#usually i just clean up the sketch and use that

[thecoolertails]

ZOINKS! a ghost!!!

(redraw of this concept art:)

[keii]

JoRo WIP. Their faces are so cute— also feet details.

[meimeikyu]

blehhh lining a piece rn bcs i did the sketch traditionally n i can confirm i still hate lineart

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, noise control, dub con technically ( for him… kinda TRUST THE PROCESS ) prank gone wrong for reader lol, creampie, has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. HAPPY 4/20! i was gonna do some dizzy drabbles but i couldn’t get this out of my head. not proofread ( and written when i was in the clouds ) so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

what had started out as a fun prank on your best friend for revenge ended with you completely at his mercy, unbeknownst to him.

picking up around the studio wasn’t something you did too often, considering it a breach of Rafayel’s privacy, but when you got there and he wasn’t home, you let yourself inside like you usually did. you were about an hour early, anyways. you hadn’t taken two steps when you stumble over a pile of crumpled sketch paper. you scrunched your brows as you gazed around your environment. scattered brushes, broken pencils, and a canvas half-painted in the middle of the floor. you sighed; perhaps Rafayel had hit a wall with his muse and had gone for a walk on the beach. the least you could do for him, you’d decided, was to clean up a bit. after all, a clean space is a productive space, right?

that was when you came across it, left carelessly on his bed, swaddled in a sea of white sheets and the comforter. you’d never seen one in real life until this moment, and at first you mistook it for a woman asleep in his bed with her butt sticking out of the blankets— but, it was fake. a plump, nearly life sized ass sitting atop the mattress.

does Rafayel really use something like this?

you found your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you pictured him mounting it, both of his smooth palm against the cheeks, svelte digits digging into the silicone to spread it open wide enough for him to push inside…

shaking your head to snap yourself out of the fantasy, you look around, making sure no one was around to see you get lost in your own desire for him. “S—stupid.” you muttered to yourself, stepping closer to touch the fleshiest part of it. surprisingly soft, as soft as your own skin. your brow quirks, fingers sliding to the waistband of a pair of cerulean, lace panties that adorned the faux lower body. it seemed so strange to have clothes on something that was meant to stay hidden and used in private, as if the silicone slab had been laid out meticulously…

no, Rafayel didn’t use this for his own pleasure, you decided. this was a prank. an elaborate one, but one meant to fluster you when you came over.

he was such an ass!

“Oh yeah?” you challenge under your breath, grasping the panties and tugging them off of the toy, “You want to play games? I can play, too.” determined to outprank Rafayel, you toss the panties on the bed and stash the toy beneath the bed. it was surprisingly heavy, and made a splat when it hit the surface of the floor, you had to stifle a chuckle as just hilarious this was. you didn’t want him to win, even if he wasn’t there to see it. quickly unbuttoning your pants, you discard them and the panties you were wearing, kicking them under the bed, too. then, you grab the cerulean lace and pull them on— perfect fit! you took a moment to glance in a nearby mirror, turning slightly. your ass had a similar curve and complexion, and you hoped it was enough to fool him, at least long enough for you to scare him when he least expected it. then, you climb into the bed, scrupulous as you nest your top half under a pile of blankets, the pillows resting on the top of your shoulders to hide your head. there was also the issue with your legs. it took a great amount of wrapping sheets around your thighs as you kick and squirm, before you’re finally perfectly positioned— identical to the way he’d left the fake ass, your own sticks out as if inviting him, as you wait for him to return.

at first, it had been difficult to keep yourself from jittering, too excited to see the look on his face when you jump out, effectively one-upping his lewd joke. but, as the minutes ticked on, with your entire body hidden within his bedding, you’d started to sweat, breathing in the dense air trapped under the pillows with you, and you had to readjust several times. it took so long that you were just about to give up on the prank and unbury yourself, before you heard the door open.

showtime.

you felt knots of excitement tying themselves together in your belly as you willed yourself to be as still as possible, and appear as the lifeless, silicone toy.

you could hear him moving about the studio, sighing, and your heart was starting to beat faster in your ears— you hoped that he would hurry to his room, so you could reveal yourself soon, and you could get out from under this suffocating duvet.

when he’d stepped into the bedroom, you hear the door close behind him, and you have to physically keep yourself from kicking your feet in excitement. it was almost time to scare the living daylights out of your best friend. your muscles tighten, ready to jump up, but a sound abruptly stops you.

a zipper.

you freeze, listening silently to the sound of rusting fabric. soft thuds as he kicked out of his shoes, and a whoosh that follows towards the floor.

was he undressing?

