#some reason i always have to have multiple doodles on a canvas...

[igucci]

hmmm

#tssm #spiderman #doc ock #otto octavius #some reason i always have to have multiple doodles on a canvas... #im working on new designs i want to share

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Paintbrush (Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader)

Summary: You’re an artist in DC, and a serial killer has started using your artwork as inspiration for his murders.

Warnings: Mentions murder (duh) but doesn’t go into detail

Notes: This is way longer than I planned lol. I based the chaotic-artist vibe that the reader has going on the tiktoker @/artistkatiesmall so y’all can watch her tik toks if you like chaotic energy and paint as much as i do. Oh also I tried to keep this gender-neutral but if there are any pronouns in here that shouldn’t be let me know and I’ll fix it!! I use she/her so sometimes it just comes naturally and i don’t notice. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

You were in your studio, listening to music as loud as physically possible. Your art studio is like a safe haven; the only place you feel completely yourself. Right now you’re working on your latest piece. Your art style is very “splattered paint that ends up looking like something”, which your mother had told you on multiple occasions. She had meant it as an insult, but you ended up taking the term and making it your own. She’s not wrong; you typically start your pieces by throwing some paint on a canvas and letting it take you somewhere. So here you are, slapping paint on a canvas and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song.

As the painting began to take form - you hadn’t decided what it would be yet, but you’re excited with what you have - you heard some pounding that didn’t match the beat of the song. Grabbing your phone, you turned down the music, and the pounding could be heard much more clearly now. “Y/N Y/L/N! FBI!” You quickly paused the music and rushed to the door. As you opened the door, your paintbrush (still covered in paint...oops) was tucked behind your ear. At your entrance was two men, one tall and skinny, and the other older with graying hair. “Y/N?” The younger of the two asked, his voice considerably softer than when he’d yelled through your door. You only nodded, and each of the men showed you their badges before the older of the two spoke.

“I’m SSA Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You opened the door wider now, allowing them both to step inside your small studio. “Um, sorry about the mess, I’m not exactly the most conventional artist.” You apologized. You would've offered them a seat, but you only had two chairs in the place, and they were both occupied by piles of your various art supplies. “What is this about?”

Dr. Reid held a file in his hands, which he passed over to you as he spoke. “Do you recognize any of these paintings?” You open the file to find 4 pictures of your own artwork; portraits of various different people. One short blonde woman, one ginger man with an impressive beard, and a hispanic woman with a pixie cut. 

“Yeah, I painted these a while back...Why does the FBI care about some random commission artwork?”

“Someone commissioned you to do these?” Dr. Reid spoke quickly, causing you to look away from the pictures and back towards him. “Uh, yeah. He calls me every once in a while and asks for weirdly specific portraits.”

“What do you mean, weirdly specific? You don’t base your work off of pictures?” SSA Rossi asked you.

“No, he’s never given me pictures to work from. He just describes the person he wants me to paint. Like about two weeks ago,” You paused as you walked over to your cluttered desk, and grabbed your notepad, which was still open to the page you’d jotted down your notes on, “He asked for a portrait of a short, Asian man with bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and one pierced ear.” You handed the notepad to Dr. Reid, who scanned it quickly. 

“What’s his name?” He asked, before handing the notepad to his partner.

“Tanner. I don’t know his last name, he always pays with cash. What’d he do?”

The two men looked at each other briefly, before Dr. Reid spoke again, “We believe Tanner has been killing the people that you paint. He left the paintings at the crime scene.”

Your heart dropped. Not only had you been in constant contact with this psychopath, but you felt like you’d inadvertently helped him. You took his money, and he killed the people who looked like your paintings. 

“I know this is shocking, but have you painted anyone else for him?”

“Uh, no, this was the most rece-” You cut yourself off, remembering something from the last time you’d spoken with Tanner. “He bought a painting of me.”

“When?” Dr. Reid asked.

“When, uh, when he picked up the last painting. I had a self-portrait sitting over there that I'd done for fun. He asked if he could have it along with the other one, he paid me extra for it-”

“What day, Y/N?” Dr. Reid placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You felt like you might pass out.

“3 days ago.”

Again, the two agents looked at each other, and their faces didn’t make you feel any better.

“Y/N, why don’t you come with us to the police station, you’ll be safe there.” You could only nod in response letting them lead you out of the studio. Before you exited, Dr. Reid grabbed the paintbrush from behind your ear, placing it on a table before you made your way out to the car.

~~~

Sitting in the police station was like torture. First of all, you were wearing your normal painting outfit: a paint-stained t-shirt an ex had left at your place, jeans that were so ripped up you could barely call them jeans anymore, and of course, socks and sandals. The cops were either completely ignoring your presence, or asking you the same questions you’d already answered dozens of times. One top of all that, they wouldn’t let you do anything besides sit and wait. You had managed to find a paper pad and a pen, so at least your doodling could help pass the time.

You’d been at the station for over an hour already, which meant your doodle was nearly perfect; you ended up drawing one of the agents, Dr. Reid. From where you were sitting, he was in clear sight, and one of the only people who was actually sitting still enough for you to draw. And, y’know, he’s the only person you want to look at long enough for you to draw. 

“Is that me?” His voice startled you; you’d been looking down at the paper and didn’t notice Dr. Reid coming towards you. You dropped the pen immediately, and moved the paper out of his sight.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I was just, y’know, bored and-” You tried to put together a sentence, but your embarrassment was getting the best of you.

“I don’t mind, I, um, think it’s kind of flattering. Can I see it?” Dr. Reid asked, and you reluctantly handed the paper over. You’d been an artist for so long, you were almost never nervous for people to see your work anymore; you have a very “if they like it, great! If they don’t, I don’t care,” kind of attitude when it comes to your artwork. But Dr. Reid was making you nervous. “You don’t have to call me Doctor by the way. Reid is fine. Or, uh, Spencer. You can call me Spencer.” He had a light blush on his face as he spoke, which calmed you a little bit. At least he’s just as nervous as you. Suddenly, as if he was snapped out of his train of thought, Spencer handed the paper back to you and cleared his throat before speaking. “We used the phone number you gave us to find Tanner, but he doesn’t have any listed addresses. Did you ever deliver paintings to him?” Behind him, another one of the agents who’d talked to you, Hotch, walked up.

“Um, no. I’d just call him whenever I finished a painting and he’d come to me.”

“Would you be willing to call him again?” Hotch asked. Your eyes widened at the idea. You’re already terrified at the notion that you may be a target for a serial killer, but calling him? Hotch must have noticed your fear, as he began to explain further, “We can track his location with a phone call, but we need some time to do it. If you’re the one speaking, he’ll probably stay on the line long enough for our technical analyst to find him.” 

You took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Y-yeah. I can do that. Can you guys give me a minute first? I need some air.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the police station. Once you got outside, walked to the end of the building and leaned against the side wall. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. You couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility over those people’s deaths. Tanner had taken your artwork, your passion, and ruined it.

“Are you ok?” You looked up to find Spencer standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“Not really.” You played with your hands as you spoke, not making eye contact.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” He asked, as he moved to lean against the wall next to you. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside? Y’know, you’ve got a serial killer to catch.”

“You know there are a lot of signs that someone feels guilty. Avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, lack of an appetite...I noticed you didn’t eat the snacks JJ got for you.” He was right, Agent Jareau had gotten you some snacks that you left untouched back in the station. When you didn’t say anything, Spencer continued, “Usually when I see people acting like this, they have good reason to be guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

“I inspired him.” When you looked up at Spencer, he gave you a confused look. “When I saw him last, when he wanted to buy that painting of me, I asked him why. He said that my artwork inspires him. If...If I hadn’t painted those people, they could still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? You can’t say for sure that he would’ve killed them anyways, can you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment, confirming your fears. Eventually, he spoke up. “He may not have killed those exact people, He would’ve killed someone. He’s already killed before.” Your eyebrows shot up at this, so Spencer kept talking, “We think we can connect him to two murders from a few years ago. If he had never used your art as part of his signature, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find him. He may have even gotten away with it all together.” Spencer’s words did give you a little relief. You still felt bad for the way your art had been used, but it was a good reminder that you weren’t the murderer. That Tanner’s actions had nothing to do with yours.

“Thank you.” Spencer nodded in response, giving you a small smile. “I guess I have a phone call to make.”

~~~ a week later ~~~

You were back in your studio, getting ready for a new painting. Just as you placed your canvas on the easel, there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Spencer Reid on the other side. “Spencer?”

“Hi.” There was an awkward moment of silence before Spencer spoke again. “I, uh, saw your mural. It’s beautiful.” A small smile formed on your face at the mention of the mural. After you helped the BAU catch Tanner, you reached out to the family of the victims. With their permission, you painted a mural that was put up at the memorial down the road. The mural had been featured on local DC news channels, which is probably how Spencer had seen it.

“Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for you.” As you spoke, you moved over so that Spencer could enter the studio space. “Back at the police station, I wanted to quit art. Figured I’d finally put that communications degree to use or something.” Spencer lightly laughed as you continued, “But you made me realize that I can still do something good with my art.”

“I’m glad.” Spencer paused, and took a deep breath, and a step towards you, “Do you, uh, think we could go get coffee sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee, we could get tea, or um, lemonade, we could get lemon-”

“Spencer!” You cut him off, with a light laugh. You found his nerves to be both flattering and cute. “I’d love to get any beverage you’d like, as long as you’re there with me.” You ran your hands through your pockets, looking for the sharpie you’d had in your hand before you’d opened the door. “Where is…” you mumbled, looking down at your pockets. Suddenly, you felt Spencer’s hand at your ear, where he pulled down the sharpie you’d placed there.

“Looking for this?” He was now standing close enough to you that he only had to whisper. 

“Yeah” You responded, at the same volume he’d used. You took the sharpie from his hand, but before he could pull it away, you grabbed it and wrote down your phone number. When you finished, you looked up to Spencer’s face, which had turned pink. “Call me whenever.”

Neither you or Spencer said a word, you just stood there, staring at each other. You couldn’t help but try to memorize every feature of his face. Your staring contest was interrupted by Spencer’s phone dinging. He took a step back, much to your disappointment, and looked down at the text. “I, uh, I have to get to work. We have a new case.” You could tell he was disappointed too.

“Ok.” You whispered. Spencer looked at you for one more moment before he did what you least expected; before you even realized what was happening, his hand was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on yours. Your hands found their way to his collar, pulling him even closer to you.

You two didn’t pull apart until Spencer’s phone went off again. “You better call me.” You said, finally letting go of him.

