistic. like that one asker said, you feel bad for them, but just a LITTLE TINY bit. because they always screw up everything for themself and then go blame a 12 year old for it.

speaking of Frisk, your portrayal of them is definitely so very canon to me. I love their design and personality so much. they are so just relatable too, possibly one of the most realistic 12 year olds I’ve seen in a comic. they remind me a lot of me in a way, especially when I was 12 lol. I’m beyond happy they got a happy ending, they deserve it after, y’know, everything.

I wish you all luck on any other projects you may be working on. and I hope you are proud of what you have accomplished. :) you crafted a truly beautiful story. now if you don’t mind me, I’m just going to go reread everything again.

(take a shot every time I say ever lol, sorry for any spelling mistakes, thank you for reading it all)

Thank you so much for your kind words. Caretaker truly was a huge labor of love. I remember back when Ellipsis came up with the concept how it just gripped me like a bear trap. I couldn't stop thinking about it! Eruto felt the same way and was saying we should make a comic, and I was like, "no no, I don't want to do all that line art" but then she was like, you won't be alone we can draw it TOGETHER and then to demonstrate she took one of my super rough sketches and lined and colored it. And I was like, wow okay maybe this is feasible.

The resulting 3-ish years it felt like we were spending every waking hour working on Caretaker. I carried my sketchbook everywhere and would draw out thumbnails during my breaks at work, I'd be thinking about it on the drive home, and then we'd get on a discord call together to draw, line, and color for hours at a time. I could go on but the bottom line is that I LOVED IT. Each finished page (drawn or written!) fills me with pride and I look back fondly on the time spent creating and maintaining this blog together. It was exciting, compelling, and at many times exhausting, but worth it.

As far as the characterization goes, glad that you appreciate it! We reminded ourselves to never lose sight of the fact that Chara was still a human being--full of contradictions and ego and multiple-facets--but we didn't want to justify their behavior either. We all know people who are selfish, manipulative, and arrogant, but what happens when a person like that gets naïve enablement and never has to face any repercussions for their behavior? Without the correcting force that is LIFE, a cynical, angry, cruel child like Chara didn't have any reason to second-guess their worldview. Of course anything that goes wrong must be the fault of someone else!

This has already gotten kinda long, so all I'll say on Frisk is thank you and glad you agree! Personally, I knew some friends of the family who had kids about that age so I tried to reference their behavior in my mind when it came to writing Frisk. (Though most of Frisk's behaviors boil down to "RUN!!") Through the many discussions and occasional rewrites of this story, we always planned on ensuring Frisk had a happy ending. ♥

Thanks once again for the ask, and I hope you enjoy the reread!

#mailbox #spade-the-space-witch #minty says #you caught me online!

63 notes · View notes

cilil · 5 months

Note

I have thought long and hard about the gift-giving...

I have 2....

A gift TO Navë FROM Námo. It can be sweet, it can be suggestive, it can be hilariously ambiguous lol

A gift TO Ilmarë FROM Nári. That one should definitely be outrageous and flirty.

And I send you hugs and buckets full of love from myself.

I am so looking forward to what you'll come up with for all of these...Tag me, please <3

♡ To: Navë ♡ From: Námo

𝓐 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽

The holidays were approaching.

And the only reasons why Navëquen was aware of it were his impeccably maintained calendar and the fact that he had been practically evicted from his office with orders to take some time off. He would have been fine with yet another normal day, but alas, Námo had insisted.

With a small frown and a couple of files hidden underneath his robes, Navëquen returned to his chambers. If he worked through these before any holiday celebrations took place that he might have to attend, there was a chance that any delays caused by Námo's Maiar sitting idle for a while wouldn't be too noticeable; though the prospect of drawing or journaling was getting more and more tempting as well.

Navëquen's musings were interrupted when he spotted a gift on his bed, wrapped in emerald green paper and adorned with a silver bow. For a moment he wondered how someone had managed to forget their things in his usually empty room, until it occurred to him that it might be a holiday gift for him – a suspicion that was soon confirmed by further investigations.

His name had been written on the gift with silver ink, and he would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Sitting down on his bed, Navëquen dropped everything he had been holding and took the gift in his hands instead. It was from Námo. His lord, his idol, his esteemed mentor and secretly beloved Vala had thought of him.

It was with utmost care that he unwrapped the gift, gently pulling the bow apart and folding the paper. They would be carefully stashed away later.

Námo had given him a book, an empty sketchbook to be exact. Navëquen examined the pages, letting his fingers glide across the paper's texture. He could already imagine how his pencil would sound on it, like a quiet melody that was part of his music.

What a lovely gift. And with that, the rest of his evening was decided as well.

He was going to draw Námo.

♡ To: Ilmarë ♡ From: Nári Warnings: References to sex, Nári can't behave herself

𝓐𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽

"Hey there, little starlight."

The greeting was accompanied by a sharp whistle, and Ilmarë turned around to find herself face to face with a certain Balrog grinning down at her.

"What do you want?" she asked cautiously.

"I got a gift for you. Why, is that a crime nowadays?" Nári winked at her, and Ilmarë got the distinct feeling that she wouldn't care even if it was.

