#but these past couple years people have been telling me that my art is good. great even!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wanting to spend a night out with a guy?

I'm twenty, study in university and still live with my parents. I've been planning to move out since I was eighteen, but they told me to keep living at home and not get a job so I could focus on studying while they take care of me financially. This arrangement has worked mostly well in the past years save for a few small conflicts, but it's escalated in the past 3-4 months.

The issue is my time schedule. I have a very active social life, am active in the local art scene, do political work and a lot of extracurricular stuff for university (I'm a straight A student, I might add!). Because of this, and because I'm a natural night owl, I usually come home late several days a week (between 10pm and 2am) and stay out all day for most of the week. This means I can't do a lot of chores, and usually there's a lot of housework because my mum has a bit of a cleaning anxiety and wants to make sure everything is spotless 24/7.

Enter this guy, I'll call him Tim. I met him at a festival last summer and we became long distance friends. Tim has visited me for a day several times before, but this weekend he offered to come over for two days and we agreed to spend the night stargazing together without sleeping. I loved the idea and immediately said yes. It was gonna be just us, a couple energy drinks, and some bench in the city center, and I was really looking forward to it.

The thing is, my mum does not like Tim. Like, at all. She thinks he seems very sleazy and generally distrusts him because he feels "too nice" for her. Mind you, he's just a somewhat shady looking guy who is generally pretty anxious he might make a bad impression, so he overperforms the whole "respectable member of society" act a bit around new people. I've introduced him to my friend group and even the more sceptical people absolutely love him and think he's a very sweet, helpful person. In basically every stressful situation I've ever seen him in he's been deescalating, protective and helpful, and he has on several occasions been my first source of comfort when things went to hell.

Today I told my mum in an offhanded comment that I won't come home between Sunday and Monday and the situation escalated completely. She was crying, accusing me of ruining her month, saying I didn't care about this family, it got ugly. The main point she had was that I was staying out all night with someone who's a total stranger to her and she doesn't trust him at all. In the end we compromised that Tim and I would spend the night awake, but not in the city, at home.

I feel really humiliated by this whole situation and honestly, kind of betrayed, because I was promised stuff like this wouldn't happen, and it just hits in a much safer situation than ones I've been in before (I used to get blackout drunk and sleep at parties a lot.). I'm a legal adult, have been for years now and it's so disappointing that my parents still treat me like a child sometimes and are so judgy towards my friends too. At the same time, I'm wondering whether I've acted wrong too by not telling her about this earlier and not taking her concerns that seriously. I forget sometimes that I talk to Tim every day for hours, but my parents only briefly ran into him once, so of course their view of him is skewed.

PS: I should add that when I told him about this, he immediately apologized, asked if I needed anything or wanted to change the plan and decided to dig out the least offensive outfit he could find so he'd make a good impression on my parents. So he's definitely trying his best.

#am i the asshole #aita

[petite-madame]

just so you know, it’s very obvious to actual artists that you’re posting AI and then lying that you’ve done it all by hand. kind of embarrassing, and more than a little fucked up.

Hi anon

This kind of nonsense usually ends up in the trash with a laugh but as it's my first "your art is AI", let's go! (It was just a matter of time, as practically all my artist friends got this kind of messages at this point)

it’s very obvious to actual artists...

Actual artists ? You mean, like me, a professional illustrator in her 40s, who has started drawing at the age of 8 and who has been drawing with a consistant art style for the past 15 years (with some improvements, thank god 🤓) ? People like you have accused me of tracing using tracing paper when I was a kid, tracing in Photoshop 15 years ago when I started to post on the internet and now my art is "AI". I should be used to it by now: when I posted this one 14 YEARS AGO, people told me it was traced and that "I wasn't a real artist, actual artists could tell"

I've consistently posted step by step, WIPs, vids, reels, gifs, shown the number of layers I use by art (sometimes more than 100) but apparently, it's never enough. And my art is AI generated ? Which one ?

So much for the Loki one, I apologize for the 0,3%…

Which is also funny is that fans of Supernatural, Good Omens, Sherlock, etc…have been able to say exactly which reference pictures I used for each drawing, not only for faces but sometimes also for the pose and the clothing (because yes, omg, I use reference pictures, the horror 😲)

However if you want to talk about my technique, and I've never hidden it, I sometimes use photos or 3D models for backgrounds because I hate drawing backgrounds. For instance the background of the Superwholock one is composed of a couple of stock pictures (a pub).

Same for a "Sherlock Harry Potter AU" I'll post in a month or so: some parts oh Hogwarts are screenshots from the movie because I didn't feel like drawing a room full of students.

Also, is there sometimes mistakes in my art that don't make sense ? Yes, nothing new, I make mistakes, I've been doing it for years and I still do it, particularly when it comes to anatomy. I want to pull my hair out when I notice them weeks (sometimes months) later but here we are.

Anyway, people like you who throw "it's AI" accusations all over the Internet better think twice because the result is this.

Don't get me wrong, I get the AI paranoia but instead of sending messages to artists like this one, ask kindly about their process, their technique, etc…and also, have a look at their archive, it could help.

I'm leaving you now, I have AI art to generate (= spending 10 hours per drawing using reference pictures, finding inspiration from classical painting, using about 100 layers and stressing about the art not being good enough).

Have a great weekend!

#pmasks #my first “it's AI” #a change from “you trace” and death threats I suppose

[pascalcampion]

Under the Boardwalk.

I was at Lightbox a few weeks ago and I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. ( hey Francis! We need to do lunch) He was laughing because he said that he had just seen a trailer for this thing I did some work on years ago. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about Under the Boardwalk. Movies do take a while to get done.

Anytime I see a movie in a theater that doesn’t come from Pixar, Disney, Illumination or Dreamworks, I clap my hands in my mind. It is SO hard to get to the finish line. Each movie that you see is the result of a series of small miracles.

I did a couple months of work on it. I was think it was in preproduction at the time. It was called Jersey Crabs at the time and there were only three people on it. At least, I only met three.

There was Chris Zibach, Ericka Stewart and David Soren.

I had just come off of two rather long and hard productions and I was a bit burned out about Art direction, production design or just… design in general.

When I first got an email about this, I wasn’t sure. But I went over to Paramount to meet with all three of them.

And you know what? They were fantastic.

Ericka was the producer and she had this no nonsense approach. Tell me your price, I’ll tell you if we can do it, if not we’ll figure something out. Boom. Done. She cut to the chase and any time I had a question she would reply within the hour. Her feedback was always short and precise, and she was always encouraging. After I was gone, she emailed me a couple of times to follow up on this or that. She didn’t leave any loose ends AND, something that is absolutely remarkable in this industry, she would reply to emails. She didn’t simply reply when she needed something, but when I would ask her if I could send recommendations, or if there were any other projects going on, she would send me an email back. I think the longest it took her to reply was TWO days, which is incredible.

Chris Zibach. It wasn’t immediately clear what Chris’s role on this was. I knew he was an artist. I had met him a few years prior while visiting a friend at Dreamworks TV I think. He was quieter than Ericka. Not sure if he was shy or I was simply too aloof for him to talk to me. For whatever reason, when I saw him, I thought of Tim Burton. Maybe the genius in him? Not sure. Later, I learned he was the production designer. I was surprised because that is something I typically learn on the first meeting. I was also unsure of his role because I hadn’t seen any of his work before and he didn’t act like any of the production designers I had met before. He wasn’t bombastic or sure of himself. He wasn’t trying to win me over with his talent or past battlefield experiences. He was humble. Yes, I think that’s probably the right word. Humble. But at the time, I couldn’t figure out if it was humility or something else.