“I will, promise.” Was the last thing he said to you before rushing off to work. When the door closed behind him, you turned to your blank canvas with a clear idea in mind. So you turned up the music, grabbed your paints, and began to put every detail of Spencer you could remember onto the canvas.

~~~

Notes: i’ll be honest idk how i feel about this ending lmao but i hope y’all liked it

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #david rossi #aaron hotchner

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 1)

A/n: I'm so sorry but I DESPERATELY needed to get this off my chest before I exploded because I have absolutely NO self control.

I made a playlist

Word Count: 5000+

MASTERLIST

Come in sets of two...

Y/n was an oddball.

At least that's what his parents said- a lot.

"You're such an oddball."

It seemed that they meant it endearingly, but the words stuck with Y/n much more than they probably should have. And maybe that was less because of his parents or even his brother and more because of the media and the other kids that treated him very differently than they usually treated other people.

It probably didn't help that he was a Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was an absolute golden boy. He was responsible, driven, intelligent. He was a staple for Boys Going Somewhere. A face to an idea that everyone absolutely adored. It was known very well that Bruce was going to be the successor to Wayne Enterprises- even though Y/n was two years older. Bruce was good to the core, with a wide smile but a certain professionalism that most adults didn't ever master.He was level headed and figured things out very easily. His parents were incredibly proud of him and held him very dearly, and it showed.

Y/n wasn't anything like him. He preferred staying up late and watching the stars or the sun set and then rise again, compared to understanding anything about business. He was somewhat of an artist. He had notebooks full of drawings and his room was covered with thumbtacked paintings he'd put on his wall with pride, even though most of them were what he was known for: people, animals, or objects that he'd fixated on long enough to paint them... except that they were often multiple things in one painting, and they were all mashed together in a rather alarming sight. He walked around with paint in his hair and on his clothes, his eyes bright and shining and his energy completely uncontained. He had no sense of self control or when to be quiet or calm. Most often he wasn't even found at home, as he went to school and then hung out with friends he'd made on the streets.

It was instantly incredibly obvious the drastic difference between the two boys, and people had been bidding on which one would succeed and which one would flop the very first second Bruce had been born. Every bet was on Bruce making it.

Despite everything, Y/n and Bruce got along very well. Y/n was rather emotional and got upset very quickly when he was ignored, which worked quite nicely with Bruce's curiosity. Y/n could go on for hours about the same thing and Bruce would listen. Bruce could ask questions about one painting for just as long and Y/n would eagerly answer each one, going into as much detail as possible. Y/n pulled Bruce out of his comfort zone and gave him a little fun outside of the expectations that were constantly pressing down on him. Likewise, Bruce took up the mantle and allowed Y/n the complete freedom to be himself and be appreciated for it.

Even the boys' parents had a pretty steady relationship with Y/n. They found him to be a little much, but with Bruce leaving them reassured that their company would be in a pair of capable hands, they were perfectly fine with letting Y/n go absolutely wild. As log as he was safe and everything he did was legal. They might live in Gotham, but the Waynes were good people and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

Overall, they were a very happy family.

Everything changed the night Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot dead on a way home from a movie they'd taken Bruce to.

It had been a night out like any other. Y/n stayed home as usual- it was the only time he could turn his music all the way up and completely lose himself in whatever he wanted to. The others didn't mind. It let Y/n blow off steam and made him much calmer for a while; in addition, they had a night out together and got to bond with Bruce. Sometimes they'd take just Y/n, and sometimes Y/n and Bruce would go out together without their parents, but most of the time it was Thomas and Martha and Bruce, and each Wayne was okay with that.

Y/n was staring at a half painted canvas, eyes wide and fingers trailing the path of his lips. He was loving the loudness and the thumping of the beat under his feet. Like it was in his blood. He smiled, raising the paintbrush.

The door busted open. "Y/N!"

Y/n spun around, startled. In the sharp movement, he knocked over a tiny bowl full of paint. Alfred reached over, turning the music off. "Your parents were shot and killed. Bruce is home early." Red paint dripped down the easel and over Y/n's shoes as the words tried to sink in but failed.It was like looking at something see through or invisible. Like feeling the breeze and wishing to catch it, but never able to close your fingers around empty air. Y/n just couldn't comprehend what Alfred was saying. Sensing his shock, Alfred moved closer. His voice was softer when he repeated, "Y/n. Bruce needs you. He won't admit it, but I can't help him lone.He won;t even admit he needs help. He might open up to you."

"No," Y/n choked out. Martha Wayne was far too kind and gentle. She was warmth and safety incarnate. Something so good and bright wasn't allowed to fade. Like yellow paint,or the sun. She always came back in the morning Always. And Thomas Wayne was... unbreakable. Unshakable. Impossible to even faze, let alone kill. He was unbeatable. Nothing could kill him. He'd live forever. Or, at the very least, go out at his own time when he was completely sure he was ready to. "No."

"Yes," Alfred insisted, shaking Y/n's shoulders violently. Y/n flinched. "Please-"

Without another word, Y/n pushed away from Alfred and sped to Bruce's room. He didn't even knock. Bruce was sitting on his bed, his eyes haunted and his lips resting in a soft frown. His hands were in his lap as he perched on the edge of the bed like he was planning to run any second, but he also seemed cemented in place as if he couldn't go anywhere even if he wanted to. He was scary still, and as his eyes slowly moved from the floor to meet Y/n's gaze, the older Wayne shivered at the darkness in his gaze. "Bruce?"

Bruce nodded stiffly in forced greeting. "Y/n."

Y/n bit his lip. Bruce's gaze fell to Y/n's feet and widened, his hands tightening on his knees. Y/n looked down to see the red paint still on his shoe, beginning to dry, and immediately felt sick. "So-" he cut off, his throat burning like he'd swallowed acid."So they're really-"

"Yeah," Bruce interrupted.

"You were there."

"Yeah."

Silence fell like a piano from a fifth story building. Even when the silence left, the feeling didn't. Both boys were suddenly being crushed under the weight of a ginormous object neither of them could see let alone explain or find the strength to remove. It stayed through the funeral, and onward. It manifested differently for each boy.

Bruce began to dig into his parents' murder, sifting through file after file, night after night. He got little sleep and ate even less often. At least he wasn't hurting himself anymore. That he had done a lot right before Alfred, Y/n, and Jim Gordon had all teamed up to knock him out of it.

Y/n was thrown into the world of business. He was torn away from everything he cared about. His freedom and dreams were stolen ad he was forced to clean up and get into a suit and start taking care of the family company- at least until Bruce was ready. In a few months he lost not only the things he enjoyed and his parents, but also his friends and the easy going way of life. He was beaten down and forced to be calm and collected. He was taught how to not deal with emotions like real men do and handle business that needed to get taken care of. He wasn't a person anymore. He was a tool.

It was unbearable for Bruce. He was losing all of his family in one go and as he tried to fight to make sense of it or keep anything of his old life, people kept trying to knock him down a peg and remind him that he was a child. Even though Y/n, barely 14, was apparently old enough to have the world on his shoulders when he was completely and totally not able to handle it in any way. It was supposed to be Bruce's job.

Finally he managed to prove his capabilities, but not in time to save Y/n. He had been rung out by the press and pushed to the brink and then over by the people at Wayne Enterprises. When he got his free time back, he didn't spend it watching the stars or the sun rise and fall. He didn't spend it painting dogs and lamps. He didn't spend it doodling and ranting to Bruce about all the things he found wonderful about the world. He spent each and every second he had locked in his room, painting.

The colors of each work began to get darker, the themes more twisted. They got better as he fixated on one thing only... unfortunately, that thing was death.

Y/n was spiraling. He didn't take care of himself and sometimes didn't come out of his room for days. Bruce tried to get through to him, but it seemed that something really bad had happened while everyone had expected him to be in charge. The thing was, there were no hints about it and of course no one at the company would fess up about anything. Y/n wouldn't talk about it. Anytime anyone even mentioned Wayne Enterprises, he would pull away and become unresponsive.

Then the Maniax began wreaking havoc.

Y/n's focus suddenly changed. He wasn't fascinated per say by the horrible things going wrong, but more the people that were committing the heinous acts. One day Bruce finally got him to talk about it, and all Y/n had to say was, "I mean, who does that? Who goes around just killing people like it doesn't mean anything? For no reason? Look at the redhead- he shoots one of his own guys for no reason- Look, right there. What kind of mental state would someone have to be in to be so flippant about taking a life?"

The obsession with the Maniax was soon followed by an obsession of killers in general. He was found constantly reading history books about some of the world's worst killers. Then, about Gotham's worst killers specifically.

That was why Bruce went to him when he began to get involved with that same redhead that had set Y/n down this path in the very beginning. "What do you think drives him? I mean, why do what he does?" Bruce asked his brother one day. It had been quite a while since they'd sat down and talked like this. When Bruce would ask questions about something Y/n fixated on and Y/n answered with pure eagerness. This had been the first time the information had been useful or had a realistic application, and it was upsetting.

"Probably some mental disorders. Perhaps some childhood trauma. He's probably immensely desensitized..." He paused. "Jerome Velaska is actually quite odd. He's probably just psychotic, with some serious abandonment issues and a sort of god complex. He wants to be seen and known and craves endless adoration and attention. He'll do anything to get what he wants, and doesn't have the patience or tolerance for anything else. That's why he acts out- it's like he has the mind of a child. He didn't get his way and now he's going to pitch a fit and chuck his toys. His toys being people and the fit being murder."

Bruce swallowed. "That's demented."

"Hm?" Y/n hummed. He blinked then forced himself to nod. He had zoned out and not blinked to bring himself back to the present. "Yeah. He's totally messed up."

Bruce tried not to ask Y/n about Jerome again after that. There had been a strange light in his eyes. A dangerous interest that made Bruce... nervous.

Everything came to a climatic bang when Alfred took the two brothers out to a charity banquet held in honor of a children's hospital. He'd only managed to get Y/n out because he'd been more energetic recently. More in a good mood. A little more like himself. In favor of seeing Y/n be so much like he used to, neither Alfred nor Bruce questioned it.

