#if this looks fucked up it’s because this is a pencil sketch from my sketchbook that i added 5000 filters to

[simcardiac-arrested]

What do you think Hyacinth and Eryngo would look like?

they would look like bees i think

#if this looks fucked up it’s because this is a pencil sketch from my sketchbook that i added 5000 filters to #bc i was too lazy to line all this shit. anyway here they are i think #my take on their designs ….. Very bee coded if you ask me #can you believe there are blue bees and green bees and so many bees. it’s crazy #i picked a basic ass bee for hyacinth though bc. honee #i tweaked the hive name a little bit for fun👍 and i dont think hyacinth had a full name before but maybe they did. Fuck if i know #falls flat on my face and begins eating the soil #myart #cramswering #hive in mind #bugs #rain world #something something. bee goncharov iterators #oc: benevolent eryngo expanse #oc: hyacinths nimbly yielded

[weebsinstash]

So like, in the finale there's that shot where the Vees are in Val's section in the Vee Tower, and there's VERY OBVIOUSLY AN OLD PHOTO OF VOX AND ALASTOR

and obviously i have some thoughts and ideas about that BUT I was listening to the song again and I couldn't help but have my eyes drawn to the top left corner... zooom... enhance.... rotate...

VALENTINO SELF PORTRAIT SPOTTED? Because even though I think that's Vox's handwriting, I definitely don't think it's his art, because we've already seen his art and uh, yeah it's definitely not on this level of detail

kinda just sitting here now thinking about... you go up to Val's office at the studio to drop off something someone else asked you to deliver, but he's not there, so you set it down on his desk and can't help but find your eyes drawn to a notebook sitting on a side table with a bunch of pencils next to it and... you can't help but take a peek... and it's surprising how many different drawings are in there and you find it actually pretty impressive, but as you keep flipping the pages, it's like "OH, a drawing of me! That's... kinda weird but it looks so nice! And another of me! And... another... and another... and another... and why do these all have so much detail..."

You basically catch him with the equivalent of Miles Morales' sketchbook full of Gwen and OF COURSE when you close it to turn around and leave, OF COURSE he's behind you and he's SO EMBARRASSED because oh my GOD, you can't just look in an artist's sketchbook without asking?! That's private! He's just, red in the face, flustered, frazzled, squeaking, shouting at you asking what you think you're doing. I just picture you try to calm him down, "I didn't mean to look but your sketches are really good! I'm sorry, I got curious 🥺 I promise it won't happen again" and he's crossing his arms and his antenna are twitching and he's just pouting and grumbling, "just don't fucking do it again" and you avoid being maimed because, aw you complimented him he loves that ❤️

that awkward moment when you open a random sketchbook full of drawings and it turns out to be full of like straight up fucking FILTH, of YOU. Like maybe you're doing PA stuff in Vee Tower and Vox lost a journal full of contact info for something and you're poking around in Val's tower helping look for it because, well, Vox asked you for help! It's kind of an honor! This guy's an Overlord and you got the go ahead to poke around his house to help him look for something! So you're glancing at papers and finally picking up The Sketchbook, and... it's everything from just doodles of you chilling just sitting doing normal shit like being on your phone or asleep in the limo, to potential outfit ideas like DETAILED CUSTOM outfit ideas with TWO different sets of handwriting in the margins, to just straight up PORN. Sketches of you in bondage, tied up, gagged, in spreader bars, on your knees with your mouth gaping open with painfully familiar pink cursive handwriting in a speech bubble where 'you' are begging to taste the viewer, mouth open, tongue hanging out with a trail of spit connecting both of your lips--

AND THE BOOK IS SNATCHED OUT OF YOUR HANDS AS YOU SPIN AROUND TO SEE VALENTINO and he's all but like INFLATED with embarrassment, fur bunching up, antenna flailing, at a loss for words as he looks between you and his sketchbook like he is CAUGHT IN 4K. He would probably completelt deflect and try to act like you snooping is the bigger deal meanwhile you're like "hey dude was that like a full color fully shaded drawing of me in a custom coat that matches your wings and we're making out--" and you wind up having to just scurry away as he becomes incoherently angry and flustered and maybe even threatening you if you don't get out of his room RIGHT FUCKING NOW--

The next time you go to work your shift serving him drinks, he's shoving an outfit at you that you recognize from the sketchbook, a new uniform, and you can't help but notice Velvette looking you over as you serve the Vees drinks, almost as if she's admiring her handiwork...

#hh #yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #sinprompts

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

OP character catching you drawing them: Shanks and Mihawk

Shanks

It was after dinner and Shanks had just finished his shower and was lounging on the bed when you had come back from yours. He had his arm folded behind his head and the towel around his waist was slowly falling off. The water droplets dripping from his hair twinkled in the candlelight on his bedside table. You stood in the doorway for a hot minute observing his form, before rushing over to the chair with your notebook. You snatched up a charcoal pencil and started to transfer what you saw onto paper.

Shanks peered up at you when he saw you scratching away on your notebook. He noticed you periodically looking between him and your sketchbook. He had quickly pieced together that you were drawing him, so he tried to stay as still as possible. And when you got up to wash some medium off your nose he jumped up from his spot and looked at your drawing.

When you came back, you screeched when you saw him standing beside your chair with your notebook in his hand. He grinned at you and chuckled, "my my my, you got it bad for me, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up we've been dating for years."

Shanks handed you your notebook and mused, "I think you need a model," dropping his towel and sauntering over to the bed. You glared at him because he let out an airy laugh as you sink back into your chair and scoop up your book.

Mihawk

It was afternoon when Mihawk was working on basic stance forms in the garden. His grunting had distracted you from your warm-up sketches. You balanced your pencil on your upper lips you watched him from the window will of a nearby window. The flow of energy through his body like a wave as he moved entranced you into scribbling out gesture studies in your book. You had filled half a page's worth of them when you fumbled with your pencil, and it clattered to the ground and rolled towards the man.

Mihawk looked over at the sound it made, and stared at the pencil until it rolled into his shoe. He picked it up, held it out to you, and said, "I'll trade you."

"what?"

" I'll trade you this pencil for a glance at what you're working." He elaborated. When you just stared at him, too stunned to speak, he tucked the pencil behind his ear and he sighed, "too bad, guess this'll stay with me." And he turned around to leave, when you grabbed a hold of his sleeve and cried, "whoa, whoa, wait. No, I'll trade," and held out the sketchpad.

Mihawk handed you the pencil, and started to look over your sketches. He had a taste and knowledge of the finer things, so you were excited about his feedback. He hummed as he glanced over them, "these the only ones you just did of me? On this page here?"

"Yes," you reply, suddenly kind of nervous because what if he didn't think they were good?

Mihawk nodded his head, "these are good, you captured the movement, but they're still feel stiff. If you want more practice, I'll be out here for another hour, use it well." He handed you your notepad and walked away

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #akagami no shanks #akagami no shanks x reader #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #12/12/22

[hh0320]

☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

[mrdixon]

A Rugged Muse | Chapter 1

pairing: eventual daryl dixon x f!reader

wc: 3.1k

warnings: swearing, violence, slight depiction of gore, vomiting

summary: reader has a shit day. basically the day of the outbreak.

A/N: FIRST CHAPTER WOOOO i am clearly not an art major…. im in the different arts. so apologies to you visual artists im going off from my lack of knowledge from my hobby lol. i really hope you guys enjoy this series because i am EXCITED to write it.

a rugged muse masterlist |regular masterlist

“Fuck,” you groaned, slamming your forehead onto the desk in front of you. A few heads turned to look at you in the library, you cursed under your breath and looked up again after a moment. Adjusting the glasses askew on your face before looking at the paper on the desk. The paper before you was worn with erased pencil marks, slightly wrinkled. Art block was the worst, you’d rather be ten feet under than stuck with art block.

You sighed, it’s been months since your last project and even that was a fail. It didn't help that you only worked at a fucking minimum wage job, maybe you should've listened to your parents and became a doctor or something. It wasn't like it was always like this, no… art school was a breeze. You had hosted real galleries where people came to see your art, and now look at you. Moping around in a library, desperately trying to find something to draw.

After tapping your pencil against the table which by the way, earned many dirty looks, you scooted closer to the table. Picking up your old sketchbook and frantically flipping through it to find…. so many god damn drawings of, him. Your god forsaken ex boyfriend, but he was gorgeous.

You met him ironically enough in art class, way back in high school. He was there by choice, you were not. Yet everything about him was just so captivating that you couldn't help but not switch out of the class, thank god you didn't. You enjoyed the class more than you expected, painting being one of your favourite forms of art, oils being your preferred medium. You painted and sketched every moment of the day, not putting down that brush for one second. Your ex boyfriend was your inspiration, every detail on that stupid face was engraved in your mind like a marble statue. His beautiful plump lips and the beauty marks that scattered over his face being two of your favourite features.