It became clear after the first few designs of his I’d seen and especially after I had done a sketch for a moment that I couldn’t quite picture. I wasn’t understanding what they were looking for and Chris did this thirty second sketch that was SO clear, SO readable and SO easy to work with, and I was. OH! Ok.. he’s the real deal.

I love Artists like him. I wish I had worked with him more actually.

And, David Soren, the director

That was such an interesting meeting.

You know how sometimes you are hesitating on a project and you meet the team and all of a sudden it all flips? That’s how it was for this. I didn’t know what this story was based on, I didn’t find crabs particularly interesting, and the story, as it was pitched, wasn’t what I gravitate toward.

But David, wow. He had this energy in the meeting, this confidence. He was good at talking but he could listen AND hear you. He could also answer questions. Any type of question regarding the art, the story, the schedule, the planning. I didn’t know much about him but I came away very impressed.

I gave it a shot and now, I feel I was lucky to have been asked because, even if I was only on this for a very short while, it was one of those candy like work experiences. All good, nothing bad. Short and sweet and really fun.

There was a moment when I was drawing this big long scene that was supposed to be in the middle of a battle and I stopped, look at it and laughed on the inside because I had just realized I was being paid to do this and THIS was SO much fun.

I don’t know what my job was, what I was supposed to bring to the project. I didn’t understand why they had me do these designs when Chris’s work was so different and so unique already, but all three did a good job at quieting those thoughts.

I was working from home and they were on the lot. If I remember correctly, they would send me emails to broadly tell me “ There is a flood there, there is a battle there, there is club, a hotel, etc etc” and I would just do some images on what I thought it could be.

They already had some character designs, and Chris had done a few images, so I wasn’t totally going from nothing.

Each time I would send a set of images, I would get an email back the same day or the next day from either Ericka or David telling me something nice. Never from Chris though. I always wondered why but now I am realizing it was because he was too busy getting the whole thing off the ground.

I would get notes sometimes but not very often. Chris would do little drawers or notes on my images and, again, they were always minimal except for that one set piece and always clear.

I don’t know what the movie is like. I was still working on this when I started with the Peanuts Special which would occupy my life for the next three and a half years.

But I do know that I remember this as a very fun, loving and carefree work experience, which have not come around very often in my career.

Thank you Ericka, Chris and David.

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You're commenting as Pascal Campion.

#undertheboardwalk paramount pascalcampion

[gabessquishytum]

I’ve got another one!

alright this is me totally projecting here (hearing loss anon what what)

alright so….

human AU Dream does not make conversation, he doesn’t speak to people in crowded or noisy areas, it is very hard for him to keep a conversation if he’s forced to have one, he can’t socialise very well, and occasionally it’s hard for people to understand his speech.

Dream’s hard of hearing. He’s given up on having conversations with people because it’s so hard to hear them. His family won’t help him cause they just think he’s quiet he’s very disconnected from people. He’s never been treated and it’s only gotten progressively worse, it’s also why he got into art and not musical instruments like his other siblings. one day in the art room he hears something. it’s very far away “hi… hello?” It’s probably half way across the room.

“I’m Hob mind if I sit?”

there’s movement in his peripheral. he looks up. a man is smiling down at him. Assumedly the same man who asked him to sit down. he merely nods, no need to make conversation. “I'm new here is this sculpting?”

Shit a question, with missing information ok context clues, he’s never seen him before, probably new and wants to know what class this is. “You are in sculpture,”

“Thanks mate”

this Hob starts starts messing with a mound of clay talking the whole time Dream couldn’t understand him it didn’t matter.

“how’s your day?”

“satisfactory”

“I’m sorry, I asked what your name was?”

Dream blushed, he had fucked up again

“it’s uh Dream,”

“pretty”

dream nodded.

“you don’t talk much do you?”

shit shit shit Damnit fuck shit, Dreams gotta lip read. He looks up at Hob locking eyes with his lips.

dream stares at hob’s lips for a normal amount of time and nods when he thinks is appropriate and hopes Hob doesn’t ask a question it’s all going so well till….

“oh, you can’t hear me,” Hob says in the middle of his sentence so he scoots a little closer and raises his voice a little louder and enunciates more clearly, but not in a patronizing way just so Dream could understand.

“I’m afraid I cannot, how could you tell?” Dream asked.

hob chuckles, “you’re leaning towards me with one ear pointing at me which I’m assuming is your better ear and you’ve been squinting at my lips for the past ten minutes,”

Dream blushes.

“my sister’s deaf I pick up on things,”

so dream and hob keep talking, well hob does most of the talking but dream doesn’t mind, until hob stops.

“I’ll give you a break, you probably got listening fatigue,”

and he was right Dream was beginning to feel the affects of listening fatigue until Hob did something with his hand.

“what was that?”

“sign language, you don’t know sign?”

“no, I make do with what I have,”

“can I teach you?”

Dream of course leans in for a kiss.

“teach dream! Teach!”

they both laugh it off, he does however get that kiss later.

soon dream is proficient in sign language and is good friends with Hob’s sister. He seems happier and more outgoing. and in a couple years down the road…

dream and hob will sign their wedding vows.

-🦎

AHHHHHH HoH Dream!!!!! This is just so wonderful and beautiful and I love it. Obviously hate the idea of Dream not having any means to communicate because no one has helped him learn to sign, but Hob!!!!! Hob’s gonna teach him!!!!!!! AND kiss him.

Not being d/Deaf myself, I won't add too much onto this except to say that I love it, and I know I'm going to be thinking about it for a long time. Especially them signing their wedding vows. Yes!!!! Please!!!!!

#🦎 anon #the sandman #dreamling

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

[ksnfangz]

COOL WITH YOU ★ SIDE A !

★ ₊˚ paring: Cupid!Ni-ki x Human!Reader

★ ₊˚ Genre: Fluff , angst(?) , unrequited love

★ ₊˚ Warnings : None?

★ ₊˚ word count: 1.2k

★ ₊˚ A/n : my brain turned off for like a month but i randomly decided to write this! hope it isn’t to shitty lol. Enjoy <3 ( yes there will be a part two aka side B !! sorry for any spelling / grammar errors.

Couples. Ni-ki hates couples, which is pretty ironic since he’s the reason half of them currently exist. Thought it was not like he had a choice seeing as he was born as an angel a cupid at that.

At first, it was fun being able to make two people fall in love and watch how some relationships blossomed while others fell apart, but over time it grew repetitive The constant matchmaking and shadowing had taken a toll on the boy.

When he first told his mother how he felt she just brushed it off as the boy not liking the idea of love… which wasn’t surprisingly not that rare writhing cupids but what she got wrong was that Ni-ki does want love.

He’s just tired of helping everyone else with their love lives when he can’t even help himself. As he continued to trail behind his new match he couldn’t help but wonder when would cupid shoot him with an arrow if that were even possible.

“ Don’t you ever get bored?” Ni-ki questions looking away from the couple-filled streets “What do you mean?.” Jungwon asks looking over at the boy.

“ Of watching people fall in love, of being invisible, stuck in the shadows.” the younger explains, jungwon simply shakes his head.