"That is very nice of you," she began, "but I feel like I should let you know that I have nothing to give you in return because... well, I wasn't exactly expecting to be exchanging gifts with a servant of darkness."

"That's alright. You can make it up to me in other ways."

Ilmarë chose to ignore the lascivious smirk and tail wag that followed her statement and accepted a small oval object wrapped half-burned paper. It turned out to be some kind of stone, though when she touched it, it felt as if something was vibrating inside.

"What is this?" she asked.

Nári leaned down to get to her eye level. "Do you really have no idea what to do with vibrating things, little starlight?"

"I... am not sure what you are alluding to?"

The Balrog shook her horned head, causing sparks to be sent flying in all directions. "Oh dear. No one told me you're as oblivious as Gotty's silly little bird boy. Really, I need to let Melkor know his family sucks."

"Please don't insult the king and queen in my presence," Ilmarë said icily.

"Fine, fine. I mean, we could do something more fun instead, for example I could show you what to do with your gift."

Experienced or not, the way Nári smirked at her was enough for Ilmarë to tell where this was going.

"If this is a... sex thing, I am grateful that you are so concerned about my... wellbeing, but I don't think we are at a point where I want to engage in anything with you," she said firmly.

"Very well, little starlight. I know Maiar like you are often shy, and for the time being you can just think of me instead." Nári turned to leave, looking over her shoulder one more time as she summoned her fire in preparation for the way home. "And yes, it is a "sex thing"."

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

8 notes · View notes

safyresky · 4 months

Text

Dads just don't get bothered like they used to these days ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Scrimbly Jacqueline 4/52 (as requested by Richard! ft. a scrimbly Blaise!)

Emphasis on the SCRIMBLY for Blaise. Mans is not NEARLY as wide enough as he should be tbh. His mug says "don't talk to me until I've KISSED my WIFE". It's his favourite mug. He bought it for himself and uses it EXCLUSIVELY at city hall (so yes, Jacqueline is bothering him at work lmao)! You can all thank Ana for that mug slogan! I think she came up with it last time we hung out and played stardew valley, lol.

original w/out the filter adjustments under the cut! + some musings, lmao

One day I'll find a spot with good enough lighting to NOT have to brighten these mother fuckers in apps.

ANYWAY! The husbando himself, Richard, had his bday last Wednesday and requested a scrimbly Jacqueline bothering Blaise! So i DELIVERED. Originally I had two more scrimbles planned with her jumping and him just catching her and then the one you see here, but that ended up being a LOT bc this one. Ho boy.

LET ME TELL YOU. I AM VERY BAD AT SCRIMBLY BC I TRIED SO MANY TIMES TO POSE THIS RIGHT??? SO MUCH FOR NOT CARING ABOUT HOW THE SCRIMBLES TURNED OUT! BC I CARED CARRINGLY FOR THIS ONE! Probably bc it was requested by the Blaise to my Winter so I was like IT HAS TO BE GOOD.

LOOK AT HOW MANY SCRAPS THIS TOOK:

AND ONE WHOLE SKETCHBOOK PAGE TO BOOT!

But yeah. After 4 absolutely crazy kids and lady knows how many "you can't be serious" magibeans he deals with on the day-to-day, it is nearly imposibble to bother Blaise (unless you are Winter. She knows how to bother that man >:)

Anyway. I've already colibri'd it and am gonna surprise Richard with it after work (so in like 15 minutes lol).

Any situations you would like to see my blorbo in? Let me know! I am taking scrimbly Jacqueline requests ALL YEAR. ALL YEAR! Keep in mind they WILL be scrimbly. SO scrimbly >:)

#this is fun!!!!#great for getting distracted at work!!!#dani speaks #dani doodles #scrimbly jacquelines #scrimbly blaises #cs posting #crystal springs #ocs #after i put one out for this week i'm gonna put these all in one post #the JANUARY SCRIMBLES #WITH SOME BONUS DOODLES LOL

3 notes · View notes

omgkalyppso · 5 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

@razrogue tagged me to share 7 sentences of a WIP but I don't really have more that I haven't shared previously that's written ... in a readable format? Lol. But I do have new blocked dialogue that I talked about here before, that'll take the time to share now.

First I'll tag @sevarix-blogs, @boghermit, @ghostwise, @lemonbronze and YOU to share either 7 sentences or some of a WIP.

my dark urge Meabh x Enver Gor/tash. mentions of past character death / murder. gore. sexual art / implications? massive tonal shifts. also note that i haven't gotten to act 3 with a dark urge yet. still, bg3 act 3 spoilers.