your eyes widen only when you hear a heavy breath, followed by the click of a cap. squeezing, then a low moan coming from behind you. it was Rafayel. your eyes widen. you’d never heard such a sound from his mouth, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. the subtle skin slapping that started slow, but sped up shortly after, his breath getting heavier simultaneously. you realized how wrong it was to hear Rafayel pleasuring himself, especially when he didn’t know that you were there. you should really say something, open your mouth and let him know that he wasn’t alone, but when your lips parted, you couldn’t force any sound from it. you were too stunned by these sounds to give him any kind of warning. you listen, mouth agape and eyes big, staring into the headboard of his bed as he takes a few steps towards the foot of it. your mind races, realizing that he had not placed the toy on his bed for you to find it—

this had not been a toilet-humor prank that he was putting together. he simply hadn’t had the time to hide his private toys before you stumbled upon them.

to solidify this revelation, you feel one hand tracing over the shape of your ass. his fingers were warm and slick, and you nearly gasped, sealing your lips just in time for his digits to curl around the panties and tug on them, inching down your thighs. he would definitely discover you were disguising yourself as the toy when he couldn’t take them all the way off, and that thought was equally humiliating and comforting. you didn’t exactly love the idea of him finding out now, after exposing your cunt to him, and now that you’d gotten an earful of him jerking off, but at least things wouldn’t go further. Rafayel doesn’t, however, try to pull the panties down completely. instead, he seems content to leave them around your thighs, and his fingers trace upwards, slowly and skillfully, until they trace your netherlips, slathering your sex in what had to be lube, cool and wet.

oh, god. your top teeth sink into your lower lip as his fingertips swipe full laps between your folds. the pads rub against your most sensitive nub, leaving it throbbing and begging for more attention before they drag downwards, teasing your opening. he didn’t seem to notice that your cunt spasms, attempting to clamp down on his fingers, before they run another lap. he lets out a heavy breath, the sound of his palm smacking against his abdomen as he fucks his own hand in tandem to the way he was unknowingly teasing your pussy making your head spin.

this was so wrong.

you had to tell him right now.

your tiers part once more, this time determined to stop this before—

the swollen, slippery head of Rafayel’s cock rubs against your slit. one hand covers your mouth to keep any sound, words or otherwise, from escaping as you realize that it’s too late to expose yourself now. you’d look like a total creep, taking advantage of your best friend by pretending to be his sex toy. “Huh—uhh…” Rafayel emitted a low moan as he rubbed his dick against you a few more times, before planting one palm on your ass, the other holding tight to his base as he plunged inside.

it took all you had within you to not let out a cry of surprise at the sudden entry. your free hand grips the sheet so tightly you fear your nails will rip holes in it, and your toes curl beneath the mattress. Rafayel had been under the impression that he could be as rough as he wanted, because the pussy was nothing but a silicone replica, and so his rhythm was steady, deep pumping almost immediately upon bottoming out in your guts. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hips thumping against your ass, both hands grasping at it. “F—feels good… yeah,”

he was right about that, and you wished you could vocalize it. your walls fluttered about in delight as he pounded into you, his cock was longer than you’d thought it would be, the tip bold in its deep exploration, prodding against your g-spot with every, full thrust of his hips. you fought the urge to bounce back, meet his movements with equally eager grinding. instead, your eyes began to roll and your lids flittered, and the grip on your own mouth tightened to keep any of your stifled mewls and whimpers from escaping. you couldn’t, however, keep from gushing when he hit the perfect depth with his fervent stroking, and you could only hope that his thorough drenching you in lubrication would be enough to mask this.

you could hear him panting, moaning, swearing, as he fucked you with reckless abandon. his fingers digging into your warm, satin skin, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. it was as if you felt every, single vein as they rub your walls, autographing your insides, claiming them as his as he uses you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

he was getting louder, his hips bucking more powerfully, more erratically, and the throbbing in your core was a testament to just how close to cumming he was.

you knew how wrong this was, but all rational thinking was dissipating; you were enjoying being fucked like this; greedy, careless pounding, by your closest friend too much to ruin it, now. you didn’t want to stop it, not until he was fully satiated.