“ Not I think it’s quite amazing actually…” Jungwon replies smiling as a couple walks past holding hands. Ni-ki scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“ It’s okay to not like your job Ni-ki Lots of cupids hate their job.” Jungwon says

“But this is a job that I can’t quit I’m stuck doing this until… I don’t even know when.” Ni-ki whines slamming his head down onto the table. Jungwon softly patted the boy's head.

“ I mean you can quit…” a new voice spoke causing Ni-ki to sit back up. It was Jay another angel.

“But there’s consequences, have you heard about Heeseung?” Jay asks, Ni-ki shaking his head.

“Who is that?”

“ he was my friend, and once a cupid like us… a few years ago he gave up his wings to become human, all for some mortal he’d fallen in love with.”

“But isn’t falling in love with a mortal forbidden?” Jungwon says confusedly. There were a lot of things angels couldn’t do.

“Yes, which is why he’s no longer here It’s been said that he is still human… but his lover was taken away,” Jay replies causing the younger's eyes to widen. “They killed the mortal?” Ni-ki asks loudly.

“No of course not they just wiped heeseung from their memory, I heard they ended up falling for someone else.” Jay states the two boys letting out sighs. “ Heesueng tried to come back and beg for forgiveness but a fallen angel never regrows their wings.”

“So what was the point in telling me all that?” Ni-ki questions. “To show its better to be an angel and live in the shadows than be a mortal and have everything about your life out in the open.”

“But what if I’m tired of the shadows?”

“That's on you Ni-ki, since only you can stop yourself from stepping into the light.”

Walking along the busy streets Ni-ki mindlessly trailed behind the latest couple, who were making their way to an art museum.

Normally when Ni-ki grew tired of one couple he’d leave and find a new one but despite his boredom, he knew these two were a good match and wanted to make sure they’d succeed.

Their names were Eunjin and Daesoo and they’d been friends for years now silently crushing on one another. Well, that was until Ni-ki stepped and in used his magical powers to get the two idiots to confess. Now his job was to protect their relationship until it was stable enough for them to handle on their own.

Upon entering the art museum Ni-ki watched as the couple showed their tickets and joined the crowd of people waiting for their tour guide.

The crowd seemed like your average group of people couples here and there, a few college students and critics. However, one person stood out quite a bit. Or at least in Niki’s eyes, though he couldn’t see his face the girl seemed much brighter than everything surrounding her.

While everyone else seemed to wear more Dark attire the girl wore a bright blue cardigan hanging loosely on her shoulders, paired with a white skirt matching the headband on her head.

Ni-ki watched as she stared up at the painting as if she were in a trance her curious eyes shining under the museum lights.

Neither of them realized that the crowd had now moved on to the next piece. Ni-ki also eventually found himself staring at a piece of art but it wasn’t the painting on the wall.

“ Y/n.” called out a voice pulling the girl— y/n out of her trance.

“Come on before you get left behind.”

“Okay coming! Heeseung.” she replied voice bright and cheerful as she skipped off toward her … friend?

wait Heeseung? Lee Heeseung, the fallen angel.

Watching as the two walked off and joined their group, Ni-ki averted his eyes from the painting that the girl had been captivated by moments ago.

He could see why she stared for so long. Psyche and Cupid.

But Psyche can’t see Cupid.

So what’s the point?

It was now a few days later and it was safe to say he still didn’t get the point, even after days of following the pretty human around, The boy could probably tell you every detail of her face from how long he’d stared hoping she’d eventually look back at him. Though it never happens he still hopes.

Sometimes he finds himself thinking of what Jay said. “Only you can stop yourself from stepping into the light.” he repeats to himself as he watches the girl read next to her window, The soft taps of rain hitting the glass echoed over the soft sniffles coming from the girl.

“ If I give up my wings will you finally see me?” Ni-ki asks and of course, receives no answer. He sighs having an internal battle with himself.

“ I don’t wanna give up my wings if it means I can't have you.”

He thinks back to Jay's story about Heeseung, how his lover was taken away from him when he left. Was Ni-ki willing to risk it? Was he ready to risk losing something he didn’t even get the chance to have?

As he watched the girl climb into her bed and fall into a peaceful slumber looking effortlessly beautiful despite the dried tears on her cheeks, he realized he’d do anything to make sure he’d be there to wipe away her tears. Whether she loved him or not.

“ Jay! You idiot I told you not to tell them the story about heeseung!” Jake shouts shoving Jay's chest. Jay stumbled back confusedly shocked by Jake's aggressiveness.

“ What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Jay asks. “ The story about turning human to peruse love” Jake reminds. “ You told Ni-ki and jungwon about it right?” Jay nods

“ Well Jungwon found a letter from Ni-ki this morning and it says that he’s going to give up his wings for some girl from a museum,” Jake explains, all the color drains from Jay's face.

“ As long as the higher power doesn’t know why Ni-ki is giving them up he should be fine.” Jay states.

“ Yeah but what if they find out?”

“ Another cupid will be sent down to make her fall for someone else.”

“ and what about Ni-ki?”

“ he stays human but will not be able to have a lover unless a cupid uses their powers to form a connection”

“ Shit…”

as always likes and reblogs are appreciated but not required thank you for reading ily <33

label tags 🏷️ : @k-films @k-labels

© IKEUIA. please do not plagiarise, repost, copy or translate any of my works!

#k lables #k films #enhablr #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen smau #riki nishimura x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen #niki enhypen #Ni-ki enhypen x reader #enhypen fake texts #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen members #enhypen reactions #enhypen x female reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen social au #jay x reader #jake x reader #heeseung x reader #jungwon x reader #niki oneshots #niki x reader #enhypen niki #nishimura niki #enha niki #niki fluff

[genericpuff]

no but listen, rachel has truly embodied herself as persephone because she's constantly trying to "distance herself" from her past as a medical fetish artist but then keeps the name that's affiliated with her medical fetish art-

Like, I can't believe I never noticed it before tbh, but that was the thought that hit me while I was explaining to someone on reddit what the name "used bandaid" meant and why it was weird that Rachel is STILL using it on her print cover books, even now when she just recently set up a new Facebook account with her REAL NAME and not the used_bandaid penname (I feel like this is an attempt to "legitimize" herself in the industry but idk).

But that leads me into talking about how she keeps lying about LO being her first webcomic project and that really pisses me off. And yes, this is related to the used_bandaid thing, just bear with me here.

A lot of my contempt for this is for reasons that go beyond her, I just hate the notion that people should succeed on their "first try" and that's an idea that's often sold by people like Rachel who spin these grandiose stories of how they were just "trying it out" and suddenly wham! Fame and fortune! You can achieve all this and more if you just xyz!

Literally, in every interview I've found over the past couple years, she always heavily implies that LO was her "first attempt", that she had never used Webtoons prior to LO, and that she was just "dipping her toes" into the medium. None of this is true, she's literally been drawing webcomics since the early 2000's (possibly earlier but the earliest documentation we can find is of The Doctor Pepper Show), LO wasn't even her first webcomic on the Webtoons platform (that goes to The Doctor Foxglove Show which she ended up dumping a chapter in to work on LO almost immediately after starting it on Tumblr) and as much as she'll claim she "couldn't pay anyone to look at her work", she had landed a number of gigs that got her work out there, had been printed in anthology collections, and IIRC she had even won some small local NZ awards for her comics prior to LO. Shit, there was a local beer brand that had her art on its labelling.

