#i would call it a sketch but there's practically too much effort in it to be that

[aliciagemsilica]

Diasomnia Boy gift s/o an evening gown to attend the NRC & RSA ball tgt Headcanon

Following from my dress sketch design if you haven’t seen it here . They are base from Glorious Masquerade & Playful land events. Basically a sequence I imagine while drawing the dresses XD I also want to mention that when it’s finish 🥺 you can draw it on your oc and even tweak a bit detail to fit your Yuu or OC. It’s meant to be share with everyone, not just my Yuu.

⚠️ Bad English……. I have no idea what is grammar . 😂

╭══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╮

Imagine a ball between NRC and RSA happening maybe sometime after chapter 7. All students are invited but you are troubling since you have no dress to wear. And for the love of the great seven. Your beloved head master, Crowley just allowed you to join in your NRC uniform……….. great! So much for your kindness!!

Guess who will be the photographer and a background character on this event…..hahaha………

Well maybe you whine too much in front of the wishing well. Someone comes up with a plan. A plan that would make you believe in a fairytale once again!

╰══• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •══╯

𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔰 🐉

You had to be blind to not suspect anything……

Lately Mal is a bit touchy. Not that he isn’t normally but this is different. Sometimes he holds your wrist while mumbles something while going on a night stroll. Sometimes he stares at you and gets lost in his thoughts. He even stands just in front of you and tries to lift you up once.

You are so confused and a bit embarrassed when he asks about your height so you call for support. The Diasomnia’s family counselor aka. Lilia Vanrouge. You went all the way to Diasomnia dorm without telling anyone and sneak in to see Lilia.

But

…….

…..

…………

Is he………….

Is he dancing with a dress just now??

Surprisingly you just witness your dragon boyfriend practicing a dance with a beautiful dress. He hummed ‘that song’ while spinning with the dress. What a beautiful princess gown with dark green silk. It looks so shiny and smooth, something that would delicately touch her skin while being held in that big palm. Imagine how soft that hand craft lace feels when on your chest. He did not spare any piece of jewellery from his procession. He keep bring in dazzling earrings and necklaces to test it with the gown. He would have use the heart of his collection to craft a piece of accessories for you if he doesn’t want to save it for something later in the year. You can see a magical golden thread and needle weaving delicate patterns on the skirt as he continues the dance. Every angle……Every turn………..Malleus is creating a masterpiece. He did it………..for you…….for his princess.

Your face is burning from the love of this dragon fae. Why does he have to put so much effort into it.

Oh no………now you a mess

You open the Pandora box too early and now you have to live with it while pretending not to know a thing until the day. You bit your lip as Mal smoothly tug a strain of hair behind your ears. You can now understand what he mumbles about……rose gold? Sunshine gold? May be one of his grandma’s jewellery set?? (Oh god no…….that’s tooo far for the first gown Mal lol)

Your heart beat so fast until the evening of the event. Malleus play cool by teasing you and being a nice partner who prepare a gift for you.

Boom! You are now in a matching dress. So those Raven feathers on the hip are supposed to match his shoulder then ah………..you are about to take off the veil since it looks like a bride. Before Malleus could turn grumpy…..Sebek yell and lecturing you about how talented Wakasama are! You human dare to question his sense of fashion? Outrageous! Just because he love you doesn’t mean you can ruin his days of afford to perfect this dress

Woops………tongue slip

Well it’s not like you never know anyway. Just pretend to be surprise so Sebek won’t get a lightning strike okay?

Bonus : she doesn’t want to point out that when she accidentally saw Malleus weaving that dress……. his tail wagging. It’s a secret she gonna take to her grave though

Bonus 2 : Lilia does notice that and brag about how adorable Malleus is. How Malleus has grown to fit in the society in front of the other dorm leader………..Oopsie

Bonus 3 : Malleus learn the hard way not to miss the meeting

𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆 🦇

Have you heard of the story of the fairy godmother in Cinderella? Well he won’t just roll out and sing bib bi di bub bi di bo and bang! A nice new dress for you. The old man planned while cuddling you in bed……in sofa…..in the gaming chair(?)

He pretends to be busy with something and hasn't listened to you. Even play dumb and say you look cute in the school uniform. Well it’s not totally a lie since he thinks it’s adorable. Why would he poke on your cheek and nibble your neck while you are in your uniform if it’s not because you are so cute to him.

The truth is, this old bat is as excited as you. He lived through the war time and never got a chance to enjoy a leisure party before. Well it’s just a joint event of 2 schools. It can't compare with how grand the royal ball of the Briar valley held a ball but this is the first time he is going to have his lover join him. He doesn’t have to be alert from enemies. Doesn’t have to command his subordinates to search all the parties involved in this event. Just lay back enjoy the day with you.

He had been trying to recreate that dress in his memories just for you. It was around……..hundred? Two hundred?? Year ago??? He walked past this girl on the street and was stunned by her attire. It’s an elegant dress with black velvet and green emerald. Soft flare neckline covered the black corset. Enough skin to show your radiant but not too much.

Well, He was allowed to give you some hickeys before the day of the ball. It got enough fabric to cover all his naughtiness. Wink*

However he was troubled with the skirt since he only remembered just part of it flowing past him. He argued if it’s short or long skirt. He was going back and forth and even tried to summon multiple dresses to compare them…….Then before the final day. He just uses his sense of style to bring it together. Of cause ! Who do you think he is, if not the cutest boy in NRC ? (Self proclaimed……)

He smiles so proudly with your flushed cheek as he teases you. As you put on a golden belt with a bat and thorn on. This is the perfect dress for you. His baby bat. He should had prepare a ring for this big day but well…….there are plenty time for that

Bonus : He pick a perfume for you today and as you dance with him on the floor. It’s totally Lilia’s scent///

This is very long………..more than I expected

I’ll continue Silver & Sebek in part 2 then 😂 sorry I’m so into it with my oshi! I’ll try pack in other dorm in one post! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!!

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #bad english #I’m writing before I’m about to go to bed so …….idk what’s happening here haha #I never ever write headconns in eng before this is my first time please spare me

[badaseyebags]

private lessons ⋆｡°✩ chapter 2 ⟢

fluffy, suggestive, smut in upcoming chapters

word count: 3k+ (phew)

warnings: very obvious power dynamics, just some making out, a bit of begging, lots of praise, lots of pet names, BADA CALLS HERSELF MOMMY!!!! aaaa

author’s note: i’m back 😳 i’m sorry that this took much longer then i expected, pls don’t block me 😞 i hope this is readable and not too disappointing @-@ i promise there’s actual smut coming soon! feel free to leave some feedback/suggestions! thank you so much for reading ♡ -booger 🍞

with one last glance in the mirror you gathered the remainder of your courage and slipped on your shoes, grabbing your purse with shaky hands. why were you so nervous? it’s not like you’re going over to her house to get bent over. you’re simply going to get tutored. unfortunately you remind yourself why you’re in this position in the first place, due to your lack of concentration during her classes. you sigh shaking your head, applying a second coat your favourite lipgloss nonetheless, just for good measures! was it too much? was it obvious you put in a little more effort than you usually do? would she notice? why would she? and why do you even care so much in the first place? she’s just a teacher after all..

she had texted you the address and you realised she actually lived a bit further, which is probably why she offered to come pick you up in the first place, not wanting to inconvenience her any further you politely refused. maybe you were starting to regret it knowing it’ll take a long time to get there by bus, and you’ll most likely be late.. late to your first ever tutoring class, what a great way to start. woohoo!

you put your headphones on, making your way into the bus and finding an empty seat all the way in the back. that way you could have some privacy to collect yourself before you meet her. actually.. that wasn’t really working and you began getting more nervous so you decided to pull out your notebook to mindlessly doodle for the time being. it turned out quite cute you thought to yourself, staring at the sketch, imagining those two figures kissing were you and her. oh no, you’re doing it again. you and your stupid imagination! and that’s not even the first time you caught yourself doing something so silly. you close your notebook shoving it back into your bag, just a few stops away from your destination. phew. time to actually collect yourself!

with wobbly knees you make your way to her apartment, palms sweaty as you smooth them over your skirt. 10 minutes, you’re 10 minutes late.. would she notice? she’s having a day off that she sacrificed specifically to help you, and you dare come late? oh no, you’re definitely screwed. you start panicking as guilt washes over you, practicing your apology in your head, accidentally ringing her doorbell in the process. fuck. you didn’t mean to do that just yet, you weren’t ready. if you’re fast enough you can just ru-

you heard the door nob turning, soon revealing a tall slim figure in front of you. “oh miss y/n! you decided to show up after all, and here i thought you didn’t need my help anymore” she teases giving you a half smile making your heart jump, not only due to you being late, but because of how effortlessly attractive she looked with her two toned hair tied back into a messy loose braid, complimenting her light blue button up paired with some slacks. not to mention the sound of her half groggy voice calling out your name and the way it slid past her lips so smoothly.