Boy did they wish they had though.

The night was seeming to pan out rather dull until the Magician came out. Y/n loved Magicians. He always had. He found their skill to pull off even the most obvious tricks was rather impressive. So when the Magician on stage asked for a volunteer and Bruce was chosen, Y/n was a little disheartened.

Bruce, however, seemed that he would rather do anything else. He had been nagging to leave anyway. Y/n stepped forward. "I can go up for you if you want," he offered.

The woman smiled and on stage, the Magician announced, "Ah yes! Just as well, just as well. Please, join us." The woman held out her hand for Y/n and he took it immediately.

Gotham hadn't seen Y/n in a very long time. People tittered and clapped and Y/n felt nervous. He hadn't been in front of a crowd since-

No, he wouldn't think about that. Tonight it was just some good fun and he'd be okay with that. Wasn't he allowed to have fun every once in a while?

The Magician greeted Y/n then opened a box, motioning for him to get in. He did, with a bounce in his step and excitement in his eyes. The box lid closed over top Y/n and the slats were put in place. It was the classic "sawed in half" trick. Y/n was immediately put off though. It would ruin the magic if an audience member did the trick. The assistant always did this trick, because it required a lot of trick of the eye to work. This way, he'd just get cut in-

Y/n's eyes went wide. The Magician above him smiled deviously.

"Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" Suddenly Y/n's body went cold. He knew that voice. Had heard it again and again and again on tv. He had seen that exact smile accompanying it. He was torn between the horror of the very real possibility of death at any second, and awe at finally meeting the man he'd been unable to get out of his head for the last significant amount of time. Since the whole bus full of high schoolers had almost been set on fire and that soon-to-be familiar face was all over the screen during the news broadcast about it. That face that had been and would be on every news broadcast for quite sometime. The Magician hummed, raising his eyebrows, and Y/n swallowed.

"Y/n," he said. There was no point now. He was trapped and at this man's mercy. What could he do? Cry for help? The most anyone would do is laugh it off, even if he could manage to get the lump out of his throat and get any coherent message across. Plus, something far more demanding kept him silent.

An extremely dangerous sense of curiosity.

If he was going to die tonight anyway, he might as well take his last moments to see what Jerome Valeska was like up close.

"Y/n," the not-magician repeated, musing over the name. "Well, Y/n, this won't hurt a bit." He clanged the two large saws together and Y/n felt breathless. What was he doing?! This was absolute madness! "Is there a doctor in the house?" The crowd laughed. The crowd LAUGHED. Of course they laughed. They always laughed. No one cared about Y/n Wayne.

Suddenly Alfred's voice sounded out, rather panicked. Y/n looked over, surprised. Of all people, Y/n didn't think it would have been Alfred who would have intervened. Alfred had been much too wrapped up in taking care of Bruce. Such as everyone was. Despite that, it was him to stumbled out, "Just- wait- excuse--" He held up a hand, everything going quiet and still as he tripped forward. "Just wait, wait, wait one second."

Jerome didn't wait.

The saw came down.

To his own shock, Y/n was fine.

The assistant rolled away his lower half and then returned it just in time for Jerome to lean close and whisper, "Give em a wave." Y/n looked directly into his eyes and his smile wavered. They were a pretty color. Brown, littered with slight blues and green that came alive under the stage lighting.

"I know who you are." The words wouldn't have been heard by anyone else other than Jerome- even if it wasn't for the clapping. Jerome froze, but Y/n didn't wait. He stood, waved to the audience to show he was alright, and then allowed the assistant to take him back to his place next to Bruce and Alfred.

When Jerome spoke gain, his words seemed to be a little different. Y/n placed the emotion when he turned back around again and saw Jerome's eyes glued intently to Y/n. He wasn't blinking. "Some say Y/n here has a split personality." The audience laughed at the pun and then his voice lightened again as he moved onto his next trick. As he called up the mayor an the set up began, the assistant's mask fell off.

Y/n gasped. He knew that face too. Unmistakable. Barbara Keene. Of course. How did Y/n not see that far sooner?

"I should warn you," Jerome teased lightly. "No one is getting out of here tonight alive." The audience laughed and Y/n thought he would feel terror at the words. What was stopping him now? He could whisper to Bruce or Alfred. To that nice lady from before-

It was then that Y/n realized Lee Thompkins was gone.

Jerome flung a knife straight into the Mayor's gut and Bruce stepped forward, gasping in time with the crowd. Y/n was torn. Why was he torn?! This was simple! Stop this! Right? Surely he could do something.

And yet... he found he didn't want to. God what the hell was wrong with him?

The Mayor fell and people began panicking. The gun shot started and Y/n moved without thinking, slipping behind a curtain and out of sight. He began to move through the curtains until he was far enough fromAlfred not to be stopped, then he was ducking to make sure he didn't get shot- and he waited.

He saw Jerome and Barbara tie up Lee and then make a call. He spoke loudly- it wasn't hard to make out at least one side of the conversation. His demands didn't make sense. They didn't line up at all with his character. Why...?

His maniacal laughter suddenly cut off as he turned to face his newly terrified audience. The moment was interrupted, though, by a new voice. "Enough!" Y/n stepped out from hiding to get a better view, only to see a man he didn't know. That was a new experience on this night where Y/n seemed to be able to put a name to ever face in this room that mattered. "It's time for you to pack up your little sideshow and leave," the man continued. Jerome was still grinning. That didn't make sense either. Why didn't he seemed bummed that his fun was getting interrupted, or a little tentative around the new player he hadn't planned his game around? How had this guy even gotten in, with all the guards outside? It felt off. Y/n could sense it immediately. Even the man spoke like he was... reading lines.

And Jerome responded in the exact same way. Like he was in a show. Like he was acting.

The movements of the two men and the way they formed words seemed so out of place. Even the shot of the gun Barbara used... none of it seemed natural.

Without thinking, Y/n stepped forward. The small noise his steps made immediately caught Jerome's attention. His eyes light up, his smile relaxing to a much more natural place. This was Jerome. The change was impossible to miss for Y/n, who had been carefully studying him so long.

"You," Jerome called, pointing directly at Y/n for the first time tonight. This felt even more thrilling than when Bruce had been picked. Now there was no charade or manipulation. It was just Jerome and Y/n. "Come here." He held up a gun, obviously ready to threaten someone's life to get Y/n to obey, but he was already moving before the words could leave Jerome's mouth. "What a nice boy." Y/n should have been at least pretending to be phased, but he was far too caught up in analyzing Jerome that he didn't think about how his step was confident and unfaltering, taking him to Jerome without any hesitation. He didn't think about the expression on his face, but how it made Jerome specifically respond. By simply having an emotion other than fear, Y/n had caught Jerome's attention and was reveling in it. Jerome could see that too, and it seemed to entertain him even more.

"You just gonna stare at me all day?" Y/n whispered softly, trying not to let his lips twitch into a smirk. Was he... flirting? It felt like he was suddenly outside of his body, watching this train wreck happen, unsure of who was in control or why he was doing anything he was.

Jerome seemed to be absolutely loving it. "Stand here with me." His voice was soft as silk, near purring. Y/n moved to where he motioned and stayed silent. The problem with his new placement: everyone could see his reactions now, not just Jerome. It was time to start acting at the very least.

Turns out he didn't much need to.

Jerome was easily terrifying as he was charismatic.

Every time Y/n thought he had caught on to Jerome schtick, he did something that threw Y/n off completely again. It was all fun and games, playing at murder but then pulling out some joke shot that didn't really make any sense. Did he actually want to keep all of us hostage? Wasn't it enough to have a few? Bruce, me and Alfred because Bruce was Gotham's golden boy, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me or Alfred. Lee Thompkins because she was his bargaining chip. The four of us would be plenty enough of a bargaining chip, maybe a handful more just in case. Why spare everyone, if he really did like killing so much?

There was something to Jerome that really intrigued Y/n. He wondered what the maniac was really thinking. What really drove him to act this way. To take control of a whole room full of Gotham's richest of the most well meaning... only to ask for ridiculous, nonsensical demands and not kill a single one of us.

Again Y/n got that sense, like something else major was actually happening here.

Y/n was zoning out. Missing things. He couldn't focus on the act going. The show that had more layers than what was originally apparent. He missed the whole throw down with Barbara and Lee as well, but caught the gist: Barbara was apparently in love with JimGordon and fancied that they'd end up together. Lee was apparently getting in the way of that. Blah, blah, blah. Girl drama and psychopaths and romance and delusion. Barbara almost killed Lee. Jerome stopped her. So on and so forth.

Then, Jerome attention was on Y/n again all of a sudden, even though he'd been carefully ignoring the boy he'd called up on stage until that point. He grinned at Y/n, the knife he'd taken fromBarbara manifesting in Jerome's hand. The redhead used it more like a finger than a weapon. He ran the dull side of the back of the blade under Y/n's chin, the flipped it so the blade was pressed gently to Y/n's skin. "My favorite volunteer," he said slowly, stepping far too close for what should have been comfortable. "You know, I've seen you on TV."

"And I, you." He hadn't meant to respond, but it had slipped out before he could stop it.

Jerome's head tilted as he popped his chin in pride. "Well, of course. I was meant to be on the big screen. I made my own way. It was my choice to end up where everyone could see me." He took a deep breath in. "You, however... what a scandal." Suddenly Y/n couldn't breath. Jerome roared in giddy, insane laughter. "There he is!" He turned to the audience, motioning to the slight shake of Y/n's body and the sickly pale tint to his skin. "There's that fear! That fear or hate or disgust or whatever it is you all feel for me... except for you." He looked back at Y/n. "We're so similar, Y/n," he sighed. "I'm an orphan too, you know. I don't fear death either."

"You killed your parents," Y/n managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Jerome tilted his head back and forth. "Details, details." The knife was at Y/n's throat again. "You're no fun anymore, you know. Everyone stops being fun at some point. I will give you one thing: you lasted longer than most." The knife pressed further into Y/n's throat and he sucked in a sharp breath as it broke skin, a single drop of blood making a vibrant path down his pale skin.