But it really feels like she's trying her damn hardest to hide all that, never mentioning or implying that she did anything prior to LO, that she was just a "struggling graphic artist working in retail" until LO happened.

So why keep the penname that's directly affiliated with that past identity ??

It boggles my mind, honestly, especially considering she had gone by MULTIPLE usernames back then, some of which were actually pretty sane that she could have used instead (such as Rach Alex, which she uses in her FB groups, and Rachel Royale).

I wouldn't blame her if she was trying to hide her old medical fetish stuff, whether she didn't want it affiliated with her new LO branding or if she's just embarrassed by it, I can totally empathize with that because god knows I wouldn't be all that proud to show off the cringy shit I got up to during my early days on the Internet. But if she IS embarrassed by it, you'd think the last thing she'd want to keep is the name that's directly affiliated with the thing she's embarrassed by. Almost like a certain pink protagonist who goes by the name she earned after doing the thing she doesn't want to talk about.

But if she ISN'T embarrassed by it, then why lie?

Why paint this picture that LO was a one hit wonder, that she lived on "struggle street" until she found fame and fortune on Webtoons?

Oh right. Because it's a better story.

Because it's way more romantic to be some struggling indie darling who "came from nothing" and achieved fame through one big idea. Because it looks good for the platform who's trying to attract people to their app and website on the promise that you, too, can be a success story simply because you followed the exact same perceived steps that you saw another person follow and advertise.

If you can't tell from my tone, I really fucking hate this kind of disingenuous wish fulfillment advertising. It's manipulative, it's cruel, and it sets people up with expectations far beyond their scope of reaching, both due to the luck and "being in the right place at the right time" involved at best (which is a HUGE factor in stories like these that people never talk about), or through joy-killing comparison at worst when you don't achieve worldwide fame on your first try and wonder why everyone else did (spoiler: they didn't, they just want you to think that because it makes for better headlines and it gets you using whatever product they're affiliated with.)

If Rachel doesn't want to be tied down to her past, that's fine. But it's incredibly irresponsible and flat out cruel to lie about that past existing at all because it sets a horrible precedent to those who look up to her and want what she has.

And I say all that because I've seen what happens to the people starting out who admire these creators who painted the picture that they were just successful right off the bat. It's not a fun headspace to be in, it's robbed many creators like myself and others of their joy in creating, and it's really all just a ploy to get you to spend time and money and energy on a stupid corporate phone app that profits off your emotional investment and labor. Don't fall for it. Pretending like the Act of Wrath didn't happen doesn't remove it from history.

Anyways, I was gonna leave it at that, but then I ended up doing another rabbithole deep dive through her Wayback Machine and found album art she had illustrated for NZ band PorcelainToy. Enjoy this piece of her "dark era" art that still exists without needing to use the Wayback Machine.

#sorry btw if this seems like a sequel to the post i just made i stg they're not related #this post was written at like 4 am after doing another hyperfixated deep dive #so it's literally just an unfortunate but funny coincidence that it came right after me talking about my own roots LOL #i gotta go to bed i'm getting stabbed with ink tomorrow #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #Youtube

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Ten

Day: Monday, October 30th Time: 11:10 AM EST

"I asked you this once and you didn't really answer," Neil said. "Now can you tell me why Andrew likes you?" "Last year Andrew took a few of us out to Eden's Twilight one at a time," Renee said. "You know now why Andrew invited Matt. He invited Dan to see if she was a woman worth following on the court. He asked me because he, like you, didn't buy into this front." She gestured at her face and rested her fingertips on her cross necklace. "He wanted the truth, so I told him. Andrew found out he and I have a lot in common." Renee glanced at Neil as they stopped at a crosswalk on Perimeter Road. "The only differences between us are luck and faith." "And psychosis," Neil said. Renee smiled. "Maybe not. I am a bad person trying very hard to be a good person, but I would not be trying at all if not for the outside interventions in my life. I grew up with my mother and her string of heavy- handed boyfriends." She seemed unbothered by her words and turned a calm stare on the crosswalk as she spoke. "Maybe it is inevitable that I got into trouble myself. I started working as a lookout and runner for one of Detroit's gangs. It took me a couple years to work my way up to harder work. I did anything they asked me to and didn't care who I hurt. Fortunately for me, I was not as smart as I thought I was. When I was fifteen the police caught me, and my lawyer traded my testimony for a reduced sentence. My words got a lot of people in trouble, including my mother. My lawyer explained my home life so the court would understand my lack of positive role models. His findings sent both my mother and her then-lover to prison on assorted charges. They were beaten to death by angry members of the gang I helped put away." "I'm sorry," Neil said, when in reality he was a little jealous. Both she and Wymack lost their parents to prison violence, but no one dared attack his father. It would solve a world of problems for Neil if a few inmates could just work up enough aggression and courage. "I'm not," Renee said, jarring Neil from his thoughts. Renee started across the street but it took Neil a couple seconds before he could follow her. Renee smiled at him when he caught up. "I know I should be, but that's still something I'm working on. I know I was directly responsible for the circumstances that led to their murders, but to be honest I hated them. On top of that, without my mother's death I never would have ended up here."With my mother dead and my biological father in the wind, the courts had no choice but to release me into foster care after my year at a juvenile facility," Renee said. "I made life as difficult as I could for my foster families and jumped eight homes in two years. Stephanie Walker found out about me from one of my foster mothers at her high school reunion. She put in a request for me, pushed until it was approved, and moved me to North Dakota as soon as it was finalized. She gave me a new name, a new faith, and a new chance at life." Renee hadn't been exaggerating when she said she and Andrew were a lot alike. They had violent, unstable upbringings thanks to their mothers and spent time in both juvie and the foster system. Their paths split irrevocably after their respective adoptions. Renee let Stephanie shape her into a decent human being and atoned for her past brutality whereas Andrew murdered his mother the first chance he got. Neil finally understood why Renee wasn't afraid of Andrew.

Art used with permission by Lunapiq. Thank you @lunapiq

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #trk #the raven king #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #lunapiq

[rdbrainz]

Hi there! If you're still accepting Bleach requests, may I see your headcannons based on the Bleach Jet art of the Espadas and Quincies in delinquent school uniforms (specifically Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Bazz-B)? That official art just gave me major brain worms, and I really like your art and headcannons >.< Also, do you happen to have a Ko-fi/patreon to send donations to?

ACTUALLY funny enough I've been thinking about this art a lot myself lmao so I do have some headcanons! as for my ko-fi or patreon.. like I said before transferring money out of them is impossible where I am right now but I made a boosty acc (I'll link it in my bio)

First I wanna add that I just can't see Stark as a high schooler x). He has the vibe of a teacher who somehow ended up with the worst classes in school despite his formidable reputation. Though maybe he was a delinquent himself in the past so he knows how to deal with these little shits. He also has a soft spot for them so as strict as this man can be he cuts them a lot of slack. Like for example I'm sure Nnoitra would smoke in this AU so I think the first day Stark started working with them they met on the rooftop on the lunch break while Gilga was smoking and instead of scolding him Stark just asked for a cig. Nnoitra almost shit himself. I'm also sure he would ask his class to look after his daughter Lilynette so she won't get into any trouble with that attitude of hers. She's probably in middle school or a couple of years younger than them so yeah... the lil sis of the group...