“h-hello mrs. lee i am so sorry for being late! i didn’t”before you could finish your apology she chuckled, shaking her head. “no need to apologise sweetie, i was just teasing a little. come on in, make yourself at home.” you blink up at her, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. you just greeted her and messed up? damn already? was it because she called you sweetie?! god, you’re hopeless.

“i won’t bite.” she chuckled again, walking into her apartment leaving you with no choice but to follow behind her, timidly shutting the door as you entered. you swore you could hear her quietly mumble something under her breath, but you decided it was your twisted mind playing tricks on you once again. for the sake of your sanity. “here here, have a seat. care for some tea? coffee perhaps?” she pulls out a chair for you and this small gesture alone has your heart fluttering for no reason. you look down shyly, taking a seat and avoiding her gaze. “i..uh.. anything is fine, thank you.” you mumble trying not to keep yourself composed. she smiles nodding as she reaches for the jar of instant coffee. “i haven’t had my coffee yet, since i wasn’t sure if you’d like to drink some with me. do you like yours with milk, sugar?” was she calling you sugar or was she asking you whether or not you wanted sugar in your coffee? …and she waited for you to have coffee? yeah, as if. you need to stop being delusional. “miss y/n?” she glanced back at you knocking you of out your prolonged silence. “i-i would like both please.. i like my coffee s-sweet” you close your eyes in embarrassment as another stutter leaves your clumsy lips. you swear you never stutter. she chuckles in response as she prepares your drink. “we are quite the opposite, i prefer mine black.” she gives you a soft smile, sitting down across from you, setting your drink in front of you. you mutter a shy thank you as your hands reach for the spoon, mixing some sugar into the warm beverage. “oh that’s nothing, i usually make really good coffee but my coffee machine broke recently so.. instant coffee will have to do for now.” you nod quickly, fingers gripping the handle and side of the cup. “that’s fine! any coffee is good! i actually prefer instant it’s not like i know much about coffee anyways-” your lips are faster then your brain causing you to blurt out such a fact about you, which only made her smile wider. “oh we really are opposites, maybe i could change your mind once i make you a proper cup, hm?” you blush nodding fast in agreement, did that mean you’d be seeing her more then just this one time? you try to calm your nerves by bringing the cup to your lips, taking a little sip. maybe it’s better to keep your mouth busy so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“so y/n… just how much experience do you really have?” she also brings her own cup to her lips, eyes fixated on yours. your eyes widen, the coffee you tried swallowing getting stuck in the back of your throat at her question, resulting you in coughing out loud making her put her cup down and lean towards you in worry. “are you alright sweetie? was it too hot? did it burn you?” you cover your mouth, calming yourself down as you shake your head noticing bada is very professional and calm despite asking such a personal question.

maybe you are too shy after all and you should be more open when it comes to talking about your sex life. people do it all the time, it’s totally natural. you hear others talk about it all the time. but then again why would she ask you such a private question out of nowhere? maybe she’s just a very social person, this is how adults talk and there shouldn’t be shame. it’s not like you ever talked about sexual things with anyone, but you know others do. like with their friends, parents, therapists, lovers.. you just need to get over the embarrassment and step out of your shell, you could learn a lot from her, be as mature as she is, even when it comes to such topics. she sure wouldn’t judge you no matter what, she’s a teacher after all. “i’m fine! i’m just.. not too good at talking about such topics.. but i… well…i don’t have much experience… none at all actually. that’s really embarrassing to admit. others my age have already done so.. many times.. maybe i am really slow or something..” you chew on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your head up to look at her, choosing to look into your cup instead. if you could see your own reflection in the coffee you’re sure your face would be beet red by now. that’s when bada herself chokes a little as your unexpected response.

you totally misinterpreted what she was asking. she was asking about your experience on the subject she was supposed to tutor you on, not your sexual experience. did she give you the wrong impression? was she being too obvious with her interest in you? were her flirting attempts not as subtle as she attempted? no way, with how empty headed you are they probably flew right past you, she thought. well.. it’s not like she wasn’t curious about that in the first place, but she wouldn’t have asked so suddenly. however, she didn’t have the heart to embarrass you like that by correcting you and telling you that you misunderstood her question.

she just cleared her throat and went along with it. was she willing to risk it all? this made her want to corrupt you even more, but she can’t. not yet. you made her lose her composure. she needed to fix that and get back in charge. she won’t let it, let you, fluster her. “sweetie..there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. that’s exactly what i’m here for.” she decided to test out the waters, see if you were as submissive and truly empty minded around her as she painted you to be. her hand was itching to get a feel of your skin, she was struggling to fight it. she needs to take this slow she reminds herself, she doesn’t want to scare you away. but it seems like you’re already falling into her trap. your eyes instantly snap up to meet hers, to make sure weather you heard her correctly.

“it would be such a pity if you left without learning anything.. wouldn’t that make me a bad teacher, hm?” she furrows her brows in faux sympathy as her hand finally reaches out, gently cupping your cheek making you look up at her. you gasp at the sudden contact and your current situation. “oh y-yeah… i’m here to be tutored-“ you try to avoid her gaze, once again looking down in embarrassment. your nervousness made you think of studying again, which is the reason she invited you over. right? you must be totally misunderstanding this. you’re just being delusional, you tell yourself.

despite you both sitting down she visibly towered over you, not just in her height, but in her presence alone. you could feel her knees ever so gently pressing against your own if you weren’t trying so hard to distract yourself.

was she sitting so close to you from the start?

she scoffs in amusement, her lips forming a fake frown. “oh you poor little thing.. you really thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look at me during class? that i can’t see right through that pretty little head of yours? you’re a smart girl y/n, we both know you don’t actually have a issue with learning..” your cheeks heat up as you’re forced to meet her gaze that looks more intimidating then ever. she just exposed you. she knew it this whole time. you didn’t think your crush on her was that visible. your lips part to speak but no words come out making her grin. her thumb slides past your bottom lip ever so gently, almost knocking the air out your lungs. “i think.. you could do so much better, all you need is just a little motivation.” she hovers over you, her thumb now reaching the corner of your lips, collecting the remainder of coffee and bringing it up to her own lips. her eyes flutter shut momentarily, licking her thumb clean and savouring the flavour with a hum. “so sweet indeed..” she hooks her pointer finger under your chin, making you look up at her. chuckling softly she leans in further, her thumb stroking just below your bottom lip as her eyes trail from your eyes to your lips and back. “are you gonna let me have a taste, doll?”

you gulp, your own eyes focused on her lips, slowly nodding as you look up at her. “now now, wouldn’t that be too easy?” she leans in closer, lips near your ear. “you’ll have to be a good girl and ask for it.” your mouth goes completely dry as you gulp. your hands clutch a fist full of your skirt, tension so thick it could cut air separating you two. you mutter under your breath, scared your voice will betray you. “mrs. lee.. could you.. umm.. can you kiss me?” you shut your eyes tight, hoping she would kiss you then and there. instead you only hear a dry chuckle.

you open your eyes, attention on her as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear, confusion painted on your face. “thats not how a good girl asks. not even a please? now that’s not very polite, is it? i’m starting to think you don’t deserve it.” you whine shaking your head. “no no i’m sorry! please… please kiss me?” you look up at her desperately. “aww you want a kiss that bad?” she coos cupping your cheek, smirking at the heat of it against her hand. you nod fast, leaning into her touch, totally submitting to her.

“use your words, tell mommy what you want.” she raises her brow, waiting for you to finally say it. your cheeks feel like they’re on fire now, heart beating faster then before as you stumble over your own words. “m-mommy?” you shyly repeat after her, eyes widening, cheeks painted red. you could see the shift in her eyes, and the way it affected her.

she closes her eyes for a little, biting her lip almost as if she’s savouring the sound of your voice calling her that. “how fucking cute.” she rests her thumb against your bottom lip, softly pulling it down. “doing such a good job begging mommy for a kiss…” you close your eyes tightly at her praise, almost whining from such a small action. she leans in, her lips just a few millimetres away from your own. you could feel her breath against your lips, covering your skin in goosebumps. she keeps one of her hands against your cheek, while the other rests against the top of the chair you’re sitting on. she gives your cheek a soft stroke before finally connecting both of your lips.

her soft plump lips smashing against yours felt like a reward. it felt like they were on fire, the way your lips burnt when she pressed her own against them. her fingers against your skin were so gentle, tracing the outline of your cheek, barely touching your skin as if you were made of glass. her lips were telling a different story as her kisses only deepened. you didn’t know what to do with your hands so you loosely griped the fabric of her blouse. she felt you fidgeting and decided to slide one of her hands down to reach for your hand, giving them a soft squeeze before wrapping them around her neck. this gave her the opportunity to drag her hands down your body as she scooped you up in her arms. without breaking the kiss she lifted you and placed you on the table next to her, making you wrap your arms around her tighter. she experimentally dragged her tongue against your bottom lip so gently, your lips parted in surprise. she smirked sneaking her tongue inside your parted lips that granted her access. you let out a little whimper at the feeling of your tongues gliding against each other. you could almost taste the bitterness of the coffee aftertaste mixing with your sweet one and for once, it was delicious. you were everything she wanted and she wanted.. needed more. eager to be closer to you, one of her hands slid down your thigh, slightly parting them as she pushed herself in between, she just couldn’t get enough. with one of her large hands hand stroking the outer side of your thigh, and other one playing with your hair you couldn’t help but shiver in her touch. it was like she was devouring you whole. your body feeling so soft and tiny pressed up against hers. it was driving her insane. she pulled away breathing heavy, admiring your flushed face and slightly messed up hair, remainders of your lipstick smeared all over your lips as you look at her with what she could only describe as hearts in your eyes.

fuck, she’s so screwed. she knows it’s over for her. you wrapped her around your pretty little finger and you didn’t even know about it. heck, you didn’t even have to do anything. you submit to her so easily and that was more then she needed. there’s no way she could just return to just being your teacher, she had to make you hers. you pout slightly as she pulls away, already reaching for her, wanting to feel her lips against yours again. you got her heart beating as hard as she made yours. subconsciously shivering in her arms. as she leans in placing gentle pecks on your lips followed by your cheeks, so much more gentle and affectionate then she was just moments ago. “mommy has to stop before she gets too greedy..” you breathe out as she cleans your messed up lips with her thumb, knowing what she meant you nod, still leaning into her touch. she pressed a final kiss to your lips before pulling you into her embrace, your head in her chest, hands soothing your back.