Art was everything to you, and so was he. He was all you drew, he made life seem prettier and happier. But then he dumped you for some random chick he met in a bar, that was six months ago.

Since then you've had no motivation and no inspiration for your projects. Flowers no longer had their charm, abstracts looked dumb to you again, oils looked muddy. Nothing worked.

You picked up your pencil and started at the paper again, pushing your glasses up before hesitantly sketching out lines. Your mind wandered back to him, you still couldn’t believe it. After years of being together he’d just leave like that? Those years of pure, innocent love where you’d make breakfast with him, take baths together, even paint each other for fun. Date nights that were full of giggles and messily painting on each others skin, his fingertips grazing over your eyelids and nose as he sculpted you out of clay. He threw that all away for a woman he’s known for one night.

Your pencil moved furiously against the paper, scarring it like he scarred you. When you looked back down at it you noticed it was him, those hostile eyes from that night staring right through you. Those words of heartbreak echoing through your mind, words that came from lips that used to kiss you every morning. You huffed angrily, no matter how much you hated him, he always came back. He was always in your mind, plaguing your thoughts like venom. Slamming your pencil down you stood up, ripping the paper furiously.

Now there were whispers, people looked at you weirdly. After remembering your place in the world, you picked up your things and packed up quickly, aching to get back home to your bed. While in your haste, you dropped something. You already were in an irritable mood so you took a deep breath before causing a scene over a dropped item, crouching down to pick up just to notice it was the painting knife he had gifted you months before you broke up. The words ”To the love of my life…” engraved on it. After shoving the painting knife back into your bag angrily you quickly got back on your feet and headed towards the door, not before throwing half your sketches into the bin. As if you couldn’t get any more frustrated, someone bumped into you which caused you to whip around. Though no words came out of your mouth as you took in the sight of the person.

They were sickly pale, sweating profusely and trembling. Their eyes were bloodshot, matching the… bite wound on their forearm? They shook looking at you, mumbling a meek apology and pushing their sleeve down over their arm before walking away. Weird. Anyway.

You turned back around, must be some weird prank or something. Whatever, you were extremely tired and needed to get back to your apartment asap. As you left the library the humid August air hit you like a truck, not helping your heated mood at all. Grumbling to yourself you tried not to let it affect you, instead pushing your hair behind your shoulders, what a convenient day to forget your hair tie. Nothing was going your way, it was like the world was against you. A scream broke your thoughts, it came from somewhere ahead of you. Great, someone probably got mugged and now you were next. Just another thing to keep you moody.

A woman turned the corner, running towards you. You braced yourself for the mugging but to your surprise, it never came. The woman’s face was drained, it was as if she saw a ghost. She didn’t stop running, she was terrified and stuff was falling out of her purse but she didn’t even bother to pick them up. You watched as she ran past you without batting as eye, what is going on today? Shrugging, you picked up the stuff she dropped, finders keepers. Gum, tissues, tampons, condoms, and… her wallet. You almost jumped in joy, you could really use the money right now.

Finally out of your mood you practically skipped down the street, looking through the wallet and counting the cash. $10… $28… $48… $130… $135— oh wait that’s a Canadian $5 what the fuck— $140. One hundred forty fucking dollars in cash, that woman must’ve been loaded to carry this much cash. Well, now you carried it.

Another scream broke your daze, but this time it was closer. You looked up and saw another terrified woman running towards you, this time knocking into you which caused you to crash onto the floor, the cash scattering across the pavement. Back in your mood.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” You yelled, watching the woman continue running and not even look back. Is there a goddamn marathon you didn’t know about or what? You fiercely picked up the scattered cash, shoving them into your bag immediately before crossing your arms and continuing your walk back to your apartment. Fixing your glasses you saw a man get tackled to the ground by another man a street in front of you, was this happening to everyone???

Much to your horror you watched as the man on top mauled into the other’s neck, tearing through the skin and splattering blood everywhere. You froze, feeling your blood run cold at the sight. You watched as the man kept eating away at the now, dead person. The man’s head turned slightly to grab at more of the bloodied flesh, you now noticing the cloudy eyes and gray skin. This man was already dead, so how was he…

You snapped out of it, turning the other way to avoid whatever was happening. This had to be a sick joke. Your heart was beating in your ears, weaving through the back lanes to find a different path to your home. Hair stood at the back of your neck as your senses were now alert, if whatever that was is real, you had to be way more careful. It was quiet in the alley, calm. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Stopping for a second to catch your breath and recollect your thoughts, bending over slightly and placing your hands on your knees.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered. You couldn’t get the visual out of your head, that man was murdered right in front of you. His eyes bulging out of his head when he couldn’t even scream for help, that… monster ripping his throat out and devouring him in broad daylight. You shook your head, running your fingers through your hair frantically as you tried to rid your brain of that image.

A low groaning filled your ears and before you could register it you were falling to the ground, a grunt escaping you as you quickly turned onto your back. One of those things were falling over you, your quick reflexes holding them up by their shoulders. You got a clear view of what they looked like, their eyes were clouded over, veins more visible under their pale skin, their lips and chin dribbling with blood. You grimaced, trying to scream but nothing came out, nothing but a flow of air. They were strong, jaw snapping closer and closer to you. If you didn’t do anything now you’d end up like that guy on that street. No fucking way you were going to die like that.

Struggling a little, you lifted your legs under them and kicked from their stomach. Throwing the thing off of you, grunting you scrambled to your feet. The thing quickly following, their leg twisted as they got up from the position you flung them in. Surely it would’ve hurt if it were you, but unlike you, they weren’t living. You opened your bag and shoved your hand in, cursing yourself in your head for shoving everything in there. You held out your other arm protectively while stepping backwards from the thing. The hand in your bag searched wildly for something to defend yourself with, something to kill with. Could you even kill them?

Your back hit the wall, panic filling your body as the thing got closer. Before it could get any closer you tucked your forearm under their chin to hold them back, a loud cry escaping you as you fought to hold them back. When you were starting to give up, the hand in your bag finally found something metal. Ripping it out you immediately swung at it with the item, sinking it into their head which was surprisingly easy. Adrenaline probably. The thing fell to the ground, dead again.

You let out a heavy sigh, sliding down the wall. You looked down at your hands, bloodied with what you could only hope wasn’t your own blood. You were shaking profusely, your breathing uneven. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as you pressed your knees to your chest, the heel of your palm placed on your forehead. You stayed like this for a moment, you don’t know how long. But once you were ready you let out one last shaky breath before opening your eyes again, and glancing down at the thing on the ground in front of you.

You almost laughed as you realized you used the painting knife to end the thing, but you didn’t. You silently reached over and pulled it out, swallowing as it made a gross squelch sound. Looking down at your painting knife which was now covered in its blood, you wiped it off on their shirt. Taking a closer look at the body and noticing a bite mark on their shoulder, much like the person in the library. Your lip quivered as you imagined what had happened to them, what might’ve happened to you if you stayed. There was a low pit in your stomach as you stood up, your mouth suddenly filling with saliva before hunching over and vomiting. Your eyes filled with tears just realizing how close to death you were, throwing up your lunch.

You coughed, wiping your mouth on your sleeve before shoving the painting knife back into your bag. You had to get home, now. Your feet moved quickly, not stopping for even a second. There were barely anyone on the streets and you wondered if your home was even safe. Stop, your feet stopped. Don’t think like that. With a heavy breath you took off again, walking even faster towards your apartment building. Please, please, please….

You jolted suddenly as your phone started ringing, you grabbed it but didn’t stop walking. Answering without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You said almost too quietly, still shaken up from your encounter with the thing.

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N), are you okay!?” The anxious voice yelled, it was your older brother, Glenn. You almost cried in happiness, walking even faster now.

“Yes Glenn, yes I’m fine…” you mumbled into the phone, breathing a sigh of relief that your brother was alive. “What is going on?”

“God, I don’t know. All I know is people are dying and coming back to life and eating each other and dying and coming back to—”

“Yeah, yeah I get it!” you cut him off, “I almost—” you stopped, deciding not to tell him about your fight. He was anxious enough, he always was but you didn’t want to worry him even more.

“Almost what?? You didn’t get bit did you!?” He yelled which caused you to pull your phone away from your ear in discomfort.

“No I didn’t, stop yelling.” You replied irritated, you heard him sigh on the other end. Hearing distant voices in the background. “Where are you?”

“I was at work when I saw everything go down, I drove back to the pizza place immediately.” He said more calmer, “but we’re gonna move out soon.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “wait why? Isn’t it safe there? Why not wait for help?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought you were always on your phone,” you scoffed in annoyance at his probe. “They’re setting up camps, courtesy of the military I think.”