Meabh: [having lock picked something stupidly secure in Enver's bedroom, producing a book] Is this a diary? Enver: No. [putting his hand on it to keep her from opening it] And you might not be prepared for what's in there. Meabh: Oh? And what might that be? Enver: Fantasies. [picking up the book] Ones you used to know to keep well enough alone. [and putting one that is nearly its twin in its place] You had your sketchbook. And I had mine. [he taps the cover and pulls away] We never glanced at each others. Meabh: Liar. [spinning it around] You must've looked? Enver: You threatened to gore me. Meabh: [scoff] So? [opens her sketchbook] — Hahaha! Gore-tash. Enver: [quiet, observant] You never threatened to hurt me. You asked, and I submitted or refused. You cried more than once over the fear of my death. This was personal, and I didn't intrude until I thought you were dead. Not that it was very useful to me. Just emotional. Meabh: Thank you, Enver. Will you … Do you have time to sit with me, love? Enver: I would make time, [they move to sit with Meabh's legs across his lap, he noses at her neck, breathing her in and leaving kisses between monikers] my sharpened dagger, my serrated blade. My blessed butcher. My midnight danger. My darkest treasure. My bloody heart. My favorite assassin. [a deep sigh] I'm sorry I did not scry your whereabouts. I didn't think I could bare to see your corpse. [she's been looking through images of necromantic constructions and gore, but stops now to face him] I feared seeing Bhaal, and knowing you had returned to him. Meabh: [grabbing his chin, affection] Coward. Enver: [turning his head to test her grip, finding his cheek cupped in her hand] It did not serve me. You know it is in my nature to cower and scheme when action does not serve. Meabh: I do. [hand taken away] Enver: Do you forgive me? I understand if you don't— Meabh: Enver. These actions you want me to forgive — I love you for them. I do not need a softer man who would spiral from himself after a single loss, even one as significant as me. Nor do I need a braver lover. My enemies are my own and I will kill them in my own way, just as you do. I do not wish to forgive you. [turning back to the book, quiet] I wish to praise you. [turning another page] Somehow you have known every trinket I should like to see again. [fondling him] You took care of what was mine. You have not pushed me or hurt me or balked when I've— Well. [manifests a dagger pointed at his mouth] Enver: [pleased] We are of a kind. Meabh: [surprised, fond] You make me feel of a kind. Kinship. Possession. Enver: Behind these doors I am yours, Meabh. Beyond these doors … we are partners. Meabh: [weighing the word] Partners. [shocked in memory] Two of a kind beats a royal flush.

Enver: [amused] You remember? Meabh: We killed the prince of ~. You let me have the finishing blow. Enver: More than that. I let you have his body for Bhaal, taking only his rings and his servant boy. Meabh: [shaking her head] That I don't remember. Enver: [leaning forward] No? [opening a box on the desk / table, producing a ring with a large pearl and smaller gems] Perhaps this will help? Meabh: Is this—? Enver: No. I had to return the original lest the ~ royals accuse me of foul play. It's a forgery, but those are real pearls. I claimed the ~ royal family gifted it to me for my assistance in discovering the fate of their wayward prince. What they truly gave me were weapon designs — unimpressive at best, without my modifications, but a princely gift all the same. Meabh: [still turning pages, landing on one where the corpse looks more than incidentally like Enver] Oh. [pages turned, more of the same, contorted, cut, and more] Enver: When I tell you, I was surprised. Do you remember drawing these? Meabh: No, but … I remember — oh — I remember observing you. Enver: I've never been that flexible. Meabh: Oh, but you could be … Enver: Do you know what I noticed? Meabh: Mm? Enver: In the drawings of me … there's no blood. Bruising, flaying, even dismemberment, but — no blood. Meabh: [incredulous, referring to past and present/future] I cut you. Enver: [wondrous] You do. But I felt right to trust you. Meabh: [as if trying to make his observation less intimate] No kissing either. [but she turns the page and now there's like 4-5 of Enver at different angles in open gags, masks or with puckered lips busied by dicks] Enver: Only cocks, which I think is indicative of something else entirely.

Meabh: [rolling their eyes and skipping ahead to where a number of pages stick out. three are colored by gore, once red and now brown and delicate, then another page is red but in colored pencil, and then there are four sheets of tracing paper with different depictions of a room coated in blood and entrails filling the same space, below all this in the book is an image of a smiling couple, they each lean into the image from either side playfully, inviting the viewer into a kitchen] Oh. I know— I know them. Enver: [leading] Who are they? Meabh: They raised me … They worshipped Bhaal, but … they weren't like his cultists. They fed me vegetables and combed my hair. They— I— I turned thirteen and… They trusted me too, you know? Enver: You remember them. You remember the horror. Meabh: It was what father wanted, but it was hard to understand. It still is. Less impressive, less useful, less devoted of his worshippers yet breathe. They— I wonder if this was when Orin slew her mother, all our lives made to mirror each other. Enver: If so, then no longer. We are free of her reflection. Meabh: In truth … I will miss her too. She hated and risked… She was always free with her abilities. I made strides to hide and… Enver: You made strides to greater things. It is why you are your father's favorite despite your rebellions. Your ambition and rebellion both are why I love you. Meabh: [accusatory] You love my obsession. Enver: That too. [kissing their neck again] And your attention to detail. Your artistic flourish. Your violence. Meabh: You're spoiling me. Enver: I'm pampering you. It's my pleasure to do so, when I thought I might never again hold you so close. Meabh: [moaning his name as he sucks on her skin] Enver. Enver: [pleading] Again. Meabh: [he bites her] Enver.

me @ me: okay, finish a project though. Thank you for reading!