Gun shots. Suddenly Jerome spun, pressing Y/n's back to his chest, moving the blade so Y/n's was a hostage instead of the focused on target. There was a bit of chaos in the crowd, and Y/n's eyes widened to see Alfred and Jim Gordon of all people mowing through Jerome's lackies. Jim turned his barrel toward Y/n and Jerome. "Let him go!" He shouted. Jerome's giggle rang right next to Y/n's ear. Whatever weird spell from before that had Y/n controlled and calm and still broke and he flinched back away from the blade. Unfortunately, that only brought him closer to Jerome. After a second Jim defeatedly announced, "I don't have a clean shot. Jerome shifted, obviously eager in his moment of victory.

"Stay calm, Y/n," Alfred eased. Bruce was shuffling, knowing it wouldn't help to rush in but having to use every bit of his self control to stop himself from doing just that. He couldn't lose Y/n too. His brother was part of the quickly dwindling family he still had left.

Jerome's breath sounded in Y/n's ear as he gritted his teeth, switching from plying a game to planning an escape. Of course he wanted to get out of here alive. "It seems like we've got ourselves in a bit of a pickle. "What do you say Sweetheart?" Jerome mumbled in his ear. He was twitching, rocking a little from foot to foot. "Why don't we boost our ratings, hm?" The knife moved from one side of Y/n's throat to the other, drawing the smallest line of blood. Y/n gasped, his body shaking in suddenly very real fear. He wondered if this is how his parents had felt, or if they'd died too fast to really be afraid of dying at all. "Smile." Jerome began his wild, broken chittering of a laugh again.

This was familiar. Jerome had been waiting all night to kill someone, and for whatever reason he hadn't. Unfortunately, that meant he was definitely not going to hesitate to now. Y/n closed his eyes, and echoing, "NO!" Coming from his younger brother before he was sure he was about to be enveloped by darkness.

"I said, enough." Jerome let go of Y/n in surprise and both boys turned, unsure where to move from here. Not knowing how to switch gears. There stood the man from earlier. Theo Galavant. Theo grabbed Jerome by the color and drove a knife into the side of his neck. Y/n made a weird, half-choking, half-squeaking sound as the blade made impact into flesh, the audience gasping behind him.

Y/n couldn't move. He fell backwards, tripping over his own feet and barely catching himself as he made his way off the stage and to the ground. Theo must have thought he was further, but he heard it. He heard what the man said next. "I know, I know, I know," he cooed as Jerome choked, dying. Y/n blinked, trying to clear his head. So many thoughts were swimming through it and his chest had begun to tighten and twist. He couldn't breathe. He could still hear though. "This isn't what we rehearsed. I'm so sorry Jerome. You have real talent! But no, you see, the plot thickens. Enter: the hero."

Something horrible settled into Y/n's stomach as Jerome spoke again, his voice weak and raspy. "You... said... I was... gonna be..." He died before the sentence could finish, and Y/n was running. Ramming into Bruce, the boys holding each other tightly as Alfred enveloped them both with his arms.

"It's over," Alfred reassured. "You're safe now, Y/n, it's okay."

The words sounded sincere and full of relief, but Y/n couldn't shake that things were far from over. In fact, he was sure they'd only just begun.

-

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #jerome valeska imagine #bruce wayne #gotham #gotham imagine #gotham x reader #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader #male reader #jerome valeska x male reader #joker x male reader

[ciriceart]

OC profiles: the Lawson family

From the now-defunct semi-interactive comic/creative writing projects, “Hunger, Nevada”, “Far From Any Road”, and “Saudade”.

The plot of these three stories cover topics and conflicts such as learning to relate to those around you, breaking toxic cycles, smalltown stagnation and the isolation of close-knit communities, and metaphorical (sometimes literal) body horror monsters that slowly poison towns and families. I wrote these stories from the ages of 14 to 21, and they're all very much a reflection of myself and my perspectives/outlook at those times. I still go back and revisit certain areas, but can't see myself rewriting them in full any time soon. I feel like that would be a disservice to my past self - I used these to sort out and explore my own feelings and hangups, and they served their purpose, but I still draw and talk about the boys more often than I expected I would when I drew my first doodle of Ellis and Lawrence in 8th grade detention. This post is just an infodump about the family of the main characters. I'm not getting into plot details just yet. Though it is worth noting, this was at the height of my Silent Hill hyperfixation, and Ellis and Lawrence began life as the protags of my imaginary Silent Hill fangame for which I made an entire gamefaqs walkthrough because I did not know how to write or draw too well. That doesn't really matter too much now, I just think it's fun.

The Lawson family consists of Francis (or Frank) and Amalia Lawson, and their two sons, Ellis and Lawrence.

Frank is a large man, about 6’3 with green eyes, short auburn hair,  and a beard. His skin is somewhat pale but has a minor farmer’s tan from working outdoors, and there’s a spatter of freckles across his entire face. He sometimes wears rectangular half-frame glasses and uses a walking stick.

Amalia is about 5’4 and stocky, with dark brown, almost black hair cut in the patented Mom Bob(tm) with bangs and dark eyes. Her face is somewhat oblong with round, soft features and her skin is a warm mid-to-light brown.

Ellis ranges in age from 17 to 26 across plots. His facial structure favors his father. He’s about 5’10,  has very light brown skin, freckles on his face, arms, chest and shoulders, dark eyes and auburn hair. As a teenager, his hair reaches to about his jaw with an off-center part, and he keeps it short and parted on the side as he gets older. He usually at least attempts to comb his hair back but half of it just falls back in front of his face anyway. Sometimes sports various non-serious injuries such as scratches and bruises. He’s rough-and-tumble.

As a teen, most of his outfits consist of torn up jeans, skater shoes, and a plethora of graphic or band tees. Sometimes an old flannel stolen from dad, or black canvas jacket. As an adult, he wears mostly intact but faded black work pants, black or brown work boots, a plain T-shirt and often an unbuttoned overshirt with either short sleeves or the sleeves rolled up.

Lawrence also ranges in age across stories, from 9 to 17. His facial structure favors his mother. He has pale skin, freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, green eyes, and auburn hair in a short, choppy buzzcut that he later grows out to reach past his shoulders as he gets into his teens. As a child, he’s very short and scrappy, and then becomes gangly and awkward as a teenager.

As a child, his wardrobe is typically all childish graphic tees and cargo shorts or jeans, all picked out by his parents. As he gets older, he becomes introverted and shy, always covering himself up in an absurd number of layers – he's often seen wearing a short-sleeved shirt with long sleeves underneath, either a flannel or sweater, and a massively oversized forest green jacket with a red fleece collar. He usually sticks to plain, slightly baggy jeans and sneakers.

--

Frank and Amalia married in their mid to late 20’s and moved to Frank’s hometown of Ansley, [state redacted].

Frank works in a hardware store and as a repairman. Some years ago, Frank suffered a spinal injury, resulting in chronic pain and his use of a walking stick. He still works at the hardware store and takes repair jobs, though he’s unable to work as often or for as long as he used to.

Ellis drops out of high school in the second quarter of 11th grade to work full-time at the hardware store and begins picking up smaller repair jobs around town. Lawrence, being much younger, is not employed but occasionally does smaller tasks such as sweeping up or organizing shelves after closing hours, or tagging along with his brother or dad on repair jobs to help where he can.

Amalia works at a packing and shipping facility in the city. She works overnight, six days a week with Mondays off. She’s usually home about an hour before her sons have to get up for school. Amalia’s pack a day smoking habit and Frank’s temper are the subjects of most conflicts, but they never progress past passive aggressive remarks or heated discussions. The family occasionally relies on financial help from a man named Mike, whose family has been friends with Frank’s for several years, to make ends meet. He’s often the reason that their heat and water stay on.

The Lawsons are a practicing family of Amicists. They regularly attend service at The First Church of the Shoal United in the next town over. More on Amicism at a later date.

Ellis has a lot of pent up resentment toward authority figures and “grown-ups” in general, even into his own adulthood, due to Backstory Reasons I won’t get into here.

James, Marie, Robin, and Brian are Ellis’ friends from high school. They mostly sit around smoking pot and watching bad movies, sneak out to drink at the park after curfew, and attempt to skate in vacant parking lots.

James was held back in middle school and is one or two years older than the rest of the group. Most parents in town still call him Jimmy and think he’s a very nice boy. If asked to describe him, his long line of ex-girlfriends would say “he’s so nice, but GOD he’s so dumb.” Marie was closer to Robin and James than she was to Ellis, so they didn’t hang out outside of the group at all. She thought Ellis was kinda weird, but not a “bad weird” so she never mentioned it or complained. Robin is that sort of midwestern emo girl in everyone’s math class who’s an artist, but all she draws is semi realistic eyes with elaborate eyeliner in her English notes. She regularly gets into arguments with Ellis and James on what genre different bands count as. Brian is the obvious stoner friend who would be kinda chill to hang out with if he weren’t so loud and annoying about how his parents totally don’t even care and just like, totally let him do whatever he wants.

Dropping out of high school to work a fulltime job, having no interest in college, minimal relationship experience, and staying in such a small and rural town leads to Ellis becoming socially isolated and unable to fully relate with people his own age. He slowly falls out of touch with his friends and people he knew from school, preferring surface level interactions with older coworkers, relatives and friends of the family.

Lawrence, as a result of his older brother’s attempt at parenting while Frank and Amalia are working, learns to be untrusting and uncooperative as well. He picks up a smoking habit by age 14, often stealing them from Ellis or from their mom's purse when she’s home, and sneaks out of his and Ellis’ shared bedroom through the window at night.

Lawrence is a nice kid, but struggles to make friends. Throughout all of middle school and into high school, he only manages to befriend two others named Catherine and Donnie.

Donnie is Brian’s little brother. He and Lawrence aren’t actually friends, but they tend to tag along when Ellis and Brian hang out at each other’s houses. Catherine has known Lawrence since they were in third grade, but they never hung out until they got put in the same advanced math class in middle school.

As he gets older, Lawrence begins to neglect his few friendships and social life in favor of fiction; most notably stories and unfiction focusing on the occult and supernatural, as well as a video game series called Sprout Friends, a puzzle game involving farming and anthropomorphic fruits and vegetables. If he isn’t hiding out on the rooftop of the house at night, he’s locked in the bedroom playing one of multiple Sprout Friends titles, or hunting for strange occurrences around town during the night.

--

Fun fact: Ellis' middle name is Layne, and Lawrence's middle name is Elijah. I thought it would be cute if their middle names had the same first letters as each other's firsts.

#ocs #lawrence #ellis #they have drawings go look at them

[rahorak]