Despite the differences and constant bickering Nnoitra and Grimmjow are basically attached at the hip. I can see them being childhood frenemies actually. Ulquiorra and Szayel are also somewhere in their orbit of course but these two are the worst duo to stumble upon. Very notorious

Ulquiorra is obviously the class president given the armband. He tries his best to mediate the conflicts between his classmates or make them behave better but it's all in vain. Mostly. Some days he's just not in the mood to be responsible and reasonable when dealing with all the bullshit. When trying to bring delinquents to reason you have to be either very respected among them or more fierce than them and Ulquiorra certainly lacks the authority because of his character and swaglessness. He's very scary when mad however. Everybody knows this by now but they just keep trying their fate. Like I'm telling you once he unbuttons his gakuran it's so fucking over

Unlike Grimmjow Nnoitra is actually bothered with his grades enough to try and work for them and/or study (not all the time of course what do you think he's a loser or something?) It includes scaring people into doing his homework, snatching papers out of Ulquiorra's hands right before the class starts (he's used to it so he carries around two sets of hw) or if he REALLY needs to pass an exam he goes to Szayel, the class smartass. The latter is literally equivalent to dying and going through hell to him because he has to abandon all his pride. If you have a shit ton of money you always can try and ask Szayel to help you. Sure. A little bit of humiliation and you actually know the subject. However when it comes to Nnoitra the freak won't let him breathe because: 1) he doesn't need his money, Nnoitra has plenty and it's already stolen anyway so what's the fun? 2) asking a fellow delinquent you have a beef with for help has different means of payment 3) he just really wants to fuck with this guy's head since he thinks Nnoitra is a curious fella. Gilga is well aware of all of this and he's well aware that Szayel will make him polish his boots with his tongue before even considering helping him with acquiring the forbidden chemistry knowledge. So he has to really work for it whether it's a fistfight or running errands for Szayelaporro. It's a good thing Grantz stays true to his word

Grimmjow has a well-accessorized uniform thanks to Nnoitra but his casual clothing is hilariously uncool. I'm convinced this guy has zero taste both in clothing and prints/patterns because he couldn't care less about what other people think is considered fashionable when all he needs personally is functionality and comfort. He knows how to rock a good hairstyle though but if he wants to wear flip-flops outside then so be it

Nnoitra spends all the money he gets on new accessories and CDs (and maybe sometimes porno magazines) for which he constantly gets picked on. If it's someone not from his immediate friend circle then it's not even worth thinking about - left, right, goodnight. As if he's gonna let anyone get too fucking cheeky with him. He's infamous for being called slurs and then bashing the person's head in for this every week because he wears heels and had to endure children being mean to him because of his eye in kindergarten and primary school so it's no big deal really. But if it's Grimmjow then it's a fucking word battle to death he just can't let it slide. Jaegerjaquez really thinks Nnoitra is gonna get strangled by one of his necklaces one of those days but whatever. It's up to him. His music taste however... Now that's something they quarrel about all the time. "I mean I'm not saying anything! Sure you can buy new TOOL CDs all you want.. cough cough... fucking loser.. cough"

Bazz-B was hell-bent on making friends with Grimmjow because he genuinely thinks this guy is awesome. Look at his laid-back attitude and vicious ways! His blue hair, his style! Ohhh, to be like him!!! Jaegerjaquez on the other hand was not very impressed with how annoying Bazz could get with his neverending attempts of talking to him. Too energetic and loud for his liking. He already has Nnoitra and his big fat mouth he constantly runs all he wants so another talkative guy next to him would be too much for his everyday life. He would literally tell him to fuck off and threaten him with a beating of his life but unfortunately it got Bazz even more fired up. Damn weirdo. And a major pain in the ass. They did find a common ground in the end though and it's... A motorcycle that Bazz owns. Bazzard suggested they could take a ride together as a last resort and it was all it took to buy Grimm. Imagine the most excited person you've ever met and they still won't be as excited as Grimmjow was at that moment. Instant fucking boner! "Dibs on driving though" "Deal!" Grimmjow was surprised to reveal that Bazz-B is actually fun to be around and not as annoying as he initially thought he was. Nnoitra made a joke about them having a date the next day though

I think here Bazz-B suffers the same fate as Sakuragi Hanamichi in the beginning of Slam Dunk which is constantly trying to get girls on a date but being brutally rejected each time lmao 😭It's not like he is a bad-looking guy no it's actually the opposite but his personality and hot-headedness are too much to bear for girls he's going after

Askin is a great negotiator and he knows his way around with words but other than that he sucks. He's not a bad guy, just chronically fucking uncool and has to hide behind other people's backs because of mediocre fighting abilities. He also gets in all kinds of stupid situations because he just can't keep his thoughts to himself sometimes which is a bad asset to his cheesiness

Äs Nödt is also not very good at fighting but he's more useful than Askin lol. A smartass and a menace who is talented at collecting data and black-mail on people by eavesdropping and other means. He's the one who proposes the most out-of-pocket ways of taking revenge on other gangs or teaching someone a lesson so you better be careful with him

I hope I'll make more art of this later cuz I'm a bit burnt out rn

#bleach #nnoitra gilga #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #ulquiorra cifer #szayelaporro granz #bazz b #bazz-b #askin nakk le vaar #as nodt

[serenpedac]

End of year fic rec list 2023

I was looking at last year’s list and how it said I was excited for this year, because of the Book 3 release. And it was great to be here on tumblr while people were reading it and talking about it, and to see new people join! While this list isn’t about b3 itself, of course it did affect the fics that were written. It felt like the book was a lot about setting up pieces for the next book(s), and I adore how people incorporated these new bits of information into their own fic. We may have a long wait ahead for Book 4, but with people here sharing their writing, their art, their thoughts, I don't mind it all that much!

As always, there are many wonderful fics that are not on this list, like the ones from the fic exchange earlier this year (I'm very much looking forward to the Secret Santa as well). Not because they don’t deserve to be, but because my energy and time are limited and the list is already so very long haha

Thank all of you who shared your beautiful writing <3 

List below the cut! Please be mindful of potential warnings

sincerity is scary - @thee-morrigan

Fine. She was fine. Despite the strain of these past months, she continued to be perfectly fine. Had gotten through everything that’d been thrown at her. Not entirely smoothly, certainly not effortlessly, but…she had gotten through it.

This fic had to be the first on this list because it was exactly what I needed to read after finishing Book 3, even if I didn’t know it before reading it. So much is thrown at the detective in that book and, for a detective romancing N, there’s that one conversation at the end that must leave some kind of impact… This fic felt like it finally gave the detective (and me) time to let it all sink in and reflect—no matter how much Holland tries not to think about it. I’m just really thankful this fic exists.

quiet and content - @sealriously-sealrious

There’s more she wants to tell them—usually she’s so good at crafting her sentences with eloquence, tying them together and making them flow like silk. But then Marin’s hands are in her hair again, and that goes entirely out the window.

Choosing one of aeruh’s fics to share on this list was so so hard! They blessed us with many lovely fics, and I absolutely adored the lighthouse AU as well! But this oneshot about Nat and Marin just has so much warmth. Just like Nat gets to relax, be the one who is taken care of for once, I felt like I could sink into this fic. The perfect comfort read <3

to drink from a poisened well - @thcscus

His eyes refocused, one last time. As gray and as beautiful as the last time she lost him. “Mason,” she breathed, panic bursting across her body like fireworks. Stay with me.