You chest filled with hope, you were going to be safe. “Oh thank god, okay wait I’m going back to my place to grab some things. Where is the camp?”

When Glenn responded his end was filled with feedback, static. “It’s gonna. Arou— Ta—”

“Glenn?? You’re… you’re cutting off.” You said nervously, nearing your apartment.

“A— Yo— I’m—” And the call failed.

Dread filled your body once again, now you really were going to cry. You shakily walked through the apartment building, keeping guard for potential things around. Opting for the stairs, you walked swiftly up them. Out of breath by the time you reached your room, fortunately there was nothing to stop you.

Once you got in you immediately dropped everything, locking the door and collapsing to the floor. Tears filled your eyes once more and you let some of them escape and trickle down your cheeks, you were scared. Scared of those things roaming around, they could kill, you’ve seen it. You removed your glasses momentarily to wipe your face. You shook your head you took a deep breath and stood up, you had to pack and leave immediately. You didn’t know where you were going but you had to leave, you had to find Glenn.

Putting your glasses back on, you crawled over and rummaged through your closet carelessly, trying to find a backpack that was big enough to carry all your necessities. Your apartment was already a mess so you didn’t bother being slow and careful right now, which might have been a bad idea as you snagged your finger on a stray box cutter.

“Shit,” you muttered while pulling your hand back, a cut dragged along your index finger. You rushed over to the sink, washing it quickly before throwing a bandage over the cut. While doing so you heard a police siren drive by, the sound dying off as it drove farther and farther away. You sighed before returning to the closet, grabbing a big enough backpack and shoving as much clothes you could get while also leaving room for extra things.

You stood up and looked around your small apartment, your bed looked so inviting. You were exhausted beyond help, your body aching with the need to rest. I shouldn’t. You thought and continued scrambling for items to take with you, the amount of scattered pages of sketches filled the space that was your floor. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving your things behind but you knew it’d be useless to take with you, but you couldn’t take nothing.

You grabbed a few pencils and brushes, along with a small paint palette and placed them carefully into your bag, an empty sketchbook joining them. While searching you opened your desk drawer, three daggers which you made in a welding class a couple years ago. They were sturdy and well sharp enough, thank god you were good at making things. You took them and put them into a sheath to prevent stabbing yourself. You grabbed a few more things like a lighter, some bandaids, and batteries. You frowned at the lack of supplies you had on hand, but you tried to convince yourself that you’d be taken care of at the camps.

You moved over to your small kitchen and grabbed a water bottle which you filled, also grabbing a couple snacks that would keep you full for a few days at best. You heard a few distant screams outside, some screams of pain which caused you to wince. The sudden thought of living in an apocalypse dawned over you, a feeling of dread rushing through you. You couldn’t shake the feeling off but you chose to ignore it. You did not want to go into a panic right now, you had to have a clear and positive mind if you wanted to live.

You pulled your bag over your shoulders and walked over to your mirror to take a look at yourself, grounding yourself for the world outside. You wanted so badly to sleep but you knew you had to get a move on if you wanted to get to a camp safely.

“I can do this..” you whispered under your breath, clutching at the handle of one of your daggers, turning to the door. You just had to get to a camp, but more importantly you had to find Glenn.

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★★○★○★○★○★○★○

more a/n: for the sake of having glenn as reader's older brother im having him be around 24-27 years old right now, reader being like 23 ish. and daryl will be like 32….??? i dunno im trying to make this as canon as possible BUT UGH IT IS SO $&£”*^%*£ so yeah there will be a little bit of an age gap between reader and daryl but i hope that wont be too much of a problem for you guys…. probably not. and do not quote me if i get settings or the timeline wrong like twd is confusing enough for me……….. again im also like rewatching and making sure to make everything as close to the show as possible, but theres also the possibility of me altering the timeline (muehehehe). anyways tysm for reading and stay tuned! ★

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #norman reedus #mrdixonposts #a rugged muse series

[tisaolin]

How would Skarlet, Kabal, Erron Black and Mileena react to a reader that caughted them asleep and secretly drew them?

Unlike Skarlet (MK11 friendship-she sucks) , reader is pretty goot at drawing and draws someone exactly same.

I am curious about Kabal and Mileena since they are pretty insecure about their looks.

Kombatants having an s/o who draws them while they’re sleep

Characters: Skarlet, Mileena, Kabal, Erron Black

Rating: G

Warning: Erron Farts

Skarlet

While Skarlet is asleep, you take this time to draw an image of her.

It takes you a long time to draw her because she moves around…ALOT!! So you just take a picture of her and use that for reference.

When youre shading the rest of her face, she sneaks up behind you and watches silently.

You dont realize she was behind you until she says “Wow! I look good” are scares THE SHIT outta you so badly u broke the lead to the pencil and made a small mark on the drawing.

“☹️….Skarlet” she chuckles and takes the sketchbook from you “I still love it”

Mileena

Mileena is a pretty heavy sleeper (in my hc) so it was no struggle to draw her.

Unlike Skarlet, she doesn’t move around, she just lays there.. kinda like “🧍🏾‍♀️” only shes in bed.

Her teeth were abit of a struggle to draw because of the small layers and the details around her mouth but, nonetheless you did it.

While you’re off doing, whatever you do. Mileena wakes up, the first thing she notices is you’re not in bed, the second is the open sketch book laying on the table.

She observes the drawing before placing it back down and making her way to you.

When she finds you she just stands there like “🧍🏾‍♀️” and it kinda freaks you out so you ask her, “Are you alright” when you do she breaks down and hugs you. “No one has ever made me feel so loved and beautiful”

THAT!! Made you cry. In the end, you two were clinging to eachother all day.

Kabal

DEAR GOD HE MIGHT BE WORSE THAN SKARLET!!

Not only does he toss and turn, but he also SNORES😟

If it weren’t for the fact that you love him, you wouldve given up.

I assume he was having some kind of nightmare, or a dream about falling because he JOLTS up, “what are you doing?” “Im drawing” “OOH LEMME SEE”

He’s TOO quick and he snatches the sketchbook from you.

He looks at the drawing, then at you, then back at the drawing, then back at you.

“Its me…” WELL DUH 😒 sometimes Kabal is nothing but a dumbass

He doesn’t know what to say but he keeps the drawing in a picture frame.

ERRON BLACK

😒same as Kabal. Black dragon needs a new way of sleeping.

He fuckin farts in his sleep so you threw a pencil at him. “THATS FUCKING DISGUSTING” (edited this bc it autocorrected to disgusted)

He wakes up and you’re just staring at him angrily, hands crossed, half finished drawing in your lap, and your left foot tapping.

“What” DUDE YOU FARTED

He laughs so hard he falls out of the bed.

“Lemme see this” he takes the sketch book

“Wheres the rest of it” “figure it out stinky”

#fujin x reader #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #mortal kombat #kung lao #mortal kombat x reader #scorpion x reader #scorpion #sub zero x reader #hanzo hasashi #kuai liang #kabal x reader #erron black x reader #skarlet #mileena x reader

[glitchtricks94]

Demon Slayer Drabbles!: Upper Moons 5 and 6 with a Darling That Draws Them!

I KNOW I HAVE A SMUT IN THE WORKS BUT Y'ALL ARE GONNA BE ON HOLD. I got this idea while talking with @vampcubus, lovely person btw, love them lots, so here we are. Also Gyutaro brainrot is real. We got two men, just finished writing them, gonna post and pass out, please enjoy the fluff. Read beneath the cut, because it's late and my usual style is escaping me at the moment. Anyways, with that out of the way, kick back, relax and enjoy~ -Glitchtricks