@anonymous:  what’s something you love about each of your ship partners? the muns and muses :)

Yoo  this  is  such  a  nice  little  ask!  I  love  to  gush  about  my  writing  partners  because  to  be  honest?  They  all  deserve  it,  if  anything  for  putting  up  with  my  kicking  in  their  door  with  headcanons  at  random  times  &  other  bs.  I’m  gonna  talk  about  them  all  in  order  of  exclusives  >  mains  >  other.  In  this  essay  I  will

DIANA  /  @moonaspect​​​.

Moon  is  such  a  darling.  We  talk  every  day  over  Discord  &  she’s  become  such  a  big  part  of  my  routine  at  this  point.  I  am  also  a  lonely  fucker  &  am  going  through  some  stuff  at  the  minute  &  she’s  a  great  help!  She’s  so  talented  as  well,  I  cannot  comprehend  how  she  does  what  she  does  with  a  canvas  but  here  we  are.  Thank  you  so  much  for  putting  up  with  my  bs.  I  could  go  on  &  on  but  just  know  that  Moon  has  a  very  special  place  in  my  heart.  She’s  such  a  valuable  friend  &  she  gives  me  a  reason  to  get  up  in  the  morning. . .  Or  afternoon,  depending.

As  for  Diana  she  does  a  wonderful  job  with  her.  She’s  written  her  for  as  long  as  I’ve  known  her  &  it  shows  ——  her  love  &  dedication  to  this  character  is  so  inspiring.  Her  Diana  is  exactly  what  you  would  expect  her  to  be,  &  especially  since  I’ve  seen  her  RP  her  for  so  long,  she  just  feels  canon  to  me.  You  can’t  have  Diana  without  angst  &  Moon  has  taken  this  to  the  next  level  at  times  but  as  a  fellow  angst  lover,  I  love  to  see  it.

✦   Favorite  things:  Moon’s  voice  &  Diana’s  resilience.

SORAKA  /  @starthieve​​.

Nix!  Oh  gosh  I  could  talk  about  Nix  for  hours  but  I’ll  try  to  keep  it  short  &  sweet.  We  also  go  way  back,  you  see.  Words  cannot  describe  how  much  I  love  this  woman,  as  we’ve  been  through  hell  &  back  together  &  even  to  this  day  she  continues  to  be  one  of  my  best  friends  who  always  has  my  back.  We  don’t  plot  as  much  as  we  used  to  but  I  honestly  miss  that  ——  I  miss  coming  up  with  stupid  scenarios  &  screenshotting  them  to  pester  the  rest  of  our  friends  with  for  eternity  afterwards.  We  need  to  make  more  doodles  together  too.  I  love  you  Nix,  let  there  never  be  a  doubt  in  your  mind  about  that.

Her  Soraka  is  honestly  a  big  mood.  She  is  so  loving  &  giving  &  I  always  just  imagine  Nix  &  Soraka  to  go  hand  in  hand  cause  they’re  both  such  empathetic  sweethearts.  I  will  never  shut  up  about  Nix’s  writing  &  how  beautiful  &  graceful  it  is  to  read.  Even  her  headcanon  posts  are  so  well  put  together  &  even  though  she  isn’t  posting  much  at  the  minute  I  love  to  see  her  pop  in  every  once  in  a  while  with  a  meta!

✦   Favorite  things:  Nix’s  &  Soraka’s  big  hearts.

ASHE  /  @arrowdeft​​.

Kirin  is  so  talented  my  heart  skips  a  beat  at  times  when  I  read  their  writing!  I  don’t  know  much  about  them  on  a  personal  level  other  than  they’ve  been  going  through  some  rough  times  lately  &  I  really  hope  that  my  small  contributions  to  the  ship  helps,  even  if  just  a  tiny  bit  at  times.  I’ve  been  enjoying  reading  their  content  for  Kai’sa  as  well,  though!  They  seem  to  have  a  very  interesting  &  realistic  take  on  her  so  far  &  I  love  me  some  of  that.  Also  pretty  graphics  10  /  10.  My  door  is  always  open  if  you  need  anything,  Kirin!

Kirin’s  Ashe  is  just  perfection.  She’s  the  right  amount  of  stern  &  soft.  She’s  so  stubborn  &  I  love  her  for  it.  I  can’t  help  but  root  for  her  honestly.  &  when  they  write  for  her  it  just. . .  Everything  makes  sense  ——  why  they  chose  Ashe  as  a  muse  &  it’s  so  lovely  seeing  her  come  to  life  the  way  she  does  in  Kirin's  hands.  You  just  can’t  help  but  admire  Ashe  for  her  achievements  &  her  overall  character.  When  Kirin  writes  for  her  she  feels  so  regal  &  composed,  but  also  down  to  earth  at  the  same  time  which  is  a  wonderful  combination.

✦   Favorite  things:  Kirin’s  ideas  &  Ashe’s  devotion.

LUX  /  @lightweaved​​.

Liv  aaa  (  Or  Star,  which  is  a  super  cute  pen  name  by  the  way.  )  is  first  of  all  GORGEOUS.  Second  of  all,  is  someone  I  wish  I  spoke  more  to!  But  to  be  honest  that’s  on  me,  mostly.  Thinking  about  it  I’d  actually  love  to  get  to  know  her  more!  She  just  seems  like  such  a  nice  &  warm  person  to  be  around,  idk.  Oh  &  she  has  a  knack  for  making  pretty  graphics!  I like the style  a  lot,  it’s  so  clean  &  readable,  as  is  her  blog.

This  Lux  though.  Is  so  good  &  so  interesting.  It’s  so  interesting  to  see  what  can  be  done  with  Elementalist  Lux  &  I  love  the  inclusion  of  Spellthief  as  well.  It’s  nice  to  see  Lux  being  taken  in  a  direction  that  isn’t  necessarily  what  you’d  expect  for  her  ——  that  she  can  fend  for  herself  so  well  &  that  she  is  willing  to  do  work  as  a  spellthief.  She  also  has  a  super  cute  design.  I  have  a  weakness  for  when  people  personalize  their  canon  muses  to  fit  their  portrayal  better  &  this  is  no  exception  ——  Star’s  Lux  is  simply  too  pretty.

✦   Favorite  things:  Star’s  brightness  &  Lux’s  cheekiness.

KAYLE  /  @unholyshe​​.

Aqua  hits  an  aesthetic  that  hits  my  heartstrings  IRL  &  here  on  Tumblr.  I’m  always  on  the  edge  of  my  seat  when  I  speak  to  her  because  in  all  honesty  she’s  hilarious  as  fuck  &  I  really  enjoy  plotting  with  her.  There’s  just  something  about  the  way  she  talks  that’s  a  perfect  balance  between  dishing  out  actual  plots  &  joking  around  with  it  that  I  love.  God  I  love  Aqua  so  much,  she’s  just  so  funny  &  nice  to  be  around  &  I’m  always  excited  to  talk  to  her!  I  hope  you  feel  better  soon,  though,  cause  depression  sucks  &  I���m  here  if  you  need  anything.  I  hope  you  know  that!

Literally  any  character  that  Aqua  touches  I’m  in  love  with.  I’m  excited  to  RP  with  any  of  them  to  be  honest,  but  to  stick  to  Kayle?  I  love  that  Aqua  isn’t  afraid  to  show  off  her  bad  sides.  That  she’s  given  her  dimensions  &  that  she  feels  exactly  like  Kayle  should  feel.  Even  though  she  puts  Leona  through  hell  I  can’t  help  but  love  them  together.  What  can  I  say,  I  have  a  weakness  for  characters  helping  each  other  grow  as  individuals!

✦   Favorite  things:  Aqua’s  humor  &  Kayle’s  bitchiness.

TIANNA  /  @ofironloyalty​​.

Good  Grace  we’re  here.  Insert  more  name  jokes  here.  She’s  snuck  her  way  into  my  heart  &  I  do  consider  her  a  good  friend!  I  love  waking  up  to  messages  from  her,  whether  it  be  OOC  or  plotting  related.  It  also  always  excites  me  to  read  her  posts  on  my  dash  &  I  strive  to  maintain  a  spot  as  her  #1  fan.  Grace  doesn’t  take  herself  too  seriously  &  I  love  that  about  her,  it’s  so  nice  to  be  around  people  like  that.  She’d  rather  laugh  about  her  own  shortcomings  or  joke  about  which  is  so,  so  refreshing.

I’ve  said  it  before  but  Grace’s  Tianna  is  everything  you  need  Tianna  to  be.  She  is  strong  physically  &  mentally,  steadfast,  a  little  stuck  up  &  of  course,  has  the  willpower  of  a  true  Demacian  High  Marshal.  I  feel  very  lucky  that  I  get  to  ship  with  such  a  lovely  muse  &  mun,  honestly.  Tianna  is  strict  when  she  has  to  be  but  she  is  also  a  big  softie  at  times  when  she’s  allowed  to  be  &  it’s  so  sweet.  It’s  been  great  getting  to  know  both  mun  &  muse,  &  I  hope  to  get  to  interact  much  more  in  the  future!

✦   Favorite  things:  plotting  with  Grace  &  Tianna’s  soft  side.

HONORABLE  MENTIONS.

&  last  but  not  least,  some  honorable  mentions  are  @defyances​​​,  @foxcharmed​​​  &  @blessercoeur​​​  (  Hi  again  Moon!  )  whom  I  have  just  begun  plotting  /  exploring  ship  dynamics  with.  I’m  coming  to  love  the  dynamic  that  each  of  these  pairings  have  &  I’m  so  excited  to  explore  them!  Irelia  &  Leona  is  just  great  content  all  around,  with  a  side  of  angst  in  the  whole  long  distance  thing.  Ahri  &  Leona  is  such  a  wholesome  mess  of  Leona  teaching  Ahri  how  to  Empathy™  &  them  finding  love  in  that  somewhere.  A’ni  &  Leona  are  just  two  hearts  who  beat  to  the  same  rhythm  in  multiple  ways  &  I’m  so  pumped  to  see  them  interact  more  &  getting  along.

Unprompted  asks    /  /    Always  accepting.

#⊰ ` ✦ » inbox / ivory wings carry the message. ⊱ #⊰ ` ✦ » ooc / the idiot lesbian has arrived. ⊱ #positivity #anonymous #moonaspect #starthieve #arrowdeft #lightweaved #unholyshe #ofironloyalty #defyances #foxcharmed #blessercoeur #gosh this got long i am so sleeby now LOL i hope everyone feels ok abt what i wrote!! ;; #tldr ; i LOVE my ship partners they deserve many good things & i will ramble for ages about them pls stop me this is 1.5 k words what am i #DOING SFHSJKHFSJKFHSJF anyways you're all great & ty anon so much for the ask!!! i hope ur online to see this ^^

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.  

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”  

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”  

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.  

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #lesbian au #fashion au #pearlet #violet chachki #miss fame #trixie mattel #pearl liaison #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #shangela laquifa wadley

[nikkoleon]

Every day I want to draw an SCP but I can't decide and often I stare into the void... RIGHT AFTER I FIND A SCP I WANT TO DRAW I END UP DRAWING AN OC! is there any way that I can fix this?

First off, I TOTALLY get ya. I keep wanting to draw an SCP too, but I always end up drawing some weird three-eyed yee-the-haw guy for some reason. *shrugs*

Anyway, I have a few tips that may help.

Doodle first! Not everything you draw has to be some highly detailed work of art. If you’re having a hard time focusing on a topic that you wanna draw, it might not hurt scribbling down some thumbnail ideas. These can be as messy as you want, just throw something down. You might like the concept of what you doodled and can turn it into a more detailed work of art.

If you draw on a large canvas, like me (usually 3000x3000 pixels), then throw multiple pictures on the same page so you can kind of multi-task by working on the SCP picture you want and if you get the urge to doodle something else, hop over to that for a bit until you get your drive back.

Get **inspired**! Nothing gives me more ideas or a bigger urge to draw a  specific topic than looking up other peoples works on that same topic. Look at the artists/artwork that you really like and that really get your creative brain thinking!

Lastly, take your time. You can’t force inspiration or anything like that at the snap of your fingers and there are some days where you’re just going to stare into the dreaded “Blank Canvas Void”, but this is ok! It mostly sounds like you just need to get that SCP drive in and I suggest looking around the artwork tag or your favorite artist to get a good idea or bump in the right direction for a spark.

Hope this helps in some way!

#nikkoleon #Nikko speaks #inbox #Anonymous

[franeridart]

Whats your opinion on the headcanon that bakugou is hard of hearing because of how loud his explosions are? If you dont mind my asking

I think I answered this q on this blog already? Maybe? But anyway, I don’t exactly mind it, but I can’t say I share the headcanon myself - for one, because I’m of the opinion that their bodies are built to withstand a safe use of their quirks (a bit like you can’t break a leg by simply walking, you know), so in general I’m not a fan of headcanons that include damages caused by simply doing what their bodies were born to do? 