#oc tag: meabh

6 notes · View notes

k00295630 · 7 months

Text

Last week I did the publication workshop, I was so excited to do it I was READY at 11 59 to put my name on the list.

The first half of the day was for using the risoprinter. The way it works is the printer reads in grayscale, so the darkest colour on the page will be the most vibrant and the lightest colour will be a lighter tone of that colour. It took me a while to understand but you just have to keep printing to get the gist of it.

My tutor, Fiona, was really nice and I loved working with her! She was so patient with me and loved my ideas, and she helped me further them more.

We did some doodles first, testing out colours, and textures, and what materials look best. The darkest colours (ours was blue) goes onto the white page, and the brightest colour (ours was pink) goes onto the the tracing paper. The tracing paper get printed first and then the white page is printed on top of it

I drew with markers, posca pens and pencil too. I used my sketchbook for inspiration, making the doodles related to my project, as you can see theres some mushrooms, branches and just a lot of soft naturey lines.

I did light colours on the white page as well as the tracing paper which was wrong but still kinda worked. But sadly I didnt get a lot of pink out.

This was my proper print which is more thought out and structured. I still didnt understand how it worked, so I didnt get a lot of pink again lol. I do really like the blue though.

In the afternoon, we had Suzannah for bookbinding. We printed our doodles and our final print together so theyre on each side of a page, then printed 10 copies of them and we all got a copy of everyone's prints. Then we got a purple cover, and we folded every page using a bone folder to get a very neat crease. We made holes in the middle top and bottom of the fold of each page, then sewed them a together. Suzannah had to sew it for me because I made a giant knot by accident lmao. I decorated the cover when I was done. We also did some origami which was very fun and confusing too. I sewed them into the book as well, and I drew on the pop up one as you can see. And the one with the maps drawn on it..its called a map fold..

On Friday, I furthered my project to fungi, and I decided to explore mold. I really liked the look of moldy oranges. The blue and orange were just immaculate, and I knew theyd look awesome printed. I drew some oranges on a plate with some flies and I wrote ROTTEN in a funky font on top.

By this point I understood how the printer works, so I used the tones correctly on both pages. And I gotta say, I absolutely love it. I wish the orange was more vibrant but honestly I dont mind cause got the highlights and shadows perfect!!!

I LOVED this workshop and I recommend it to everyone in the entire world!

#risograph #risoprint #illustration #ink #fungi #colourful #artist

2 notes · View notes

stop-pressing-e · 10 months

Text

Portrait of a Soldier

The Lost Swan

/Thought I decide to share another one of my stories about Krauser and Dullahan and this is one of the first stories I wrote about before The Lost Swan. So think of it as a look into their little quiet life.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Suggestive talks and Krauser being a prev lol

It started off with a little headshot sketch of Krauser at the corner of the paper on the layout of the building she had drawn out so they could set out a plan to infiltrate. It was a small sketch not bigger from his index finger and yet nothing was missing from his face with those detailing of his scars done with a ballpoint pen. Dullahan didn’t realise it as he hid it with a mug. It was only when she was folding it away was when the sight of the sketch made her remember what she had done, forced to pretend that she didn’t see her own work or that Krauser knew it was her doing.

She won’t know that he liked her little sketch.

The next time Krauser discovered more of her work was when he dropped by her loft via the glass door on her balcony. He was given a keycard by her recently so he could enter her place normally, but oh well, old habits die hard sometimes. He knew Dullahan was currently away on her own missions so he took his chance to recuperate for a couple of days after taking quite a number of mercenary works over the past couple of weeks. Two days should be enough for him. Maybe more if he’s waiting for her return. He does miss her admittedly after all. There were some leftovers that were still good, coffee was full, and his clothes awaiting for his next return were neatly ironed and folded when he opened his wardrobe.

Her loft was spotless as usual knowing the hitman needed the sense of order in her own haven.

The easel, however, was not standing there last time he was here.

Krauser knew she does art as a hobby and he has seen her paint from landscapes to still life of the places she has visited. Last time he had seen her paint was at an opera house she attended alone and he watched her paint the singer on stage before returning his focus to his weapons. Normally when she’s not painting she would have it tucked away.

There a fabric was draped over the easel, presumably to hide the canvas underneath. Curiosity got the best of him to take a peek at her new project. The canvas remained blank, save for a memo stuck to it to remind her to buy more paints, and figure out how to get the smile right for the portrait she’s going to be working on. When it comes to her little art studio in the corner of the living room, there would always be an artist’s sketchbook to see what the memo was talking about. And so there it is, the red well loved leather bound sketchbook is found resting on the table. He has seen her sketches before and albeit without her permission, so nothing like the usual peek doesn’t hurt anyone.