“F—fuck, yeah,” Rafayel swoons, grabbing full fists of your ass, pulling your ass back to meet his hungry hip-snapping, “more, more, more!”

you couldn’t take much more, and you push your face into the mattress to keep quiet, both hands scrambling to hold on to something, squeezing the edge of the mattress with your nails sinking in— anything to relieve the pressure he was forcing as deep into you as he could. your feet wanted to kick, your back wanted to arch, and you wanted to scream out in pure pleasure, so you clung to the bed as tightly as you could in hopes that you could ride out the orgasm he was ripping from you.

he didn’t even seem to notice your twitching and subtle squirming beneath the blankets as he made you drop off and come undone, which you were thankful for, because he was too caught up in chasing his own high. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Rafayel was sputtering, desperately trying to get there, pressing all of his weight against your ass as he pumps a few more, deep and hard, thrusts into you before he grunts, and releases. as if he’d been pent up for quite a while, you felt a spattering of warmth, and then it spreads as he fills your belly with his essence. you nearly lose it in this moment, and almost blow your cover, your walls clamping down on his cock as he starts to retract. it felt so good to be full of Rafayel that you didn’t want him to pull out, but he does so with a ragged moan. there’s an uncomfortable emptiness that follows his abandoning of your cunt, the feeling of being fucked deep and left there, your oblivious best friend’s cum dribbling out of your used pussy as it twitches and your muscles stay tense. you knew you were leaving a small puddle on his sheets below you, but you could hear him milling around the room instead of focusing on you, now.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, and you his phone unlock, then the rapid-fire tapping of his fingers on the keys. was he… texting?

you were answered when you heard the faint vibrating of your phone in your pants pocket, hidden under the bed. he texted you?! at first, you think he must’ve heard it, because everything went silent, and you waited for him to start shouting, but he doesn’t.

a few moments later, the door opens, and his footsteps fade as he swaggers down the corridor, satiated, and a moment later, you hear the shower turn on.

for the first time in several minutes, your muscles relax for a moment, before you swim out from your heated prison in a hurry, scrambling under the bed to grab your phone. every move you made, you could feel his release swirling around inside you and dribbling down your thighs, and you groan at the sensation, and the trail you made before you pulled the panties up to keep any more from leaving evidence. staring at the screen, panting and fucked out, your eyes barely focusing, you read the message in disbelief.

just woke up so i’m running late. stop on the way and buy lunch or something i’m starving

liar.

but you didn’t have time to dwell on the message; you get dressed as quickly as you can, what with your legs trembling like shaken jelly and your insides sore from Rafayel’s eager plowing, and hoist the fake butt back into place on top of the bed. you had to make a stealthy exit before he got out of the shower. stuffing your own panties into your pocket, you decide the best way to avoid an even stickier mess on his floor that would certainly be noticeable, you had to wear the panties meant for the doll. you could only pray he didn’t realize they’d gone missing right away, and later today when you could sneak away to the bathroom, you’d put them back in place.

so, stumbling and trying to catch your breath, freshly fucked, you leave through the sliding back door, the one that faces the shoreside, and closes it behind you to complete your escape.

once outside, you exhale deeply, lean against his car, hidden from windows’ views, to evaluate the damage, beyond the mess of him in your panties. you groan, covering your face with both hands in belated guilt.

you could never, ever tell him about this!

[drexee]

IM BACK WITH ANOTHER SLEEP HEADCANON! This time it’s for Donnie!!

I hope you enjoy!

Bayverse Don x gn!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Spelling maybe

Raph | Leo | Mikey

Donnie Sleep HCs

Donatello’s bed is just big enough to fit him comfortably without him dangling over the sides

He has a pretty sizable blanket, and it’s actually a weighted blanket! Something that will put him to sleep and keep him asleep. Like 15lbs-25lbs

About four regular sized, plush pillows

He used to have a body pillow too

The bed itself is pushed up and out of the way, against the farthest wall of his room. His desk is against the opposite wall

Donnie absolutely sees the importance of having his room as a place to sleep and be away from work

But try as he might, his room still becomes littered with various sketches, blueprints, or notes

He cleans up as much as he can, but it just keeps happening so he gave up 😅

Donatello doesn’t spend too much time in his room though, constantly at work and tinkering away in his lab. He’s a workaholic, you know this.

To get Donnie to bed is a challenge in itself, but not impossible.

Luckily, he loves spending time with you, so you only need to ask him once.

Or twice.

Maybe three times, but he’s almost done! Promise! Just need to make sure that one part was secure and wasn’t going to grow legs and walk away by morning

Donnie’s favorite position is one where he’s facing you: him laying on his side, shell supported by a pillow or two

He’ll leave little kisses on what he can reach of you, but they’re so feather light, you barely even know they’re there. He’s too afraid of waking you up

He likes to either have his forehead pressed to yours or have your head tucked under his chin, he craves closeness

He tends to bring your leg up and hook it over his own. He’ll then scooch himself further into your space until you two are properly locked together and honestly? At that point? He couldn’t care less about anything else in the world. He’s not moving from you.

Through the night though, your legs become so tangled with his, you don’t know where he ends and you begin, like you were playing twister in your sleep or something

Donnie loves it when you use his arm as a pillow!