But also because generally, even under the assumption that his body isn’t made to hold up with his explosions, isn’t it awfully convenient how only his ears take damage in these scenarios? What about his eyes? How come he can still see with no problems even with the continuous exposure to the explosions’ light? How about his hair? How come he can stand so close to fire without it ever being damaged by it? His palms have thicker skin and we know that thanks to his UA file, but what about the rest of his body? How come he can stand smack in the middle of an Howitzer Impact without getting even slightly burnt? When you say “only his ears aren’t made to withstand his explosions” what you’re telling me is that his whole body is tailord to deal with his quirk but his ears, and that just feels unrealistic to me - by which I mean, when this is the scenario we’re talking about, you can’t give the fault of the damage to Bakugou’s quirk. It’s a problem his body has, not a natural consequence of having that sort of quirk. And imho with those premises you sort of end up with a different kind of story, you’re supposed to write it differently - that’s what I think, at least

Anon said:Maybe the reason Baku raises his voice so often is because he can’t hear very well, which isn’t due to his explosions, rather, he was born with bad hearing to protect him from taking damage by them.. and then his other senses are sharper to even it out, and his body can even subconsciously notice air vibrations, resulting in really fast reflexes.

Ah, this is also another reason why I’m not a huge fan of the headcanon - don’t get me wrong! If you like it then go on, I’m not trying to stop anyone from enjoying ideas and possibilities!! But personally I like Bakugou not having any reason to be loud-mouthed and rude, that’s just his personality and how the environment he grew up in made him, and lately I’ve seen the hc used to justify his behaviour more than I like? Bakugou being an asshole is just who he is, and I love it! I love that his life made him like that and I love that he’s working hard to fix that flaw, giving him an external reason, something he has no control over, to justify his personality changes the core of his character too much, and that’s not something I’d ever want to do tbh

And it’s also cool to think that he was somewhat genetically engineered to be better in a fight to compensate for a lack of earing (though again, why only his ears and not his eyes or his sense of tact too), but that goes to cut on all the hard work he put in becoming as good as he is, right? If that’s what you like than who am I to stop you! But Bakugou’s hardworking nature is one of the things I love about him, I don’t really feel like taking away from him all the effort and work he put through the years in becoming as good as he is now

Anon said: Kiri’s grades suddenly getting sky high after Baku started kissing his cheek for every correct answer

Kirishima: “OKAY NEXT CHAPTER LET’S GO”

Bakugou: “the fuck, no, we’re done, that’s how far we went in cla–”

Kirishima: “GOING A BIT AHEAD CAN’T BE A PROBLEM CAN IT”

Anon said: Kiri is seriously talented at dirt doodles

lmao it’s just stickmen hahaha

Anon said:aww your miri/tama collage is so precious! have you considered doing something like that for kiri/ kami as well? those boys are in desperate need of some love.. totally understand if not! have a wonderful rest of your day/night :3

Uh, well, it’s not like I “haven’t considered” doing it, but more than a collage it’s… just how I always draw? Only usually I cut the pics for each of them to be a different image so they’re easier to see, while yesterday I was too lazy to do that and left them all on the same canvas haha so I guess yeah next time I’ll feel like drawing krkm if you’d like I can leave the drawings all in one pic, that’s just less work for me after all lol

Anon said:Ahhhhhh~ I had had… Such a need for miritama after that chapter and I couldn’t find anything w the right feel or anything and ??? Then you just??? Bless you thank you they look wonderful and so so soft and happy and I’m just !!!

AHHHH!!!! Thank you so much!!!! I’m glad you liked them :O

Anon said:thank you good lord you’re gonna help me get out of the depressive spiral chapter 152 has put me into

BOI ANON DON’T I FEEL YOU it’s why I drew those to being with hahaha

Anon said:DUDE YOUR PINING KIRISHIMA GOT ME DEAD HOLY FUCK SO PURE SO AWESOME 10/10

THANK YOU!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

Anon said: I just recently became obsessed with MomoJirou because it’s an incredible ship and I can’t get enough and then you give us these adorable drawings of them? I cry

Anon said:fran….your girls…… they’re so good……..

Anon said:I love how you drew Momo 😍

Anon said:FRAN THANK YOU FOR THE MOMOJIROU CONTENT I LOVE IT I LIVE FOR IT I HAVE BEEN DEPRIVED OF MOMOJIROU FOR SO LONG AND NOW I CAN SEE SOME BEAUTIFUL ART OF THEM IN YOUR STYLE WHICH MAKES IT TEN TIMES BETTER THANK YOU

AAAAHHHHHHHHH BOI THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I’m ??? so glad you guys liked them???? Momo is so hard to get a grasp on for me, it makes me happy to know I did her right!!!!

Anon said:What do you think about futakuchi? xox

He’s my fav in Dateko!!!! Also one of my two biggest #same in Haikyuu haha (the other’s Kuroo lol)

Anon said: I haven’t seen semi on your blog for a while? ;)

That’s 100% most probably because there hasn’t been any haikyuu on my blog for a while, I’d say :O

Anon said:You keep drawing… So many soft things I’m in love… momojirou is so sweet it cleared my skin (and !!! I know you said you have no idea how to draw her but she looks wonderful and I loved it!!) And pining Kiri his face at the end??? Saved me. And STUDY DATE I CAN’T FORGET tbh baku looked so good esp the way you drew him kiri I Understand. Anyways you’re a blessing and I hope you have a lovely day!!!

God anon….. you just go……….. and slay me like this……. how am I supposed to deal………………………. (ilu)

Anon said:Does the Octopus Team still exist? I was scrolling through Shouji tags and saw the art.

I’m not sure what this ask means :O like, are you asking me if I’ll ever draw them together again? Because tbh that one doodle sort of just… happened while I was doing something else……… oops….

Anon said:Is it just me or are you getting more and more notes a lot quicker? Bc congrats my friend

:O thanks!!! But to be fair I think more than on my art this is mostly on the Bakushima becoming a much more popular ship, lately! The anime will do that haha

Anon said: I literally check your blog multiple times every day to see if you’ve posted anything new, your art just makes me so happy??? Like it could literally be bakugou as an orange and kirishima as a strawberry and I would reblog it faster than lightning and stare at it for five mins. Your style is just so nice and it like…. flows well?? Is really clean??? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT MY DUDE but BASICALLY i love everything you do and thanks for blessing us with all the cute kiribakus and bokuroo :))

sob thank you ;O; so much ;O; holy shit ;O; ;O;

Anon said:So I’m new to the BNHA fandom and you’re probably the first artist I stumbled across but I am HOOKED. I love your bakushima A LOT and your headcanons are so perfect I get so hype when I see them on my dashboard *v* Do you ever think about what would happen if Bakugou’s family found out about his new relationship? Do you think they would love Kirishima? (Of course they would it’s impossible not to). I imagine that would be an interesting scenario!!

I’m 100% sure Mitsuki would be like “HOW THE FUCK did you manage to get such a nice kid to like you” but when we’re being honest Masaru is a super sweet man married with a firecracker too so does she have any right to talk? Nope, she does not 

And thank you so much for the compliments!!!! :O this fandom is super full of talented and nice people, I hope you’ll have a great time in it!

Anon said:Dude like mate honey love bunch bro man,,,,, YOUR FR*CKING ART!!!! SO H*CKING GOOD???? BAKUKIRI (cries because I love them so f*dging much) LOOK SO GOOD IN YOUR ART STYLE? SO PURE! WHOLESOME!!! I just went through your art tag for the last hour and I love everything. Kirishima is my FAVE I LOVE HIM!!!$ and the Baku squad mm mmmmmm good shiz right there. AND YUUJIIIIII AND BOKKUROOOOO AND THE VOLTRON AU!!!! Honestly we have such similar tastes ah. Anyway I’m running out of words love you fran xox

HOLY HECK I LOVE YOU A LOT TOO ANON!!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Kirishima and bakugo furiously (not mad just intense) making out I know what your thinking but please give it a try

I mean the idea isn’t something I mind at all, but drawing this sort of things requires a specific mood for me which isn’t easy to come by and more often then not when I do draw that sorta stuff I don’t finish nor post it? So in general that’s not the type of things I’ll draw as a suggestion, sorry orz

Anon said: Whenever I see a new post from you but it’s reblogged I immediately go to your original post so I can read your tags. I love them so much!

Heck !!!!! I’m glad you enjoy my nonsense? hahaha

Anon said:*whispers* hey hey…. kiribaku hide and seek got any thoughts on that

Are you asking about one against the other or hiding together? …either way I can only see that ending in disaster and explosions ngl lol

Anon said:It came to my mind after reading your last comic that Baku usually dresses up pretty nice¿? Its canon that his family works for the fashion industry and his costume is SO EXTRA™, we never really see him in cringey or weird clothing (please correct me if I’m wrong (?)) but I still like the idea of him having lots of skull/punk tees and struggling to find normal stuff lol

Wouldn’t call them cringey or weird, but it is canon that every time we’ve seen him out of his costume/uniform in the manga he’s worn either plain black tees/tank tops or t-shirts with skulls on them :O that’s actually his canon style, I wasn’t taking a wild guess back there haha

Anon said:I miss your art on my feed on the days you don’t art. So I scroll through your old posts whenever that happens. (This is not a plea or pressure for you to do anything more often btw. You make so much amazing art and contribute so much to this fandom. I love going back and looking at all your art. We are not worthy!) I literally can’t think about Kiribaku and the Bakusquad without thinking of your art.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!!!!! Oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;O; 

Anon said:Cons of Kirishima being the protagonist of MHA: He would constantly be hurting himself and making us as the audience suffer in the worst way. Pros: if the recent chapters are anything to go by, he would be /very very pretty/ by now due to how much he’s been beaten up

I still prefer him healthy and happy tho ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡ once in a hospital bed is enough for me //sob

Anon said:I can’t describe how happy these deathstar doodles made me?? Your art is top notch as always but you drawing one of my all time favorite ships when there’s so little content for them gave me strenght for the next 57 years, thank you sm!!! And have a good day!!

Anon said:Ahhh you have no idea how much of a blessing it is to see deathstar in your artttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!! I love you so muchhhhhh!!!

I’M!!! HAPPY!!! YOU GUYS LIKED THOSE!!!!! I never understood why there was so little content for them tbh, like??? Okay the anime didn’t reach any of The Good Stuff for them and most fans never read the manga, but the manga makes them such an obvious ship?? So good so right so healthy and supportive and beautiful b o y rereading that manga gave me a lot of feelings bless the two of them ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡

Anon said:Oh my god, I was just looking through like all your art and I realized how much you’ve improved. Like oh my god you’re fantastic, all your art looks so great. I mean this as a compliment and that’s you’ve improved a lot and you’re so great. ❤️❤️

THANK YOU OH BOY (●´□`)♡ this means…………….so much…………. gahh