Only he didn’t expect to see his own face staring back at him. Krauser’s face was drawn quite stern with a pencil based on the shading on his face and how most of the details were focused on his eyes to the wrinkle of his brow and the furrow on his mouth. Why the hell did she draw him like this? Was that how she saw him when he got annoyed with her or anyone during those times? That woman, unbelievable. However, that wasn’t the only sketch she had drawn of him. In fact, there were a lot more sketches of him. From headshots to full body drawings of him in various poses and with different mediums, she has filled out a variety of him in over five pages. A couple of them were nude drawings of him done with charcoal and watercolours.

The way she had drawn those were not done in a lewd way or to make him look like a god. Dullahan had drawn him as she had seen him whenever he’s naked, normal. The way his back muscles shifted in charcoal as he was drawn sprawled out on his front on the leather couch he lain on, recalling the time she had given him a back massage. The other drawing that was done in watercolour was when he was taking a shower. He looked completely bliss, possibly for the fact that he was taking a hot shower at the time when she walked in and he never saw her admiring his body from the door that was not lustful.

He has to admit, she has done an amazing job drawing him that he couldn’t help but smile a little upon each inspection of his own appearance. It was then he realised what the memo had meant on the smile. The headshots of him had been drawn with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a big obvious kind that gets into everyone’s face and nor was it a faint kind. It was…simply there, smiling back at the person holding the sketchbook. The smile in those sketches were not exactly how he’s smiling right now, but he can clearly see how hard she had worked to get it right from a pencil to a pen in most of her sketches of him based on imagination alone. Krauser rarely smiles and never does even when a day is good. It was always neutral or stern looking with a rarity of smirking to tease the woman.

The sketchbook was placed back where it found and positioned it correctly so when Dullahan returns, she doesn’t know that he took a peek inside of it and see what has been on her mind lately to draw these out. Krauser has seen past headshots of people she has met once to people she knew but to have multiple drawings of a particular person made him feel special about it and that simply has him smiling as he heads upstairs to shower and get ready to sleep in her bed.

The next time he was at her place, Dullahan now Trish Odile was home too as it was one of her days off from both her waitress job and her hitman contracts, allowing her time to relax and recuperate too. Krauser was lounging at the couch with a book from her bookcase in hand and Trish painting by the glass doors. Both of them minding their own business in the comforts of their home.

From the placement he laid himself across the couch, it was the perfect angle to sneak a peek at Trish in the middle of painting, knowing full well she must be painting a portrait of him based from one of her sketches at her opened sketchbook by her side. Sometimes he would sneak a peek at her finely shaped legs sticking out from the oversize T-shirt she’s wearing that currently belongs to him, also knowing full well that she missed the smell of his scent as he does with her bedsheets. The way her ankles crossed over one another, or how one is crossed over the leg when she leans closer towards the canvas, and sometimes his favourite is when she tucked a leg under her or propped a knee up all while fixing up the shirt, sneaking a glimpse of the rest of her legs and to see if she’s either wearing underwear underneath or those tight yoga shorts.

“You’re staring at me.” Trish called him out on his peeking, never once halted her work and her eye not leaving the canvas to look at him. She wasn’t going to admit that she was peeking at him on her end too. Krauser looked content in his position and the book he chose to read was The Invisible Man. From her angle it was her eyepatch he would see her ‘looking’ back at him, and yet she still knew he was looking at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said, flicking his gaze back on the words he last stopped at, pretending to skim through the sentences to continue his rouse of reading. “Just curious about what you’re painting this time.” He can hear the creaks of the chair being made as she shifted her position again. “Something for my mission soon.” She started. “I have to act as a painter for a gala my target is going to open and I’ll need enough examples to show them to him to have them on display.”

“Sounds fun.” He knew it was a lie and simply went along with it. “You already have your alias on this mission?” “Of course.” Trish let out a chuckle as she stood up and stretched her body, allowing Krauser to lower the book a bit to catch his shirt riding up to see those legs again. He’s going to have them wrap around his waist very soon on this couch and hear that moan she’s currently making after she has stretched.

Trish finally looked at him, a small smile forming on her face. “Do you want to attend the gala as my plus one when the time comes?” “Tch, fancy events are not my forte for missions like yours.” He brought the book up to hide his face and soon catches the hitman approaching him from the top of the book, catching sight of the small pout she’s making. “I’ll pass.”

“You’re no fun, Jackie.” She purred out his nickname he secretly liked as she got closer, and soon she was straddling on his hips, taking the book away so she could have his full attention on her. “It would be nice to see you wearing a suit for once. Maybe one of those fancy military suits you probably had to wear during your army times.”

“What will you be wearing?” He asked her, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing one of his thumbs over the outline of her lower garments. It was definitely the yoga pants. “Matter of fact, what are you wearing underneath?” His free hand decides to sneak under the shirt and tries to tug down the shorts. “I don’t see your nipples poking out. Bra?”

Trish cocked her head to the head, the smile switching to a smirk. “Take it off?”

“That’s an order.” He stopped her from removing his shirt. “Leave it on. Bra off.” Krauser soon smirked when Trish let out a huff while she complied to his orders, snapping off the hooks with the flick of her hand, pulled the straps out from the sleeves, and then pulled out the said bra itself from the opening of the shirt. It was lacy and dark red, one of his favourite colours and one of his favourite sets from hers. Once her shorts were pulled off, Trish planted her hands on his chest while her hips gave the slightest rub against his clothed hips, a soft moan emitted from her lips, and bowing her head down so their faces were quite close to each other.