He knows it’s gonna go numb, but he doesn’t mind. He would take pins and needles over anything if it meant you got good sleep

His other arm is usually wrapped around you to hold you close, he likes to rub your back too! It’s a sure fire way to knock you out

It makes his heart go all fluttery whenever he thinks about that because he loves that he just knows you so well

He adores laying in bed with you and doesn’t fall asleep until well after you doze off just so he can look at you

It never really crossed his mind that it may be a bit weird to watch you sleep. You’re cute, and it calms him down. It’s his favorite past time.

Is he obsessed? No.

Maybe.

A little.

But is it obsession if you’re both in love? He’s caught you staring at him too! He knows you do the same!

Yeah, so he’s counted all your eyelashes, all your beauty marks, and logged every sigh you make into his long term.

And yeah, he keeps track of your REM cycle so he knows exactly how long it takes for you to slip off into deep sleep, and - Whatever!!! Just let him have this! Who are you?? The Police???

Donnie is a normal sleeper most nights and doesn’t move too much, may twitch a bit, but other than that, nothing.

Doesn’t make a peep when he’s knocked out, but breathes very deeply

Unless he gets an idea!! He used to just jolt out of bed to his desk, but he’s taken a tumble too many times (he kept forgetting the mess of limbs you two create) and has since learned how to stealthily slip away and back into you once he’s done

He gets a few nightmares, and he may unintentionally wake you if he gets too caught up in them.

But when you wake him up from one of those terrible dreams and cuddle with him? Ohhh he falls. He falls so hard for you. Especially when you rub your thumb across his cheek and talk him through his breathing

Your soothing words are like a balm to his overworked brain and he’s forever grateful for you

He’s pretty sure he’s got hearteyes

You’ve gotten a few chirps out of him like that, and he’s so embarrassed about them pLEASE DONT TEASE HIM 😭

He won’t get mad, but he’ll get so flustered and then you’ll have a child lock on your phone and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about

Donnie’s usually awake before you, and will spend a few minutes basking in your warmth before he goes to grab you something quick to drink for when you wake up.

And when he comes back to see you curled up around his pillow? The thought that even in sleep you search for him and need him close to you?

It makes his knees buckle

And it takes everything in him to not just slip right back under those covers and replace that pillow you’ve grabbed onto

Right!! There’s numero dos!! Until next time!

[meraki-sunset]

Hello, sorry to disturb you, but I'm trying to flesh out a Homestuck au and it's still in the works. My question is; Did you use any kind of application or tool to make the signs of the new castes in your au? If not, how did you make them?

Hi! I didn't use any app to make them, my process is basically this:

I went to the extended zodiac and I took a pic of all the signs, when I placed them I took, for example, Sollux's and Eridan's casts and put them next to one another

I searched for all their respective moons and aspects and put them there too.

That's the order in which the signs will be fused. I could've fused signs with the same aspect, but Erisol is a mix of a Doom and a Hope player, so it made sense to mix the rest in that order.

From there, you just take the most defining traits of each sign, and use them to create a new one. Every class has a pattern in their signs, you just have to find it and put both patterns together. For example, Gold signs represent duality, they're usually always mirrored and have lots of straight lines. While violet signs have a lot of zigzag lines to represent waves

For Arquius and Tavros i didn't have second sign to fuse them with to create a cast, i didn't have a second pattern so i made it up based on what the got fused to.

The indigo cast's pattern is they have a lot of traight lines and arrows on their signs. So i made Hal's shades and horseshoes the second patern, since the shades are canonically in arquius's sign

Tavros's cast was more dificult because his sign didn't change at all. The bronce's patern is circles and always being a perfect mirror. Since he fused with a fairybull, i just made a revamp of all the existing signs but made them fairy-like in some way, resembling wings and magic sigils.

With some signs I came up with the fusion in one try, others took multiple attempts, you gotta try a couple of times sometimes until it looks right

not too complicated, not too simple. Something recognizable but not a hassle if you have to draw it 100 times for a comic

And there's not much more than that, when i have all the sketches i choose the ones i like, i put them in order, and clean them, then i give them names mixing the 2 zodiac signs (gemini+aquarius) with the third sign that defines their aspect. Just how the canon extended zodiac did.