“let me drive you home precious, it’s way too late for you to be going out on your own.” she gently pats your head, before she realises. “you didn’t bring any jacket with you?” you shake your head at her question, once again fidgeting with your skirt, slightly swinging your feet back and forth as they dangled off the table. “i’m not letting you leave like this.” you blush looking up at her as she brings you her sweater that is much bigger on you then it is on her. she taps your arms signalling you to raise them which you do, making her smile as she dresses you up. “how cute..” she admires you for a moment, fighting back the urge to squeeze you in her arms before offering you her hand which you accept as she helps you off the table. unable to keep her hands off you, she’s smoothing her hands over your clothes in attempt to fix them. “are you ready to go, pretty girl?” she pecks your nose, grabbing her keys as she grabs your hand. you giggle nodding as your heart flutters at her treatment, clinging onto her arm, letting you guide you to her car.

of course she opened the door for you and closed it after you sat down before she got in herself. of course she told you to keep the sweater because she wants to see you in it more often. of course she told you to keep this a secret as she pecked your forehead goodbye. of course your head was filled with nothing but her as you laid in your bed, wearing nothing but her sweater as you drifted into slumber, hoping you could see her even in your dreams, the scenes from earlier on repeat. you were starting to really look forward to these private lessons..

#bada lee smut #bada lee fluff #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee #bada lee imagine

[aqua-the-smiter]

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ℑ𝔯𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 Ferrus Manus x female oc (Argena Seeva) Other parts in the reblogs Ferrus, in a bid to one up his pain-in-the-ass brother Fulgrim, takes up drawing. Gets some reference help from his long suffering friend and senechal, Argena. Part of my AU I have cleverly called the Primarch Wife AU. Happy endings, the boys get the help they need, Big E is a good dad and, most importantly, everybody gets a wife. Because big husband and small wife makes brain go brr

Sexual content/NSFW after the cut - Very lewd-but-not-lewd touching, Ferrus jacking off to his future wife while trying to get work done, idiots in love. @thevoidscreams @pringles-plaguehaus ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

₊˚ ‿︵‿���‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ “Gena?” Ferrus asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I have a…strange favor to ask of you.” Argena put down the loop of silver she’d been polishing and turned around on her stool to face him as she heard him out. Throne, he even looked uncomfortable, and she wondered what exactly he needed that he was looking so hot under the collar. Ferrus Manus was many things, but wavering was not one of them. Actually he was kind of cute like that. She mentally slapped herself almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. HE. IS. YOUR. BOSS. She’d been with him for over a year and half at this point. It felt like it should have been longer. Falling into the role of his senechal had been so easy after a while. Especially after they’d started spending more time simply enjoying each other’s company. He was a surprisingly layered man once he opened up enough to show it. And, she heavily suspected, a lonely one too. So they’d gotten close more easily than she would have first thought. It even showed in the way he addressed her. Gena, a more tender nickname than her given. “Does it have anything to do with your ongoing attempts to one up your brother?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It does, yes. Look, I can’t help it. Fulgrim has been driving me mad recently, so I want to pay him back in kind.” “I know, I know. And if you pull it off you’ll make him absolutely seethe.” “It” in question was Ferrus putting a serious effort into learning how to draw. He could already, but it was an entirely different kind. Technical drawings, machine blueprints, weapon schematics. Nothing really artistic, although it could be counted as a form of art in its own right if you asked her. Watching him work was hypnotic, the movement of the pencil or stylus in his metal hands impossibly graceful. Elegant even. But most people didn’t see it that way. Resident artsy fuck, Fulgrim, certainly didn’t. Constantly making little jabs and jokes at his best friend’s inability to produce anything else than purely practical drawings. Finally, Ferrus had enough and announced to her in private that he was going to produce a piece of actual art better than anything Fulgrim could do (and he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was, including himself) out of pure brotherly spite. The early results were rough, but promising. Argena herself had quite a bit of skill, picked up from her goldsmithing hobby, and he’d come to her with practice sketches, rudimentary shapes and simple three dimensional objects. It took him a while, but he was definitely getting it. His talent for technical drawings was beginning to shine through with the clean linework. In short, it seemed he might actually do it. “That is the goal.” He said, just a little smug. “So what do you need me for, pray tell my lord?” She prompted. The Primarch seemed to steel himself for a moment. “Well…I feel I’m ready to move on to…organic materials now. I can only draw my own tools so much before I cease to learn any more from the exercise. I was going to ask if I could study you. Your anatomy, I mean.” And it already sounded like that would involve less clothes than she started with that day. “...Study my anatomy? How so? Moreover, why?”

“Feel up your body. Your muscles, skeletal structure, general build. How everything connects and moves together. I find that I learn best when I am up to the elbows in it so to speak, so being able to touch it would be the best thing. You are the only person I feel comfortable coming to with this. It is, ultimately, quite a petty thing I’m after. You have been very understanding of me. More than I thought would be possible.” Ferrus paused for a moment, wondering if what he had to say next was even a good idea before deciding he’d take that chance. “Also, you are objectively a very beautiful woman. Whatever someone’s personal tastes may be, nobody could look at you and deny it. And subjectively, I think you are a beautiful woman. For those reasons you’d make the best subject for what I’m trying to accomplish. If the goal of art is to create something pleasing to the eye, something that captures the beauty of the world and the enthusiasm of the creator in a still image, you would be a perfect basis. Not like the mess of colors and lines Fulgrim throws on his canvases.” He spoke so frankly. Ferrus was always a very no-nonsense type of person, but to have that direct, blunt nature used in such a glowing description of her was something else entirely. Because you knew for a fact when he said something, he meant it. It made her feel very warm inside. “And this is purely for research, right?” She asked tentatively. “Purely objective.” He swore. “And I won’t go any farther than you want or touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I’ll fill in any gaps in my knowledge with an anatomy book. Just tell me where to stop, and I will.” Somehow a Primarch who’d grown up in the wilderness eating sand had a better concept of boundaries than many people. “Well...I trust you, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” She said after a moment, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m willing. Let’s do it.” He gave her one of his rare smiles (that seemed to be becoming less rare nowadays come to think of it), genuinely grateful. It made her feel more at ease with the agreement. Who knows, it might even be fun. ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k x oc #primarch x oc #primarch x female oc #mating press march #ferrus manus #ferrus manus x oc #ferrus manus x female oc

[monstersdownthepath]

Deity: Nulrea, Emissary of Eternity

Lawful Evil Velstrac Demagogue of Isolation, Meditation, and Demiplanes

Domains: Evil, Law, Protection, Void Subdomains: Kyton, Fortification, Solitude, Isolation Favored Weapon: Falcata Symbol: An infinity symbol made of dozens of small circles, some of which contain a small environment or depict a creature trapped inside. Sacred Animals: Blind cave animals Sacred Colors: Gray, dark blue

Those who know of the velstrac know to fear them for the depravities that they inflict upon the bodies and minds of their victims. Those who have been rescued from their clutches are almost always irretrievably insane, broken by ceaseless tortures as the cruel fiends sought to shape their bodies into new and aesthetically pleasing configurations. Velstrac are always seeking to hone their craft on others before turning the scalpels on themselves, in much the same way a sketch artist would use scrap paper from a notebook for their practice work before utilizing a proper canvas for their real masterpiece.

The Demagogues among their kind are no different, but they work on a much grander scale. Whereas a typical velstrac works to perfect the suffering of a single individual, a Demagogue may become the architect for the torment of entire nations as part of their latest and greatest project. There are always exceptions to this rule, of course; one of which is the obscure Demagogue known as Nulrea, the so-called Emissary of Eternity. Very few know of this entity's existence, a Demagogue only by virtue of their considerable power rather than by having a large following of servants and fans. Rather than seeking the spotlight and the adoration of their peers, Nulrea prefers an existence of quiet contemplation and meditation, seeking out areas in the Great Beyond where they cannot be reached by any force and pondering deeply on the mysteries of the mind, the soul, and of existence itself.