“Now what, Jackie?”

“You start by calling me ‘Sir’ this time.” He said, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his grasp, pulling her head back to hear that sweet sharp gasp. “And get down on your knees on the floor right now, sweetheart.”

The strong smell of lavender from her shampoo disappeared from his nose, leaving a lingering scent and forcing him to wake up from his deep slumber. Trish was gone from his grasp in the king size bed they shared. Krauser forced himself to sit up from his place, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to see the warm light illuminating the little art studio. He quietly slid out of the bed, approaching the balcony to see the woman preparing her tools and her paints to continue her work at the canvas. From the top, he can’t see the progress of her work from where he stood and due to her angling the canvas to ensure her shadow doesn’t obstruct her painting session.

He wasn’t sure why of all times, especially in the middle of the night, she chose to continue painting. He had to step back into the darkness when he watched her rush to the kitchen for what he could tell was boiling water to make tea or coffee. It was tea since he doesn’t smell coffee. As much as he wanted to head downstairs and confront her about it, he left it be, returning to the warm sheets and the alluring smell of her body lotion she applied on herself on the comforter to the smell of her lavender shampoo on her pillow.

Dullahan wasn’t lying about having a mission as a painter and he can’t believe he actually joined her as her plus one for the gala they’re attending. Dullahan had to disguise herself with a blonde wig, green contact lens, and cover up her scars as usual. Krauser did not as no one in this building would recognize him. Not even the security guards who simply waved them in and didn't check him for any weapons he might carry, which is his knife hidden inside his jacket. No military suit for him but a simple yet classic black tuxedo Dullahan has managed to convince himself to wear with a black bowtie. As for her, she wore a dark red dress with spaghetti straps and a long silt on her skirt, exposing her right leg.

The sight of her chest simply revealing for other men to take a quick look at almost had jealousy bubbling at the pit of his stomach while at the same time he admitted that she looked sexy wearing this kind of dress and in the same shade of red like her bra a week ago. To be the matter of fact she’s not wearing a bra at all for her outfit.

“What colour is your underwear right now?” He whispered in her ear while Dullahan collected two glasses of champagne from a passing server, handing one to Krauser. A teasing grin formed on her face. “Why ask me such a curious question like that, darling?” Her voice was laced with a sweet enduring tone a lover would give to their significant other since they are posing as a married couple. She tugged on his arm with her arm wrapped around him to guide him to one of her paintings people are admiring currently. The first painting was a beautiful beach with the view of the ocean, and if one looked closely at the cliff, there was a little cottage, with a lone woman walking along the path barefoot and her shoes held in her one hand. Part of the body concealed with a parasol.

Krauser, who is not a fan of the fine arts, was oddly impressed by the colours she used in her painting. It almost gives off a hazy feeling of a dream one might still be having currently. He doesn’t recognise where the beach is and he’s simply assuming it must be her dream for the future. Peace and quiet.

Dullahan tugged his sleeve to get him to lean down as they head for the next painting and whisper in his ear. “It’s black and it’s a thong.”

A smirk graced his lips. There was no one by one of her other paintings, allowing him the chance to whisper what he has in mind for her. “The next time you wear this dress again and I have to tag along, I want you to wear nothing underneath it.” Trish, continuing to keep up her facade of enjoying her time, simply smiled as if he told her something sweet before she took a sip of her champagne. “I will make you rub yourself on my leg like a depraved whore and it’ll be music in my ears to hear you beg for sweet relief from me.”

Whether it was automatically or by his words alone, her face flushed and she let out a soft giggle, hiding her smile with her glass. “Oh darling, how sweet of you. I should go and find our dear host and say my thanks to him. Hopefully I won’t take long but meet me in the private room over there soon.” Pointing at the closed doors guarded by two men at both sides of the door with a velvet rope to steer off anyone from approaching. “Tell them you’re with me and they’ll let you in.” Trish patted his broad shoulder and winked at him. “Fifteen minutes. Enjoy yourself, honey.”

He did his best to enjoy the rest of the gala alone. It was almost suffocating with people asking him for his thoughts and opinions on other artists’ works to Dullahan’s. As much as he didn’t like any of the artworks, he wished he could slit their throat right now if someone makes another disapproving remark on her paintings simply because of their thoughts on them. Bloody critics they are.

Fifteen minutes was nearly up and Krauser made his way to the private room she told him about. He noticed a selected number of people were allowed to enter, possibly connections with the said painters itself, and he was one of them to enter as soon he told the guards of his connection with Dullahan’s alias.

The lightning in the room was dimmer and warmer compared to outside and there was a lesser number of paintings itself. Only five paintings, each belonging to one artist themself. One of the patrons did a double take on Krauser and was forced to look away when he bared his teeth at them.

Why were they looking at him like that?