And that's it! i hope this helps

[kaneaken]

Is this... Delusion?

author's note; just a few short scenarios that I've been through which really make me question everything. I have so many of these, but I think there was only one guy that was actually serious (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

content notes; gn!reader (pronouns not used/mentioned), modern au because some of these scenarios don't make sense in the original universe

♡ You think you've seen Blade for the fiftieth time this week. You understand the campus you both go to isn't very large, but you have definitely seen him more than any other student. He doesn't pause to speak to you, he just gives you a small glance, which feels more like a glare if anything. You bring it up to Fu Xuan in passing to which she responds:

"I find it strange.. his department is farther than yours. There would be no reason to pass through if he wanted to take the most efficient route."

♡ You notice there is always an empty space next to Alhaitham, no matter where he is. At first, you felt bad that no one sat next to him, so you decided to take the seat next to him. You introduce yourself to which he does the same. Although, he isn't much of a talker, he doesn't seem to mind your constant ramblings. One day, you walk up to him and find Kaveh sitting next to him. Once he notices your approach, he sends Kaveh a subtle look as if to say move it. Kaveh shoots him a glare before getting up with a grumble.

♡ You weren't poor, but you weren't exactly rich either. Aventurine, however, was. He wasn't one to particularly flaunt his wealth, but somehow you had a constant reminder of it.

"My rings? Do you like them? I could buy one for you. It's not an issue. Think of it as a gift for helping me with my homework last week."

"It's your birthday, right? I got you something. It's not much, but-- it's expensive? Oh, no, no, I only spent a little more this year. How much more...? Let's just celebrate, alright?"

"Are you hungry? You don't have enough for a snack? That's alright. What do you want and don't just pick the cheapest thing, okay?"

Seems the more you deny him, the more persistent he gets.

♡ You always spot Kaveh with a pen in his hand. He tends to spin it around, balance it on a finger, and throw it at Alhaitham (the usual). You even find him doodling on his hand at times. You always compliment him on the little doodles and he always chuckles in response. At times, he ends up filling his hand with doodles and running out of blank space, so he turns to you with a smile. You don't deny his silent request (you had been meaning to ask him if he would draw you a little doodle). You extend your hand to him and let him work his magic. Depending on his mood, he could draw whatever. Sometimes it's a horrible sketch of Alhaitham while he grumbles about how Alhaitham finished the coffee that morning. Other times it's a beautiful flower which you wish you didn't have to clean off your hand. One time he drew a cluster of hearts which matched the ones on his hands.

[icantdothistodaybruh]

[[Tumblr ate another Anon's ask about my way of drawing\painting I can't with this app😭😭😭 If half a year later this ask mysteriously reappears in my notes like previous I'll edit screenshot of it up here, other then that I just hope you'll still see this post, dear Anon🕯🥀]]

Hello Anon!

I made a quick timelapse of one of my old-ish work for you, under the cut I'll go into more details about the process! I hope it'll be of use to you, but don't expect some crazy insights, I'm a messy artist ahjkakhj

So, step one! When the sketch is clean enough for me, I go in with plain colours to block out objects that I'll be refining on separate layers later. At the same time it helps me take a step back from details and break down the image into bigger, simpler shapes, so it's easier to find better composition and proportions.

Step two (actual colouring) Usually my brain shuts down on me on that part too, Anon… Basically I use a very limited palette at the start and gradually build up more hues and contrasts as I go. Sometimes I do a gray scale drawing first to get my values right, but this one is simple and was more of a vent&relax piece for me so there is none of that haha Also, since I tend to work on as little layers as possible and merge sketch layer and colour layer together at literally the first opportunity I get, most of the times I have a copy of my sketch saved on a separate hidden layer in case I overdo the painting part and need some roughness back.

Step three, Details! And when I say details I mean

D E T A I L S .

There is simply something magical in squiggly lines and dots… I can never fight them…

There is not much of advise I can really give you here, just do what feels right to you, what looks beautiful to you. Make your art finished in the way you see it finished, take another step back and ask yourself "what's missing? what feels undone? empty?". Combine styles, find new patterns and brushes, most importantly HAVE FUN!!!

Sooner or later you'll find the perfect algorithm for painting and drawing, only to 5, 20, 50 works down the line realize that's something in your own style doesn't sit right with you anymore and feels rather routinish and start that journey anew.

Never stop your searching, chase after your own definition of beauty because without you there will be nobody to show it to others.

[luckyartdrawer]

Been looking for fun outfits to draw the DCA in, but then inspiration struck and-

Subway Masters Emmet and Ingo Sun and Moon!

(Click image fore better quality)

I could have sworn I saw someone else also do this idea, but I can't find the drawing. I can't be the only one who felt this vibe right??? It's perfect!

vvv Yapping and (a handful) extra images below the cut!!! vvv

Sketch

Isolated Final Version & Close Up

No Sketch & Dark Sketch Versions

Honestly I felt the urge to show all these different versions because all of them were super satisfying to me. The sketch being visible adds texture to the image, but the clean is, well, so clean. Then the dark sketch being visible makes it feel so stylized, like the borderlands sketchy shader the characters have. Love love love it all!