It is said that the Emissary was born at the end of time and has been living all of eternity backwards, a lofty claim if there ever was one, but one that's nonetheless accepted by many considering the circumstances of their past: that is, Nulrea has no recorded past. As near as any scholar and diviner has been able to discern, the odd velstrac merely decided to reveal their presence to the greater velstrac population after hiding for an unknowable amount of time in an unknown location for an unknown purpose. They have revealed nothing of their past, if indeed they have one, stating plainly "I have no past, only an infinite future," a sentiment echoed by the handfuls of supplicants who have undergone the Emissary's agonizing process of enlightenment, destroying their own past selves through concentrated efforts to induce ego death, leaving room for a brand new self to be born.

Even among velstrac, the mutilations of Nulrea are unique, in that they barely look like a living creature, but seem more fossil than flesh. They appear as a humanoid made of soft stone that nevertheless bears deep and organic-looking scars, some of which bleed as though there were flesh beneath the stone. They possess no facial features, but deep scars along their head give the vague impression of a face. They also have no hands or feet, their limbs terminating in rough, rounded masses of stony scar tissue. When they do deign to move, they do so by hovering in utter silence, looking to all the world like a puppet being pulled along by unseen strings or a doll being carried by an invisible force, leading many to believe that the Demagogue's body is entirely useless as anything but an anchor point to sustain an incredibly powerful mind.

Despite the lack of any teeth or claws, Nulrea can leave hideous open wounds that are difficult to magically heal upon any creature coming too close, all without making a single movement, giving the impression of a victim being torn into by an invisible force. No one is quite certain if Nulrea manifests phantasmal limbs, summons or is guarded by an invisible attacker, or simply rends victims with psychic power, but the end result is the same, and there appears to be no measure that can be taken or defense that can be raised against the velstrac's unusual vector of attack. They prefer to avoid combat if only not to interrupt their current train of thought, striking out with their strange lashing power only until the approaching creature leaves, but if pressed into battle they can unleash even more frightening psychic abilities... or simply be done with a single creature with little more than a gesture.

Floating anywhere from ten to a hundred feet above their head is a halo consisting of thousands of tiny lights, each no larger than a fleck of dust, each providing such scant illumination that even their great number produces little more than candlelight, as not to annoy Nulrea with unneeded light. Every one of these of tiny specks represents a demiplane it has sealed an enemy, annoyance, or supplicant inside, each plane sustained by the Emissary of Eternity's power. Such victims are trapped in environs such as endless sunlit deserts, valleys of ice that go on forever, vast bottomless oceans, labyrinths of twisting tunnels, forests with no edges, cities that continue endlessly into the horizon, and other such spaces... Though victims that Nulrea dislikes may be sealed inside bubbles a scarce few meters across, such as a single room within a house, on a disk that sits atop an infinitely tall spire, or even within a coffin barely large enough for their body. Time passes differently within each demiplane, fully at the whims of Nulrea, and trapped victims may experience the passage of decades, centuries, or even millennia within their prison even as mere days pass in normal time.

With their needs and lives magically sustained and their bodies recovering swiftly from any form of harm, creatures imprisoned in these planes have little choice but to find a way out or go completely mad, and often do both. Escape isn't simple, as Nulrea sets the conditions for leaving each prison plane and gives only the vaguest possible instructions for doing so; complete madness is often required to parse these instructions, and worse is needed to carry them out. A victim condemned to walk through an endless desert may be tasked with finding a single specific grain of sand and consuming it, while someone trapped in an endless city may be required use their own blood to scribe the entirety of their life along its streets a hundred thousand times, and someone trapped in a cave may walk through the tunnels for several lifetimes before figuring out that they must dig their way through the solid stone with tools crafted from their own bones. Each task inevitably requires some level of intense, long-term suffering or sacrifice, often to the point the victim goes entirely numb to it. Rarely do imprisoned creatures emerge from the demiplanes at all, and not one has ever been the same as when they entered.

------ Obedience and Boons ------

Nulrea's clergy is obviously quite small. Very few creatures even know of the isolationist Demagogue's existence, and fewer have reason to seek them out. They offer little to most supplicants, refusing to share the secrets they know with any who are not sufficiently 'enlightened,' and the only way one may achieve a level of enlightenment the Emissary finds satisfactory is to subject ones self to unreasonably extended periods of deprivation, isolation, and silence, until all past personality and potential are destroyed, the hopeful now hollowed out and ready to serve wholly as a vessel for the secrets the Emissary wishes to impart. Typically, this means the price of the Demagogue's knowledge and power is to willingly accept being sealed within one of its demiplanes until total ego death is achieved.

Even other velstrac are wary of drawing Nulrea's attention, lest they end up trapped within a realm of numbness until the madness inherent to the velstrac is eclipsed entirely by new and novel forms of insanity. Some, however, purposely seek it out for that precise result, primarily any velstrac wishing to become the feared Obsignator; a cult of Obsignator known as the Ten-Thousand Moments in Amber--in reference to the Demagogue's halo of demiplanes--and the victims and madmen they've managed to capture/attract make up the largest cult in the Emissary of Eternity's name.

Creatures who manage to escape Nulrea's demiplanes and recover from their madness sometimes develop a deep and unsettling appreciation for the Demagogue's "work," taking a moment to silently thank it for giving them new perspectives on time, suffering, silence, and isolation before making their way back into the world. These blessed souls are regarded by the Demagogue as having taken their first steps towards true enlightenment, though it is up to them to continue their journey. While many of them become mad hermits no longer able to stomach the presence of other beings and retreat to isolated areas to further ponder the mysteries of eternity, some instead become adventurers seeking to either unravel the mysteries they have begun to ponder and the secrets they have discovered in their meditations, or simply make up for lost time and catch up with the world that they have not been a part of for several lifetimes--perhaps several hundred.

As a Velstrac Demagogue, Nulrea may gift especially fanatic worshipers with Boons that are are relatively simple: a trio of spell-like abilities, each of which may be used 1/day. Boons are normally gained slowly, at levels 12, 16, and 20, however entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes can see the Boons gained as early as levels 10, 13, and 16. Note that, as with all Demagogues, you cannot enter the Diabolist Prestige Class to quickly obtain these Boons without DM fiat.

Obedience: Find a spot where you can expose yourself to a single repetitive sensation, such as water flowing over your body, wind blowing over you, sunlight shining down on you, or constant cold. Spend at least one hour completely still, meditating on this sensation. If a creature interrupts your meditation, you must deal at least 1 point of lethal damage to it and drive it away. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saving throws against charm and compulsion effects, as well as to saving throws to avoid effects that would inflict confusion, insanity, or madness.

Boon 1: Blindness/Deafness Boon 2: Lesser Create Demiplane Boon 3: Maze of Madness and Suffering

#original concepts #this was written in a single sitting over like 2 hours at 1 in the morning #please forgive any mistakes ill hit them with a hammer later

[feyhunter78]

Hey it’s me El! Can I have another Aegon apprentice story where the reader is an apprentice Dressmaker for Helaena and the children (she has them with aemond in this) and aegon ruins a piece of clothing he likes so he complains a lot so to stop it Helaena refers him to the reader. Only he takes a liking to her and begins to ruin pieces of clothing he has to see her. She jests saying oh these are such clean cuts how did you do it? And he plays along saying oh how he got into a battle with a knife but with my targaryen genes I could dodge before it hit my skin! They playfully banter and build a friendship which goes into flirting and so forth. Not really sure on an ending so I’m leaving that to you on whether they fully get into the relationship

Hey El!!! So sorry this took me forever to get out!!!! I hope you like it!!! Also, I changed it from Aemond to Jacaerys bc they're the only Targcest I'll write, but no worries! I know it just slipped your mind <3

The Dressmaker's Apprentice HC

Before Princess Helaena discovered your work, you ran a small shop that was on the verge of closing. You refused to work with anything but the best of materials, preferring to take your time and make sure each garment was not only perfect, but comfortable in all situations.

This meant your prices were too high, and you never had enough time to fill bigger orders. Your main source of income was mending garments, your own, or others it didn’t matter, your hands flew over the damage and repaired it in mere seconds. It was an easy thing to do and required less creative effort.

After Princess Helaena discovered that your garments were the only ones her and Jacaerys’ children would wear without throwing a tantrum, she immediately plucked you from the streets of Fleabottom and had you declared her personal tailor.

You, obviously, were grateful for the opportunity and went out of your way to make sure the royal family was outfitted in your grandest creations, one of which Helaena had gifted to Aegon. He constantly complained that his tunics were itchy, or the collars choked him, and just like with her children, your work ceased Aegon’s whining.

Aegon is content for a time, then during one of his Silk Street escapades he tears the tunic. He bugs Helaena to sew it up, but that’s cut off by Jacaerys, who tells Aegon to ask a maid. He does so, but the stitching is wrong, it rubs against his skin, and soon he’s back complaining to Helaena.