Gyutaro

He doesn't understand why you were stealing so many glances at him while scribbling in that blank book he stole for you to use, the scratching of the pencil lead against the paper filling the room, drawing Gyutaro from his meditation to focus on your tinier frame. Amber eyes lock with yours and Gyutaro raises a brow seeing you blush brightly and shyly look back at what you're working on, the scraping sounds intensifying in the silence of the demon's den. He got to his feet, dragging himself to your side. You were awfully weird for a human, a lot unlike the traditional artists of the land, you worked more with lead and that book rather than paint. It was odd, but Gyutaro figured he wasn't in any position to judge, you did decide to be his after all. "Oi, what're you doin', human, eh?" The demon croaked out, trying to look over your shoulder to see just what you were scribbling, his carved eyes catching sight of what looked to be a tuft of hair before you yanked the book to your chest. "Hey, let me see that!" The demon growled. "I-It's embarrassing!" You whined, Gyutaro rolling his eyes at you. "Aren't we partners or lovers or somethin'? The fuck you hidin' that's so bad? Can't be worse than me." "Don't talk about yourself like that." "Just gimme the damn book." Gyutaro growled, snatching you sketchbook from you as you let out a yelp. The upper moon didn't care much for your protests as he started flicking through the pages, flowers, people, and buildings of all sorts filling the pages, until he noticed a pattern emerging, little sketches of himself beginning to appear in the buildings; imagery of his hunts with Daki, him grinning maniacally while clutching his flesh laden kama in his hands, and then full pages of just him making various expressions, the most frequent being of him smiling, little hearts doodled next to the carefully made portraits of him. Gyutaro was quick to fall silent, his heart clenching in his chest as he shoved the book back into your hands, not wanting to believe what he just saw. You meekly looked up at him, face dusted red. "Uhm...I-" "Why am I in there?" "Wha-" "You heard me." Gyutaro growled, baring his teeth threateningly. "Why the fuck am I in there?!" "Because I like to draw you..." You murmured, feeling disappointment bubble in your chest. "You look so incredible, and unique, a-and since we love each other I thought you would mind?" "I-I don't- I just- I can't- Ugh, fuckin' damn it..." Gyutaro let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging more than normal. "Do...do you want me to pose or some shit...?" You perked up, looking at your beloved with those sparkling eyes that never failed to make his heart pound. "Would you mind...?" You asked hopefully, you demonic darling shaking his head no and getting to his feet. "Just tell me what to do, 'kay?" Fuck, you loved this man.

Gyokko

Gyokko adored that you were like him, an artist, a visionary, and all while being a sublime beauty in and of yourself; a muse of unprecedented measures! And oh, how cutely you scrawl away in that little sketchbook he had gifted you, Gyokko practically buzzed in delight. You were perched in the center of his coiled, serpentine tail, his smooth fish like scales scraping your skin comfortingly as you worked away at another portrait of your eccentric lover. Gyokko adored watching you sketch, especially depictions of him, the demon letting out excited chitters seeing your beautiful pencilwork. He'd model for you, pose, be the muse you adored so much. He'd also offer surprisingly excellent critiques for you to use and incorporate into your work. He expected the same from you, of course! He was an artist as well, and since you were one like him, he held you opinions far higher than anyone else's. That took a little getting used to for you, as his...art was often rather grotesque and stomach churning, the screams of his victims nor the fact that they seemed stitched together helped the matter. You powered through though, making Gyokko the happiest demon alive with your praises and suggestions, always making use of them for inspiration. "Oh, my muse, you captured me so well in this!" Gyokko cooed to you, a blush creeping up to your cheeks seeing how pleased your beloved was. "Ah, I'm glad you think so, I've been trying to practice with more lighting techniques." You replied softly, the lead of your pencil scraping soothingly against the rough paper, Gyokko's hand soon enveloping your own to guide you. "Care to let me help, my sweet muse?" He asked softly, grinning wide when you nodded. Gyokko was always eager to indulge in his craft, and always hungry to indulge in yours. Fuckin' hell I can't quite characterize I need to watch Swordsmith Village.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer gyutaro #demon slayer gyokko #gyutaro x reader #gyokko x reader #upper moons #glitchwrites.notepad #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fluff

[rougepancake]

Swim

Rohan Kishibe x F!Reader

Warnings: Hate fucking, pent up sexual tension, Rohan being a dick (what’s new), professional to sexual relationship, masturbation, fingering, mentions of prostitution. Minimal plot. Sexually explicit content under cut. Minors and ageless blogs dni. Not proofread.

Summary: Rohan fucks his annoying editor :]

“What the hell are you doing?” You looked over your shoulder at him as you walked out of the shower.

The two of you were stuck together in a fancy hotel suite for the weekend, due to a convention that Rohan’s manager booked.

And as his editor, you were obligated to go.

“I need a nude model.” He stuck up his thumb, using it to cover where your towel rested on your body. He then quickly got to sketching.

“It’s not going to be me.” You scoffed, crossing your arms stubbornly and walking out of the bathroom. To your dismay, he followed you.

“Well who else is it going to be, hm?” He looked up from his sketch pad briefly to observe your body. “Now take off the towel.”

“No.”

“I guess I’m just going to have to estimate about the proportions.” Rohan sighed dramatically and sat across the room, crossing his legs and resuming his sketch. “Could you at least sit on the bed?”

“Fine.” You huffed and sat on the corner of the bed, sweeping your legs to the side to keep the towel from revealing too much of your body.

“In the middle.” He commanded without hesitation, using his pencil to gesture to where he wanted you positioned. “Don’t make me come over there and do it myself.”

“You’d like that.”

He rolled his eyes and set down his sketchbook, offering you a scowl as you centered yourself on the bed. Without a word, he grabbed his things and walked over to where you sat, sitting at the edge so he could have a better view.

“Spread your legs.” He tapped your knee with his pencil, shooting you another glare. If he was so annoyed then why didn’t he just do it himself?! You rolled your eyes and pulled the towel tighter, looking away from him.

“I’m not your model. Don’t talk to me like one.” You scoffed and crossed your arms. “I’m paid to edit your work, not inspire it.”

“How much?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me the first time.” Rohan’s hand moved to his pocket, digging for his wallet while looking you in the eyes. “I can’t believe I’m about to pay my editor to be the filthy slut she is.” He pulled out some cash and tossed it at you, grumbling to himself as he did so. “Ditch the towel too. Nude models are better nude in all their glory.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh?” You smirked and chuckled to yourself, repositioning yourself so you could slide the towel away. “I’m not one of your models. But…” You tossed the towel to the side and leaned back, one of your hands by your head and the other by your waist.

It was the hottest thing Rohan’s ever seen.

And out of all his dealings with nude models, he’s never been flustered by one before.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what you see?” You taunted, relaxing into the bed. Rohan scoffed and began to sketch you, his eyes tracing every detail of your body, memorizing the way the bed formed beneath your weight, the way the light reflected off your skin.

Everything.

He was not going to let this pass, because, rumor has it, you’re actually pretty damn hot.

“Actually…” He set his sketchbook to the side and moved closer to you, extending his arm and placing a surprisingly gentle hand on your knee. “Let me position you.”

“Hell no.” You slapped his hand away, but it only came back, now resting on your thigh. “This is all you’re getting.”

“Well…” He let out an annoyed sigh and crawled on top of you, his lips twitching upward as he refrained from smirking. “I do believe that it’s best for your expression to be authentic, rather than me having to imagine it.”

“Oh so you wanna touch your editor?”

“Well I figured you could touch yourself.” His hand slid further, making its way to your hip. “And if you’re wanting me to pay you, then money isn’t much of a problem.” His voice dropped to a whisper, low and seductive. You could feel his breathing grow heavier, and if you had put your hand on his chest, then you would have felt how it slowly began to race.

Rohan Kishibe hated you.

But he’d love to see you cry out his name.

Slowly, he crawled back to the end of the bed and resumed sketching. “Hop to it.” He was doing his best to sound uninterested, but he couldn’t help the smirk that had found its way to his lips. He was going to enjoy this.

You groaned and spread your legs wide, closing your eyes as you slid your hand down towards your core.

It was embarrassing enough to have him watching you like this, but hey, he paid you a good amount.

And you’re all about the hustle.

Your fingers collected your own slick, slowly pushing past your lips in a way that made caused Rohan to groan.

“Oh so you like this?” You teased as you continued to finger yourself, soft gasps leaving your lips and slowly filling the room.

“No.” He lied, slowly crawling back to you and pulling your fingers from your cunt. You huffed and shot him a glare, only to roll your head back as he replaced them with his own. “But you seem to be.”

Your moans only increased in volume as his fingers continued to pound into you relentlessly. He had you seeing stars- so many stars that you were able to count them as you began to lose yourself in the pleasure.

“H-Ha- I knew you thought I was h-hot.” You panted, whining softly as he pulled his fingers out of you sharply. Without another word, he grabbed you and flipped you over, shoving your face into your pillows. He had one hand on your neck, the other resting on your waist as he admired the sight of your body against his.

He quickly shed himself of his clothing, tossing the articles aside so he could press his chest against your back.

The feeling of your skin against his was simply too much for him to bear.

Which left him pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, slowly pushing past your lips and groaning loudly at how tight you were.

He hated it. He hated how you were so annoying, but you were so good like this. He hated how you moaned out his name shamelessly as he pounded into you.

He absolutely hated it.

However- he did rather like the way you felt around him.

So it wasn’t all bad.

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x you #jjba smut #rohan kishibe #rohan kishibe smut #rohan kishibe x reader #kishibe rohan #jojo part 4 #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo smut #rohan x you #thus spoke kishibe rohan #jojos bizzare adventure x reader

[marblegroves]

Just saw your sketchbook post and I am amazed at how clean it all looks O_O /pos

So I was wondering, what materials do you use for your traditional drawings (all the stuff from sketch to final piece)?

BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED THIS *ahem*

Behold 😌

For the sketchbook pages, I mainly stuck to these materials though ^^ these guys are my…

PRIMARY MATERIALS

The green mechanical pencil on the picture on the left has 0.7mm colored lead in it! I alternate between blue and pink colored leads depending on what fits the overall color of the piece better.

Once I finish up the sketch, I line it with the black pilot ballpoint pen! I really like the control and feel of ballpoint pens for traditional lineart, because it gives a sort of variety in pressure I can’t seem to achieve with normal fineliners. I like to switch up the colors of the lineart too sometimes, hence the pink and red ballpens.

Then once the linearts done, I color them in with the stabilo highlighters, as pictured on the right! These guys are my FAVORITES. Sometimes when I’m just freely sketching I use the grey or peach mini stabilos. Although, they do tend to be a bit runny, ‘cause they’re meant for quick highlights and not multiple strokes over an area ^^; so you do have to be careful and quick when coloring with them to get an even coat of color!

Sometimes, though, when there are other colors or textures I want in a drawing, I use my…

SECONDARY MATERIALS

Pictured above are all my alcohol based markers! The four on the left are neon sharpies for when I need that extra eyestrainy kick. The three promarkers with the pointy cap were from when I was a freshman in uni and wanted to collect a full set of alcohol markers, but these were the only colors they had in stock and the college supply store ✌️ I’ve since given up on that dream because they were really expensive ;; they’re really good for sunny grassy scenes though! The last dark blue marker was from a set of other blue markers, but the others have since dried out… I use it when I really wanna darken up a page, like for night scenes!

This is my prismacolor set! I like to pair these with the markers, going in after the initial layer of color to give a bit of variety or shine. Some examples of when I use them would be for adding blush or giving hair a glossy sheen 👍

These ones are my “fuck it” materials lmao

I use these when I really just wanna scribble something down wildly. I had these since I was in gradeschool and its quite frankly a miracle they still work? Oh, and the red and yellow twistable crayolas are missing because I vaguely remember giving them to some childhood friends for some reason 🤔

My fineliners and gellyrolls! Haven’t used these much recently tbh. I’d used them for class before, but I never really likes how flat the thickness tends to be :/ the brush tips and chisel tips are cool though. I used them for that one yellow bdubs doodle to try and see if my opinion of them has changed ^^ it hasn’t. Moving on…

Lastly, we have the special materials! The ones that don’t really go into any sets, or have nice applications. In order from left to right:

Wink of Stella - A brush pen that applies glitter through some sort of black magic. No idea how she works but I love her

Red Marvy Art Director 1400 - A red fine tip marker. Can’t go wrong with a bright red marker 👍

Golden Posca - My only posca marker. Figured if I should get one it might as well be something special.

Faber Castell Blue Highlighter - I use this alongside the stabilos. It has a really nice deep blue color ^^

And well! That should be everything! ^^ Thanks for giving me an avenue to gush about my materials lmao 🥰

#well that was cathartic #ramblegroves

[ecrisparfois]

sketchbook

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

warning(s) : Umbridge

words : 1.3k

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bonus:

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

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

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

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

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

Love x

D, Malfoy

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

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

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

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

[poopwons]

Thinking about Artist!Jean being just the SWEETEST boyfriend when his girl isn’t feeling herself. 😭😭

Modern Au, Fluff, fem reader, No use of y/n, this is purely self indulgent, and my first ever fic I’m actually posting, sorry if it’s bad writing 💀

TW: anxious thoughts, insecurities, reader doesn’t feel good enough, I think that’s all??

————————————————————————

You come into the apartment in a huff, putting your things down and going to the fridge to get some water.

“Hey,” Jean starts, as he walks into the kitchen from his studio down the hall, before he stops and takes in your expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Just had a bad day,” you say, not really wanting to go into all of it, all your insecurities and the anxiety you’ve dealt with throughout today.

None of your clothes fit the way you wanted them to, making you feel like nothing you put on looked even remotely good. You were sporting an acne break out from stress? Hormones? Who fucking knows, but it’s annoying. The fact that in every window you walked by today, you saw your reflection and just felt…not pretty enough. And you do all of the things your therapist recommends when you’re feeling low like this, you’ve been working out, eating right, trying to drink more water. Not to mention the affirmations you had scribbled on your mirror in the bathroom. But some days, the irrational side of your brain wins out. Today you could not see past any of the things you don’t like about yourself. You weren’t able to view the whole picture and instead focused on the small flaws. Even going to lunch with your friends was discouraging, watching them all sport smiles and feel confident in themselves. It seemed effortless for them. And nothing ever felt effortless for you. You felt like you had to work so hard to even feel some semblance of the confidence your friends exude daily.

“What happened?” Jean asks, coming around the counter, wrapping his big arms around you pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving down to your lips. “Do I need to beat somebody up?”

“Not unless you wanna beat up your own girlfriend.”

“Mm. That kind of bad day, huh?” He says softly, tilting your head to look at him before he kisses you again.

Jean knows about your struggles, you’ve been together for a while now, so it would have been impossible for him not to notice. He tries to do the most for you when it gets like this. He knows you can’t help it, that it tends to come in waves. You’ve been stressed at work lately and that usually bleeds into your anxiety.

“Come here, Pretty.” He says, pulling you by your hand to lead you to the couch, sitting you down and getting the blanket off the back to wrap it around you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He turns to go back to his studio, but not before turning on your usual comfort show for you.

He comes back into the living room and sits down with you, sketchbook and pencil in hand.

“You don’t have to work out here.. I know you have a deadline.” You say softly from your spot on the couch, not wanting to distract him from his work just because you had a bad day.

“I got that piece done already, this is something different. It’s not work, so I’m gonna sit with you. Besides, I haven’t seen you all day.” He says leaning over to press another quick kiss to your lips, before leaning with his back on the arm of the couch, knees up with his sketch book pressed to them.

It’s pretty normal for Jean to draw in his free time when he’s not working on commissions for clients. It’s his chance to work on stuff he actually likes and lets him get more creative without the constraints of a clients wishes. You turn your attention back to the show, finding comfort in this cute little routine you two have. The warmth of his body next to yours while he scribbles on his page, the faint sound of the pencil scratching the paper, when the two of you get time like this everything else in the world kind of drowns out.

While half your brain is still going on and on about the ways you’re not good enough and ways you could improve, you try to focus on the show, trying to ignore all those other thoughts. You laugh at a part you’ve seen probably a hundred times, but you still find it just as funny as the first time. You glance over at Jean who’s smiling down at his paper, his eyes flitting between the tv and the paper. He doesn’t normally show you his free time stuff until it’s finished, so you don’t bother asking him what he’s working on, knowing that you’ll find out eventually.

The two of you sit like that for a couple hours, just enjoying being in each others company, chatting idly about the show and some stuff the two of you have going on over the weekend. After a few more moments, Jean shifts again, sitting closer to you, his sketch book splayed open to the page he was working on as he puts his arm around you. When you finally glance down at it, a look of surprise spreads across your face.

“Is that..me?” You ask softly, taking the book in your hands to examine the drawing further.

Jean simply nods, offering you a small mumble of affirmation with a little grin on his lips. As you look over the paper you see how he’s drawn you, plush lips turned up into a wide grin, you’re laughing. Your eyes are bright and you look..happy, your hair is in beautiful waves, no frizz in sight. There’s another small drawing in the corner of the page, it looks like he’s just drawn your eyes alone, shining and bright. It hits you then that when he lifted his head up from the page earlier, he hadn’t been watching the tv, he’d been looking at you.

Taking the book you look at the front cover and realize that this isn’t his usual sketch book. You flip to the front of the book and go through the pages, as you flip through it you have to fight back the tears that well in your eyes. Every page, is filled with you, sketches, drawings, some with color some without. Some pages are just studies of your features where he was trying to get your smile right, or your eyes. Some of them are full body drawings, and you recognize your own clothes, days when you’d send him selfies of your outfits with a big happy smile.

You look over at him with a soft smile, “what is this?”

He leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s you, baby. Whenever I’m having an art block or can’t think of what I want to draw, I just..draw you.”

“You drew me so pretty..”

“You are pretty. More than pretty.” He says, leaning into you to press another kiss to your temple, resting his head against yours. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I thought about it when you came home and said you felt bad, that I wished you could see yourself the way I do. I thought, maybe I should just show you.”

You continue flipping through the pages, they aren’t all happy drawings. Some of them are clearly from some times when you weren’t feeling your best, but even in the ones where you have a sad expression, or tears in your eyes, he still drew you beautifully. Even when you felt your worst he still thought you were beautiful.

“Thank you…for this.” You say softly, turning towards him to softly kiss his lips, setting the sketchbook down on the table and pulling yourself into his lap to wrap your arms around him.