That’s when he met his painted self hanging on the wall. His portrait was wearing his military suit during his golden years with his signature red beret he wears now. In the painting, he was sitting on a fancy chair, his signature knife resting in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee propped up higher than the other. It made him look like he was one of those commanders from old period war era but with a modern take of it. Krauser noticed that she painted him scar free of them, making him look less stern than he is currently yet there was a glint of mischief in those icy painted blue eyes and the way his head is angled to the side as if someone caught him thinking something bad. More importantly, it was the smile she painted on him. It still wasn’t right but the way the corner of his mouth curled upwards to the way his lips parted very slightly exposing a flash of teeth matched the mischief look she painted. The background she painted was a dark green with a single window behind him showing a brief view of the beach that oddly looked familiar.

Krauser was honestly awed by how much work she put into this portrait of him. He was lost with thoughts and no words could describe how she portrayed him to be displayed for private eyes to see.

Dullahan finally arrived, joining the soldier by his side. She smiled from seeing his stunned expression of her latest painting. She took note of his body language from his right hand cupping his own face, possibly to hide those parted lips from her eyes, the way his brows knitted together while one of them was raised, and how he wouldn’t stop staring at the painting to look at the painter herself.

“I’m glad you like it, Jackie.” She spoke softly so only they could hear it. “To be honest, I didn’t want this on display at the gala but he insisted I do. Thankfully none of these in this room are for sale but the ones outside.” She tucked the loose strands of her blonde wig behind her ear while she looked around their surroundings. “He’ll die slowly and by tomorrow it’ll be on the news. From a heart attack or a sudden stroke.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. “What do you think of it?”

“I like the colours.” He said. “Plus you didn’t make me look like those arrogant captains painted like gods.”

“Glad to hear that, love.” Her mouth twisted and sighed a bit to herself. “The only thing I don’t like is that I couldn’t get your smile right. I did the best I could with what I did there.”

“I don’t care. Looks good to me.” His answer was nonchalant despite her disappointment at the one thing she couldn’t achieve correctly. “Next time if you think of painting me again, paint the scars on. It’ll look better.”

“I’ll take note of that.” Dullahan lifted her head up to give him a sincere smile for his honest words. “I’m heading back out so I can have an alibi. Care to join me?”

“In a moment.”

“Sure thing.” She nodded her head and soon left the private room. Once everyone else had left the room, a smile graced his scarred lips, cocking his head to the side to admire the painting better and soon letting out a chuckle while stuffing his hands into his pockets. She nor anyone will ever see him smile right before their eyes and that will be his own secret. Besides, he liked how she painted her version of his smile. Despite not being a fan of art, he’s certainly a fan of her work.

“You did well, sweetheart. You did well.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

6 notes · View notes

wilanserulia · 8 months

Text

The sketchbook I bring to the office is almost full, and as usual I figured I'd scan a few pages for archiving to get ready to start another one.

So you know what that means! It's sketchdump time! Strap in, this is gonna be a long post.

This year more than any other I've drawn a lot of my FFXIV OCs, which is funny because despite considering them my characters for years somehow I could never quite capture them on paper. Now all of a sudden I can draw little else lol

FFXIV is great but I still tried to save some love to my DnD characters new and old.

And speaking of DnD characters, earlier this spring I decided I was really unsatisfied with the way I was drawing Viria, she somehow always felt off-model compared to how I envisioned her in my mind and did my best to update her design. (plus a beach outfit just for fun)

And finally, this year I've decided to drawn my octoling from splatoon, and boy that's way outside my usual style. It took me a while to get the proportions right. Here's a few of the preparatory studies.

And that's it! Most of these are really nothing special, save for maybe a few that I already photographed straight from my sketchbook or that I turned into full-fledged illustrations. But I still like to archive and timestamp them, if nothing else to be able to look back at them and realize how far I've come.

Thanks for checking out my little doodles!

#art #sketch #sketchdump #sketch dump #Wilan #Delen #FFXIV art #DnD art #ffxiv #ffxiv OC #Au Ra #Hyur #DnD #DnD OC #octoling

5 notes · View notes

mxssromanoff · 2 years

Text

I. I Won't Say I'm In Love

part two | part three

prompt; you and isabela have been rivals the second you two met and have been obsessively hating on each other since

pairing/s; isabela x fem!reader

warning/s; language (like just one word lol)

wordcount; 1.17k

a/n; the amount of times i had to re-write this bc my dumb butt kept accidentally posting this (six times!). anyway, i'll write the second part on my free time. 1k is my limit

You and Isabela have hated each other for as long as you could remember, and no matter how much you two avoided seeing each other, you'd still end up being face to face with Señorita Perfecta—what was left of the perfect girl you once knew at least.

I mean, your houses were facing each other and your bedroom window was directly across from her balcony! Seeing each other was unavoidable at that point.

It was like the stars aligned to make both of your lives miserable.

But you being spiteful of each other wasn't without reason either.

You still remembered, clear as day, being bitter about not winning an art contest for the children in the Encanto just because Isabela could pull flowers out of her ass.

You, of course, being the six year old kid that you were who was quite the sore loser, told Isabela to her face that she was a fake who only won because she was a Madrigal and of course, she didn't take kindly to that and demanded you apologize.