Helaena directs him to you, and you hold your hand out for the ripped tunic, expertly plucking out the stitches and quickly stitching the tear up with silk thread and handing it back to him. Aegon is amazed. You pay him no mind and go back to sewing a dress for Helaena, not even glancing up as Aegon leaves.

Soon you find the prince in your chambers on a weekly basis, each time with a new excuse. “I tripped while I was playing with my dear nieces and nephews.” You’ve never seen Aegon do more than hand toys to them, before pestering you with questions, and watching over your shoulder as you sketched new designs.

 “I was helping the kitchen maids and ripped it while carrying four wine caskets.” Four caskets were three times the weight of Aegon himself.

“It was a dueling accident.” Was his latest excuse, and you couldn’t stop yourself from calling him out.

“My prince, I’ve noticed these tears are quite clean, were you injured?” You asked, holding the obviously cut cloth up to the light.

“No, I am much too skilled to be injured in a mere practice round.”

“Then how did your tunic get cut? It sits so close to your skin.” You prodded, biting back a smile at the way Aegon scrambled to come up with an answer.

“I am a Targaryen prince; I was able to doge in the proper way to avoid injury. My tunic, though well-made, is not the same caliber as I.”

You put on an exaggerated pout and held the tunic close to our chest. “If my work is not to your standards, then I shall not embarrass you any further and continue to force you to wear it.”

Aegon shook his head and took your hand in his. “Your work is impeccable, Lady y/n, please do not mistake my foolishness for distaste. I must admit, I may have been altering the garments in an attempt to see you more often.”

You smiled at him and handed him the fixed tunic. “I had a feeling that was the case.”

His face tinted pink. “You did?”

You nodded and kissed his cheek. “If you wish to see me, all you must do is ask. But be warned, I will not be happy to see another one of my creations ruined.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhhaa, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshhhaa, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart

Slashthrough means I can't tag you

#aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon headcanons #apprentice!reader #mail from el #meg's writing #prince aegon #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x y/n #thanks for the request! #I hope you like it!!! #anon request

[ghostonly]

If I could give one piece of advice to young, teen artists, it wouldn't be about what to do better or what to avoid in their drawing practice, it would be this:

Get in the habit of putting the date on your sketchbook page when you're done with it.

If you do one drawing per page, you know what date you drew it. If you do many doodles per page, you know you did them between that date and the date on the last page.

It may all be easy to know off the top of your head right now, but ten years from now - yes, it's a long time but, by god, it will pass - you will wonder when exactly you drew that drawing.

If I could give a second piece of advice, it would be to never fully destroy a drawing that you actually put effort into. Doodles, sure. If you don't care about them, didn't put any real effort into them, whatever. But, if you sat down and put care and effort into a drawing - even a little bit - keep it. If you have too many notebooks, keep only the special hardcopies and scan the ones that don't matter as much.

If you're like me as a teenager, and you go into your art once every year or so and look through it all, you might get tired of it Once a year seems infrequent when you're 15. That same feeling of infrequency will require 3 years when you're 25. A year will seem like nothing.

So, when you get to the point where you're tired of seeing these same drawings over and over and judging yourself for your lower skill level, when you're tempted to delete the scans or toss out the originals, do not.

If they're hardcopies you're tempted to get rid of, scan them. If they're digital, simply make a folder called "The Vault" and send them there to die temporarily. You can pretend they're gone and quit looking at the same drawings you don't like much anymore. But, after ten years, when you're longing for the physical evidence that you were once a child, once less skilled than you are now, once more naive than you are now, they will be there, waiting for you.

25 may feel like an eternity from now, but when it arrives, 15 will feel like an eternity behind you. Don't let those early works that you poured hours of your days into slip away into the unforgiving void of time.

They matter. Your history matters.

It might not feel like it in the present, but nothing ever does. A boring old dining chair from 1700 might have been an unconcerning thing to leave in the shed to rot when it was 1700 but, in decent condition now, would be worth hundreds or thousands of dollars.

Monetary value may not come into it when it's a pencil sketch from junior high, but when you're older, you will become a collector of your own history, scraping up everything you can find like an auction-goer spending their whole paycheck on a fancy, handmade chair they feel compelled to save from the forgetfulness of human memory.

#advice #art #art advice #drawing advice #i feel like this is especially important if you have trauma #it's easy to try throwing away everything that doesn't bring you immediate joy #to try shedding yourself of anything that feels like a burden #but some things are worth shouldering the weight of for the sake of your future self #who has had time to recover #and who is able to value the younger version of you that you couldn't value at the time #also shout-out to my bitches with #adhd #actually adhd #who impulsively throw shit out because of consequence blindness #I'm looking at you #you WILL care #one day you'll fuckin kick yourself #just put it in a folder #right click and hide the folder if you're sick of seeing it sitting there #just don't delete it

[eliyips]

Can i ask how u do lineart so well,, it looks so smooth,,

I've always been very big on keeping my lineart clean and smooth! :) I'm very inspired by comic and graphic novel illustration, so naturally, I try to take notes from that sort of aesthetic in a lot of my art.

The short answer is that I just have a lot of practice, and am very picky about how my lineart looks. So, I'll often spend a long time making sure it looks just how I'd like it, before moving on, even if the lines aren't necessarily going to be the focus of the final drawing.

The longer answer kinda depends on what lineart you're asking about! The style of my lineart tends to change to fit whatever mood I'm going for, so I have a lot of different line styles with varying levels of smooth-ness.

On the super-smooth end of the spectrum, we have these bubbly, cartoony lines! These are a pain to draw, to be honest. But they really contribute to giving that cute look :) For these, I used the Clip Studio Paint G-Pen, with some minor adjustments to the settings, mainly so that there's not too much line width variation. The uniform, thick lines are important for this look! :) Drawing in this style really just a lot of trial and error. Usually when doing lineart, I'll erase away at lines to get them to the right thickness, or even just clean up a sketch and call that lineart, rather than doing lines on a new layer. But, that's a lot harder to do when the line thickness has to stay consistent. So, I end up just drawing the same line 7 times over, un-doing my work and re-doing it until i'm satisfied. Again, it's a pain! I used to draw like this a lot more frequently, but I stopped because I found that other approaches are often a lot more satisfying and rewarding. This is still great, for that cutesy look, though.

Next, we have what I would affectionately call my ref sheet lines. As much as it's probably a bad idea, I have a habit of just kinda skipping the lining stage of art. I'll just take my sketch, and tidy it up until it's clean enough. But for a drawing where there's only going to be flat colors, that sort of roughness can look sloppy, In my opinion. So, particularly when doing ref sheets, or other art which I don't intend to render, I will actually go through the effort of fully sketching out my idea and lining on a separate layer. The result is a lot cleaner and more deliberate, and looks a lot nicer when colored! Especially if I take the time to color the lineart :) I also really like doing small details with thin lines, particularly body/facial hair, elastic cuffs on clothing, and the seams of clothes, too. I like drawing those little details a lot, and I think they shine the most in my cleaner line style :D

For this, and for most of my lineart, I use these brushes which you can find on the Clip Studio Asset Store:

I'll bounce back and fourth between these, and Kozmo's Scratchy Scribbler brush, which you can find on Ko-fi!

Additionally, I have a modified G-Pen with a pencil texture that I think I made myself? I don't remember making it, but I also don't know where it came from! So i guess I did, lol.

A little more messy than my ref-sheet lines, we have the line style which you probably see most often on my page. As mentioned before, I usually kinda skip the sketch step for these? I don't encourage that, it's a bad habit of mine. But I make it work! I feel like the best way to explain my process with this is to just offer you a timelapse of my lineart process:

I just kinda... go. and it works out! most of the time. lots of cleanup and tweaking, and as you can see with Bdubs and Etho here, sometimes I do actually just. do a sketch and then line over it. So maybe I have no idea what my own process even is, LOL.

Now, to completely abandon your original question here's how i don't do smooth lineart! :D In this style, for the most part, I ignore the cleanliness of my lines, only really erasing with the lasso fill tool, when lines get too cluttered to actually read. Usually I'll only go for this when I'm already planning on painting over the lines. Because sometimes an idea doesn't need or want clean lines, and sometimes I just want to paint some values or slap some colors together and call it a day. Love my clean lines, but scratchy, messy lines are fun too! :)

Not sure if any of this really explained how i do smooth lineart, but I sure did talk about lineart for a while. I hope you could find something interesting or insightful in here! :) thanks for the ask, and I hope you have a great day <3

#inbox #digital art #art process #timelapse #lineart #another ~1k words on my art process? #yippee!!! #askeliyips #ask

[shivunin]

a sketch in charcoal and stun marks for the wip title game 👀👀

Ooh, these are both BG3 fic! The former is smut about how sex/sex acts are so performative for Astarion that he has trouble doing them for himself, and the second is Tav discussing her broken oath with her god.