“Just drawing what I see, nothing else.” He murmurs as he buries his face into your neck, pressing a kiss there before holding you tightly.

————————————————————————

✨I want this man so bad, that is all.✨

Thanks for reading!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

#jean kirstein #jean x reader #aot fanfiction #fanfic #aot x you #jean x y/n #jean x you #aot headcanons #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschtein fluff #jean kirschstein x reader #aot fluff

[hannuhbee]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲

eddie gives you drawing ideas when you're experiencing art block. [wc; 2.3k]

pairing; eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings; swearing and fluff, i think that's literally it (written on my phone so mistakes too)

a/n; is this completely self-indulgent... maybe... i will edit this when i wake up i swear

"i'm at a loss, eds," you say, throwing yourself onto his bed, arms and legs splayed out.

"why's that?" he was fiddling with the strings on his guitar, not looking up at you.

you sigh. "my sketchbook is like, empty and i have to turn it in by friday."

"that's in two days," he states.

"wow really? i didn't know that."

"teasing." he laughs, putting his guitar down, finally looking at you. "all outta ideas?" you nod. "draw me."

when you sit up, your face is so close to his, noses almost touching. "i can't draw you, i'll mess it up."

"then it'll be abstract. c'mon, i'll sit like a statue, i promise!”

you laugh so hard you throw your head back. the thought of eddie munson sitting still, like a statue no less, was wild. he couldn't stop fidgeting as if his life depended on it.

looking over at him, you noticed that he would make a good subject. his hands were really nice after all, the rings the cherry on top. you loved his eyes too, and his hair, and his nose. everything about him.

"okay," you say, smiling. he leans in so your nose touches his, and smiles. "i can draw you."

"fuck yeah, babe! can you do it with a colored pencil? you have those right?"

you nod. "i only have red and blue though."

"red, red's my favorite color."

you nod again, confirming the color. eddie had taken you home, to his home, after school like always, so you had all of your art supplies with you. it wasn't much, a few hb pencils, pens, and two colored pencils.

inside, eddie was freaking out. he loved your art, and would shower you with compliments and kisses when you showed him a new piece, throwing in a few can you draw hellfire posters? too.

he'd never thought to ask for a portrait before. maybe it was because some part of him, something very deep down inside him, thought it would be scary to see someone else's interpretation of him. he was excited nevertheless.

you pulled out your sketchbook with almost twenty-five percent of it filled and sighed, letting your fingers roam around the cover - feeling the divots of when you pushed your pencil too hard in to make a mark, meaningless doodles, and words.

"you can go back to doing whatever, i can go from there."

eddie kissed your temple and leaned back to get his guitar. he started messing with the strings again as if they weren't perfect the first time around.

you looked around eddies room, which had somewhat become your room. wayne suggested you move in, to help keep it clean. eddie even made a stack of your clothes on his floor.

"what's the theme of this one? they all got themes, right?" he asked, half distracted.

"uh, not sure. think it's something like family or your idea of home."

eddie smiled to himself. "yeah? you're okay with putting me with that theme?"

you started sketching out his room, the perspective a little wonky but it would turn out fine. "'course eds, not to be all cheesy but you're kinda my idea of home." you are my home, you want to say.

"that's awfully sweet of you." he teases again, but neither of you can deny the blush creeping onto his face. it starts at the tip of his ears. "just so happens that you're my idea of home too. i mean, you put your shoes next to mine!" he repeats what you said, but leaves out the kinda.

you laugh hard again, but don't reply. you relish at this moment, of eddie doing whatever he does, back towards you, but still touching you, and you doing what you love, of who you love.

your focus is turned back onto the page as you start to slowly add in blocks, mapping out the clothes on his floor, the posters, and little trinkets. crosshatching is used to add depth and shadows and make it all look a little better, more real.

when it's finished, you write home at the top right and sign your name under. "look, eds."

"you're a modern da vinci, babe." he pretends to not see the title at the top but smiles like an idiot to himself when he turns away.

you move on to the next page. anatomy. it was never something that you were particularly good at, everything looking a little off.

eddie's backside turns out to be a great reference. you start out with the outline of his back and his hair, then you slowly add details in, carving them in. you don't offer to show him this one.

next, you draw the guitar, where it hangs in front of the mirror. eddie moved on to messing with his amp. you draw the pick on his nightstand, and the box of cigarettes, though you don't draw the label. it's just a box on paper, but you know it's more.

"s'it working?" he asks. you've gotten caught up in your drawing that you didn't realize he sat right next to you again.

you hum, nodding. "i'm tired already."

it was pretty late, and you were pretty tired. "m'tired too. you sure this burst of inspiration won't disappear by tomorrow?"

"nope, because you'll still be here, i hope."

he smiles wide again. idiot, you think. my idiot. "always gonna be here."

with that, eddie helps you get situated to sleep, and you're out.

when the birds outside wake you up, you're excited to draw, your hands itching. you're excited because you get to draw eddie. the entire day was going to be focused on drawing him, his features and his hands and his tattoos, everything that makes him eddie.

because of how the trailer is set, the sun shines bright through his window, perfectly highlighting eddie. the sheets have slid down to his lower back, so you can see the curves of his back and the few light freckles on his shoulders.

it’s perfect, he’s perfect. you have to draw him.

moving as slowly as you can, you reach down to grab your sketchbook off the floor, along with a colored pencil. you mark down the general shape of him, and then work on his face - half in the pillow with furrowed eyebrows and pouted lips. you wonder what he was dreaming about.

you make sure to get the way his hair falls into his eyes and over his shoulder, a few distinct curls on his cheek.

“freak.” he mutters, opening his eyes a smidge.

“you asked for this.”

he huffs, slowly getting up with a groan. “guess i did. can i see?”

you shake your head and move the sketchbook away. “not yet, when i get it back. monday.” you say, promising.

“monday.” he agrees. “d’you want eggs? think that’s all we got.”

you nod. “eggs sound perfect, eds.” smiling, you think back on all of the other times eddie made eggs and how he dumped salt on them.

he stands up to find a shirt and pants, but not before he presses a kiss to your temple and each cheek.

you follow him into the kitchen, still clutching the sketchbook. wayne’s sitting in his chair, sipping a coffee. it was rare to see him so early.

“hi wayne.” you say, to which he turns back and waves.

“you know she’s an artist right?” eddie says, cracking four eggs into a hot pan. they sizzle.

wayne laughs. “‘course i do, you show me everything she’s ever given you.”

your face heats up at the new knowledge. “you do?”

eddie looks sheepish, like you weren’t supposed to know. he shrugs, a red blush painting his face. “i mean, yeah, sometimes.”

“all the time!” wayne corrects with a loud laugh.

eddie scowls playfully and returns to his cooking. attempt at cooking.

while eddie begins to plate the eggs, wayne departs, reminding you to show him more art. wayne was your second biggest fan, after eddie of course.

eddie, thankfully, learned how much salt is too much, so the eggs were edible. “wish we had bacon or something.” he says with his mouth full of food. you’d scold him for that, but you were too enamored with the sight before you.

his hair was a mess, his eyes were still droopy and half-lidded, and he was smiling at you once he swallowed his food. his smile. you wanted it burned into your memory forever.

“this is good.” you manage.

“you’re staring.” he states, smiling even wider.

you scoff, trying to play it off. “i do not stare!”

eddie’s finished with his eggs, so he gets up to clean his plate. he kissed your head as he passes you. “i stare at you too. in a completely normal way, though.”

“that was a normal way!” you join him in cleaning your plate.

the rest of the morning continues like it always does, brushing your teeth together, and getting dressed together, and leaving together.

the rest of the day, however, doesn’t go like you hope it does. you don’t see eddie for much of it, and all you want to do is draw him. it’s a funny feeling, not wanting to do anything but draw and draw and draw. maybe it was something eddie-specific.

before you knew it, you were walking into the drama room to watch eddie’s dungeons and dragons campaign.

the boys all lit up at the sight of you, waving and greeting you, then getting back into setting up.

“babe! how’d the drawing thing go today?” he asked, pulling you aside.

you shrugged. “didn’t do much, didn’t see you much.” he frowns. “i can do more tonight though!”

“you’ll show me?”

you smile, shrugging. “can’t make any promises.”

“god, you’re awful.”

eddie laughs loudly before running to begin the campaign. you have a seat near the table, where you can see the party to either side and eddie in the middle. the glow of the florescent light make it look like he’s got a halo around his head.

as the group progresses in the campaign and gets more rowdy, you decide to draw it. a little sketch, nothing too detailed. you’ve adopted the younger kids, so they fit in with the theme. found family, you think.

eddie’s in the middle with his arms out, and everyone else is at the sides, smiling wide with unique expressions on their faces.

you’ve still got a good chunk of sketchbook left, so you draw the party’s characters. it’s a little unclear what the exact vision was for all of them, but you do the best you can. you end up with numerous half-rendered pieces of their dungeons and dragons characters with the respective player labeled at the top.

by the time you’re done, they’ve finished the session and are cleaning up.