Why Sun's eyes are mostly blue instead of the iconic white is because I wanted to make it match with the blue Moon has as a secondary color, just like how Sun's secondary color red is featured easily as Moon's eyes! I wanted to keep the silver eyes from Emmet and Ingo, so coloring the white makes them pop! (I wanted them to compliment each other well while still having unique designs.)

I don't usually do cell shading, but I've been seeing so many pleasing art styles on Tumblr using them that I just felt like it would be nice to do a clean cell shaded work. :3

(Somehow it took me way longer to cell shade than my usual style... Maybe using the lasso tool religiously for everything had something to do with it.)

I don't really engage with the Subway Masters fandom much, but I love the characters so much. Their designs are so cool and I love BW and gah I hope they put Emmet in the next Legends game. We got to see Ingo now I also need to see the unhinged happy man out of his element!!!

(I'm a big pokemon fan :P)

Once the idea got to me it was like- How could I not? The dynamics are literally perfect you cannot convince me otherwise!!!

[duckdodger]

this may be too much to ask but do you have a tut on how to draw turtles in the mm style?? (or just at all my ass is suffering. i need to draw tmnt but my brain doesnt know how :c)

Sure ! I’ll try my best to explain (I made one after the first tottmnt trailer came out it’s outdated so I’m remaking it)

If you’re talking abt mm movie style , I don’t think I’m skillful on them enough to make an art tutorial 😭💔they’re hard for me to draw too

Info on keep reading :D !!

- I take hundreds of screenshots + download promo art and a create collage of it , use it as a ref sheet. I study on the shapes , proportions , and style of each character.

- Then I pick an image from the pile to see if it’s a good pose (if not, I find poses from other resources to draw) or expression I want to use as reference for my drawing

- then I start sketching , adding the sharp details . Clean up on lineart and color later

Other Notes :

- Tales of the TMNT artstyle uses sharp sketchy lines to give it that sketchbook artstyle

- In some frames from the show, Their eyes are pentagon shaped & pupils are not fully colored in. Mask tails have different styles too

- Each turtle not only have different headshapes , they have different plastron shapes too (these are fugly examples I accidentally deleted the OG layer of this and had to redo it LMAO)

- Looking at Tales crew art also rlly helps! (There’s a lot of them on the #/talesofthetmnt tag on insta & twitter)

the Tales of the TMNT artstyle is easy to nail imo , it’s like more of a simpler version of the rise of the TMNT artstyle if that make sense ?? That’s how I personally feel lololol

If you never drawn TMNT before , just go slow on your art process , look at references, & take your time . Draw the characters in your own style first if you want :] just to feel more comfortable and less stress trying to replicate the iteration’s style . overall , have fun <3

I usually suckkk at these art tutorial stuff but hope this helps :D !!

[writerslittlelibrary]

Were you expecting someone?

masterlist

summary: thinking it’s a day like any other, you simply busy yourself with some homework and your hobbies, until there’s suddenly a gun pointed at your head

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader, Yelena x niece reader, Melina & Alexei x granddaughter reader

warnings: a gun? 

genre: fluff

words: 1265

a/n: I thought there should be way more content about the Widow family. I love to see more of the concept of Melina and Alexei with a grandchild

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

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When you woke up this morning, you were not expecting the situation you were currently in. Because you were wearing your headphones, you had not heard anyone enter the house. Your mom told you she would be gone until late afternoon, and while you were busying yourself with some drawings, you had completely forgotten the time.

Not that it mattered, really. Usually, when your mom comes home she’d always let you know, whether she’d send you a text or simply come into your room and say hi. 

This situation however, was slightly different. One moment you were peacefully sketching some ideas you were working on, and the next moment you could feel the cold metal of a gun pressed against your temple. You slowly looked up from your sketchbook, not making any sudden movements. 

You thought the woman in the room was simply another Widow from the Red Room, sent to assassinate you. You’d been dealing with those ever since you escaped two years ago. 

When you didn’t feel the woman relax her grip on the gun, nor feeling a bullet piercing your skull, you decided to handle the situation yourself. You turned around swiftly, grabbing the gun and pulling it towards yourself, managing to yank the woman forward and knee her in the gut. You pushed her to the side, holding the gun tightly as she let it go in surprise. 

She made a move quickly, hitting you across the face. You replied by swiping her legs from under her, letting her fall to the ground as you ran out the room. 