Rereading this fic broke my heart again! The premise of Mason losing his memories of a romanced detective hurts so good. And to then have the two meet again, years later… Ah, I don’t want to spoil anything, but the story, the characterisation, the ending, everything here was so well-written! On top of that, the writing itself is simply wonderful. Loved it all!

Just a Nightmare - @lykegenia

Her blood sings, goads him, and his fangs lengthen behind his lips.

The start of this fic is so incredibly sexy!! And the rest is also so good. I love how Lykegenia explores what might happen if N stayed the night with the detective—something that was notably absent in b3. To add to that, Nate and Leah are one of my favourite couples, so to see the growth in their relationship in how Nate decides to trust and open up a little more at the end was lovely.

you make me laugh again, feelin’ so good - @lovelyfoolish

She used to think of these early-morning-after conversations as uncomfortable half-somethings. But they’ve become worn, softening the way leather does, or wool, and now the incomplete sentences feel more like uncut jewels, rough with possibility, an entire language constructed from what they leave unsaid.

A wonderful slice-of-life fic between Mason/detective. I love how it shows the beauty of a seemingly everyday moment. There’s something so delicate about this stage of their relationship, in how they have grown closer and more familiar with each other and are starting to share these “ordinary” moments, but there’s also a lot that’s still unexplored. This fic and its prose capture that beautifully. 

Scarlet Welly Boots - @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal

“You’re going to be the best mum I’ve ever had. I know it.” He looks back down at the boots in his lap, wrinkling his nose. “Even if you buy me boots.”

I will always be in awe at the thought people put into the backstories of their OCs and this fic is an amazing example of that. The impact of Rook’s death is felt throughout this story, affecting the relationship between Ciaran (Raine) and Rebecca. But what I love the most about this fic is the bond between Ciaran and his brother Eoin. There’s this part in the second chapter that made me so soft <3 I know the detective canonically is an only child, but we need more sibling relationships! 

Half Past Seven? A Post It Note - @agentnatesewell

Don't you know, my beloved, I will give you all the seconds of my immortal life?

A short, sweet and little bit spicy fic! N leaving notes for a romanced detective is one of my favourite things and this note is so wonderfully Nate! His voice, the beautiful language in which he reminisces about the night before, how he thinks about their future together <3 The loveliest little treasure of a fic that I only discovered this year.

I Can’t See Me Lovin’ Nobody But You - @plasticdodecagon

His daughter, Avery. Her sweet smile and her chubby cheeks and her big, curious eyes. How he didn't want her to grow up without a father, how he didn't want her to feel lonely, how he always wanted her to feel loved.

Speaking of sibling relationships, this Rook lives AU has some wonderful ones as well! Reading about the family that the detective could have had, if Rook hadn’t died, may be a little bittersweet, but it’s mostly very heartwarming. PD’s interpretation of Rook is amazing, and this alternative take on how UB meets (not-detective) Avery and gets thrown into family life has been great! I’ve been enjoying every part of this fic so much!

Nightswimming - @nerdierholler

Beside him, Ethan floated, bathed in moonlight, stars reflected in his eyes.

First of all, this quoted sentence is beautiful and evocative and will stay with me for a while! After the pain b3 brought for A-mancers, this ficlet was like a soothing balm. Adam finally accepting his feelings and the tranquil feeling this brings him were written so well. The entire atmosphere of this fic was wonderfully quiet and peaceful.

Breaking the Yearlings - @evilbunnyking

That first night Adam invited him to his own rooms Tobias had entered slowly, cautiously, running his fingers over the fireplace mantle and then the carvings of the bedposts, and all that Adam had wanted was for him to touch him, instead.

This one kind of feels like cheating, since it was also on last year’s list, but Tobi and Adam have my entire heart. Bunny weaves Adam’s (and also Tobi’s) past and the present together beautifully and the writing is gorgeous, always. My favourite part was when Adam finally met present-day Tobi, which was as impactful as might be expected!

inside this place (i call our home) - @thelionheartedo3

Adam’s arms are still crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t tell Ely no. Mango stretches a paw out towards him, mewling, and Nate hides his smile with a hand over his mouth as he watches the stern mask melt off of Adam, shoulders dropping from their hunch.

Fluff!! This was pure and adorable fluff in the form of an orange kitten. I fell in love with Mango at first sight while reading this fic, haha! It’s so much fun to see UB reacting to having a kitten around the warehouse. I was looking forward to rereading this one a lot and it was still every bit as heartwarming as I remembered.

Finally, a very lovely person suggested that I should also celebrate myself, something I don’t find easy to do. Thank you, sweet friend, for your message and for giving me this nudge <3 Here is a snippet I wrote on a whim, but that has by now become part of my HC for Yael and Nate, in which that one conversation at the end of b3 ends with them breaking up. I hope to some day continue this storyline and give them the happy ending they deserve.

#fic rec #rec list #the wayhaven chronicles #one day i will stop making these lists so long asfadsfd

[umeqii]

haaiaii moot i am back I HOPE IK YOIR FIRDT REQUEST ^_^

do ive had this brainrot for the past week about this one scenario but if u dont feel comfortable doing this JUST DELETE THIS

so theres been this thing on tiktok for couples abiut the girl of the relationship taking a bra strap out of an old bra and gifting jt to their s/o as a bracelet which i think is reallt cute

could yoi maybe do that but with akito and an (separate like x reader) id love to see their reactions

ok im done yapping YIP YIP YIPPIE

JEJSJEJ FLIPPING EXPLODES YES YOU ARE MY FIRST REQUEST AND OMG DW I'LL MAKW YOURR REQUEST ^_^ !!!!

-⠀⠀⠀⠀OH WELL , IT'S ⠀⠀⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀something alright !

QUICK A/N - might be SLIGHTLY suggestive in akito's like idk and also i wear sport bras so i have like no idea what genuien bra straps are like so sorry for my bad description (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

fandom ; project sekai

character(s) ; an shiraishi + akito shinonome

creator ; umeqii

gender ; afab reader :33

─── AN !!

well i mean, an is already quite the expressive girl, and since having you as her as her amazing s/o, she feels even happier and brags about you ALOT !!

other people might see this as a silly gift idea, but at first you were quite hesitant on giving it to her, but you thought, "screw that" and gifted it to her.

you guys were walking home one day after school had ended and as you guys were talking about how what food would sound good for when you next hang out, you remembered you had a gift!!

that gift being a blue strap bracelet, from your old bra :DD!!

you had decorated it slightly, adding some cute pearls and blue charms that your thought would match an and you thought you did a great job !! (you did btw :33)

at first, you thought she didn't like it from the way she stared at and flipped the beads around and kept quiet; due to how you knew she struggles with expressing critism >_<

but then you saw a cute and loving smile growing on her pretty face, as her pale cheeks grew pinker each second before she looked up at you

" this is from your bra, right? "

" WAIT HOW DID YOU KNOW, I WAS GONNA TELL YOU BUT STILL?? "

" i'm wearing the exact one right now, babe! "

" oh "

que an giggling and embracing you in a cutie patootie hug and kissing your face and saying how much she loves it (SHE DID DON'T WORRY <33)

now she's planning on how to make you one aswell !