(Also, because I felt very clever about it, stun marks are marks left in natural stone when someone uses a blunt instrument on them. Even chisels not sharpened often enough can leave these marks, which look like very pale starbursts or spots in polished marble)

Here are a few brief (non-explicit, though there are references to sex) snippets (spoilers for act three on the second one):

From Sketch:

“Wait here,” she told him, and was gone before he could so much as lift a finger in protest. 

Astarion ran his fingers through his hair again (just so, just so; he knew with long practice exactly how to make it lay the way it ought to without the aid of a mirror), but she was ducking back into the close space before he could do much more than that. She’d shed her stiff over-bodice somewhere along the way and wore only the soft shirt usually tucked beneath. 

In her left hand, Tav held a book. 

He had seen plenty of this book. She was forever scribbling in it, always angling it away from his eyes. Sometimes, he watched her work and was convinced that she was falling into it somehow, for her focus was so complete at times that it rather seemed as if she weren’t here at all. Once and only once, Astarion had dared to pick it up. Her reaction had been fervent enough that he hadn’t dared try again. Even he knew when he had found someone’s limits, and her regard had been too crucial to his aims then to lose it so soon. 

(He had, in fact, heard the rustle of Tav’s footsteps that night, had opened his eyes just a sliver to see what she was about. She’d stood too close to the fire for a very, very long time, book outstretched over the dying flames. She had been shaking—she, graven of stone, who’d seemed so unperturbed by all of this that he’d thought she must be the greatest of fools. The book had trembled in her hands, and after nearly twenty minutes of standing like that she’d torn herself away and gone off into the night. Astarion hadn’t so much as implied he intended to touch it since.)

“I can watch,” she said, and dropped a spare bedroll in the corner. “Just to—to draw you. If it helps.”

“Draw me?” he asked, resting a hand over his chest. “Wait—draw me? Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? But why?” 

“It…helps sometimes,” she said, and a flush climbed her pretty ears. “To have company, I mean. I won’t touch you. I’ll stay over here. But perhaps an…audience of sorts?” 

Astarion tried very hard not to look like he was staring blankly at her, but he also couldn’t think of a better expression to call up. An audience. 

“You want to watch me while I…?” With great effort, he seized the ragged ends of his composure and straightened himself. “Well. Of course you do. Who wouldn’t? I am captivating, aren’t I?” 

“You are,” Tav said, and lowered herself slowly to the pile of pillows in the corner.

From Stun Marks:

There was only one place to look for her, of course. It was the first place he turned toward, thinking again about their earlier conversation. He would be positively livid if she’d kept him waiting to pray. He certainly wasn’t thinking about another temple, about the bodies and the crypt below and the horrid little display the cultists had made of the priest. 

No. He wasn’t thinking about any of that. She could take care of herself. 

Even so, he did cross to the tabernacle, and he found it shut very tight. Odd. That sort of place usually kept itself open at all hours. One would not want to preclude the coins of any supplicants, of course. It was lucky for everyone that he was smart enough to find a back door, and quiet enough to slip inside unhindered. It did gall him, after all that, to slip just inside the doorway and hear her murmuring aloud to herself. 

She was fine, of course. He’d known she would be. 

Fine and praying. 

“—call out to you in humility and the—the greatest of shame, my lord,” Tav said from somewhere around the corner. Astarion crouched and peered past a pillar, keeping himself to the shadows as best he could. She knelt before the faceless statue in the center of the little temple, head bowed deeply, hands clasped over one knee. She had set her beloved mace on the altar before her, though he only knew so because of its constant glow. 

“I know what path I am to follow, but I cannot take the first step without first seeking your grace. As it was seven years ago, so it is again now: I am lost, my lord, and I seek your guidance.” 

Astarion had called out to the gods a hundred times, a thousand, more. It was utterly useless. Another grift in a world of a thousand such lies—and he knew such confidence games intimately well. Gale and his goddess were some sort of fluke, of course, and look how that had gone for him. And Shadowheart—no. The gods did not care about any of them further than a gift or a favor carelessly thrown to the hungry mouths of people when it pleased them. 

The gods had never aided Astarion when he’d called for them. They had never so much as indicated for a second that they’d even heard his pleas. For the very first time, hidden away from his lover and her show of faith, he finally heard one answer. 

“Oathsworn.” 

A sharp intake of breath. His Tav was bathed in light now, as she sometimes was when she called upon her magic. Unlike those other times, the light was not coming from her. 

“Morninglord,” she said, and her second knee met the stone with a sharp crack. Her back bowed beneath the weight of that light. Astarion grimaced at the sight of her obeisance. “Lord of Rose and Gold. Lord of Birth and Renewal. Bringer of Dawn, I seek you in the shadows of night.”

“And I answer,” a pause. “You have broken your oath.”

It was a condemnation; rather, it had to be some sort of condemnation. Astarion would not have expected it to sound so…oh, what was the word? Sad. 

“My lord,” she said. There were tears in her voice. “I know what I have done. I beg your forgiveness.” 

#ask response #tav tag #shivunin scrivening #somehow these are all the bg3 things i have written lol

[notyourd0g]

not the art thing, 'cause ideas come first (MAYBE ONE DAY I'LL DO SOMETHING MORE SERIOUS THAN JUST SOME MESSY SKETCHES)

and it's pretty hard to switch between their POVs, so I'm really glad my friend helps me with this!!

anyway:

at the time of their meeting, Elliot was still in his own band, but it soon broke up (the reason is simple and obvious: he was TOO pushy on his bandmates. his anger issues and impatience made ot worse). "HOW can they be SO unserious?! They don't go to their full potential, don't they understand it?" and so on and so on. In fact, that's why Elliot was extremely impressed watching Leo perform in terrible weather. But after his band broke up, he didn't put in much effort to look for new people. Plus he thinks it's all his fault (but he has no regrets and would do it again)

in other hand we have Leo who lives in an orphanage and sometimes gets permission to go out into the city. It’s impossible to understand whether he has a dream or not, but once again it won't be superfluous to raise money by street performances and youtube channeling.

He's a clever one and can do almost anything. Yes, there is a piano in the orphanage, but, firstly, it is really fucked up, and secondly, you can’t go anywhere with it, you need something smaller. LUCKILY, after the next graduation, he gets an electric guitar from the older guys. Did I mention he's a smart boy? He quickly learned to play it. Really.

He knew how to sing anyway, but he's still lack strength of voice and breath. But no problem! He would simply take some easy songs. After several practices, he decided to go out with simple covers and, yeah, he liked it. Very much. Leo found himself. What a creative guy, good for him, good for him.

At some point he starts to write lyrics and music himself. It also gives an impulse to continue what he was already doing - telling horror stories. His channel was already big, but with the instrumental part, the audience became wider. At some point, that's how Elliot found him before the first meeting.

The video turned on by itself but Elliot became interested in the music in the background. Deciding to leave things as they were, he continued to go about his business, listening to Leo's music, stories and his charming voice. At some point it became Elliot's habit and now not a single day passed without the channel of the mysterious _gl3n_.

After the first interaction with irl, he returns home at night and, as usual, turns on that one youtube channel.

Elliot will soon realize that the voice of his favorite storyteller is the voice of that little guy with an electric guitar he met on the street.

but damn, THAT'S NOT ALL, gears revolve in the heads of BOTH. They DEFINITELY met before, they are sure of it!

One day they will try to guess each other's names, but they won't guess it correctly.

Leo will say the name "Elvis", joking about Elliot's absurd hairstyle and his devotion to the loyal acoustic guitar. (no, they didn't fight, there were cops nearby)

Elliot will say the name "glen" because it's the name of Leo's channel. Leo will shrug his shoulders in response to this, trying to remember why he himself called his channel like that.

Well. It's a slowburn and a pure idea. They will figure everything out eventually. Let them take their time, oky?

[necropsisblight]

Insert cool edgy text here I can't think of anything lmao ✧

This is still another old work, but I wanted to post this dipshit here while I remember. This is my splatoon oc Calypso! He's Agent 7 of the New Squidbeak Splatoon, though he had to be an off field agent for a while after a funky lil injury regarding his eye.

I've got a bunch of concept sheets that I had to make while I was making this fucker which I'll include under the cut! I'll go into a little bit of my designing process too.

This was the initial concept page, I usually will grab a bunch of clothes from my pinterest boards as a starting point and slap em on the canvas. The vibes I wanted to do this time round was a sort of mix between a traditional chinese style and techwear. The end result was not as much of a mix as I intended but I am definitely still happy with it!

My main focus when creating this baord was to make a loose concept of how I want the general flow of the outfit to be, which was tight fitted, with loose outer garments on top of it.

This was the first (and technically final?) draft, a semi clean sketch with colours. I flipped the original concept I had for the hair, when I realized that his scope from the weapon would be on the side without the cut bangs, which made less sense. I basically got enabled to give him heterochromia cause I love having that in a character, and decided to come up with a lore reason for it. So his inked eye isn't present in this final draft, as I added it in the lineart phase. He also gained many sparkles and scars afterwards.