Anon said:i got so busy with college apps and entrance exams that I stopped watching the anime around the intern time and I stopped reading the manga around about the time sun eater faces off against those guys. man I have so much to catch up on but I still don’t have much time at all. all I know is Mirio is being an angel and I’m at peace with that.

Mirio………… is such a good boy……………….. he deserves so much more…………….. so much better………………….. o

#fran answers #again about the hoh!Bakugou hc #i do think everyone should be free to headcanon whatever they please #that's just my personal opinion on the matter #it's mostly based on how much i like bakugou as he is you know #uhhhhhh the reason why he's my fave is that i like him #and that sound like an obvious statement haha #but all i mean is that all of bakugou's flaws and struggles and good points and growth #i want to keep it all #i love it all #headcanons are good and let people work with their imagination in what ifs a lot #id never tell anyone to stop that that's what art is all about #my answer was just about... the limits i put to my own headcanoning #there's some lines i don't want to cross and this headcanon crosses a bunch of them #that's for the second ask #as far as the first ask goes it's like... #well #im not saying it's impossible for bakugou to have been born with a predisposition to earing loss #but when that's the headcanon we're talking about i feel like bakugou #would have different reactions between 'my quirk is against me' and 'my body is against me' #? #i think he'd find it easier to accept if it were just something natural as far as his quirk goes #I DUNNO I DUNNO it's not my hc anyway haha #anonymous

[himbowelsh]

anger management (ao3)

His boyfriend is a goddamn stick in the mud.

He hates to admit it -- especially because he's dating Webster, and that makes him look uncool by comparison -- but it's true. Joe (who is an inarguably cool person) loves Webster to death. He's great; even if his face turns really red whenever they argue and he walks around with his mouth hanging open like a fish, he's smart, he's funny, he’s gorgeous, and the sex is mindblowing. Joe couldn't ask anything more from Webster, aside from maybe being less of an ass sometimes, but he'll accept equal responsibility there.

Webster keeps him on his toes, and that's what he loves about him.

He just wishes that he wasn't so damn boring some of them time.

"Are we almost done?" he absolutely does not whine, flopping over the array of books spread out in front of him..

Webster shoots him a look from the corner of his eye, not lifting his head from the study guide he's been buried in for the past half hour. His brow has that same stubborn knit that he always gets when he's annoyed, and he opens his mouth in preparation to scold him before Joe cuts him off.

"Okay, okay, fine. Study in peace. Whatever."

The library isn't his ideal way to spend a Friday afternoon, but midterms are coming up and Webster has a point when he says they need to study. His boyfriend throws himself into his academics with the single-minded devotion he commits to everything he's passionate about. Watching Web work was fun for the first ten minutes, but after that got boring Joe was left with nothing but books to occupy his attention.

It's torture. It's sheer, cold blooded torture. It's a nice day out. He and Web could be outside, enjoying the day, soaking in the sun, having sex under that cool tree Joe found at the park. Instead they're in the library studying, and Joe is bored out of his mind.

Absently, he picks up his pen and starts doodling on the nearest blank paper he can find. He's so caught up in the swirls and faces he's sketching that it takes him too long to realize his canvas is actually the inside one of the library books.

His first instinct is to curse, but he bites his tongue. If no one knows, no one has to know. (The librarian already has it out for him, no point giving the hag a good reason to kick him out.) Discreetly, he slides a study guide over the marred part of the book, and glances over to see if Webster noticed. Nothing.

Then, just because he can, Joe takes it up to another level. He quickly scribbles something down on the corner of a very dull page about cell reproduction, finishing it off with a few scribbled hearts and a tiny picture of a shark. He takes a moment to appraise his work. It's cute, he decides; exactly the spontaneous romantic stuff Web's always swooning over.

You look really good in those jeans. You'd look better out of them. Love you. ;) - Joe

He leans over with his pen, tapping Webster on his shoulder. Finally, his boyfriend looks up. Joe slides the book over to him before leaning back in his seat, smirking as his boyfriend’s expression shifts from bafflement to surprise.

“You,” says Webster. “You.”

He looks up. Joe winks at him.

He's utterly unprepared for the hardcover textbook which suddenly swings right at his head. His reflexes are quick enough that he can dive out of the way before he's concussed, but he winds up tumbling out of the chair and onto the ground.

“What's wrong with you?” hisses Webster. “That's a library book! A book, Joe! How could you write in a book?”

“Jesus fuck, I'm sorry! Fuck!” Webster is still swinging at him. All Joe can do is curl up, trying to guard his head and other vital areas as much as possible. The bludgeoning continues as Webster switches from Joe’s lighter textbook to his heavier grammar one.

“Don't -- write -- in -- books!”

“I was trying to be romantic!”

“That's pen, you can't even erase it!”

“I'm sorry, fuck!”

The sound of a throat clearing freezes both of them in their tracks. Slowly, Webster turns around (textbook still raised to strike) only to come face-to-face with the librarian.

Joe can't really blame her for kicking them both out after that.

At least the sun is still shining, even in the middle of the sidewalk outside the campus library. In contrast to the cheerful day Webster looks royally pissed off, glaring at Joe with a heat that stings more than his multiple bruises. He shifts under his boyfriend’s glower, trying not to show how uncomfortable it makes him. A mad Webster can be a scary Webster, when he's in the right mood.

“Soooo,” Joe says, flashing his most charming grin. “You wanna go check out trees in the park?”

Webster stomps away. His retreating silence says it all.

#webgott #joseph liebgott #david webster #band of brothers #hbo war #my writing #joe liebgott

[magnvs]

I DIDN’T KILL HIM,  IF THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE WONDERING !   alternatively titled:  a jagnus soulmates au fic for my dearest mari.

✧･ﾟ:* HAPPY BIRTHDAY ,  @goldenherons!!! 💋

Jace  is  twenty - one  years  old  and     COMPLETELY     hungover  the  first  time  it  happens.

It’s  midday ,     and  he’s  still  lying  languidly  in  the  bed  that  is  much  too  large  for  comfort  in  an  apparent  attempt  to  ascertain  how  long  he  can  remain  tucked  away  in  his  corner  of  the  world  before  someone  comes  looking  for  him .     The  lingering  silence  in  his  bedroom  is  shattered  by  the  slow  rustling  of  sheets  as  he  shifts  his  legs  atop  the  mattress ,     and  for  a  moment ,     he  finds  that  the  allure  of  going  back  to  sleep  may  just  win  him  over .

He’s  just  heaved  out  what  seems  to  be  the  upteenth  sigh ,     and  is  moving  to  blindly  raise  his  arms  up  above  his  head  to  stretch  them  out  before  finally  opening  his  eyes ,     and  furrowing  his  brows  as  his  gaze  settles  on …     A  flower .

❝     The  Hell ??     ❞          He  whispers ,     immediately  drawing  his  arm  close  and  rubbing  insistently  at  the  monochromatic  mark     (  even  though  there’s  hardly  any  use     ---     not  when  it  has  clearly  been  drawn  on  with  permanent  marker  ) .     It  takes  a  moment ,     but  Jace  eventually  gathers  the  strength  to  roll  over  until  he’s  sliding  from  the  bed  and  his  feet  are  hitting  the  floor .     With  a  residual  gait  from  his  drunken  state  during  the  previous  night ,     he  makes  his  way  towards  the  desk  situated  by  the  window  and  snatches  up  a  marker  of  his  own  to  hastily  shade  over  the  symbol .

It’s  dangerous  to  start  assuming  things  so  quickly     ---     especially  with  the  past  that  he’s  had .

When  he  collapses  atop  the  sheets  once  more ,     however ,     marker  still  in  hand ,     he’s  gazing  directly  at  his  forearm  when  another  flower  is  scrawled  next  to  the  first     (  which  is  now  nothing  more  than  a  collection  of  nonsensical scribbles ,     thanks  to  Jace’s  quick  handiwork  ) .     His  intended  whisper  involving  various  expletives  catches  rather  uncomfortably  in  his  throat  as  he  stares ,     and  he’s  quick  to  pop  the  marker’s  cap  off  before  connecting  the  tip  of  the  pen  with  his  arm  once  more.

He  spends  minutes     (  many  more  than  necessary ,     if  he’s  being  completely  honest  with  himself  )     trying  to  think  of  something  suitable  to  say ,     but  when  his  pen  disconnects  from  his  skin ,     the  resulting  words  are  rather  childish .

‘ STOP  IT . ’

It’s  hardly  eloquent     ---     but  a  test ,     all  the  same .

As  Jace  sits  in  the  near - darkness ,     he  is  quick  to  assert  that  he’s  not  scared     (  he  is  ) .     With  each  moment  that  passes ,     he  starts  a  new  attempt  to  tell  himself  that  holding  his  arm  so  close  to  his  face  that  he  begins  to  see  double  is  hardly  going  to  determine  whether  or  not  he’ll  get  a  reply     (  he  does  it  anyway  ) .

When  he  finally  receives a  response ,     it  isn’t  exactly  anything  along  the  lines  of  the  words  he’d  been  hoping  to  first  exchange  with  his  soulmate.

‘ YOU  WILL  BE  ALONE  ALWAYS  AND  THEN  YOU  WILL  DIE . ’

The  silence  seems  to  hang  on  Jace’s  shoulders  rather  heavily  as  he  squints  down  at  the  words  for  a  moment  or  two .     It’s …     Well ,     it  feels  strangely     FAMILIAR ,     rather  than  foreboding.

Hang  on .

His  phone  is  ripped  mercilessly  from  its  charging  station ,     and  he  is  quick  to  type  the  statement  into  Google  before  huffing  out  a  terribly  triumphant  snort  when  his  suspicions  are  proved  correct .

❝     ‘ Every  morning  the  same  big  and  little  words  all  spelling  out  desire ,     all  spelling  out …     You  will  be  alone  always  and  then  you  will  die , ’    ❞          are  the  words  Jace  reads  aloud  from  the  poetry  website .     Eyes  narrowing ,     his  phone  is  soon  tossed  carelessly  onto  his  sheets  so  that  he  may  take  hold  of  his  marker  once  more .  

‘ SIKEN ??     REALLY? ’     Pretentious  ass .

‘ IT  WOULD  SEEM  AS  IF  I’VE  BEEN  MATCHED  WITH  AN  INTELLECTUAL . ’

As  if  on  instinct ,     he  rolls  his  eyes  as  a  scoff  tumbles  from  his  lips .    ‘ EVEN  IF  I  WASN’T ,     YOU’D  STILL  BE  STUCK  WITH  ME . ’

It’s  not  exactly  the  best  way  to  bond     ---     but  Jace  has  never  been  one  to  tolerate  superiority ;     the  person  on  the  other  end  is  simply  going  to  have  to  get  used  to  it .     He’s  swift  in  his  decision  to  shove  his  arms  beneath  his  pillow  and  make  a  resolution  to  wear  long  sleeves  for  the  rest  of  the  day ,     but  his  curiosity  eventually  wins  out .     When  he  moves  his  forearm  into  view  once  more ,     the  written  reply  causes  him  to  carry  out  yet  another  tired  heave  of  his  shoulders  as  he  lets  out  a  frustrated  sigh .

' UNFORTUNATELY . ’

Fucking  soulmates .

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

Once  they     (  mostly  Jace  )     are  both  calm  enough  to  uphold  both  ends  of  a  conversation  without  inserting  any  expletives  or  allowing  their  tempers  to  leak  into  each  response ,    the  pair  exchange  basic  niceties  with  the  use  of  their  arms .     Soon  enough ,     Jace  finds  out  that  his  soulmate’s  name  is  Magnus ,     he  lives  in  New  York  City  too ,  and  is  also  twenty - one .