─── AKITO !!

okay so, you were doing this annual l/n (last name :3) family clean out, and you were going through your drawers to find clothes you didn't need anymore until you said your deep orange bra from two years ago (ﾟдﾟ三ﾟдﾟ) !!

as you were putting it into the recycling bin that you were going to give to your guardian so they could give it to the clothing shop thing, you remembered something you saw on your fyp and thought of how you could try it out !!

it was making a bracelet for your amazing and handsome and talented boyfriend akito °\>3</°

the colour did remind you of him, which you smiled about aswell as the thought of him wearing it around :33

so you put your amazing art n crafts skills to the test and decided to make a bracelet for him

good thing to say that it worked !!

you even added a dark purple bow at the end aswell as orange and clear crystals :DD

you gave it to him when you visited his house one time when he seemed kinda of tenser than usual  (｡•́︿•̀｡) 

you actually made it ages ago but ended up forgetting and then remembered in the moment because of how you thought akito seemed upset and wanted to cheer him up.

" oh? it's a...bracelet? thanks, it looks cool- wait what's the base you used for it? it feels like a buckle or whatever it's called? "

oh yeah, your bra :D

" oh yeah, i made it from my bra ≥∇≤ !! "

" sorry what "

let me tell you, akito isn't as slick as he thinks he is :PP

he turned into a huge shade of red, maybe it was just of the thought that it was made out of a bra that you had worn multiple times and it even touched your skin but naaahhh!!

you explained to him about the trend on tiktok as his eyes went ever so slightly wide and he made an, "ohh" typa sound

his cheeks were still lowkey red but he didn't know that :P

he just cleared his throat and then placed it into his lap as he ran his hand through his hair and said :

" uh...thanks for the..bracelet though. h-hey, i never said i didn't like it idiot, let me finish!! anyways...you did good with the charms.."

you started smiling like an idiot btw ∩∇∩

now he wants to make you one. but maybe with genuine materials for bracelet making.

RAAAAAAAHHHH FLIPPING EXPLODES OMG I DID IT AND OMG IM SO SORRY IF ITS OOC ANYWAY BECAUSE I DONT ACTUALLU PLAY PJSK, IM JUST IN THE FANDOM AND I DONT LOOK INTO AN'S CHARACTER THAT MUXH BUT I HOPR YIU ENJOYED?!?@?@?!?!

~ mari / umeqii ˃ᴗ˂

#umeqii #akito shinonome x reader #an shiraishi #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome #pjsk akito #pjsk an #an shiraishi x reader #akito x reader #an x reader #akito running his hand thriugh his hair sign me up like HRJWWJ?!?!?!?

[feyspeaker]

Hii me again. I'm not sure if I sent the ask I'm talking about on anon, so maybe that's why you didn't see it? It partially got answered with a recent ask you got anyway so no worries. I was just wondering if you use 3d in your process and if so, how? I've seen other illustrators use it to varying degrees and it seems like a really helpful tool to push your work.

Oh that's so weird! No I periodically go through my asks in chunks and I didn't see anything like that. I've had a few people in the past few months send me asks that looked like the second half of something else with no context, so maybe it's Tumblr fuckery. Sorry!!

I recommend learning Blender so you can help sculpt shapes and render lighting onto them in order to get the weirder/more complex shadows right. You can also apply colors onto the things you sculpt in order to see how the colors act in different lighting. It's pretty much an invaluable tool to me as it keeps me from having to problem-solve too much. I did a lot of digging around in my house to build references to photograph but it was just impractical to achieve the things I want to a lot of the time. I still do that, and you would not believe how many goofy photos I have of my husband in the poses you've seen me paint Astarion in lmao...

I do think that it needs to be used in moderation if you are a more beginner artist- I think that using 3D is DANGEROUSLY close to becoming a massive crutch for a newer artist and improper usage or over reliance on it can lead to stiffness or artificial looking colors. You need to be able to train your eye to create compelling compositions by bashing things together, and train your hand to replicate/add/subtract as needed from your references with an organic feel.

I will say this as a total committer of this crime myself in the past, it's VERY easy to tell when an artist relies too much on, for example, Clip Studio Paint posed models as bases for pieces without a good enough grasp on their fundamentals. And I also used to prickle when I saw more advanced artists warn of this, so I do think maybe it just has to run its course sometimes, because I know that using 3D for reference seems like an easy-button.

I've taken a lot of in-person classes for live figure drawing and painting, as well as just totally done drills, basically, on sketching and painting from life before relying too much on static imagery/3D/etc.

I often fret over every piece I do looking too stiff even still.

You have to do a LOT of the boring hard stuff the old fashioned way. And I regularly go back to it over and over when needed.

For example, I recently did a stupid amount of rose petal/flower studies deconstructing and painting ugly little paintings/doodles over and over because I know that I've been horribly weak at painting flowers for years (actively avoiding them). And I've been doing a lot of floral stuff lately due to that.

Whenever I start a new piece in new territory, I know it's going to mean several 3AM nighters where I have two other tabs open on Photoshop where I test out different textures or do a couple of studies. I'm working on a piece of my OC right now that has a lot of gore/medical instruments and I've been working on testing out different methods for shiny metal painting and some anatomical studies. I'll come to a snag in a painting and go "here we go" and work through it one piece at a time.

My Halsin piece, "Secret Spot" in the hot spring, was a massive undertaking with a lot of these moments. The Karlach x Dammon piece took 3 times longer than it should have due to me just having to go back and fix things knowing I could do better after doing some studies.

Ultimately I personally find art tutorials to be quite useless overall once you get to a certain point, unless they are teaching the use of a tool/software because you HAVE to figure out what works for you. And even then I use Blender like a monkey with a keyboard, I suspect, because I've just bruteforced through it, so I could probably use a tuneup from a good teacher on that haha. I hope this helps some, and sorry if I overstepped if I sound preachy.

#ask

[flowersandbigteeth]

Do you have any advice for other writers? I'm really into your work :}

❤️❤️❤️ thank you! Idk if I have any good advice because everyone writes differently but I can tell you what I think helped me the most this year.

I used to never write outlines and since I started I've been able to write a lot faster and with fewer edits. I also read a couple of books about writing. The most useful one for romance was Romancing the Beat by Gwen Hayes. I don't follow her suggested outline to the letter but it taught me a lot about pacing. I think a good story reveals the information in an intriguing way and has strong characters. The pieces I struggle with the most are the ones that don't have a clearly outlined character. So now I write a detailed character sheet before I start writing with a lot of information about the character's past before the story. I know outlining isn't for everyone and people have opinions about it but it was helpful to me. Some people find outlines tedious which is understandable.

I hope that's somewhat helpful 😸 everyone writes differently and no one way is more valid than the other. Writing is one of those things where you can experiment for exactly 0$ which I find so freeing, especially from an art background where everything costs money for materials. So that said, my general advice to writers is to put every weird daydream down, whether it be just a note in your note app or a notebook and don't worry so much about writing something "polished" or even complete. You can swap ideas, characters, and themes later, but you don't want to lose your ideas 💡 ❤️

#sweet asks #sweet anons

[shimmershy]

Im impressed by how much you're art evolved to today, do you still think about your art in the past and how you evolved to today to obtain this level of quality and story telling ?

Thank you very much! :D It always means a lot when other people tell me my art has improved over time. I feel like I can definitely see it in little ways. It's just super nice and cool when other people see improvement too! Like wow it's not just me, I really have come a long way with my art.