You made a run to the stairs, moving to get down as fast as possible. When you did, you saw two other people standing in the living room. It was a man and a younger woman. She couldn’t have been older than 25. 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you made a move to run to the front door. You could hear the woman from upstairs making her way down as well. Once you reached the door however, it opened, revealing your mom standing in the doorway holding some groceries. 

She smiled at you, then frowned when she saw blood on your face. 

“We have to go,” you said quickly, grabbing her hand and trying to run away. She however, didn’t move. You turned around to see her stifling a laugh. 

“Were you expecting someone?” you asked her, letting go of her hand and looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she just told you, letting a laugh escape. 

She grabbed your arm and dragged you into the living room, setting her bags down before pushing you onto a chair, making a move to grab the first aid kit. “Natasha, Who is that?” you heard the woman from before ask in a strong Russian accent. “I should have warned you,” she said, sitting next to you and carefully cleaning up the blood from your face. 

“Yeah, you really should have,” you told, wincing slightly when she pressed the alcohol cloth onto the wound. 

“I’m not too pleased you injured her though,” Natasha told the woman. “She attacked first,” the woman replied. You frowned and looked at the woman. “You held a gun to my head!” you told her. The younger woman grinned, clearly finding the situation amusing. 

“Y/N, meet my family, guys, meet my daughter,” Natasha said, putting a band-aid on your forehead before cleaning up the things she used, stashing the first aid kit back into the cupboard it came from. 

“How?” the younger woman simply asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “Dreykov created her using my eggs after I was sterilized. I didn’t know about her until two years ago,” Natasha explained, grabbing you a glass of water to help with the headache she knew was going to form. 

You thanked her for the water and looked at the other two people standing in the room. They hadn’t made a move to sit down yet. 

“Y/N, meet Melina, Alexei and Yelena,” Natasha introduced, motioning to the person she meant when she said their name. “Yelena’s my sister-” “And now an aunt too,” Yelena interrupted, also having a heavy Russian accent. She seemed ecstatic by that fact. You smiled at her and simply drank some of your water. “Are you going to stand and glare or…” you said slowly, referring to Melina and Alexei. 

Slowly they sat down. The moment they did, Alexei smiled. “Welcome to the family!” he said excitedly, motioning his hands up a little. 

Melina now smiled too, getting up and moving towards the fridge. “We need to celebrate,” she simply said as she opened it and reached for a bottle of vodka. She opened some cupboards until she found the one holding the glasses, and grabbed some shot glasses. 

She put them on the table and filled them. There were five of them, but you decided not too say anything. Natasha would never let you drink it anyway.

Melina put a glass in front of everyone, you included. 

She lifted her glass, as if to make a little toast. “Welcome to the family,” she said as she drank the vodka. Yelena and Alexei did the same, while you just looked at Natasha and smiled awkwardly. 

She returned your smile, grabbing her own shot of vodka and drinking it. You didn’t touch yours. “You are not drinking?” Melina asked, stating the obvious. You smiled at her and shook your head. “I’m 16,” you told her, and Melina frowned. 

“So?” 

“We’re in the United States… It's illegal here. Besides, it's like three pm…” you told her, glancing at the clock. “It is always good time for a drink,” Melina simply replied, pouring herself another glass. You smiled and grabbed your water, finishing the glass. Of course you drank vodka before. You were a Russian after all, but your mother didn’t need to know that.

After Yelena swiped your glass and drank it herself, you turned to your mother. “Can I go now?” you asked, wanting to get out of the awkward family get together. 

Natasha smiled and nodded. You got up from your chair and made your way upstairs, immediately jumping onto your bed and grabbing your phone, wanting to tell Wanda everything that just happened. 

You talked with Wanda on the phone for a while, explaining how Melina had you at gunpoint and about how bad you felt you threw her on the ground. Wanda laughed at certain things you told her, feeling as though it was a situation you could both laugh about, and you didn’t actually feel bad about something. You two talked for a few hours, simply enjoying hearing the other talk. Then Wanda had to go, saying her dinner she ordered had arrived. 

A few minutes after hanging up the phone, you heard a knock on your door. When it opened Yelena walked inside. 

“So this is your room huh?” Yelena said as she looked around your room, picking up some stuff and flipping through your sketchbook. “Cool,” she said, sitting down on your desk chair. “Natasha told me to come get you because the food is here.”

“Thanks,” you told her, rolling from the middle of the bed to the side, so you could plug your phone into its charger and get up. 

“I think we’ll be good friends,” Yelena said, getting up herself and exiting your room, followed by you. You smiled. This definitely wasn’t how you expected meeting Natasha’s family, had you known about them, but you couldn’t deny you were excited to get to know them better. 