It  would  be  almost  too  easy  to  narrow  him  down  to  a  page  of  names  and  addresses  based  on  that  information  alone     (  it’s  what  his  father  had  done  with  his  mother  ) ,     but  Jace  eventually  decides  that  it  would  take  the  fun  out  of  it .     He  isn’t  usually  one  to  take  up  a  challenge  like  this     ---     to  get  to  know  Magnus  slowly ,     rather  than  appear  at  his  door  with  roses  and  chocolates  accompanied  by  an  eagerness  for  the  pair  to  fall  in  love  on     HIS     terms     ---     but  it’s  a  change  to  his  usual  pace  of  rushed  romances  that  are  filled  with  a  flurry  of  alcohol  and  mistakes  that  had  been  realised  too  late ,     and  Jace  learns  to  welcome  this  change .

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

After  a  few  weeks ,     Magnus  tells  Jace  that  he  isn’t  ready  to  meet  him  in  person  just  yet .

He’s  had  a  bad  experience  in  the  past .     Some  guy  had  a  one - sided  soulmate  bond  with  him ,     and  while  Magnus'  marks  had  showed  up  on  his  body ,     the  connection  was  never  reciprocated .     ‘ IT  RUINED  US  BOTH ,     ESPECIALLY  SINCE  WE’D  BEEN  FRIENDS .     HIM  MORE  THAN  I ,     IN  HINDSIGHT . ’

When  Jace  asks  where  he  is  now ,     the  answer  he  gets  is  soon  scrawled  rather  slowly  across  his  forearm .     ‘ HE’S  DEAD . ’     As  he  continues  to  survey  the  reply ,     a  further  explanation  appears .     ‘ I  DIDN’T  KILL  HIM ,     IF  THAT’S  WHAT  YOU’RE  WONDERING . ’

Almost  unconsciously ,     Jace  begins  to  wonder  whether  all  of  Magnus'  hasty  flowers  and  scrolling  displays  of  penmanship  continue  to  adorn  the  man’s  body  like  expressions  of  sorrow  even  as  he  lies  in  his  grave .

' HOW  DID  HE  DIE ,     THEN ?? ’

‘ THE  PROBLEM  WITH  YOU  SEEMS  TO  BE  THAT  YOU’RE  SMART ,     BUT  YOU’RE  NOT  SMART  ENOUGH .     LEARN  HOW  TO  TAKE  A  HINT ,     DARLING . ’ 

At  this  rate ,     Magnus  is  going  to  give  Jace  premature  wrinkles     ---     but  he  seeks  to  answer  his  own  question  as  his  eyes  run  over  their  previous  exchanges ,     fingertips  trailing  close  behind .

' IT  RUINED  US  BOTH , ’     are  the  words  that  finally  click  the  answer  into  place  for  Jace .     ' HIM  MORE  THAN  ME . ’

Oh .

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

It  takes  time  for  Jace  to  finally  reveal  that  an  identical  scenario  had  been  forced  upon  himself  a  few  years  earlier .     ‘ HIS  NAME  WAS  SIMON ,’     he  writes  with  trembling  hands  that     ACHE     to  scratch  the  name  from  the  surface  of  his  skin  as  soon  as  it’s  been  inked  in     ---     there's  always  a  chance  that  removing  the  mark  will  also  erase  every  memory  that  Jace  has  of  Simon's  hasty  shopping  list  appearing  on  the  back  of  his  own  hand ,     of  his  excitement  at  the  realisation  and  the  subsequent  pain  that  had  reached  his  heart  in  waves  upon  realising  that  Simon  hadn't  received  any  of  the  tentative  doodles  that  Jace  had  scrawled  across  his  own  palm  in  reply .

His  best  friend  had  been  matched  with  someone  else .     A  girl .     Pretty ,     brunette ,     normal .     In  response ,     Jace  had  told  himself  that  it  was  fine     ---     that  he  didn’t  do     COMPLICATED ,     anyway .

But  his  feelings  towards  Simon  had  been  anything  but  complicated ,     really .

In  the  end ,     the  marks  had  faded ,     and  nothing  else  had  replaced  them .     After  Simon ,     Jace  hadn’t  expected  to  see  someone  else’s  words  decorate  his  body  ever  again .     He’d  heard  of  people  having  more  than  one  soulmate  throughout  their  lives ,     but  hadn’t  thought  that  he’d  be  deserving  enough  to  attain  a  second  chance .

Clearly ,     he  and  Magnus  had  both  been  a  little  lucky  in  the  end     (  or  perhaps ,     just  deserving  of  each  other  ) .

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

They  talk  at  the  oddest  of  times     ---     ultimately ,     it’s  when  they  need  each  other  the  most.

In  an  apparent  act  of  fate ,     Jace  wakes  up  at  an  ungodly  hour  one  morning  to  find  that  Magnus  is  drunk  beyond  reason  and  alone  and  needs  advice ,     needs  a  friend  to  comfort  him  so  that  he  won’t  turn  to  the  cigarettes  that  have  burnt  his  skin  multiple  times  before  in  an  attempt  to  feel  something ,     ANYTHING     other  than  the  loneliness  that  had  encircled  his  heart  ever  since  his  mother  had  retired  to  her  bedroom  for  the  last  time  in  her  mortal  life .     He  wouldn’t  exactly  go  so  far  as  to  call  himself  an  expert  on  the  whole     ‘ comfort ’     thing ,     but  he  gives  it  a  try  anyway .

When  the  conversation  slowly  evolves  from  pain  and  hurt  and     REGRET     to  a  debate  on  the  complete  ridiculousness  of  modern  consumerism ,     Jace  knows  that  he’s  done  his  job .

Conversely ,     Jace  finds  comfort  in  Magnus  when  he’s  taking  the  subway  to  work  days  later ,     the  weight  of  his  adoptive  father’s  death  hanging  over  his  shoulders  like  a  suit  that  is  far  too  big  as  he  takes  a  seat  by  one  of  the  dust - stained  windows  and  pushes  up  his  sleeve  in  search  of  a  distraction .

Instead  of  a  blank  canvas ,     he  finds  lines  of  poetry  that  stir  emotions  in  his  chest  unlike  anything  he’s  ever  felt  before ,     and  he  can’t  stop  the  small  smile  that  spreads  across  his  lips  when  he  raises  his  free  hand  to  trace  the  delicate  curves  of  the  vowels  and  edges  of  the  consonants .     For  once ,     Jace  stops  thinking  about  what  Valentine  would  say  upon  finding  out  that  he’d  been  paired  with     ANOTHER     boy ,     or  the  disappointment  his  father  would  undoubtedly  harbour  due  to  the  decision  he’s  about  to  make  in  regards  to  college .     He’s     HAPPY ,     and  he  stays  that  way  long  after  stepping  out  onto  the  streets .

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

On  one  particular  Wednesday  afternoon ,     Jace  finds  himself  stepping  into  a  Starbucks  branch  to  escape  the  usual  chill  that  sweeps  through  the  city  a  few  days  before  Christmas .     It’s  not  the  place  he’s  used  to  visiting  when  it  comes  to  fulfilling  his  caffeine  needs     ---     most  of  the  staff  at  his  regular  haunt  greet  him  by  name  and  remember  his  coffee  order     ---     but  he’s  due  to  attend  a  job  interview  in  a  nearby  building  in  fifteen  minutes ,    and  is  desperate  for  some  liquid  courage     (  it’s  hardly  alcohol ,     but  he  can  make  do  ) .

A  shiver  ripples  through  his  body  as  he  steps  into  the  crowded  store ,     but  the  blonde  soon  feels  relaxed  enough  to  withdraw  his  hands  from  the  pockets  of  his  jacket .     His  search  for  enough  single  dollar  bills  to  fulfil  the  amount  needed  for  his  order  begins  the  moment  that  he  steps  into  the  line  leading  up  to  the  counter ,     but  Jace  is  soon  distracted  by  a  loud  voice  that  sounds  from  across  the  room .

He’s  beautiful .

He’s  wearing  a  long  coat  and  ridiculously  lavish  rings ,     which  glimmer  beneath  the  lights  as  his  hands  move  exuberantly  as  a  consequence  of  his  conversation  with  the  barista  from  his  position  at  the  front  of  the  order  line     (  it  almost  gives  Jace  the  feeling  that  he  isn’t  simply  talking  about  coffee  orders  ) .     His  laugh  echoes  throughout  the  room  and  settles  comfortably  around  Jace's  ribcage  as  if  it  had  been  made  to  fit  in  the  space  where  his  heart  is ,     and  the  brunette  just     KNOWS     that  it’s  him .

The  other’s  voice  entrances�� him  like  music ,     and  Jace  has  to  take  a  moment  to  wonder  how  the  Hell  someone  like  Magnus  was  matched  with  someone  like  HIM .

He  looks  down  at  his  bare  wrist  every  minute  or  so  while  he  waits  for  his  order .     It’s  kind  of  endearing ,     actually     ---     Jace's  heart  swells  when  he  realises ,     and  subsequently  begins  to  wonder  whether  or  not  he  unconsciously  does  the  same     (  and  if  so ,     do  people  notice ??     Do  they  smile ,     too ??     Or  do  they  simply  roll  their  eyes  at  the  rather  unsubtle  hint  towards  a  newfound  bond  and  carry  on ??  ) .

He  can’t  bring  himself  to  look  away  from  the  young  man  even  as  his  hands  hastily  dive  back  into  his  pockets  to  search  for  the  pen  that  he  usually  keeps  in  his  jacket ,     and  when  he  finally  extracts  the  writing  tool ,     he’s  quick  to  uncap  the  lid  with  a  firm  tug  of  his  fingers .    When  the  cap  falls  to  the  floor  with  a  clatter ,    Jace  can’t  quite  bring  himself  to  care     ---     he ,     after  all ,     is  much  too  busy  with  his  current  task  of  thinking  about  what  he  could  possibly  say ,     what  he  could  possibly  write  that  won’t  make  his  soulmate  think  that  he’s  being  an  utter  stalker .

' THE  MUSIC  THEY’RE  PLAYING  IN  HERE  SUCKS . ‘

--- Well ,     he  tried .

He  barely  registers  the  fact  that  he's  moving  out  of  the  line  and  towards  the  counter  until  he  has  come  to  an  abrupt  halt  in  front  of  the  brunette ,     and  it’s  as  if  he's  been  drawn  towards  him  by  an  unseen  force     ---     although ,     Jace  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  the  entire  world  felt  like  this ;     if  every  living  being  found  themselves  happily  orbiting  around  the  magnetic  pull  of  the  miniature  sun ,     the  Apollo  reincarnate  on  their  undeserving  Earth  who  is  currently  standing  before  him .

Magnus'  brows  furrow  as  he  reads  what  has  been  written  on  his  wrist ,     and  he  turns  to  look  around  the  store  with  such  grace  that  Jace  thinks  that  he  could  almost  be  mistaken  for  living  marble  as  he  draws  close .     This  new  vantage  point  from  which  he  may  look  at  the  other  gives  him  the  strangest  urge  to  reach  up  and  brush  away  the  stray  flakes  of  snow  that  are  smattered  lightly  across  his  shoulders .

Though  he  seems  quite  confused  at  first ,     his  soulmate  is  smiling  as  he  glances  from  the  writing  on  his  own  arm  to  the  pen  in  Jace's  hands .     After  taking  a  small  step  forward ,     he  reaches  for  Jace's  own  forearm  and  gazes  down  at  it  once  the  blonde  has  willingly  surrendered  his  limb  to  the  other's  grasp.

When  he  has  found  the  confirmation  that  he  had  been  searching  for     (  the  childish  complaint ,     still  strikingly  complementary  against  Jace's  pale  skin  in  the  place  where  he’d  initially  inked  it  across  his  wrist  ) ,     Magnus  looks  up  with  an  expression  so  startlingly     HAPPY     that  the  blonde  almost  keels  over .

While  he  is  actively  resisting  the  urge  to  reach  out ,    to  voice  his  soul's  insistent  cry  of     ‘ oh ,     THERE     you  are ,     I’ve  been  looking  for  you  forever , ’     Magnus  saves  him  from  the  embarrassment  of  saying  anything  excruciatingly  sappy     &&     honest  by  chiming  in  with  a  teasing  opinion  of  his  own .

❝ I’ll  have  you  know  that  White  Christmas  is  a     CLASSIC . ❞

#goldenherons #❝ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀɴɢᴇʟs ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ. 〔 jagnus. 〕 #ʜᴇʏ! ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ! ☆ ⏤〘 zelda speaks. 〙 #love u smmmm i hope u have a wonderful day #anyway wow i love having titles that make absolutely no sense out of context #KJDSHFBJSDF