But yeah, I do think a lot about the art I did in the past and how I got to where I am today. It's really fascinating to me how the skills that kind of come naturally now were all things I had to learn over time. Like to some extent, I can just "feel out" where facial features go now without thinking too much about it, whereas in the past, I know I had a lot more trouble with that. I feel like I tended to draw eyes too big and I had a really weird way of drawing noses. I don't know. I also had pretty bad same-face syndrome I think. But yeah.

When I'm sketching in my sketchbook, I like to flip through the whole thing and look at all the sketches I've done in the past couple years/months and look at the way they've evolved over time in a "big picture" way. It's cool. I think it's especially because although it's a little more than just a hobby now, a good deal of the improvement came solely from my passion and excitement to just bring ideas to life. I was never really "practicing just to practice", and although I did do little studies based on photos from time to time, most of it was just me noticing things and picking things up from the real world but also from art styles I really enjoyed. And wanting to create something that meant something, and just trying until I was happy with it. Like I definitely never had "natural talent" - that doesn't exist - but I've always had a passion to create, and I feel like the act of drawing as a way of expressing my ideas has always come kind of naturally to me, probably because I did it so much when I was younger. It's always been my "thing". It's just cool to see that passion I've always had turn into art that I'm really proud of today!

#ask #godofchaoss #sorry for getting kinda ramble-y I tend to do that. especially when talking about art and process stuff. #I love drawing sooooo much. did you guys know that? were you aware? #I don't know if all this reads as conceited at all. you don't have to read all that skdhfskd I just. I actually do think about it a lot. #I'm not trying to say I'm the best artist ever or even that I'm a good artist! I'm just like. happy with where I'm at. #because at the end of the day I'm not even doing it to be good or for other people to think my art's good. #I want to create stuff that feels important to me. I have ideas I want to make Real and drawing is my way of doing that. #and so it's like. I make things that are good To Me. and To Me my art is awesome!! it makes me so happy!! #and then sharing my art is just a bonus because it means a lot to me that the stuff I draw for myself can #mean something to other people too. :) #I don't know if that makes sense but. yeah. sjdfhksdf I could go on and on I'm sorry I have way too much to say sometimes.

[sunbearsophia]

it's been so long since I uploaded art to my Tumblr, and since I've made so many pieces for Twitter, figured I would bring them over here, too! Works out better, since I have more space on Tumblr to ramble!

Anyways, I've doodled Eduardo in his later dad years at least twice, maybe even three times on my Twitter, but Laurel, I only ever drew once in her later mum years. So, I decided to draw her yet again to better figure out her design, and since I want to diversify how I draw body types anyways, my mind instantly went to "MOM BOD-"

Anyways, couple of notes of basically my thought process with the whole mum design! ^^

Definitely imagining she's probably in her mid-forties here, with her oldest Emmy probably in college by then and their youngest, Leo, being in middle school.

I definitely think since Laurel carried two kids, she's definitely got more of a pear-shape than she did in her youth, plus a bit of a stomach roll. It probably worried Laurel when she was younger when exercise and dieting didn't change that, but these days, Laurel's gotten past that, with time and self-love, plus an adoring husband who never ceases in telling her how beautiful she is, healing that insecurity and making her proud of her figure. <3

Has plenty of stretch marks, not to mention a leftover C-section scar from when she had Leo. She loves each and every one of them, they remind her of her kids, and she feels like she earned every single one of them.

Age has done nothing to slow Laurel down in terms of energy, however. She doesn't burn out or give up easily, always having time to spend with her husband, kiddos and friends, and still an actress for theatre and film alike. She knows to slow down and appreciate the important things, but she's still got energy to burn and passion to share!

She's perfectly happy with letting her hair grey, not feeling inclined to redye it or changing its color. She loves how it looks, as do the people around her. She does cut her hair, however, preferring the feeling of less hair to deal with, and likes the pixie cut. She just doesn't really need or want long hair for herself! (However, she LOVES Eduardo's middle-aged long hair, it's so pretty and relaxing to brush, especially since he barely brushes it himself lol.)

BODY. MODS. GALORE. I headcanon Laurel absolutely had a ton of piercings in her youth, something that age didn't stop one bit. She also still has matching MLP tattoos with Eduardo, and definitely has more that aren't pictured here. (Might try and design more at a later date!)

Has a million freckles, on her face, neck, arms and torso, and she loves every one of them. Might be a little jealous when she realizes Matt has more than she does, fuckin' MATT lmaooo.

Really loved drawing this piece! I feel like it's great and important to show more realism in body types and diversity in my art, so this was awesome to practice with! Plus, I'm just unbelievably proud of how she turned out! Laurel is such a huge fav of mine, and I definitely plan to make more art of her later years in my hc!

And yeah, def might try drawing Eduardo like this next, since I could use some practice with dad bods, too! Maybe Anna would also be a good choice to continue the mom trend, as well! But yeah, this was a celebration of older, female body types, and it makes me really proud of the final result and just getting to work on it! <3

#eddsworld #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld laurel #laurel eddsworld #ew laurel #eduardo x laurel mention #body positivity

[bengiyo]

My Beautiful Man 2 Ep 4 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

It really is incredible how many shows are ending this week.

Last time, things finally came to a head with Hira and Kiyoi. Hira thought that Kiyoi would dump him because he didn't win a photo competition, but Kiyoi was completely supporting and realistic about breaking into art professionally. Hira had family visit, and the fallout of that visit revealed that Hira had been worshipping Kiyoi for years. Kiyoi felt betrayed that he was in this relationship alone, and that Hira wasn't seeing him as a man, and broke things off.

Many people were sad, but I was relieved. Hira needs to see the reality of the world he inhabits with Kiyoi.

I really like Kiyoi coming back to the house, but sleeping away from Hira. Hira needed to understand that he could lose Kiyoi, but Kiyoi is also showing him that he's not a fickle person.

Demanding that Hira explain why he didn't come after him if he was worried is valid.

"I won't kiss you for a while...until you face me properly," is also completely reasonable. I don't think Hira appreciates the nuance that Kiyoi does still want to kiss him very badly, but I like it.

I do like a reunion party as a way to assess how characters have grown or not.

I love Kiyoi. I love that he's been trying to figure out what Hira's block has been for years, and is pushing past his own comfort zone to speak directly to Hira about their problems.

Anna is amazing. Nothing horrible better happen to her.

This photographer, Noguchi Hiromi has immaculate vibes.

Yes, Noguchi-san!! Read him for filth! Read him for blood! Hira needs this.

Man, Hira and Kiyoi reach incredible levels of tenderness that I really only ever feel from Japanese productions.

That was a really fantastic kiss.

Genuinely excited about this movie and what Hira striving to stand beside Kiyoi looks like.

Final Verdict: 10, Highly Recommended. It's so rare that a sequel does a good job with its characters. Oftentimes they contrive reasons for them to be apart. This show continued to use key characters well, and explored the natural roadblocks that would prevent these two from being properly aligned. It's in so many ways continuing the specific struggles these two have with growing up, and even introduced two mentors for the future. This gives me hope about the potential to tell ongoing stories with our couples, and not just have them always say goodbye when they get together.

#utsukushii kare 2 #utsukushii kare #my beautiful man 2 #my beautiful man #japanese bl #bl series #Ben watches