“was that a good one?” you ask when eddie’s done.

he puts a hand on your waist and leads you out to his van. he nods. “one of the best. think you’re my lucky charm, babe.”

“that’s cheesy.”

he pauses, thinking. “you’re right, but wasn’t that sweet? i just came up with that!”

you laugh and push his shoulder. “i could tell.”

“you’re evil.” he smiles, no real harm behind his words. “what’d you draw?“

eddie starts his van and begins to drive out of the school lot. “just you and the party, their characters, stuff like that.”

“y’know, they’d love to see that stuff.”

you nod. “i’ll tear out the pages when it’s all graded. they can keep it if they deem it worthy of their vision.”

eddie snorts. “they love you, of course they’d love it!”

you want to disagree, but eddie turns up his music so you can’t. you glare at him, but it eventually fades into an endearing smile.

once you’re at his trailer again, you’re quick to pick up where you left off - sketching his hands doing whatever he’s doing, in this case, smoking.

you draw his hand with a cigarette between his first and second finger, lightly sketching a line to make a string of smoke. you make sure to get his rings. you continue onto his arm, where he’s rolled up the sleeve. his tattoos are visible, so you draw them too. accuracy is not a concern, as you already know you’ve got them down perfectly. you know him like the back of your hand.

“think you’ll finish by tomorrow?”

you nod, drawing his side profile. “sure i will, i’ve got enough you to last a lifetime.”

“god.” he sighs, smiling to himself.

the page is full, so you turn to the next and focus on his eyes. what they look like when he smiles, the wrinkles in the corners, eyelashes kissing. what they look like when he’s happy and full of fondness. what they look like closed.

“you’re gonna get frostbite.” he says, pulling you you up and into the trailer.

“it’s seventy degrees.”

“it happens, heat frostbite.”

you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “so… heatstroke?”

“maybe.”

the rest of the night is filled with laughter and funny looks as you try to get eddie’s not-so-patient expression down on the page. you’d have to see the real thing though, a pencil can only do so much.

the remaining pages of your sketchbook are filled with his hands. floating hands cut off at the wrist, just doing random things - holding a pick, practicing guitar, attempting homework, hold your hand. that was the hardest, trying to hold his and draw with the other.

“fucking finally.” you swear, wiping your forehead. “finally finished.”

“proud of you. all of little ole me too.” he smiles smugly, poking your side. “you’re gonna get the best grade on that goddamn sketchbook.”

you laugh, looking at him. admiring him. “i think i did well. you’re my muse now.”

eddie laughs loudly, trying to hide the growing blush on his face. to be someone’s muse was an honor, to be your muse.

you were eddie’s muse, numerous corroded coffin songs being written about you or with you in mind. two different artists, but you were all the same.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things

[meowjaa]

that anger turned into realization..

“Daryl why wont you im not 8 anymore! I can do it!” I yell as I stand in the door frame of my room rolling my eyes, “Because you havent mastered on how to use the gun!” Daryl makes up a lie.

“But I do.. you taught me like two years ago..” I say sarcastically as my face is just a straight face.

“Right! Still, i’m not letting you go goodbye y/n” Daryl says, as he picks up his crossbow and walks down the stairs the door eventually opening then shutting loudly.

I walk back into my room and slam the door throwing the backpack that was already ready to go on the supply run with Daryl, I fall on the back of my bad and just let out a loud sigh.

“Fuck.. what am I supposed to do now?!” I get up and just rest on my bed, I grab a sketchbook that was on my bedside table, I grab the pencil that was also there and decided to sketch a random person.

I sketch and sketch, I finally finished the eyes and the head and the neck and the torso and.. “wait.. FUCK DID I DRAW CARL?!” I slam the sketchbook shut and throw it across the room.

It landing wide open and landing by the closet, unfortunately Carl was climbing this tree that lead to my window, a slight knock on the window made me flinch and get up quickly walking to it.

“Carl! What are you doing here?..” I say quickly out of breath as he climbs through fixing his hat as it slightly hit the window frame, “Y/N I need advice on..” he voice just cuts off but his mouth still moves.

My eyes keep glancing over to the sketchbook hoping that he does not look over and see it, Carl catches on and he looks over at the closet his eyes slowly gliding down it finally reaching the book.

“Dont.. you.. dare..” I look at him as I glance over to the sketchbook and back at him.

“I wont..” Carl smirks and sprints over to it quickly grabbing it and his whole face changes.

“Is that me..?” He looks at it and looks back up at it, I quickly snatch the book out of his hand and throw it again across the room I push him up against the door and slap him.

“I told you not too but you still did what the FUCK is wrong with you?!” I keep him pinned up against the wall as he pushes me slightly making me walk backwards he just looks down at me.

“Aren’t you going to say anything or are you too scared grimes?” I say as my voices raises, I try to throw a punch to try and make him say something but he catches it and grabs my wrist.

“Let go..” I say as I dont blink once just looking at him my temper rising each time, “No” he replies in a monotone voice..

I   rotate my wrist toward the attacker's thumb,  I pull my wrist from the carls's grasp and then grab the carl’s wrist, I then use my free hand to grab the back of the carl's neck, firmly cupping where the top of the neck meets the head.

I then take my free leg and curl it into a kick, hitting carl and making him let go o my wrist and make him fall to the ground him hitting his head a bit, I get the chance to climb on top of him to pin him.

“This wouldnt have happended if you wouldn’t have grabbed the sketchbook.. and sorry I didnt mean for that to hurt you that much..” I say as my hands are just rested on his chest.

Carl lifts his head up and looks at me his hat had fallen off his head and his hair was just all in his face, carl laughs “damn y/n, I didnt know you could do that” I roll my eyes.

Before I could say anything Daryl walks through the door.. he stands there not realizing what it looks like “did you use a condom?” daryl says, I look back at carl and we both push away from each other I get up and stand up.

“Daryl no! its not what it looks like.. we didnt do anything.. just we fought!” I say as I look at carl and he looks at daryl just nodding his head in agreement, “mhm sure, i’ll be at ricks”

Daryl walks out and closes the door I look at carl and I just look at him, “I should go..” he picks up his hat and starts walking towards the window, I grab the sketchbook and rip the page out.

“Here keep it.. I dont need it anyways” I say in a annoyed tone, Carl grabs the paper out of my hand and walks out tipping his hat and climbing out.

“AHHHHHHHHHH! THAT WAS SO EMBARASSING JUST MORE REASON TO NOT LIKE CARL!!!!!” I say as I fall to my floor and just lay there for a few minutes.

“I was mad because... oh no... please no..” I sigh as I place my hands on my face.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #chandler riggs

[elhnrt]

So I’m kinda new to drawing people, and it’s just SO hard. Do you have advice for tips on getting better at drawing people quickly?

I know ppl always say just draw more but MY PEOPLE LOOK LIKE PORRIDGE AND IT MAKES ME SO SAD….

Do you ever draw something and it turns out badly? How do you deal with it (emotionally)?

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while i've been thinking about how to best advise it and essentially it narrows down to: sorry anon, you're going to have to draw a lot and it's going to fucking suck until it doesn't, get used to it. sounds harsh but it's true. there will always be an ugly wip stage no matter what you do. trudge through the mud, dig through the shit to get to your diamond. get used to wading in your metaphorical shit.

"getting better at drawing people quickly" so this part made me think cuz i was liek does anon mean get better fast or draw people with fast methods and in that i have to say 2 things

you can't force expertise i'm sorry you're going to have to draw over and over and over and over and ad nauseam until you get the hang of that technique and then do that for everything ever in art until YOU are satisfied (<- THIS IS THE KEY! do YOU like the end result)

if you want to draw fast like physically fast then i highly suggest learning back/shoulder/arm stretches and do gesture drawing with a timer. whenever im art blocked and in a culvert of shit art, which happens all the time, i like to use this site https://line-of-action.com/practice-tools/figure-drawing

people watching is my best advice. go learn from real life. you don't even have to bring a sketchbook just watch how like people... are. move, talk, interact, their clothes, their walks, their gestures, all that.

also, your last part stuck out to me most so this will be the more from the heart section as opposed to Le art poster Advice. i draw bad every single day of my life, and have done so since i was in the single digits. there's a reason why my art folders are several gigs worth of content mostly unpostable. i have a moving box larger than me of all my sketchbooks since elementary. drawing pisses me off all the fucking time and i've been doing it for nearly 20 years. but are you gonna let a couple bad sketches stop you? you like drawing, right? you're just gonna stop and not just erase/crumple it up/scroll over and move on? <- that's how i deal with it.

i love drawing. if i don't draw i will, inevitably, go to a very very bad place, or do something i can't say lest i be reported. i have drawn in a mental ward with broken crayons, i've drawn on sidewalks and brick walls, i've drawn in sand, i've drawn in dust on car hoods, i've picked up pens and pencils and markers on the floor and drawn on receipt papers and plastic bags and shirts and books. if my right arm is gone, i'll draw with my left. if my arms are gone, i'll draw with my feet. if my limbs are gone, i will draw with my mouth. i recognize my shortcomings, and hate that i have to reconcile with the fact that i'll never be perfect right off, but despite that, i know it is inherent to the process, because I LOVE DRAWING! I LOVE DRAWING SO MUCH!!!!!! why spend so much time if you don't love the method and madness! i love creating a vision so unique to ME, and if people like it in the process, well, then isn't that all the better.

the positives outweigh the negatives forever and ever and ever. GO DRAW RIGHT NOW and do it AGAIN and AGAIN even if you hate it you WILL LIKE IT!