The hero gear was the easiest for me to design. At first I had NO idea what to do for it, but once I had found that coat on pinterest the rest of the outfit came together. I wanted to fit the vibe of many straps on bigger boots, and removed unnecessary straps from the coat to be more practical. I didn't have to work on this one for very long.

This was by far the HARDEST for me to design. I wanted a separate outfit that I call Agent Casual, basically what you always see Callie and Marie in instead of their hero gear. I took inspo from both the canon members of the squidbeak splatoon, as well as the Deep Cut idols to make this outfit. The concept mostly looks how the final does, but I did have to change the jacket many times before I was happy with it. The only reason I struggled so much was because I put so much effort into making his outfit base slightly buff and I wanted clothes you could see it through T-T

Live footage of me testing out the idea I had regarding his eye, but crunchy as fuck cause I was doing it on my phone instead of my tablet cause I was at dinner LMAO

Overall, I can say I'm very happy with how his design came out. Maybe I'll share more of his lore at some point?

#splatoon #splatsona #splatoon 3 #splatoon oc #splatoon art #splatoon 3 oc #oc #oc art #character design #art #artist #digital art #digital artist

[joesanimationblog]

End of Project Overview Post - New Learning & Creative Decision Making

A chunk of the pre-production work I put into the development project ended up needing quite a bit of revision. This brought me to a point during the pre-production phase of the final project where I could really reflect on the kind of film I was aiming to create. While the previous animatic had its merits, it lacked a solid second act and a clear plot direction. Many of the shots I had carefully developed still held value and would find their place in the final project, alongside the world logic I had built.

The animatic had a charming English vibe that clicked with me. But it was evident that I needed to up the stakes and inject a quicker pace. Also, I had a hunch to make the film longer, which turned out to be a bit of a misstep initially, given that I was targeting around three minutes. The pacing issues cropped up, but amidst all this, I sensed something great within my work and decided to push harder.

The Frenchman character started as a plot device, it dawned on me how good of a vessel for comedy it could be in my film. To make the jokes hit while maintaining a grounded feel, I realized I had to harness his comic tension against Glenda's sternness and the quiet demeanour of Hugh and Wilf. This nudged me to elevate his role, almost on par with the central "Team Fox" characters.

I started rewriting the script and storyboarding with a fresh focus on stepping up the Frenchman's role and minimizing Glenda's presence. A surge of inspiration led me to sketch out comedic scenes of Alexander taunting the foxes in a classic Tom and Jerry style. Oddly enough, the writing process went smoother than I expected, likely thanks to the continued practice influenced by Katy's writing seminars. Drawing insights from various films, deciphering their plot rhythms, pacing, and driving forces, proved pivotal. This aided in shaping my characters' roles and establishing the cinematic tone I wanted.

At this stage, it struck me that I needed to zoom out and assess the whole project from a time management perspective. A few weeks in, I finally had a clear grasp of the story, though some fine-tuning remained. A revaluation of my goals was in order. It was time to prioritize what truly mattered, considering the effort I was ready to commit.

Making the film a reality required a substantial pivot in both vision and art style. While I yearned to highlight the strengths of traditional 2D animation – think physical comedy, distorted perspectives, and quirky visuals – reality hit; these aspects are incredibly time-consuming. However, my resolve to craft something that genuinely reflects me remained steadfast.

I wanted to make some things for my reel that would help me stand out, the van shot was one of these, and the phone call was the other. After asking animators and filmmakers what the best ways to break into the industry are in my professional practice module, I knew focusing on making the best work possible in the time I have would be more constructive than rushing decisions that needed more time to be made.

I had made plans to collaborate with a sound designer early in the project and this meant I had not included sound design in my plan, they seemed keen to get started, I sent them the work and they said they'd let me know once its done. Then a month passed and I contacted them about it asking what was going on as i was ready to start production and they apologised saying they had sent an email which never arrived explaining that they had too much work and had to back out. I stood outside my flat blocks asking strangers if they knew anyone that did sound design or anything for about an hour and managed to get a number, I sold them on the idea of the film and we recorded within a week. The first recording had issues as the computer equipment in the professional studio we booked was not functioning properly but we managed to get an hour and a half of foly recording time which wasn't enough but was a great start. I knew I would not have more time to do the audio myself so did another session over a Zoom call while I worked and directed the session. I did not plan to mix or edit the audio as one of the two audio guys offered to do this for me.

The whole audio thing made the project incredibly stressful for me, I found it hard to find my comedic timing for a little bit while i was dealing with it but having it seem to be dealt with allowed me to get back on track. As this was happening and by my Gantt chart I was also producing the stills and background for the shots I had planned to do first while I was sorting out audio. I had also made some changes to the character designs.

I found my visual style coming out of the development project was a little bit flat, there were some drawings where I had it down but there was something off. I tried to break down what I didn't like and it was that all my characters couldn't express enough. In my time dedicated to practicing drawings I found the character's design limiting when trying to push poses so I looked at films like Ponyo, Kitbull, and Gassy's Gas and made changes to the Frenchman and the Fox - and even Glenda as they felt too stiff to animate and pose. The change that made the biggest difference was changing the design of the Frenchman to have a more identifiable silhouette. I also made his face a lot bigger and gave him eyes that had skin around them that was signified by lines rather than just having dot eyes. As I've not worked with this many characters interacting with the language before nor have I animated foxes of quadrupeds I found it difficult to adapt my art style at first but eventually, I became familiar with the character's designs, through many iterations of the designs with slight changes I came to the final version.

Along with refining my character my world also needed work. The art style of the films in my forefront posts made a huge differance and gave me the idea to play with a day night cycle in my film, I wanted this to be a narrative tool to build tension but unfortunately as I have not completed my film this has not yet become a very big part.

While I do like the style of my film, I think some of the backgrounds need redrawing and I thought about flattening and grayscaling my colours but keeping a hue layer, and then colourizing the scenes to each have different limited colour palettes, I thought this might help speed up my work going forward but also give me more stylistic choices to play with when it comes to the way the world is established through colour.

I animated some nice sections in this project, its hard to write about something like animation once you get going but I think the key changes ive made is that now I understand my characters enough to create a mental caricature which I use to brainstorm body language etc. Then through studying my poses in my sketch practice I learn which ones work and which don't and then I time my scene, add my pose keys, do my roughs, in-betweens and colour etc etc. The big change is in the performance and part of what makes a good performance is knowing what type of show people want to see. My analaysis of my own work and the work of others, as the feedback from my class mates friends and tutors are what guide my own perception of if my work is good or bad, and seeing people laugh or smile when they watch my work is what tells me the work I'm doing is good. I need to keep going and finish it.

Learning to analyse films allowed me to better understand the components that make them great. Kitbull is a film that made a big impact on my project as discussed in my blog post about it, I will continue to analyse the work of other filmmakers and reach out to filmmakers who are more locally available to me as I would like to collaborate with other creatives.

My sound designers did not manage to get their work finished in time but I don't blame them and I am happy with where my film is at. The parts I wanted to be at that professional level based on my analysis of other films but the volume of work I need to do in order to maintain that level with this style is huge so it was just not realistic for me to finish, especially given the setbacks I faced.

It would be nice to have the finished film ready to go with everything I want already done but as is the case with both the sound design and the completion of the film as a hole good work takes time and I plan to take the time needed to make the right decisions and make my film as good as it can be. I am hopeful that this does not effect my grade but I do believe it will help me get a job.

Referances

Catopolis (2022). YouTube. 6 June. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYnv8tHyOJE (Accessed: 01 August 2023).

Gassy’s Gas ’n Stuff | adult swim smalls (2023). Adult Swim. 13 May. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ahf8KjDeZ3I (Accessed: 12 August 2023).

Gibbs, G. (1988). Learning by doing: A guide to teaching and learning methods. London: Further Education Unit.

Hendrickson, K. (2019) Kitbull. Pixar. 18 February. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZS5cgybKcI&list=PLq7v-7lLXBPEFJTrhqND8dfFZI8r73ihs&index=1&t=280s (Accessed: 27 October 2023).

Ponyo (2008). Studio Ghibli.