[munson-blurbs]

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork. 

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO. 

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks. 

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride. 

“Yeah, Har?” 

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another. 

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice. 

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper. 

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication. 

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband. 

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris. 

--

[crownedinmarigolds]

Hello all! My commissions are being re-opened after my lil summer step-away! Thank you to everyone who has previously commissioned me or wants to commission me, you all mean the world to me and I'm so grateful! I had a super great break and am ready to get back to the grind! ~ ~ ~ Updated information for post break - I am officially using KO-FI's commission tab to keep track of how many slots I have for each type, as well as occasionally introduce a different style or so if I feel like it/come up with one. This is to make things easier for me in regards to tracking, and to make things more visible to you all so you know how busy or available I may be!

My quick sketch commissions are always open on my KO-FI!

Prices may slightly vary depending on specific details, but that is something we can discuss in private. The prices shown are pretty solidly what I will charge!

PLEASE NOTE: I will not start work until payment is made.

The prices include the character + a simple background color/texture chosen by me unless otherwise requested by you. The group portraits will require a bit more in-depth discussion - such as if you don't want them just standing together and want them to be doing something as a group. That may change the price slightly depending on what they're up to. If you'd like to add a specific background, we can talk about that as well! I keep you very up to date through most of the process, and I have a few extra rounds of concept sketches prepared if needed for larger portraits.

Disclaimers: I have a very sketchy and not 100% clean art style, so please expect that in the finished product! I am absolutely down for not safe for work scenes or subjects like sex, violence, blood, etc - but obviously the more gross end of the spectrum I won't touch. That can be discussed in private! I am not very good at drawing mechs, cars, or animals, so while you can ask me to, I may deny it just to ensure you don't get a subpar final drawing.

Also, I work full time and am a wife and mother! I like to think I'm fast and incredibly attentive but just please be respectful that I may have to step away to take care of my family. I have to save drawing for after I am off work and when my child is asleep. Here is my usual schedule for doing commission work.

If you'd like to commission me, go ahead and grab your slot through my KO-FI. Feel free to also send me a direct message through Tumblr or email me at ladyofsilks@gmail.com! Just noting again, I am using KO-FI to keep track of the slots taken and to keep all my record-keeping in one place. If you miss the window for a slot, I can of course write your idea and information down and inform you when I'm about to open slots again. You will be getting concept sketches, updates as I go, and of course the high res copy of your image at the very end. I would ask that you speak with me before using my work for public use or on paid programming. Otherwise, these images are yours and you feel free to use them as you please!

I am on KO-FI, and here is my Art Tumblr Tag for more examples of my work!

Thank you all so much!!

[featherwurm]

Well... this was supposed to be a simple little sketch (you're gonna have to zoom in) to go with some small head-cannons that grew legs and wandered away:

In the Modern AU (where nothing is really different I just use it to draw modern trappings on the gang) after whatever happens, and things are good, the tadfools go out for a nice lunch together in the park with their favorite pedestrian rides. They're in Bloomridge, which here is more like Golden Gate Park or Central Park - a huge area for pleasant recreation.

From right to left:

Karlach: Rollerblades. Safety equipment - elbow, knee pads, hand guards. Look - Regular casual clothes.

Tav: Roller Skates. Safety equipment - none ("if I die I die.") Look - Usual gym/active fit.

Wyll: Longboard skateboard. Safety equipment - helmet worn incorrectly (straps loose). Look - Day out with friends urban causal.

Lae'zel: Beloved cherry red BMX bike. Safety equipment - all of it, as is good and proper. Look - Dirtbag off-roader.

Shadowheart: Silver beach cruiser of her dreams* with tassels and a basket and everything. Safety equipment - none. Look - Summer sundress.

Gale: Recumbent bike with tressym trailer**. Safety equipment - proper helmet and wrist guards. Look - Little matched bicycling outfit.

Astarion: One of those motorized unicycles (probably shouldn't be riding this on the bike path.) Safety equipment - none and he's on his phone. Look - Casual but expensively branded***.

Scratch: Having a great time.

Honestly they're all having a great time. They're buddies! Bonus, they run into Aylin and Isobel who are also out for a ride on their tandem:

*Karlach helped her get it all perfectly sparkly and detailed the last time she cleaned her motorcycle.

**It's open, she can fly out if she wants, but she's not as young as she used to be and likes to have a chauffeur sometimes. Plus she and Gale are having a nice chat. (Stickers says 'Tressym on Board' and there's a sticker for his university. The flags are a Waterdeep Flag, and two university pennants.)

***His shoulder bag has his latest embroidery projects all framed up to work on when they stop.

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.