#ppppp #lenask #anonymous

[batstorm93672]

Damian sat up from his bed, a good nap did him good a--

"Timothy. What are you doing in my room?"

Tim was watching T.V. and turned around "Hiding out"

"Why?"

"...I thought Jason's helmet was my leftovers from the chicken place and put it in the microwave"

Damian blinked a few times, wondering if what he heard was real or a dream.

"Then the helmet exploded... and so did the microwave"

"I'm going back to sleep. Maybe I'll be lulled to sleep through your screams of agony when Jason finds you"

Before Damian could lie back down, another door opening and closing came. Sitting back up to see Dick looking frantic. "Hey! Timmy, you crashing here?" "Come to join the fun?" "Haha yep" Damian rubbed his eyes, no more sleep it seems "And what did you do Richard?" "...I was swinging on the chandelier in the living room and it crashed..." Tim looked stunned "Bruce might kill you" "I know! That's why I'm hiding"

"Ugh fine, someone pass me my sketchbook and pencils so I can at least keep myself entertained"

Damian sketched many cats, it was fun playing around with their regal elegance on paper-- ...He made a dark line out of where he was drawing from another sound of opening of the door.

Jason walked in and Tim almost leaped up, he managed to compose himself enough "Hey Jaybird! What are you in for?" "I broke a vase" "Which one?" "...yes...one..." "How did you manage that?" "...I thought I saw a rat..." "...and?" "I tried shooting it" Everyone but Jason and Damian (though he was snickering a bit) bust out in laughter. "A RAT!?" "OH MY GOSH THAT'S HYSTERICAL" "I'm disappointed you were planning to shoot such a defenseless rodent whom didn't harm you" "Yeah... I know"

"Now to my real question, why is everyone in my room!"

In unison as if it was a choir.

"It's the last place anyone would look"

Damian groaned and shook his head "Fine, do as you please. Don't come crying back when you all get in trouble"

.

A few moments of a cheesy 80s rom-com and footsteps stormed close. "DICK, TIM, JASON!"

Dick looked at the others in fear "Scatter!"

The three in a blink were gone and Bruce opened the door "Damian. Forgive me for barging in" "Do as you please, I've heard enough amounts of excuses"

Bruce cleared his throat "Dick get out of the dresser. Tim out from under the bed. Jason get back inside and stop hanging from the window" Dick opened the dresser and stepped out, Tim crawled out from the bed and Jason who dangled out from the window climbed back in.

The three got out and looked embarrassed, Bruce crossed his arms "Who did what and what happened?" It became silent and Damian sighed.

"Timothy took Jason's helmet and put it in the microwave thinking it was his meal packaged thus exploding the helmet and the microwave. Richard broke the chandelier climbing on it like a moron. Jason shot numerous vases thinking it was a rodent"

"TIM WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY HELMET!?" "ME!? WHAT ABOUT DICK HANGING AROUND FURNITURE EVEN THOUGH THE RULES STATE NOT TO" "YEAH WELL JASON IS AFRAID OF RATS" Tim, Jason, Bruce and Damian looked at Dick. Dick couldn't contain his snickering "I know it doesn't count into this, but that fact is hysterical"

"Okay. So here's what's gonna happen. I'm not going to ground any of you"

The three looked surprised "You see, I'm not going to because soon Alfred will be back from his visit" They gasped in horror and Damian smirked "This seems fun" "Why did you tattle on us Demon!?" "...You all barged into my room, I couldn't go back to sleep and then my art was messed up. If anything it was only a matter of time before father found out" They all murmured in subtle agreement as Bruce grinned devilishly "Yes. Now you three can just wait for Alfred"

"We're gonna die"

"Jason I'm sorry for accidentally blowing up your helmet"

"It's okay Replacment, I forgive you"

"As the first Robin, I commend you all a great job on making it this far past our issues"

"As the second Robin, I share the sentiment. May we all find peace in the fury of Alfred"

"As the third Robin, I'd like to say that it's been an honor with you all. Let us think fondly on our moments together in joy"

Damian shook his head as Bruce sat down beside him "They are not dramatic at all" "I believe we've obtained it from you and Richard" "Hah I suppose you all did. That's a nice drawing" "It was slightly ruined when Jason opened the door, but I think I can make do. I wonder what Pennyworth will do to them all when he arrives" "3...2...1..." Bruce pointed at the door, right on cue.

"MASTER TIMOTHY, MASTER DICK AND MASTER JASON I REQUEST YOUR PRESENCE THIS INSTANT"

Everyone jumped up, the three looking terrified and pale.

#damian wayne #damian wayne has feelings and he wont admit it #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #three original done messed up #wish them good luck

[katabay]

I'm going to be honest finding your account has sent me down a rabbit hole I did not expect to find myself in, yesterday I spent six hours, looking at all of your stuff and I'm absolutely amazed, I have no words. Your art and everything you talk about I'm absolutely fascinated in a very normal way I don't mean to sound weird. I was wondering if you had any thoughts to share with someone who's hating everything they draw and have lost the fun and passion when creating, I want to snap out of it.

I've been holding onto this ask for a minute because a few years back I went through a phase (I call it a phase, I fully intended never to pick up art again) where I also hated everything I was making

ultimately, what got me out of it was mostly doing other stuff. not even in a 'get a new hobby,' kind of way, I hated drawing in my sketchbook, so I started cutting out washi tape as clothes over old sketches and filling in the negative space between scribbles with highlighter and pen colors I thought looked nice. I went out to daiso, bought $10 worth of stickers, and started putting them where I thought it would look nice when I got the urge to do something but still couldn't bring myself to actually pick up a pencil.

if there's something that you know for sure you don't like about art, it can help to confront it and then go in the other direction. there were a lot of things I used to draw because I felt like it was expected, only I was unhappy all the time, and once I realized I was unhappy because I wasn't actually exploring what I thought was interesting about the subject holding my attention, it was sometimes easier to see what I DID want to do, I just had to acknowledge what I DIDNT want first.

that said, I still have an on-off again antagonism with myself and art, it's messy and it's always going to be that way for me, but whenever I feel stuck, I do try to change things up, or head off to a space that I feel has absolutely no expectations from me whatsoever. like. whenever I get really annoyed on my history blog, I actually turn to watching 2PM's vlogs on youtube. I have enough 2PM art in my sketchbooks I almost thought about making a dedicated HOTTEST twitter account lmao.

probably my last thought on this might be: try keeping two sketchbooks. nothing expensive. one can be something more serious, but keep a space just for yourself to fuck around in. don't draw in it unless you want to. put stickers in it, press flowers that you think look neat. buy some cheap water colors and see if you like the blues that you get out of it. it's okay to feel antagonistic towards art, but if you aren't ready to break up with it (and art will always be there if you want to go back, that's an important thing), I've found the straightforwardness of 'I like these stickers, so I'm going to put them on top of this square of blue I liked,' to be akin to leaving messages for someone you aren't ready to talk to face to face just yet, but maybe someday.

#idk if this was helpful but i am wishing you the world anon #(a lot of my current antagonism with art comes from expectations i feel other people have for me #and also this part of me that doesn't want to come across as cringe so i'll suffocate things i want to do for things i think will #come across more serious. usually tho i kill this impulse in its sleep because the joy of embracing whatever bullshit #captures my attention is so much more satisfying in the end #i will say part of what fixed a lot of it was allowing myself to feel angry that art wasn't what i wanted it to be #bc in turn it let me start to figure out what i wanted to do) #ask tag #actually hang on i have a. i have a photoset from a show that had a really good bit on creative burnout that might be #....comforting? maybe. i think about it often #i'll have to dig it up