You didn't and instead tore her artwork to pieces. Fists went flying everywhere after that.

Needless to say, you've hated each other since then and have even brought your rivalry to adulthood, fighting over the pettiest of things.

Nothing changed either even after Casita was rebuilt.

“Ugh, look at her,” you said as you looked up from your sketches, a spiteful gaze specially directed at the bright blue figure of Isabela Madrigal who was busy trying to make crops sprout in front of her family's casa.

“You're still playing that game?” Mirabel asked as she lounged next to you in front of your house.

“What game, Mira?” you snapped. There was no game in hating Isabela Madrigal, no matter which form she took.

“Oh, I don't know,” Mirabel gave you an innocent look before her eyes landed on the dress you were supposed to be working on.

And that's right, you were the town's dressmaker, having taken the mantle of your papa's legacy, which was the main reason why Mirabel could be seen hanging around you.

Aside from the fact that both of you used to share mutual hatred for her sister.

Your eyes followed hers and the moment you realized that you've been absentmindedly scribbling the eldest Madrigal with the angriest chicken scratches you've seen in existence, you closed your sketchbook.

At least she didn't see Isabela's name scribbled over and over again on one of the other pages.

“She was in my line of sight, I couldn't focus on anything else!” you reasoned.

“Riiiight, right, so, um, you still hate Isa even if she's changed?” she asked you.

“Of course, I do!”

Isabela might have retired from being a Colombian Barbie but it wasn't like she ever faked hating your guts. What would she gain from that anyway? As far as you were aware, she wanted the village to look at her as if she was Mother Teresa.

“Yeah, but don't you think that maybe you're too...I don't know, invested in her?”

That...you have nothing to counter with.

Everyday, you wake up and the first thing that would pop up in your head was Isabela. You'd spend hours planning out how to make her day worse without actually doing most of them. From dedicating most of your life into hating her, you've noticed small bits and pieces about the perfect daughter that most people would have otherwise overlooked.

You've noticed how her eyes would light up whenever they'd land on the most bizarre objects or how she'd steal an extra serving of cake when she thought nobody else was looking, or that one time when—

You narrowed your eyes at Mirabel.

“Well?” she pressed on.

However, instead of answering her, you stood up with a huff and gathered your belongings before leaving Mirabel to her own devices.

You were not going to admit anything. You hated Isabela Madrigal with every fiber of your being.

So much so that you felt like drowning every time you looked into her eyes.

And you hated it.

Isabela watched as you disappeared from her line of sight, yet the bitterness brought by your distant presence still lingered like some sort of evil miasma.

“You should talk to her,” came the voice of her cousin Dolores.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Isabela said as she went on to proceed with her task.

But instead of vegetables, she sprouted red roses.

An annoyed frown formed on Isabela's face. You totally just jinxed her.

“So we're just going to ignore that you still made a flower statue of Y/N in your room?” Dolores gave her a side glance as she bent down to pick up a vibrant red rose.

“It's only there because insulting her always makes me feel better,” Isabela defended, earning herself a raised brow from her cousin.

Okay, that was a half-truth. It wasn't only just one and she made them because Isabela hated you so much that you were practically living rent-free inside her head 24/7 that she just had to make several floral statues of you out of frustration, all with different facial expressions. Again.

The last batch have been destroyed along with the old casa.

Every morning since then, you were the first thing she'd see and the first words she'd say were of course nothing but insults hurled at you and your stupid, beautiful face.

You were also the last thing she'd see before she'd close her eyes, and you'd be there in her dreams, haunting every single one of them.

She thought about getting rid of your statues, and she did at one point but that only ended up making her even more agitated for whatever reason.

“Don't you think it's time that you two finally mend your relationship?” Dolores said. “It's been fifteen years.”

“There’s nothing to mend, Dolores,” Isabela replied, removing the roses from her vegetable patch, hissing when a thorn pricked her finger.

Her cousin sighed in exasperation behind her, feeling Dolores’s judging gaze burning holes through the back of her skull as she placed the rose she picked behind Isabela’s ear. “Just admit it.”

Isabela’s eyes landed briefly on her sister who suddenly stood up on her seat to follow you inside your house.

“Admit what?” she knew what her cousin wanted to say, knew that Dolores knew she was playing dumb, but the mere thought of it had her…feeling things that absolutely disgusted her.

Or at least that was what she wanted to convince herself.

“That you’re in love with Y/–”

But before she could complete her sentence, a flurry of colorful flowers went flying Dolores’s way although Isabela spared her from accidentally swallowing a stray petal, unlike with Camilo.

“Isabela–”

“No, I’m not going to admit anything and you weren’t just going to say what you were going to say!” Isabela said, dumping a pile of roses on her feet before stomping away.

She hated you. That was the only thing she had been sure of before and after her phase of perfection.

She hated how you can only smile around other people, hated how she could only hear your laughter from afar, hated how she could never be the reason for both—and that scared her.

So no, Isabela Madrigal will never admit that she was in love. With you, of all people.

#isabela madrigal x reader #isabela x reader #encanto x reader #disney x reader

583 notes · View notes