#Final Post

[fanfictionhopper]

So... I heard it's Catboyvember? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yo how the hell them digital artists make those sketches and doodles look good meanwhile this 'doodle' takes me enough time to no longer call it a doodle anymore lololol

Idk the pose looks kinda weird, i feel like I make him looks like he's leaning back instead of being cute but ppl pls stop by the catboyvember in ao3 bcs damn the amount of cat kuroo over there i'm crying and there's this artist in ig called crweye i love how she draws kuroo? And most of her arts are like mini comics and i absolutely love her kuroken-

Anyways-

#kuroo #catboyvember #catboy kuroo #i would call it a sketch but there's practically too much effort in it to be that

[muffindaddystyles]

Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what’s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

#ceo!harry #ceo!h x y/n #ceo!h x reader #ceo!h x fem!reader #harry stylss angsty drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles #cute harry #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

[mokutone]

Hi hi! do you happen to have any favourite watercolor artists/ inspirations? specifically ones that rlly influenced your art style? I've tried searching up keywords like "favorite" etc but tumblr search engine is a little iffy, anyways! i adore your art and seeing your process videos make watercolours look like such a fun process and tbh less daunting than what it seems. Your blog is sending me down a rabbit hole of inks and watercolors and aaa its so fun to find gems on this nonfunctional website

OOOOOOH i dont think ive actually been asked this before!!! ty!!!

the truth is when it comes to watercolor im mostly flying by the seat of my pants 😅 but there are definitely watercolor artists that i love even i do not consciously do studies of their work! i should really study more watercolor artists bc its probably foolish to practice a medium while remaining ignorant of the big names within it.

i hope u find these interesting:

This is one of my favorites, it's called The Meeting on the Turret Stairs by 1864 Frederic William Burton. this is WATERCOLOR. good god. help. if you get really in close you can see how he built it up with delicate different colors. Anyway, the solidness of the bodies, the like...the romance in it all, the way the metal reflects the fabric, the detail in the chainmail and the absolute softness in the background...ough. its good. this is a painting which in all ways knows exactly what its about and executes it perfectly

and then there's the watercolor sketches of Hayao Miyazaki obvs skgjhdskgh, i like how loose he is and how clear, and how he isnt scared of the white spaces between where colors meet. i know these arent meant to be final products just like. indications of how the animation should be...but they enchant me so much...i want to be able to do watercolor sketches like that!

Albrecht Dürer does a lot of very detailed illustrations in watercolor, he's a weird guy from the 1500s, look how you can tell how the texture of the hare changes from its back to its underbelly. also, unrelated to his watercolor skills, i just like how he signs his work by putting a d beneath a little A arch. His mastery of textures is delightful and his attention and carefulness with detail is admirable

also i'm gonna mention Akihiro Yamada's watercolor + ink illustrations, specifically for 12 Kingdoms. I haven't spent a lot of my time looking at them but every time i do i find that there's something i want to emulate abt them...something abt the detailed inks and the way he does shadows with watercolor...something abt it rlly speaks to me. i think a lot of my weird shadow experiments are trying to achieve a feeling i get from his work. I think that these are the most like...the most like what I want to do? While also being definitely something other than what I would pursue. Hard to explain. Love to look at them though here's three of them

also

i would absolutely be remiss if i did not mention one of the people who inspired me to get back into watercolor originally, @marina-does-things and here is an excellent example of their work. Here is another (squid game fanart!) They're SO skilled at watercolor and gouache, and especially at conveying light + shadow, highlights and playing with color...when I think of their artwork I think of the light in it the most, u can really tell just by looking at their work that theyre so comfortable with the medium + have put a lot of effort and work into playing with it and gaining skills, theyre also a skilled digital artist too, all around triple-threat. They also do comics and WATERCOLOR comics at that (here is a link to a post of their excellent 80 page watercolor comic piece based on an episode of the podcast WOLF 359) !!! just an extraordinarily cool and talented artist

anyway, i hope this was useful to you!

#yamswers #cali-mar-ri #it was actually really nice just for me. to like. sit down and think abt people whose artwork i love n who inspire me...im overcome by like #art feelings #rosenkranz if u see this sdjkgsh its basil from wolf + this is my embarassing naruto watercolor sideblog! feel free to ignore! #but i could not talk abt watercolor inspirations w/o mentioning ur work + influence

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

���Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

Taglist (Comment & I'll Happily Add You)

@shemarmooresfedora

@april-14-blog

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

@spideygenius

@measure-in-pain

@nomajdetective

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

[tamago-tamago]

little acts of love

what are some little things that the genshin boys would do to show that they love you? sometimes, there are acts of affection that aren't so obvious to the human eye alone.

characters: diluc, kaeya, xiao, albedo

genre: fluff, gender neutral

a/n: hey, hey, this is my first genshin headcanon, please let me know your thoughts:)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Diluc ❣

he would pat your head

whether he's simply passing by or watching you work hard on whatever task you have at hand, he always feels inclined to give you a pat on the head

it's nothing extravagant, really

but, he finds that it delivers a sense of reassurance and the pride that swells in his heart when he sees you — feelings that he normally finds difficult to convey through words

as he's quite a tall person, i think it also comes naturally to him

he wants to protect you, and the way you always lean into his touch reminds him that you understand that

it's almost become a thing between you two, whenever you'd run up to see him, he'd greet you with a smile and a small pat on the head

whenever he holds you, he feels like he has the whole world in his hands (which he firmly believes he actually does)

and you, you love the warmth of his touch

he would leave small gifts

diluc may constantly be absorbed in his work, but there's almost never a moment where you leave his thoughts

he'd be walking down the streets or around the winery and suddenly think, "ah! they would surely love this" or "huh, this reminds me of that one time they stupidly tripped down a hill"

and he would promptly be reminded about the million reasons why he loves you

up until today, there's hardly been a time where he came home without something in hand

sometimes it's a small flower that he thought would match your outfit today, sometimes he goes out of his way to buy you some materials that he knows you've been needing recently

whatever it is, the effort that goes into getting you these gifts is always worth it if he gets to see the bright smile on your face

Kaeya ❣

he would keep an arm around you

oftentimes it's around your shoulder, sometimes it's around your waist

wherever you go, kaeya loves to keep you close to him

maybe it's because there's a deep-rooted fear that you may disappear if he doesn't cherish you enough, yes, that point still stands

but! more than that, it's simply because he loves being near you

he can't get enough of your beauty, your lovely voice and cute smile — he's absolutely drunk on you

he would openly admit that he also likes showing you off too

he wants to make sure that everyone knows just how great of a person you are, so that they could shower you in the praise that you deserve

this man would never leave your side unless he has to

he would let his guard down

everyone knows kaeya for his smug personality, there's almost never a moment where he's not acting haughty

but there are times where even he gets tired of keeping that act

and those times are when he's with you

of course, he still pulls out a joke and teases you from time to time (he can't help it, it's practically in his blood), but he's also a lot calmer and relaxed when you're together

or should i say, he becomes soft

he doesn't feel the responsibility of being the cavalry captain or the pressure of being, well, kaeya

at least the kaeya that the rest of mondstadt thinks he is

he knows he's popular and that some people have mixed feelings about him, but he has complete trust into you, knowing that you love him for who he actually is — both the personality he projects, and the quieter one he keeps hidden

Xiao ❣

he would watch you as you leave

xiao's primary job is to protect liyue, so this makes sense

you are just as important (if not, more) to him, so he would do anything in his power to keep you safe

but of course, there is an extent to his doting, he understands your individuality and knows you're very capable of taking care of yourself

though that doesn't stop him from sitting on the roof of wangshu inn and watching your figure retreat into the distance

he'd sit there and watch you until you were out of his sight

this means even if you stop to talk with other travellers or merchants along the way, or if you get off track because you've spotted the resources you've been needing recently

xiao's a patient man, and not a single ounce of him would complain about that; all that matters is that you're safe

he also finds it cute when you spot a familiar face and get all happy, though he can't understand how you could possibly be excited about meeting someone

he would kiss you when you're asleep

or maybe... you weren't actually asleep but he thought you were asleep !?!?

speculations aside, i think this is the vulnerable side he would only show in private

we all know he doesn't really care for relationships or as he calls it "mutual understanding", so falling in love was already something really big for him

but seeing you asleep, sometimes on his lap, or against his chest, or next to him in bed, he can't stop the urge to plant a soft kiss on your forehead

he literally cannot stop it; the warm buzz in his chest and the way his heart warms as he kisses you

only being near you quells those feelings

sometimes you stir in your sleep because of him, so he'd spend the next while gently stroking your head to lull you back to sleep

Albedo ❣

he would trust you

okay look, that might not sound like much, but to an alchemist who's always making sure that everything is precise and accurate, it's difficult to find someone that he doesn't have to be wary of while conducting experiments

add on that internal battle he's constantly having with himself, it's relieving to finally have someone that he can be himself around; he doesn't have to keep his guard up

whenever you enter the lab, he doesn't have to pause his current experiment to accommodate to your presence

usually, he'd have to stop, so that he could focus and discuss matters with whoever came in without interruptions

however, you both have this mutual agreement that if you came in while he was working, he didn't have to worry about diverting his attention — he could finish it and as soon as he does, he would give you all the attention in the world

he appreciates that you genuinely listen to his speculations about life as most people tend to brush off his rambling and nonsense

he would constantly draw you

as an artist, albedo knows the importance of occasional practice and warm-ups to ensure his skills don't get rusty

so why not practice on you?

to him, you were the perfect model, he was fascinated by every single detail of your body and he thought you always moved with elegance

he doesn't think he would ever get bored of drawing the same thing over and over again, because he learns something new about you every single day

and most of the time, you aren't even aware that he's sketching you

he'd quietly sit at a distance and watch as you carry on with your own work

by the time you're done, his page would be full of small sketches

if you nudge him, he might give in and show you those drawings, but oftentimes, he keeps them to himself

he's sure you already know how beautiful you are, and if not, then boy oh boy is he whipping out the sketchbook

#genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #diluc #kaeya #albedo #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff