#this was supposed to be a quick sketch to see how i wanted to draw her for yet another stupid meme drawing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mondaymelon · 10 months

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— 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀. ♥

:feat~ albedo, kaeya, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh x gn!reader:

⤷ sometimes, warm moments like these is what truly makes their love apparent.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

"May I... sketch you?"

ALBEDO's request is quiet - well-mannered as he's caught gazing at you with those deep turquoise eyes of his, holding a pencil aloft in one gloved hand.

"Go ahead." You let a smile cross your expression briefly, glancing up at him and letting your eyes meet. His stare is warm, contrasting to his usual blank expression that he wears so frequently. Your cheeks warm as his lips curve upwards into a gentle smile, and the quietest laugh escapes from his lips.

"Hm, if you keep looking at me with those eyes, I'm not sure if I'll be able to focus at all." His voice is playful, almost, before he flips to a new page in his sketchbook, which is set against his usual easel, and begins to draw.

And although only silence surrounds the two of you, occasionally accompanied by the gentle scratching of Albedo's sketching pencil moving across the paper, everything feels perfectly familiar.

Sunlight filters through the large windows, bathing the entire room in a cordial glow. From where you silently sit, you can feel your heart quicken at the sight of Albedo quietly standing, occasionally glancing at you with a diligent gaze.

It's clear that no words need to be shared between the two of you. The soft smile set on the male's face unmistakably says enough.

It's an expression that reads, "I love you." ♥

"Here, shall I order you another drink?"

KAEYA's voice seems to waltz in the thick air. Amongst the mixed chatter and low tones of the bar, his smooth one is something that stands out. His eye twinkles as he glances at you, slowly swirling the contents of his own glass with a distant amusement. "The night's just begun, after all."

"Ah, no thanks... I have work tomorrow." You sheepishly decline his offer, not wanting to wake up to a vicious hangover the next morning... which had happened the last time the two of you went out for drinks. It seemed that that was Kaeya's idea of "entertainment".

"Mm, very well. It's a pity, but I suppose I can't ignore your reasoning." With a short sigh and a loose shrug of his shoulders, he lets out a small laugh. "Ah, but since you won't be drinking any more, perhaps I'll make up for it?"

You don't understand his words... not until he takes the wine bottle off the table and downs it all with startling quickness.

"Kaeya!?"

"Ahaha... oh, maybe that wasn't such a great idea..." His body tips, his head lolling onto your shoulder with a drunken stupor. Kaeya holds his drink well, so it's certainly not everyday where you'll see the cavalry captain in such an intoxicated state. You can sense that something has changed in his gaze, from the way his interested gaze flicks up to your face from where he leans against your shoulder.

"Hm..." He mumbles it to himself, mostly, and it's something you're sure you weren't meant to hear, but you do.

"Haha... How could I be so lucky as to have you as my lover...?" ♥

"Love, are you tired? Come here."

ZHONGLI's expression is gentle, amber eyes warm as he lightly gestures to the space beside him. The evening air is cool, so his touch is inviting more than anything.

His gaze seems to melt as you sit beside him, body leaning against his. He's quick to move his arms, wrapping one around you, pulling you into the frame while the other stays by his side.

If you had glanced up at him then, you would've seen the gentle smile that spread across his features. Yet you didn't, and instead leaned into his warmth with a smile of your own.

Perhaps you're imagining it, but in the quiet of the night, you can almost hear Zhongli's heart beating alongside yours. Steadfast, strong. An unbreakable will.

And while you held such admiration for the male, he, in return, held such affection for you. You, the beacon of his attention and you, who had captured his heart obliviously.

Every second he spends with you is bliss - moments he will never take for granted.

Above you, Zhongli lets out a satisfied breath, running his fingers through your hair with an unimaginable delicateness. He stays there for a moment, musing to himself with twinkling golden eyes as he plays with your locks absentmindedly... although anyone who knows Zhongli is well aware that he is not one to be absent minded in any matter.

Ah, is he saying something? His words are quiet, so much so you can't hear them, but his lips move accordingly with every word.

"The day will come where we are not together, but until then, please, let me hold you for as long as it may last." ♥

"You can open your eyes now!"

CHILDE's game had been rather suspicious from the start - yet, the first thing you notice when you open your eyes is the glimmering excitement that seems to dance across his features. And while his amusement always had been somewhat plastic, some part of you knew that this enthusiasm was genuine. He takes your hands, his touch warm, and spins you around in a half-hug that seems to make you fly.

"Hey, do you like it?" His voice is higher-pitched - airy and hopeful.

Huh? Oh... he means-

You had meant to look at his surprise, but found yourself gazing distractedly at him instead. In his arms, he holds a bouquet of your favorite flowers, each and every bud fully in bloom, every petal pristine. How he got them to be so perfect, you might never know, but you can already feel a smile forming on your face.

A laugh escapes your lips as you throw your arms around the male, pulling yourself into his embrace. There's a moment of shock before he returns it, and you can see the way his own lips curve upwards.

His eyes are the same deep azure, void of light... and it'd likely be too much to hope that any sort of brightness would return to such, yet sometimes, in the late hours where you would be cuddled up beside him, there was no mistaking how his expression seemed to lighten at the sight of you.

"I love it." The words come out almost like a whisper, but the male hears it.

"And I love you." ♥

"Oh, were you waiting for me?"

AYATO's violet eyes seem to sparkle as he rounds the corner and spots you leaning against the wall, heedlessly standing there with a tentative air. "If you wanted to see me, you could've told one of my retainers... or, perhaps the thought hadn't crossed your mind in such haste?" There's a smirk on his face as he chuckles lightly.

"I just thought waiting for you would be faster." You pout, cheeks slightly flushed at his jesting.

Ah, there it was. The expression that had made him fall for you. The male can only laugh further. "Very well, then I suppose I'll have to indulge you then, correct?" He begins to walk down the hallway and gestures for you to follow suit. At the end of the corridor stands two armored guards, attentively glancing across the courtyard with weapon in hand. As the two of you cross them, they respectfully bow their heads.

"Commissioner Kamisato and esteemed guest, we greet you."

"Thank you." Ayato smiles, but it's one without warmth. "You are dismissed."

"...Pardon?" The first one seems dumbfounded, but the second seems to get the hint and tugs on the other's shoulder, leading them out of the area.

"Hm... now there are no prying eyes, let's talk, shall we?" He sits and you mimic his actions, watching with a flitting gaze as the Ayato himself stares at you, seemingly transfixed. "How have you been, love?" There's already two cups of hot tea set at the table, but somehow, he pulls a cup of boba from his sleeve instead.

And while you're telling him all about the day's occurrences, waving your hands about as you elaborate, you pause as you hear a quiet laugh emit from the male.

"Oh sorry, go on."

"You just look so beautiful right now... that I couldn't help but laugh at my good fortune." ♥

"Here, I made you this!"

THOMA beams warmly as he sets something on your head, a something that smells rather fragrant, like fresh vanilla. The blonde's smile is contagious, lethally so... from the way his spring eyes are glimmering excitedly, to the manner on how his expression brightened as soon as he had spotted you - everything about it, about him seemed to make your heart feel warm.

You glance up. Wind... Windwheel Asters? Weren't those the flowers from Mondstadt? Low and behold, there they were, stems intricately intertwined together, occasional leaves flourishing outwards as the heads delicately spin in the gentle breeze.

"A... A merchant came by and was selling some flowers from my hometown, so I thought..." Thoma's voice trails off as his face slowly grows redder. In a way, he's slightly ashamed. Perhaps he shouldn't have indulged in such a childish hobby, gifting you a flower crown? With the way your eyes have widened... do you dislike it-?

All those thoughts cease instantaneously as he feels something warm - your lips, pressed against his cheek as you give him a quick kiss. When you pull away, your happy expression is something that makes his eyes widen in surprise as he feels his heart soar.

"Ah, but now I feel bad..." You put a finger to your chin, pondering a thought. "You've given me such a priceless gift, yet I don't have a thing in return..." Instantly, Thoma is all over your slumped figure.

"Nono, please don't say that! You being here is the best gift I could wish for." ♥

"Are you done with this page yet?"

ALHAITHAM glances down at you. Your back is pressed against his chest, sitting in between his splayed legs comfortably as the male holds out his book for the both of you to read. As he breathes steadily, his chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm.

When you nod your head in approval, he flips the page, revealing the next. He's a fast reader, that much is apparent. You can't keep up with him, but he waits for you at the end of each and every one... and if he gets bored, he'll rest his chin on your head - or maybe even play with your hair, the slightest bit.

Sometimes, a distant part of you thought he reminded you of a cat.

But that was besides the point. The book isn't anything special - just more ancient Sumeru history, but the way Al Haitham is staring at every page so diligently would make one think that he's reading something incredibly riveting. You've seen that look before, now that you think about it. It's the certain type of gaze that you've caught Al Haitham using out of the corner of your eye. The type of stare that just spells out his infatuation.

You haven't even noticed that your eyelids have begun to flutter shut until the male's deep voice emits once more: "Are you tired?"

There's a faint smile on his face, an expression that one could easily miss. In your drowsiness, however, you still manage to catch it. "Mhm."

Silently he sets down his book, before placing a hand behind your head and pushing you closer. He closes his eyes, his breathing composed.

"If you're drowsy, get some rest... But stay here, would you?" ♥

"Darling, what... what are you doing here?"

KAVEH stands in the doorway, ruby eyes wide. His stance is stiff as he somewhat comes to his senses, whipping his head about in an almost comical manner. "Why are you here? Is he home??"

He sounds so anxious it's hard not to laugh. "I just wanted to see you, so..." Your words come out as more sheepish as intended, and you can see his harried expression lighten.

"You didn't talk to Al Haitham, did you?" There's a new edge in his voice, although his jitteriness has significantly eased since the start of the conversation. "And he didn't say anything weird to you, did he??"

Oh. The realization finally hits you. He's jealous, isn't he?

"No, not at all. I haven't even seen him, actually." A giggle manages to escape your lips, and Kaveh visibly brightens at your mood.

"Good. Then, should we get out of here before he decides to show up?" Kaveh opts to place his work things aside, leaving Murak on the table to fend for himself as he quickly piles his blueprints onto the coffee table, emptying the bundles in his arms. He takes your hand as soon as possible, his grip tight but comfortable.

As he tugs you along and out the door into the warm evening air, glancing back at you, his crimson eyes seem to shimmer.

"You're mine, and I won't ever let you forget that." ♥

(a/n) oops this took me much longer than it shouldve

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blueskittlesart · 7 months

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What advice would you give beginner artists?

it's fine to want to do more stylized art, but nothing will help you improve quickly like studying from life. even if you want to draw very stylized figures, life drawing is still going to help you understand how the human body works and then you can build your stylization off of that understanding. I also recommend studying specifically things you're looking to improve--if you feel like your poses aren't dynamic, ask your model to do some quick (1-2 min) dynamic poses and work on getting the gesture down. if you're looking for anatomy, ask for longer, more static poses and really study the contours of the body. this also applies for portraiture and character art--my expressions and facial structure improved like CRAZY when i started doing portrait studies from life! (note: i know live model sessions aren't accessible for everyone. i'm a huge advocate for nude models, if you can find a studio nearby that's affordable to you that offers sessions, that's the best you're gonna get. however, there are sites that will give you photos of nude models to draw from, too, or you can even just ask friends or family to pose for you when they aren't busy, that's what i did before i started getting model sessions from my school!)

materials are not everything but sometimes a good material can make a difference. it's important to know what's worth it and what isn't for your skill level. invest in some decent-quality supplies or a good art program, but understand that you're still going to need to work to understand your materials and use them to their fullest potential. (if you're a digital artist buy csp. trust me on this. get it on sale. it will change your life. also do not fucking use photoshop)

tracing is ok. listen to me. TRACING. IS. OK. tracing is how you learn. don't trace other people's art and pass it off as your own, obviously, but there is literally no problem with tracing real-life reference photos. I routinely trace references for backgrounds and the like. there is no reason for you to kill yourself trying to make complex perspective and shit up from your head when you can very easily just overlay a photo and get what you need.

in that same vein, USE REFERENCE PHOTOS. find pics online or take pics of yourself and USE THEM to see how your poses work. it makes it SO SO SO much easier. the understanding that you need to create a pose out of nowhere will come with time but you're not going to get that skill unless you have a foundation of understanding how the real human body works, and the easiest way to get that understanding is by copying photos of real people.

last but not least, there's generally a sort of 'rulebook' that new artists are expected to go by, especially online, when it comes to digital art. when i was first learning, it was all about lineart and cell shading, two things that I didn't really like. Nowadays it seems to be all about rendering. the single most important thing i can tell you is if it sucks you don't have to do it. if you hate lineart just color your sketches. if you hate shading don't shade, or find a different way to shade that you enjoy more. if rendering is annoying or difficult for you DON'T BOTHER!! art is supposed to be fun. if part of your process is annoying or upsetting to you, cut it the fuck out. don't torture yourself just to do art the "right" way. i guarantee your art will look better when you're having fun making it anyway!

#asks #ALSO don't go in expecting to monetize your social media presence/go viral as an artist. make art for YOU and make what you want to make.#if your art has passion behind it then attention will come naturally!

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minkkumaz · 9 months

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DISASTEROLOGY

hyunjin dreamed of you and the things you'd do together, and not one soul knew about it. he finally draws up the courage to show you his intentions

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING hwang hyunjin x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS friends to lovers. lovesick hyunjin. confessions. smooching. slightly angst. fluff. suggestive implications. OMI NOTE i think out of all the members i struggle with writing hyunjin the most. i literally dwelled on this for so long but honestly turned out better than i expected. @skullverse, my ptv twin. this one is for you my schmookum wookums bc ik he's ur fav!!

a single finger traced over hyunjin’s abs, making him take a sharp breath. there were a million different kinds of fun, but that was only a figment of his mind’s eye. when he was tucked in between his sheets, a tainted dream resurfaced every night.

but this wasn’t true, no, it was completely impossible. nobody knew that he dreamt about you, the dates he’d take you on, and the way he’d hold your hand so perfectly that not one person would get a single idea besides ‘they must be together.’

this was his imagination, and when he wasn’t happily rested within it, the world felt like it was at end.

often time’s he’d wake up in a cold sweat. running a hand through his hair to detach the pieces that stuck to his forehead. his shirt clung to his body, lacking the touch of you underneath.

hyunjin sighed, looking over to his blinking alarm clock that had a small sketchbook next to it. you were meant to come over soon to spend some time with him since days like that came rarely. one quick nap later and he was soon reminded of how badly he wanted you, yet couldn’t have you.

it was everything. the way your lips parted slightly when you were confused, how you stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders after he teaches you choreography, or maybe when your hand brushed against his as you walked alongside him.

a low groan of annoyance fell from his lips, moving from his spot on the bed to freshen up in the bathroom. looking in the mirror was only a reminder that today was supposed to be the day he’d say something to you; imply that he wanted so much more than to just be friends.

all he saw was his fear looking back at him. out of every drawing he’s ever made, he could never sketch out a coherent idea of how he fell victim to your spell. so instead he settled with drawing you. just you.

it was now or never, right?

picking up his phone from the charger, he sent you a text to let you know that it was okay to come over. it wouldn’t take very long, as you didn’t live too far. in the meantime, he pushed down these possessive thoughts and cleaned himself up.

the clock felt like it was ticking slower than ever, but that was just a misconception when he heard the gentle knock on his door. thousands of butterflies awoke in his stomach, and he had never been more nervous than in that moment.

he walked over to unlock the door and let you inside. you were cozy in some pajamas, with a jacket hugging your body.

“hyun!” you grin, reaching your arms around him in a hug, enabling his hands to snake around your waist.

“hey, i haven’t seen your face in awhile.” he ruffled your hair gently.

“pff, only because you’re too busy with tour.” you tease him, pulling away to follow back to his bedroom.

“okay maybe i was a little busy! but i have a present for you from when i was on tour.” he tells you, grabbing the sketchbook on his night stand and handing it to you.

“for me?” you flipped it open to see an image of yourself laying prettily on the first page.

every pencil stroke dug into the paper, getting only the finest of details. you lower yourself back on his bed, still admiring the drawing.

“do you like it?” he smiles at you.

“do i like it? i love it oh my gosh!” you bounce slightly on his mattress, giddy with endorphins.

you place the book next to you on the comforter, reaching your hands out to pull him towards you in another embrace. in the midst of this all, he falls against you on the bed.

all you could do was let out quiet giggles with the boy on top of you, his head stuffed in the crook of your neck.

he lifted himself up, leaning up on one of his forearms. his free hand traveled to your face, moving small strands of hair that were blocking your vision. a pink hue played across his cheeks; this position felt too similar to the ones in his imagination.

“i don’t know how you were able to get all those details of me. you even got one of my moles!” you beam from underneath him.

“you’re just on my mind all the time, how could i not?”

“uh huh, you’re too busy being one of the most desired men on the planet.” you joke with him, failing to realize he was being serious. your expression shifts when he doesn’t laugh.

“did you know that i dream about you, y/n?” he says tenderly, grazing his fingertip over your jawline.

“wh– pardon?” you mutter.

“there’s so much i want to tell you, but i don’t want to scare you off.” he looked intimidating, towering over you. but there was so much care in his words that it confused you.

“hyunjin.. you could never scare me off. i value all of my time with you.” you respond calmly, trying to mask your flusteredness.

the line he drew down your face stopped, instead drifting down your neck and across your collarbones. a shiver travelled down your spine.

“are you sure that you mean that, y/n?” his voice was composed sweetly.

“i mean it.”

“whenever i draw you, i think back to these daydreams i have about you. about us. we did so much together, but none of it was real.” he stopped, “it made me second guess things a lot. but i figured that even if the world was ending, shouldn’t we spend the rest of our time in love?”

“i– i don’t know what to say.” you lay below him with a shocked look on your face, but you were far from scared. you were curious.

“don’t say anything. just imagine us, please?” there were undertones of distress in his words.

“i like you, so much. but i don’t want to ruin things between us. i was so terrified.” you confess, biting back a frown.

“you won’t ruin anything, my muse. you’re anything far from poisonous. things will be okay.”

“how will i know for sure?”

hyunjin looks into your glazed eyes, you were looking like you were about to cry. this only made him smile more.

he leaned down closer to you, until he was only inches away from your ear. you could feel every inhale and exhale sliding down the side of your neck.

“you’ll know if you stay. i want to create something beautiful,” he whispers, “then destroy it.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! PIERCE THE VEIL series

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factual-fantasy · 2 months

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26 ASKS!! THANK YOU!! :}}} 🥪

(Post in question)

WAAHAHAAG THANK YOU SO MUHC!!! :DDDD As for your questions-

Spider crab's name is just a place holder for now, much like a lot of the crew has.. I want to give them all proper names at some point. Like Ellie and Louis have.. But I'm just really bad at coming up with names for stuff- <XD 💔💔

For Luigi- no one in particular! I just wanted to draw him with that expression <XD And don't worry, Mario cheered him up in the end :}}

As for the FNAF doodle, thats Foxy, Roxy and Mangle! I get that its hard to recognize her by her side profile and without color though-- <XD I had experimented with some ideas of a pirate themed Glamrock Mangle being added to one of the AUs. Though that sketch was the only one I really liked. :/

I have seen Encanto! :D It was alright, I liked the living house aspect of it :00

As for Red, I thiiink he might be too young to understand fusion or how to do it.. I pictured him being.. like what, five? Or something? That's like half the age of when Steven first learned to fuse-

That, and it felt a little odd for him to fuse with any of the crew, since they're all so much older than him. :/

@astaherussy (Post in question)

XD Sure were! Convenient aren't they?🤣🤣

I've definitely heard of it, and I've seen some gifs/posts about it here and there.. but truth be told I have no idea what its about. :( I think I've seen two Mario's and one wears a black suit...?

(Link/video in question)

XDD I imagine Ellie would shut that down real quick. But in the off chance that they get away with it.. I feel like Louis would come out on top.

He could block any oncoming attacks with his unbreakable claw arm, then whip around and launch whole watermelons and pies with the other XDD He would probably think it was fun too!

Does the game have large birds like that?? :0 I had no idea! They gotta be on the look out for those then--

Oof, I suppose they could.. though I don't intend for either party to experience that. It just sounds miserable! D:>

(Link/video in question)

XDD Oh man, that's hilarious! Poor Red--

@yourstrulylightstar283 (Referencing this post)

Thank you! I hope I get better soon too.. I hope to have some answers by next week.. <:) 🙏

:DD Thank you! I'm so glad you like my Freddy! :))

I always kind'a felt like a certain.. gloomy-ness, would be fitting for him. He already has some of that in the game. But with everything my Freddy's been through.. just.. having this weight to his tone. This lingering exhaustion.. I felt like it would suit him. :(

Hmm... I imagine that Seam and Jevil would be options.. Maybe in bad cases Calico Jack would.. Almost everyone in FNAF is an option <XD

No.. in a sad twist of fate, no one ever heard his cries in the dungeon. Imagine how much more lonely he felt becuase of that..

I don't know if he gets phantom pains from getting beat up.. but I imagine his horn stumps give him some aches and soreness that can be attributed to phantom pain.. :(

Who's gingerbrave? That's the main character right..? I have no idea if he'd come across my crew.. I don't know what kind of shenanigans he gets up to.. wait "gang"? He travels in a group with other people??

@chickenmilk120

fank uu! :}}}

@couchwow

Yeah,, I'm aware.. 😔🙄 ya hate to see it. But hey the watermark is right there saying "this art is stolen." so it could be worse I guess.

@littlelightfish

Tuna:

He is not being normal about it XDD You've totally flattered him!

@potatocryptid

Thank you!! :DD Yeah,, I think I WILL work on what ever I want!! XDD

Off the top of my head, there's an AWESOME Mario artist by the name of @katlyntheartist! I love her work, I highly recommend you stop by her blog! :D

I've also seen some jaw-dropping Mario artwork by @suedoodle! Both blogs are worth a visit! :}}

(Post in question)

Ah yes! The idea behind that was to show the initial divide between Grillby and Spamton.

You see, Spamton hails Jevil as his savior of sorts. He was at his lowest low, and in unimaginable pain.. then Jevil just swoops in and offers his hand. Bringing him outside of his AU. Away from the pain, away from the torment.. Jevil is awesome!!

But then you've got Grillby.. Jevil saved him from his AU right before it collapsed in on itself. He "saved" his life, but at what cost? Grillby lost everything. And he cant help but be angry at Jevil for it. Thinking that if Jevil hadn't been there, he could have just peacefully disappeared along with his family and everyone else in his AU..

So Spamton is endlessly respectful towards Jevil, and Grillby cant help but roll his eyes and spit sass at him all the time. Those two opposing views are bound to cause problems someday..

I imagine one day the whole group is tired and cranky. Jevil did something that Grillby didn't agree with. Some bitter remarks there, Spamton defending Jevil's decision here.. some back and fourth and next thing you know a fight breaks out. :x

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

XDD idk!! Why are YOU into almost every single fandom I'M into?? Also than you so much!! :}}

Thank you! I'm glad you like my sona! But aaa sorry, no can do.. I don't want fanart at all, of anything. Just comments/asks/reblogs. <:}

@canonickero (Sent after this post)

XD Thank you! I'm glad you like him :}}

I pictured Yendo being another one of Funtime Foxy's nightmare-ish visions. Though I should consider passing that onto Bon Bon.. 👀

The story goes that Funtime Freddy is a frequent flyer in parts and service. The employees groan that there's always something wrong with Freddy that needs fixing. Nobody really knows why..

Now at some point Freddy was shut down and in parts and service. As per usual.. Foxy was nearby, and heard a sudden thud/crash coming from that room. He rushes inside to see what happened and finds Funtime Freddy on the floor, what ever he was propped up on had broken, causing him to fall.

He looked at Freddy's face.. and.. his face plates were wide open..

Foxy. freaked. out. If I remember correctly, he was supposed to start shouting and panicking. Trying to help Freddy, thinking he was hurt. When he couldn't move Freddy and he wouldn't wake up, Foxy ran out of the room to get help. He runs into some employees and tried to tell them what happened. They end up just forcibly shutting him down because he cant stop freaking out..

Later on he's reactivated and the rest of the gang is with him. Including Freddy. He uncharacteristically runs to Freddy all worried and frantically inspects his face for injuries. They ask him what he saw but he just.. doesn't have the words to describe it.

Part of the horror is Foxy's inability to understand what he saw. Therefore being terrified of it and being unable to describe it..

After that Foxy began to develop these hallucinations of sorts. Overtime the image of Freddy's skinned face kind'a turns in to its own nightmare. Yendo.. overtime it feels more like "Yendo" is an entity separate from Freddy. Foxy begins to imagine this skinned bear like creature that is out there somewhere.. wanting to hurt Freddy and take his face.. its not fun :(

This idea is still in development. Well, the whole AU is. But this was my initial idea for Yendo :)

Now old man consequences is tricky.. I had intentions of him being this weird vison that Foxy sees now and again. But with recent developments to the AU.. I might need to scrap the old gator. Or at least re-write his role and function in the AU-

@stripetkattelalala54 (Post linked in question)

No problem! I'm always up for Mario questions! :DD

And as for the question, I pictured that Mario never really liked the ice flower to begin with. I imagined Mario loving the heat and the sun. Always enjoyed being warm/hot and functions the best in it.. You know like a maniac-

So the Fire flower was naturally his favorite powerup. And that experience did leave Mario with some kind of trauma, which just added to his dislike of it..

@beryl-shade

OOO I like Tendrilfoam! :00 Hmm, Captain Tendrilfoam.. I'll have to consider that one! :D

#my response #fnaf security breach #fnaf sister location #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #undertale #deltarune #octonauts #super mario bros

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curse-you-slenderman · 11 months

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FIRST DOODLE DUMP OF THE ACCOUNT!!! followed by my cheeky little comments on em!

Let me just say that not all of these will happen, these are just for fun and for me to get a hang on the dynamics i want to portray, since i'm a visual sort of person.

let's start with doodles that don't include reader

Me? projecting? nono, why would you think that? anyways, these three, in the CYS universe are autistic. Will they tell reader? will i have the capability of writing their autistic traits correctly? who knows!

Someone is mad, so whoever he is talking to, they better shut up. I'll leave it to yall if this is the host or the protector of their system ;))

Snack time! Remember to always feed yoru canibal demon friends!

Funfact! BEN is the only character who has two entirely different appearances that reader will be able to see. This is because the ARG BEN is too good to go to waste.

I... I don't like Jane's hair in this one. it's decent, but not curly enough. Anyway, sibling coded characters bonding time!

Now for the moment yall been waiting for, THE INTERACTIONS WITH READER!!

Helen and I, express our love for someone by drawing them or stuff for them. Love me that.

Reader, let Liu forget his past plz. Since Liu, like Jane, are one of the less... psychotic of the bunch, it will be fun to see how he will interact with Reader and the similarities and differences from him and Sully

This was supposed to be a quick doodle, until i put a video of an hour and a half and basically rendered the sketch. It's cute tho! Tim is pinning hard in this one!

Rule: Don't touch the new person. LJ: haha, touching said person goes honk honk :o)

It's an interesting dynamic, really. She wants to protect you. Maybe there is a reason why, maybe don't. If you choose her "route" you may find out.

YIPPE I'M DONE! I've been holding away and adding more doodles for a while, and i wanted to share them with yall!

don't mind almost half of the x reader ones not having one of reader's most characteristic thing (the collar)

their designs are being worked as the time of this post, and i soon will show yall their official designs for the fic, but for now, have these!

whenever i'm done with the designs, you all are welcome to draw fanart! the tag is #cys fanart!

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karereiko · 4 months

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Moriarty Xmas everyone! Dark Santas are in town!

I'm so glad that somehow I managed to finish it on time. Last weeks were awful for me, so many live problems with my cats health and work and that I was so exhausted, yet I really wanted to draw those Dark Santa Moriarty brothers because I had this idea for few months by now. And that joke with Sherly in my head born while drawing it, I'm glad I could draw it too and it didn't stay only an idea (like I had idea for some flirty sherliam after story to that Halloween art but had no time to draw it). I went with some chibi style drawing because I really wanted to do it quick, it suppose to be more sketchy style but I yet can draw nice looking sketch only picture.

Anyway back to additional info about pictures.

Moriarty Santa brothers, I wanted to make them dark Santas so I went with black in place of white fur. I also thought about Albert and Louis costumes be whole in their colors first, but I settled with only elements being in Albert's green and Louis blue for them and I think this looks very good in the end. I had to put wine with cookie for Albert, he leaves milk for his brothers. And each of brothers have holy that also has 3 brothers colors to show their bond.

Mini comic add:

Sherly has 1/3 chance to pull Liam Santa, he even put Math book to rise his chances. Let's wish him to pull William, not Louis.

For next you probably see here is finished felted Miss Hudson, and felting tutorial. After watching Morimu op3 commentary I got silly Sherliam idea, I don't know how it will end, but I really wanna to draw it... I just wish for more time T_T....

#moriarty the patriot #yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #sherlock holmes #albert james moriarty #sherliam #louis james moriarty

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ruwriteshours · 9 months

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MONSTERS IN MY ROOM (PART I) ⛧ L.JN

↝ pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader

↝ genre: mortal instrumental! au, angst, gore, urban fantasy, fluff, eventual smut (MINORS DNI)

↝ warning: mention of death of characters

↝ summary: You didn't know your usual habits would become a huge significant part of your life. With little memories of your past, you are forced to remember to find your missing mother with the help of Jeno, an immortal.

"Yeah, I know I wouldn't forget." You groaned, your hand clutching onto the phone as you moved it to the other side of your ear. "You've been talking about it since last week."

You could hear grumbling noise of complaint coming from Jongho at the other line. "Well, how am I suppose to know you'll follow through. Your mom's crazy."

"Well, my mom doesn't control my life." You began sketching on your notepad, your fingers tracing on the symbol you drew as you let out your usual monologue. "I'm three more months to eighteen. Plus, she won't know a thing." You whispered out the last part.

"Yeah, whatever 'Miss Independent'." You giggled. "Just don't get both of us in trouble."

"Oh, don't be such a wuss. She won't suspect a thing." You assured, before hanging up— not even giving Jongho the chance to retaliate.

Flipping through the pages of you sketchbook, you had realised how much your sudden habbit had gotten worse. Your book was occupied with the same drawings of the symbols. All of it being repeated.

Sighing under your breath, you walked out of your room to wash up. "Hey, sweetie!" Your mother's chirpy voice greeted you by the kitchen, preoccupied with her cooking. Muttering back a soft 'hey' as you walked away only to be stopped again by her voice calling out to you.

Whining, you turned around. "What is it?"

Turning off the stove, she looked up at you with her beaming smile. "I see you've gotten busy."

Glancing down at your hand, you could see the graphite ink of your pencil had painted your entire hand— smudging your clean shirt.

"Yeah, it's for a project." You lied, attempting to rub off the dirt.

Your mother only prodded further. "Well, tell me more then." She said excitedly. You laughed awkwardly as you gestured towards the bathroom. "I would love to, mom but I'm meeting Jongho soon." You excused.

"Oh," You could hear the tease in her voice. "Your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" You yelled out, a little too quickly. "He's a boy and he's my friend. He's my boy-space-friend." You explained, which only cause your mother to smile even more annoyingly. "Alright, sweetie. Have fun."

"He really isn't!" You began rushing to the bathroom to get ready. The last thing you heard was the gleeful laugh of your mother.

"Hey— woah." Startled by the sudden force being pulled on him as you hastily dragged Jongho out of your house. "What's the rush?"

"Don't want you to suffer by the wrath of my mom." You half-joked, still bothered by her comment. "Uh oh, what'd she say this time?" He laughed seeing your flustered expression.

"Nothing that concerns you." You grumbled, still holding onto his elbow to have him match your pace. He hummed, "Sure must be embarassing to have you this worked up."

"Shut up!" You hit his shoulder as it only fueled his humour, not finding your weak attack effective.

The walk towards the cafe was fairly short, your conversation with your best friend had always resulted in light bantering— not that you minded. Despite what everyone says about Jongho, (that he was someone who always plaster a cold exterior) you knew he had that warm light inside of him. His sense of humour and brightful personality was what made you want to get to know him more.

"Thanks a lot for doing this for me." Jongho spoke up. You smiled, "Don't go soft on me now, what are friends for?"

Oblivious, you didn't take notice on how Jongho's shoulder seem to slump— disappointed by your response. He was quick to cover up by bumping into your shoulder playfully, chuckling as you hit him back dramatically. Nearing to the destination, he walked up first to open the door. You didn't bother picking up on his gentleman act, having being used to his gesture.

"I'll get us a drink." He declared as the both of you found a seating. "Don't forg-" He was quick to interrupt you, though. "Forget to add in more whipped cream, got it."

With your order, he made his way to the queue. Your attention now being directed to the stage, listening to poetry slam— watching as the man stumble with his words, the beat of the drum not matching up to his speech. Letting out a sound of amusement, you turned your head to the tinted window— only to catch your attention at a certain symbol.

The same symbol you drew.

Without much though, you walked out of the cafe to take a closer look. Crossing the road carefully, you made your way to the open alley— observing excrutiatingly at the drawing. Your heart having picked up the sense of familiarity as your brain couldn't seem to remember. You didn't know you had taken so long outside until you heard Jongho's voice, followed by his hand holding onto your shoulder.

"Hey, why are you out here?" He asked, startling you out of your daze. Shrugging off, you could only utter, "I don't know."

He was about to question further when you turned to face him abruptly. "Let's go back." You grabbed his hand as you led him back to the cafe— thankfully, your seat was not being taken.

"Are you alright? You're being awfully quiet." He asked, noticing that you were in your head and was not paying attention to the event. You looked up at him with a small smile, "It's nothing, I'm just tired."

"Agony. Pain. Suffer." The voice of the performer acting out his scene.

"Tell me about it." He joked. "We'll finish up and go, you want another packet of sugar?" You nodded, "The brown one, please."

"Gotcha."

Watching him walk off, you let out a sigh of relief. You noticed a blonde-haired girl eyeing your best friend, a smile played on your lips as you observed the both of them exchanging greetings. You also couldn't help but notice that she kept staring at Jongho, obviously taking interest in him. Your heart soared, happy that your best friend had a chance to find someone. However, you were quick to assume when he walked away— rather quickly to your seat, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Why'd you leave so quick." He looked at you confused, "That girl you just talked to, she's totally into you."

He shrugged, not finding interest in the topic. "Not my type." You scoffed, "Oh please, you can go to her. I don't mind."

He scoffed back, "And leave you alone. No way." You groaned at his stubborness, "Act like that and you're gonna be single for life." You said jokingly, sprinkling the sugar onto your cup.

He didn't seem to take offense to your insult as he shrugged. "Maybe I'm saving myself for someone." You looked around dramatically, as if trying to search for who he was talking about. "Who?"

He didn't get to answer your question when the cheers and clapping sounds from the audience interrupted him, though you could see that he seemed relief to have avoided the topic altogether. Not soon after, the both of you joined in— acting as if you were listening to the awful speech.

The sky eventually went dark as the both of you took a detour, looking through every single local clubs that were available. As you past through every one of them, your eyes landed on the sign— with the same damn symbol on it. You turned towards Jongho as you pointed at the place. "Let's go here."

"Do you think it'll work?" Jongho asked incredulously.

"Of course it will."

Walking towards the entrance of the club, you were about to recite your script that you had prepared when the person behind the both of you cut through. His eyes were electric blue, hair spiked and his body covered in tattoos— all of which were random signs and symbols that had no meaning. "What an asshole." Jongho murmured.

Annoyed with the guy's rudeness, you looked up only to have an idea popped onto your head, "Actually, follow my lead." Ignoring his protest, you walked up to the bouncer with a confident facade as you pointed at the sign on top. "What does that symbol mean?"

Your question perked up the man that skipped ahead of you, turning around to look at you as he shared a look with the boucer. The man briefly whispered in his ear.

"What are you talking about?" Jongho harshly commented, his face panicking as he thought you had lost your mind. "Relax." You assured, focusing ahead as you watched the two men interact.

Not a moment after, the bouncer allowed the both of you inside. You let out a sigh of relief as you turned around to face Jongho with a smug smile.

"Did you went here without me before?" He asked in amusement.

The further you went inside the club, you squeezed your way through the crowds of drunkard people. Their bodies swaying to the side as the upbeat music echoed and flashing lights shining through the room. Jongho struggled to trail behind you, a look of discomfort takes over his face.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked— well shouted, as he was trying to overpower the loud music. You replied back with the same volume, "Yeah, but just water please!"

You looked around, your eyes catched a sight of the man who let you in the room. You were about to walk up to him, ready to ask him questions when his eyes looked behind you. Turning around, you caught sight on the most gorgeous woman in the room, her black hair swayed down her shoulders— the tight white dress complimented her curves, the tilted smirk of her lips as her sultry eyes bored onto the man.

Your eyes followed his movements, watching him walk towards the woman. You couldn't ignore the sudden feeling in the pit of your stomach, your feet following the both of them in the other area of the club— which is still in an open area, where everyone could see. You began to worry.

Something felt off.

Just as you predicted, the ring on the woman's fingers began slithering its way like a snake, transforming into a metal coil as it began wrapping itself on the man's neck. You gasped in shocked, completely in disbelief as you continued to watch the scene unfold.

The gurgling sound of the man struggling to gasp for air was spine-chilling. He clawed his hands around the metal coil but that only enrages the woman. The fury of the woman turned the colours of her eyes green as she balled her hands into fists— which made the material tightened around his throat. You looked around panicking as you noticed how the crowded room didn't seem to react at all at the murderous scene that was happening right in front of their faces, as if these people were invisible.

Shortly, a figure came in and began holding the man down— you watched helplessly as he was pleading for his life. Just then, another man came emerging through the crowd with his hood up, hiding his identity. You could only make out the black strands of his hair that was sticking out as he pulled out a weapon. His hand tracing along the lines of those threatening, sharp knife.

Without much thought, his knife sliced against the man's throat— completely decapitating his neck clean off. The blood began splattering everywhere, only now that you realised that the blood was black in colour as the fog escaped his body like acid. The sound of the man hissing in agony made you scream at the top of your lungs.

The three individuals hastily turned their heads towards the sound, seeing you in utter horror— from the way you covered your mouth as you teared up at the gruesome sight. The dead man was transformed into a horrifying parasite before it melted away into nothingness.

Your sudden screaming has also alerted the people in the room, who turned their heads towards you in confusion— not seeing the brutal death of the man. Your eyes dart towards the three people, their eyes staring back at yours. You could finally see the face of the hooded man. He was the last to fled the scene, taking a couple of steps closer towards you as his gaze was set at yours. His hooded eyes began to squint, as if trying to recognise you.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" Jongho was at your side in an instant, his hand grabbing onto your face to make you face him. You couldn't listen to his words, not when the fresh memory keeps repeating itself at the back of your head.

"I know what I saw." You rushed out of the club. "They killed that guy!" You repeated for what seemed to be the millionth time, still shaking from fear.

"Did you drink something, perhaps?" He asked, following your steps as he reached his hand out to call for a cab. "I heard that these people popped some stuff in the air to make sure we have a good time." He explained, trying to find some logical reasonings for your outbursts.

"Then how come you're not affected by it." You shot back, your makeup now smudged from the tears you let out previously— in a state complete mess. Thankfully a taxi came to a stop as the both of you hopped inside, his constant assurance only left you with more anxiety.

You knew what you saw.

After bidding your goodbye's, you were quick on your feet to make a beeline to your room— shutting your eyes in hopes to get some rests. Your vision clogged and your mind went black as you succummed to the darkness.

The morning after, groaning as you let out a stretch— rubbing your eyes but hissing at the sudden burning sensation that made your eyes water. Looking down, your hands were completely smudged with the ink of your pencil. In shock, you looked around your room as you gasped in horror. Papers were scattered across the floor, hung up and pasted on your cream textured walls. The same drawing accumulating in your room. You grabbed onto a couple and shoved it inside your bad, dashing out of your room as you made your way to the door.

However, you didn't make it far when the voice of your mother stopped you. "You went back late last night." Her usual nagging tone bugged you, not in the mood to get yelled at.

"I know, I'm sorry but I really have to go now." You pleaded, turning around to face your mother. Her eyes widened in shock seeing you in such a distress state.

The dark circles under your eyes are prominent as your hair flung in every direction. Despite the amount of sleep you had last night, it was as if you hadn't slept in days. "You can't leave."

You scowled in annoyance. "Yes, I can. I'm just going to hang out with Jongho, mom. It's fine." Your mother wasn't convinced, "So what? You're going to go off to him when you have problems, isn't that more of what you would do to a boyfriend." This time, you didn't detect any playfulness in her voice— it was as if she was hurt that you couldn't confide in her.

It was then that she realised that she needed to tell you the truth. Now. However, before she could utter a word— Jongho made his presence known as he stepped inside the house, which gave you the opportunity to fled, ignoring your mother's calls.

Showing the drawings to Jongho, you could only explain the events that had been happening as you watched his face contort to confusion— obviously not believing your spiel. Sitting at the cafe with eyes like a mad woman, it was difficult to convince Jongho. Ignoring his advice as you saw the same hooded man from the club, ignoring your train of thought. Your eyes widened in horror as you cowered away from his vision.

"What? What are you looking at?" Jongho asked exasperately as he began scouting around.

"Wait here." You said before running off, in hopes to finally get some answers— even if it killed you.

"Who the fuck are you?" You sneered nastily, shutting the back door that was leading you to an alley. The man chuckled at your rudeness.

"Lovely girl, aren't you?"

"This isn't funny! You killed someone, you're a murderer!" You accused, shouting at the man.

"I prefer to be called Jeno, actually." He stated as a matter-of-factly. "But I guess people who love to assume can call me that too."

"I know what I saw." You retorted.

"You think you know what you saw." He pointed at you, his eyes hardened.

Grabbing his hands to take a closer look at his tattoo, the same symbol being drawn on his hand— with shaking hands, you dug under your pockets to retrieve the drawing that you drew as you shoved it up to his face. "Why do I keep drawing this."

He hummed, taking the piece of paper as he observed it. "It's a mundane." He explained, as if there was no further explanation needed.

"What's a mundane?" You asked incredulously, prodding the man to continue. He looked down at you, his voice dropping an octave. "Someone that's from the human world."

"Well, if I'm not a human then what am I?"

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

©ruwriteshours

#jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #kpop fanfic #nct fanfic #nct dream imagine #nct dream fanfic #lee jeno #lee jeno imagines #jeno fanfic

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d3eathcurbing · 10 months

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Okie I finally finished my Clankie redraw and I did it before pride month ended which is great in my opinion considering how my life has been going lately which does make me feel a bit better, not perfect but better. This was originally supposed to be a quick sketch but I kept finding myself going back to add more onto it because drawing this brought out both a type of peace and frustration out of me yknow.

Seeing them casually dance makes me think of a type of happiness I wish I had in relation to my own personal queerness especially since I chose the name Frankie from the original iteration of the character in G1, so to see G3 Frankie not shy away from their queerness makes me hope for a better future if that makes sense. Even though the future currently looks bleak I want to hope that like these characters I won't have to hide who I am inside and be proud of who I am fully and truly.

#my art #for context i live in florida so i hope one day i wont have to hide myself like this #and i drew this to help give me hope #monster high #clankie #frankie stein #cleo de nile #frankie x cleo #fanart #fan art #digital art #digital drawing #artists on tumblr #black artist #queer #lgbtq #okay this kinda got personal but yknow it happens

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thebest-medicine · 6 months

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Day 23: Incoherent

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 Mighty Nein - lee!Fjord, brief lee!Jester

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

A/N: Fjorester my beloved. I need their silly energy in my life. Little snippet of Jester tickling Fjord and then asking him to do the same to her (a lil fluff, a little sexy, whatever ya feel *eyebrow waggle*)

Words: 1,050

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“Ah. Oh no. No- no Jessie- ahaHAWAIT!” Fjord squealed before descending into giddy laughter.

“Wait? What do you want me to wait for?” Jester asked innocently — her fingers, on the other hand, were quite guilty of the quick, nimble scribbling they’d begun inflicting on Fjord’s sides.

His head shook side to side against the pillow beneath it, occasionally bumping into his elbows on either side. His arms twitched and pulled against the silks tethering them to their bed above his head. Jester’s fingers sent electric tingles up his bared torso everywhere they touched. They plucked at his sides and then began spidering wildly over his belly.

“Aha- I can’t- I hehehehe- AHAHAHA AHH NOHOHOHO- THAHAT TICKLES! THAT TICKLES HAHA- AHAHA JESS!”

“Well, duh, Fjord! It’s supposed to tickle!”

The next few minutes were hazy — fuzzy in the best sort of way. Jester was smiling at him, tickling and teasing him to bits. She brought out so much in him that he hadn’t expected, and she had so many silly, wonderful ideas for expressing affection. In the midst of one, she squeezed at his hips a few times, getting a yelp for her efforts.

“I can’t believe how cute you are when you’re getting tickled Fjord! Your face is so cute! I have to draw it for you some time.”

“NOHOHOHO!” Fjord cried through his cackles.

Jester’s grin widened as she got an idea. A few more quick squeezes to Fjord’s abdomen and she pushed up, hauling herself off of his hips and running over to her sketch book.

Fjord took a few deep breaths, some broken up with lingering laughter, and stared at the ceiling as he happily accepted the short break. “Wh- what are you planning now?” He asked — sounding a little teasing and giddy, and a lot nervous.

Jester spun around, a smirk on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. In her hand, she held up her sketching pencil.

Fjord swallowed, watching her. His giggling started back up again.

Jester perched atop him, eyes hungry. He felt his stomach twist with anticipation, excitement, and nerves. She took the pencil in her hand as though to start a lovely drawing, except that she had the pointy end up.

Fjord shook his head. Jester nodded encouragingly, the hand not holding her pencil grabbed at the top of his underwear and pulled the waistband down a bit. She lightly drug the back of the pencil back and forth over his hip. Fjord gasped and burst into giggles. His legs kicked out on the bed behind Jester.

“Ahaha no- nonono!” Fjord whined.

“Yes yes yes!” Jester chirped in response. She drew figures and circles and whimsical patterns all over the lower section of his tummy, the front of his ribs and chest, his sides, and even up into his armpits and along his neck.

Tracing the pencil along each rib on one side as she made her way back down to his sides, Jester started wiggling and pinching along the other side of his torso with her free hand.

Fjord’s laughter grew louder as he wriggled side to side at her two fronted assault. His smile could cause bones to melt, but his laugh was like a cannonball of delight. It was the sort of gut-deep, boisterous sound that ricocheted off the walls of the ship like thunder - and it was impossible for Jester not to grin in the middle of the storm.

Dropping her pencil, she made a sound of delight and started scribbling up his sides. Fjord wheezed and cackled, his eyes squeezed shut with tears in the corners of them.

Fjord was already pretty far gone, but he still reacted viscerally to the sound of Jester sucking in a deep breath. “NO- NAHAHAHA NOOO NAHAHOT THAT!” He pleaded.

“Aww, are you too ticklish?”

“STAHAHAHOP HAHA NO- JES DON’T DO IHIHIHIT!” Fjord wailed.

“Oh alright… I’ll just give you a couple raspberries. Let me know if it tickles too much, okay Fjord?”

Her fingers continued to scribble and crawl their way from his hips to his armpits, which would have had him in plenty of hysterics on its own. Her lips, adding poison to the dagger, pressed down softly on the middle of his belly before she let out a loud, ticklish vibration against his abs.

Fjord pretended to ignore the shriek that fell from his lips when she started, and each additional squealing wail that followed when she continued.

“NAHA- STAH- I CAN’T AHHH HAHA AHAHAA-” His thundering cackles quickly devolved into shouts and gasps between wails of desperate laughter.

It wasn’t until her nails began to scratch unbearably under both of his arms and she decided to blow her next raspberry on his side that Fjord cried out “SP-SPRINKLE!” between hoarse booms of laughter.

Jester withdrew with a grin, sitting upright over him and taking in his exasperated, ravaged state. “Wow, you did really good Fjord! I was pretty mean..” She winked.

Fjord felt a blush rise to his cheeks in spite of his already warm face. “Heh, thanks.”

“Okay.” Jester leaned in, peppering his cheeks with kisses as she untied the silks from his wrists, leaving the restraints hooked up to the bed. “Okay, okay! Me next!!”

Blissed out smile on his face, Fjord took his jelly arms and wrapped them around Jester’s wiggling form, pulling her in close for a cuddle. “You’re too good at that.” He mumbled as he pulled her in to be the little spoon, both of them still giggling. “I’m so tired now, I need to nap first.” He sighed dramatically, closing his eyes as his legs wrapped around Jester’s.

He pretended to start snoring, exaggerated and loud, and Jester squealed adorably. Then, “sleep-walking” fingers began to trace ticklish paths around Jester’s ribs and sides, over to her stomach, down near her hips.

“Ah ehehe Fjord!” Jester squeaked out as she giggled harder.

A loud snoring sound, and then Fjord mumbled. “Fjord’s sleeping.”

“Nohohoho he’s nohot! Fjord’s tickling!”

Another fake snore. “No he’s not. He’s sleeping.” Jester felt him take a deep breath, chest rising to press further into her back. A long, exaggerated snore. “But when he wakes up. He’s really gonna get you.”

“Hehe hehehee oh nohoho-”

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pisupsala · 7 months

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Of All The Stars in The Sky | 14 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 7.9k

Library

Chapter 14: Shadow Waltz

Bradley sinks into his seat before his legs might give out from under him. What did he just see?

His breath comes out in short bursts like he can’t fully draw a breath before it forces its way back up from his lungs.

It’s like his throat is being constricted. Why didn’t he call out? He could have jumped. Pulled the emergency brake and jumped out. Ran to you. Warned you.

The thoughts are coming and going in quick succession, nothing fully taking hold. Burying his head in his hands, Bradley tries to calm himself. Eyes screwed shut, he replays that moment over and over. The figure closing in on you. You’re oblivious. Why didn’t you turn around? Didn’t you hear the footsteps?

Why didn’t he call out?

He could have done something. Helped you. Saved you. The doomed scene replays in cutting sharpness every time he closes his eyes, leaving his insides quaking. Every heartbeat is like a sledgehammer coming down.

Bradley doesn’t know how long he sits there, hunched over on the hard wooden seat, backpack weighing him down. Everything is distant like he’s not really there.

He is stuck in the moment you disappeared.

“Don’t draw any attention to yourself once you get on the train,” Your voice is so close and clear that Bradley is suddenly back in that small room, in bed with you. A moment in time when this was all just a plan. A rough sketch. Bradley’s reality was entirely between those four walls. You’re laying on top of him, naked, soft breast pressed against his chest. Even now, it feels more real than the jerky cadence of the train. Fingers gently caressing the quickly forming scars on his face, your tone is distressingly businesslike. “It’s your one chance, Bradley.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” He replies easily, leaning into your touch, lips brushing against your fingertips. Your hands are warm.

But you never said it would be at the cost of you. The thought shoots through him like lightning, distorting the peaceful scene and drowning it in panic. Your giggle sounds strange in his memory, the once beautiful sound.

Time passes strangely; Bradley has no sense of how many stops the train has made, how many people flittered past him. Everything is a blur. The city is far behind him now, replacing the colorful buildings with green hills and lush forests.

The train should take several hours before it reaches its destination. You told him so. Finally, Bradley’s breath evens out. It’s not the first time he’s seen someone seconds before their demise. Hell, he’s been the cause of those doomed final seconds plenty of time. He’s seen his brothers-in-arms go down in a ball of fire.

He remembers all of them.

But it was never supposed to be you. No matter how blasé you were when you told him you could have died many times over already. How bravely you faced danger. Because Bradley remembers how softly your voice was when you admitted you didn’t want to die.

No matter how much he tries to calm himself, focus on his breathing, and steer his mind to here and now, the strange tension won’t leave Bradley. It’s like a cold hand wrapped around his neck, setting him on edge. He is far from safety and should focus on the task at hand. Your sacrifice—the icy fingers tighten, constricting Bradley’s breath for a second as the realization that you might be dead sets in a little bit deeper—he cannot let your sacrifice be in vain.

He is alive because of you.

He needs to go to the coordinates that you got for him. Find his contact. Get instructions. And get out.

It’s deep in the afternoon when the train stops in a nondescript town near the southern border. Most people have gotten off in the last large city about an hour ago—when Bradley looks up, only two other people are left in the wagon.

This is the place.

Getting up, his muscles and tendons creaking in protest, Bradley disembarks. He’s been sitting the whole journey but feels like his body has been through a marathon. Tiredness is seeping into his bones, overflowing from his brain.

He looks around. The station is no more than a concrete slab and a small abandoned building in the middle of the forest. A single dirt road leads up the forest—the only sign of life is a sliver of smoke billowing up through the trees. There must be a house there.

“The station is here.” Your voice is eerily close again. Leaning over the table, one knee on the chair, your finger prods the map. Bradley leans closer. The map is slightly too large for the small table, with one side hanging off the edge. His compass, which he didn’t even realize you had, is in your other hand.

“From there, you need to head…” You narrow your eyes as you think. The little crease between your eyebrows suddenly becomes evident again. “South-west.” You conclude.

“That will take me in the opposite direction of the path,” Bradley observes, his fingers brushing against yours as he traces a route over the green fields of the map. Nothing indicates there is anything for miles in that direction.

“Look for a game trail,” You look up, your face so close to his. Even now, Bradley can smell your soap. “A small path in the high grass, an opening in the underbrush.”

Your fingers follow his toward the small ‘x’ you’ve drawn on the map, the exact spot of the coordinates. On the map, it’s in an indistinct area in the middle of the forest. There are no marked paths or landmarks around. It has to be. It’s a delicate balance, as it needs to be a spot where you wouldn’t wander past wholly by chance but is also not terribly suspicious to be waiting there.

Bradley will know when he sees it.

As suddenly as you appeared before his mind’s eye, you are gone again. Not even the smell of your soap lingers in the spring air. Opposite the dirt road, a trail of flattened grass disappears into the forest. Just like you said there would be.

As he starts walking, he tries to remember how you looked as you did the mental math, trying to figure out how long he would be walking, figuring out which train to get. Your lips were pursed, still hunched over, fingers tapping against the map quickly.

“It should take me about 90 minutes,” Bradley offers. Your eyes flash, almost defiantly, as if you’re determined to prove him wrong. Mouth open, like you’re about to say something, he can practically see you do the math in your head.

“Yeah, 90 minutes sounds correct.” You finally admit, although not without difficulty, pulling away from him. It makes him laugh—you’re so determined to figure it out and do everything right. To eliminate every variable, be ahead of everyone and everything. But distance and speed calculations are daily chores for Bradley. There’s a surprising amount of math involved in flying—had he known that before he enlisted, he might have paid closer attention in school.

The track doesn’t stop when he reaches the forest. There are no markers, but the path between the blueberry bushes and ferns is clear. Now that he is sure no one is around him, he digs his compass out of his pocket. Heading south-west. Ninety minutes.

Bradley glances around. It’s quiet—no one seems to be around. Although he’s only a few meters into the forest, it’s secluded. Quickly slipping the backpack off his back, Bradley digs through the neatly packed contents. You’ve taken so much care getting him everything he’ll need; you had it all thought out. For a moment, Bradley’s movements slow. No. He needs to be on time. From the bottom of the backpack, he pulls his carefully wrapped gun. It feels strange in his hand, even though it’s his—he hasn’t seen it since you took it from him months ago. Unwrapping it, Bradley inspects the piece. It’s clean, and it’s still loaded.

He desperately hopes he won’t have to use it. He has no spare ammo—it’s a tool of last resort. Choosing not to dwell on it, he double-checks the safety before tucking it into the waistband of his pants on his back.

There is still no sound but for the forest. It doesn’t bring him any piece of mind.

Looking back, Bradley can barely remember the hike. Let alone the train ride. It already feels like everything happened in the past—a different lifetime. He’s lived so many now. The small room under the roof in Prague is just as far away as his barracks room in England. But the anxiety stays—it wanes in moments, only to come back full force suddenly as his thoughts inevitably turn back to you. You’re so intricately woven into every aspect of his life in the past months; almost nothing doesn’t remind Bradley of you.

The sun is streaming through the pine trees. In the forest, the air is cool despite that. Bradley needs to keep pace. Glancing at this watch, he knows he should soon be coming up to the rendezvous point—just ten more minutes.

His stomach growls. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, too distraught to eat anything on the train. Everything is still just passing by him. Bradley isn’t hungry. When he was in boot camp, fresh out of high school, he was never hungry either—so much was weighing him down. His mother’s death, Mav, and the horrid reality of boot camp. But Bradley also knows it’s not about being hungry; it’s about survival.

A clearing appears—although clearing might be too much credit for the sudden widening of the path. It’s just a few meters across where the ground has been walked bare to the mud. Overgrown with moss, a large log peeks out on the edge of the clearing.

This should be it—nothing strange about a weary traveler sitting on a log to rest.

Bradley sits down heavily. The hike wasn’t strenuous, and the weather is pleasant, but the ever-present tension and the feeling of being caught between fight and flight are steadily sapping his energy. Unwrapping some of his provisions, he chews mindlessly. The bread, the cheese—everything tastes like nothing to Bradley right now. The water in his canteen isn’t in any way refreshing; it instead feels like it’s a stone on his stomach, weighing him down further.

Sitting there, the sounds of the forest suddenly intensify. Bradley can hear how the wind picks up through the crowns of the trees. Leaves rustle, branches creak—something small is scurrying through the underbrush. A mouse or a squirrel, perhaps. Bradley focuses back on chewing. The food still tastes like nothing.

From here on out, he has no idea how long or far he has to go. He has provisions to last him several days, hoping it will be enough. Sitting on a large log in a quiet forest on a sunny afternoon is strange—Bradley feels like he should be running, fighting, doing something. Anything. Not just sitting here, waiting.

But right now, he can’t go back. Neither can he go forward. Bradley is precisely where he needs to be right now, and it’s out of his hands. Truly, everything had been out of his hands the moment that night fighter tore his fuselage to shreds with a well-aimed salvo of bullets.

It was easier to just go along with it when you were by his side. It distracted from his doomed fate well enough and for long enough. But now, Bradley feels more powerless, more aimless than before. Despite all the precautions, it might not have been enough for you. To save you.

For all you did to save him.

Deep inside, the cold rationale of years of training, years of seeing comrades die, and the many decisions Bradley has had to take are clear. Going back for you would mean you both die. It would render everything you’ve done for him useless. You fulfilled your mission. Now, he has to fulfill his.

He doesn’t want to think about that now.

Bradley swallows heavily, trying to get the acrid taste out of his mouth. You were not just part of a mission—he is pretty sure it was not just a mission for you anymore. It wasn’t for him.

A pack of cigarettes is tucked into one of the backpack's side pockets. Just when he reaches for it, tension creeps up his spine. Bradley is not alone anymore.

The man appears suddenly like he just materialized in the clearing. Not a twig that snapped under his boot, not a rustle of leaves as he moved. His face is tan; the skin is weathered from this sun, aging him. He looks at Bradley top to bottom—the man is dressed like a tramp in old and faded clothes, patched up with mismatched fabrics, holding himself awkwardly, almost as if he's injured, but his eyes are sharp. Discerning.

When Bradley observes him a bit closer, he notices the man's boots are outfitted with new soles despite his overall shabby appearance.

Grinning, he tips his hat.

“Flash.” His voice sounds raw, like he hasn't spoken out loud in years.

“Thunder.” Bradley replies automatically. The man grins a little bit wider but doesn't say anything else. Bradley waits for him to say something, to introduce himself, or to start a conversation. However, the man seems comfortable in his silence, simply grinning at him in a friendly manner, beckoning Bradley as he starts walking off the path into the thick of the forest.

He passed the challenge; this man is the contact, of that, Bradley is as sure as he can be under the circumstances. And while it's not like he expected this to be a hike between friends, the clearly self-imposed muteness of the man is unsettling.

Quickly repacking his rucksack, Bradley leaps up, following the man.

They walk, with only a drink break, until dusk. The hilly terrain is turning more rugged, with boulders sticking up from the forest floor higher and higher. When the man finally stops and motions for Bradley to sit down with him, pulling out a tin of beans from his pack, Bradley cannot help but ask.

“Where are we going?”

The man, focusing on prying off the lid of the can, ignores him, scarcely looking up to acknowledge Bradley even said anything. Hesitantly, Bradley starts unpacking some of his own food—bread doesn't sound so bad now. The long hike hasn't done much to make him any hungrier. But he needs to eat. And bread is better than the cold beans the guide seems to be spooning down without blinking, anyway.

After what seems to be a much too short time, they are up on their feet again, walking through the dark forest. He sets a relentless pace for all the posturing the guide does to appear awkward or injured, he sets a relentless pace.

Bradley can't help but try again.

“How long do we have to travel?”

No reply.

“Are we going to walk all night?” He grumbles under his breath, annoyed now. The guide is the first person he has spoken to, besides you, in months. The only other people he ever saw were your fellow resistance fighters—the officer from the signal corps and his angry sidekick. The disconnect from everyone and everything around him is a constant irritation, like a weeping wound.

“Patrouille.”

The sudden, raspy reply has Bradley snapping his head up.

Pointing west, where the sun is rapidly setting, he continues: “Kaserne.”

The guide simply turns around and resumes his path as if that explains everything. German wasn't exactly on Bradley's curriculum, and languages weren't his strong suit. You would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably figure it out, if only to to outsmart him.

You would never fully admit it, but the reason you really didn't like doing crossword puzzles with him is not because you couldn't take on the challenge—it's because he would always guess the answer faster than you. And as it turns out, you are an adorably poor loser regarding intellectual pursuits.

What Bradley would give to see you frown at him again, just knowing you were safe.

So they travel at night. It’s cold and dark—the ground uneven and slippery, as you warned him. When dawn breaks, they hide in the undergrowth or caverns scattered through the mountainside. Bradley feels like he hasn’t slept in days, but neither has he been fully awake. He is sure he can hear your voice somewhere between dreams and waking. It’s always so close like you’re next to him on the cold ground—your breath ghosting over his skin as you whisper to him. He can hear but can’t see you; he’s scared to look around, only to find nothing.

The small square of cloth stays securely tucked in the breast pocket of his coat. Close to his heart. Bradley’s hands are so dirty he’s scared to even look at it. Sometimes, he brushes his hand over the pocket, imagining he can feel the folded edges through the thick fabric. Imagining you are still with him, however intangible.

He scratches off the wax from a match with shaking fingers before lighting it. The faint light from the burning tip is the only clear shape he can see. Everything else is formless, different shades of dark. In the absence of snow, like when you led him down the mountain, there is nothing to reflect the starlight. It makes the forest feel emptier and darker—the sound echoes louder, and strange noises travel.

His mind is leading him in circles, down a well-worn path.

By now, Bradley has replayed those last few seconds of you on that platform so many times in his head, he’s not even sure anymore what he saw. Were you grabbed? Did they run past you? Did you turn in time?

He’s not sure if his brain is playing tricks on him through the sleep deprivation, or his heart is trying to protect him in the most horribly cruel way—but the memory that was once so clear, seared into his mind’s eye, is playing out just a little bit differently every time he thinks about it. You turned. You moved out of the way. Dashing past the figure, you hid in the winding medieval streets you know so well. You would be alright.

You have to be.

The cold rational pierces his heart, but Bradley knows he has to accept it. He made the right choice. He shouldn’t have turned back—you wouldn’t want him to. Every time he thinks about it, the knife twists a little bit more, not allowing the wound to heal. Somewhere, he doesn’t want it to. He deserves to suffer. If - if something happened to you, it’s because of him. The pain should be all his.

As the days and nights melt into each other on the way to the airfield, Bradley is less and less sure of what he actually saw. Just existing is sapping him of every bit of energy now. The food you have packed for him is running low, and Bradley would kill for a hot coffee by now.

The guide doesn’t answer when Bradley asks how much longer. Whether he doesn’t understand or chooses not to understand is moot. It’s not like Bradley has the energy to argue with him. He just wants to get out of here.

Three nights in, Bradley feels like he's at his limit. The dark, the silence, and the uncertainty grate him to the bone. But he has no choice but to carry on. Gritting his teeth, he keeps walking. His feet hurt. His head hurts. His heart hurts.

The torch's strange moving light, deep at night in the cold mountain air, gives Bradley more time to think than he is comfortable with. There is nothing to distract him from himself. People pay good money for a hiking holiday in Europe, but Bradley can't help but be bored. It's like every emotion is slowly getting filed down to a stump.

It didn't take him all that long to figure that "patrouille" was German for patrol—freely inferring that "kaserne" is a base or stronghold of some sort, which is the reason they travel at night. Barely enough of a challenge to keep his mind occupied.

When you are continuously exposed to danger, when your fight or flight instincts are constantly kicked into high gear, everything becomes dull. The tension and anxiety are always there; they are just so constant they are now background noise.

Sometimes, when Bradley wakes up and he sees the open sky above him, his heart clenches. Like he expected to wake up somewhere else. Like he wanted to wake up in that small room again. At the same time, it fills him with dread. Making his heart race in panic. The idea of being locked up in a small room again terrifies him.

Another long day and an even longer night go by.

It’s late, pitch black all around, when Bradley feels tarmac under his boots for the first time in months. It’s a strange feeling. He has no idea where he is or what day it even is, but the tarmac and the vague smell of jet fuel lingering in the air feel familiar.

As they emerge from the forest, Bradley looks around in awe. This is an airfield. In the middle of the mountains, shabby and clearly long abandoned. But an airfield.

This must be it.

At the far end of the runway, he can make out the familiar, terrifying shape of a German warplane.

A man disembarks from the cockpit of the plane, waving them down.

Bradley walks around the plane, inspecting it with fingers trailing over the body. He's been up close and personal with many makes of enemy planes, but never like this. It's fascinating in the most morbid way.

The men are talking to each other in low voices. Circling the plane, Bradley sees it's a one-seater.

“Am I flying?” He asks, interrupting the tête-à-tête between the two other men. Finally, he receives a full verbal reply—although it comes from the other man, a rather young-looking and even younger-sounding man, and not the guide.

“With me, yes.” As he steps closer to Bradley, he can now see he is dressed like a pilot. A German pilot, specifically, the iron cross displayed prominently on the collar peeping out from this thick lambskin jacket. His accent, however, is very precisely British—too precisely, it’s almost caricature-like.

Bradley doesn't get time to dwell on it, or ask any follow-up questions, as he is quite unceremoniously and forcefully helped into the hold where bombs are normally stored. The pilot hands him another jacket and together with the guide, they slide an oxygen bottle into the hold with Bradley.

“It gets quite cold, I'm afraid.” Everything the pilot says sounds strangely rehearsed, like he never held a conversation in English before. “Put on the mask when we reach altitude.” He adds.

Bradley just nods. The guide is grinning at him again, simply tipping his hat in greeting.

“Thank you.” He replies, nodding back at the guide just before the hold closes.

It's safer for everyone if no one knows everything. Not even names. That also means you will never know who you owe your life to.

Oxygen mask clutched in his hand, Bradley closes his eyes. The sound of the engines, the smell—it’s like coming home. Not the home where he wants to be, but the one he knows best. Despite his nerves—this is the most dangerous part of the journey, relinquishing the last bit of control that he had—he starts dozing off.

Bradley is exhausted, physically and mentally. It’s bitterly cold.

He can feel your weight draped over him as he slips out of consciousness. He can smell your soap. Bradley’s fingers brush over his breast pocket.

“Bradley, my love,” Your whisper floats through the air. The slightly lilting syllables of his name—only you say his name like that—still send shivers down his spine. It feels so familiar.

The engine's drone fades into the background, warping into a soft hum.

It’s not cold anymore. Bradley can feel the sun on his face, and he knows, without opening his eyes, that he is home. It’s high summer, and he’s sprawled out on the beach. And you are here with him. His heart soars at the realization—but his eyes are so heavy.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Your sweet voice sounds distant and incredibly close at the same time. Bradley blinks heavily against the burning sun. You are leaning over him, your hair blowing around your face. The sky behind you is cloudless, such a heavenly blue.

Bradley’s limbs are heavy; he feels like he can’t move. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he wants nothing more than to see you. He can see you again. He still wants to tell you so much—the words stick in his throat, tongue paralyzed. You’re smiling down at him fondly. The summer sun is bathing you in a warm light, casting an ethereal glow around your body.

“Shhh,” Your fingers trace over his lips. “You need to breathe.”

Bradley blinks slowly. He is breathing. Like you can hear his confusion, you giggle—the teasing sound wrapping around him in impossible patterns, like it’s carried on a gust of wind.

“You need to breathe,” You reiterate, grin still on your face, hands cupping his face. Brushing your nose against his, Bradley allows his eyes to close again. He’s fighting to stay awake. He wants to stay here with you.

“The air is getting thin, my love,” Your voice sounds strangely distorted, overlapping like an echo without a source. His thoughts are sluggish, struggling to comprehend what you could be talking about.

“You need to breathe.”

Your voice sounds more urgent now. Bradley peels his eyes open; you’re still smiling down at him, your face not betraying any of the urgency in your voice. Reaching out, his fingers trace over your bare shoulders—your skin is so warm from the sun. The silty sea air is crisp, brushing through your hair. Bradley shakes his head, still lacking the strength to say anything. He shouldn’t have to; all you need to do is lean closer and kiss him.

As if you can hear his thoughts, you move toward him again. Your lips are brushing against his tantalizingly. Why do you insist on teasing him so? Don’t you know how worried he has been? How much he has missed you?

He reaches out for you, limbs heavier than lead, intent on closing the space between you. Bradley is not in the mood for your games and teasing—not right now. He needs assurance you are okay. You are laughing, so light and carefree, but he wants to feel you. His fingers tangle through your hair, pulling your face to his.

“Put on the goddamn mask.”

The sudden loudness of your voice, callous and commanding, like it’s been amplified to an almost deafening volume, forces Bradley’s eyes wide open. His heart is racing. It makes no sense; you’re still smiling above him. The blue sky is flickering with darkness, like someone is playing with the lights.

Suddenly, Bradley’s neurons start firing again, and he forces the mask clutched in his hand over his face. As the oxygen fills his lungs, it’s like he’s waking up: the strength returns to his body, and his vision sharpens.

Unfortunately, all he sees is the darkness of the hold.

It’s bitterly cold again.

***

“Let me go!” You jerk yourself back so violently, desperate to free yourself from the iron grip in your arm, you nearly send yourself keeling backward, pulling your assailant with you. Stumbling, he pulls you back harshly, using his much more extensive and heavier form against you.

“Don’t make a scene!” He barks at you.

You never liked Jan. But now you hate him.

“Make a scene?” You hiss venomously, digging in your heels. “You’re dragging me through the train station like livestock.”

You know people are watching, although they hurry past you without a word. People don’t like getting involved—no one wants trouble. You’re dressed for a day out in the country; Jan is wearing an old, ill-fitting suit. You make an odd pair if you were just walking down the street, but arguing like this, you’re practically a sideshow.

A man in a dark coat passes, staring at you both a little too long, disapprovingly. The moment Jan’s grip loosens, you yank your arm away from him, clearly awkward under the man's stare.

“Stop being so goddamn difficult,” He bites at you. “And start walking.”

You want to tell him to go fuck himself, turn on your heel and leave. But there’s a reason he made it out here. After the decimation of the resistance network, the survivors split off—some staying in the city if it was safe enough, like you. Others reformed as partisan fighting groups because their identities were leaked to the authorities, and they couldn’t reintegrate into society like Emil, or simply because they saw that as the way forward, like Jan.

As much as you hate to admit it, as much as you despise thinking about it now, Jan’s sudden appearance means something is happening. It’s probably urgent, but it’s undoubtedly important.

For five seconds, for five fucking seconds, you want to not think about the war. Whatever message Jan has for you should wait. You want to crawl into bed and cry, mourn having to say goodbye to Bradley.

Because you will never see him again.

You can wish, you can dream—but realistically? If you both make it out alive, god knows how long the war will be. He will have forgotten about you by then.

You always knew this; you felt it in your bones, especially in the last few days. You set yourself on fire to silence that nagging voice in your head, so determined to experience everything about Bradley that you could, to the point you allowed yourself to believe him. Truly believe him, even just for a few days. Because no matter how much you want to soothe your hurting heart with his sweet promise, the illusion that he will come back, you need to face reality. The world didn’t stop. People are still disappearing, still dying. Every day, you still wake up in a country under brutal occupation. And Bradley is gone.

But you’re not even getting a chance to feel sorry for yourself, you think angrily. Crawl into bed and cry, drink too much with Eva, and probably cry some more—normal things.

Except you haven’t had a normal day in years.

Blinking rapidly to stop the tears, hands jammed deep into your pockets; you follow Jan like a child being led to detention. He walks several meters in front of you, stride confident, weaving past people—you follow, trailing, practically dragging your feet. To the outside observer, you are two strangers just going in the same direction. The streets around the station are busy; trams are thundering, cars are honking, and people are pushing past.

Shoulders pulled up; you stare at the tips of your boots as you walk. You can feel the corners of your mouth pulling down. At this point, you can’t even pretend to look neutral. You notice Jan turning into a side street from the corner of your eye. The narrow alleyway leads into a backstreet, connecting the city center to quiet residential areas. Sighing, you follow.

However, he takes another turn, legging it to the park behind the national museum rather than veering further up the hill, away from the crowds. Jan doesn’t look back at you once, assuming you’re following.

Your curiosity won’t allow you to turn away and go home. So, with a face like thunder, you shuffle after him. It’s a beautiful day. You hate it.

It’s good for Bradley, though. It shouldn’t be cold tonight. And at least it won’t be raining as he hikes to the rendezvous point. You hope the weather stays mild; you hope he stays safe.

Your heart sinks further as you realize you’ll probably never find out. Bradley filled your head and heart with so many dreams; perhaps the kindest thing you can do now is dream for him. He’ll make it out. He’ll be safe. He’ll return to Virginia Beach and live out his days in peace.

Maybe one day you can find peace in that.

The gravel of the park path creaks under your boots. You wonder how much further Jan will walk to ensure you’re not being followed—it’s making you impatient, but you know better than to stop him or start looking around to confirm that no one is actually following you. Glancing at your watch, you realize it’s not even noon yet. The day feels so much longer—the rollercoaster of emotions seems to have expanded time. It feels like you’ve lived full days in just a matter of hours.

Jamming your hand back into your pockets, you descend the pedestrian underpass leading out of the park under a busy road. The rolling thunder of cars, trams, and trucks resonates through the walls of the underpass, almost overwhelmingly so. Jan stopped walking halfway through—he is lighting a cigarette, waiting for you to catch up.

The further you walk down the stairs, the louder the noise gets—it’s practically shaking the walls. It’s like stepping into a liminal zone, the sparse artificial light looking strangely ominous, with no trace of the sunny spring day outside. And the stench. God. Stale alcohol and piss - it’s so penetrant you swear the air feels heavier, like a haze, as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs.

You swallow heavily, unsure if you want to keep breathing through your nose but also not really wanting to open your mouth.

Sauntering up to Jan—the smell of the cigarette amplifies the underpass's stench in a wholly new, disgusting dimension—you send him a suffering look.

“Really?” You force out, unable to keep the disdain out of your tone.

The way Jan is moving has a measure of frustration to it; the way he flicks the ash off his cigarette is a little too fast, his shoulders squared, and his movements a little too sharp. He ignores your rhetorical question.

“The Gestapo is looking for you.” Jan doesn’t look at you, keeping his gaze averted toward the end of the empty underpass.

“What?”

It’s like a bucket of ice suddenly dropped down your stomach. Your heart is suddenly beating a mile a minute. Panicking, you grab Jan’s sleeve, forcing him to look at you.

“What do you know?” You demand forcefully, trying to keep your voice stable, but the panic is rolling off you in waves.

“Someone saw you -” He jerks back, but you don’t let go of his sleeve. “Look, I don’t know. All I heard was the Gestapo was looking for a cleaner of your description who works at the Ministry of Interior.

“Why?” You’re desperate now, grasping at any straw to get in control of the situation. “And who told you that?

“You know I can’t tell you that,” He sounds contrite, gazing down for a moment, taking a drag of his cigarette. “But you need to get out of the city before they arrest you.”

Stunned into silence, you finally let go of his sleeve. Jan’s round face looks pained, his eyes darting around the underpass. You are breathing hard, the noise from the underpass in your head now, roaring and pounding. You can’t think. The stench is burning your nostrils, choking you.

“Go stay with your parents out east.” He adds, not unkindly. “Just until this all blows over.”

You shake your head.

“I need to go home.” You can’t articulate why, but you need to go home. You need to get clothes. Pack. You need to burn your false identities before they search the place. Yes, that’s it. Home.

“No!” Jan grabs your shoulder, shaking you out of your reverie. “Don’t go home. Get the first train out of here.”

Where is this sudden urgency coming from? It’s not like he just led you on a walk away from the central station. You feel a strange twinge in your stomach, but it’s so slight you barely acknowledge it.

“No,” You force out. “I must go home first—I can’t just leave.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t!” Your sudden exclamation echoes. Jan, whose face is growing red splotches from frustration, clamps his hand over your mouth, silencing you. Tearing yourself away from him, you bite your tongue not to scream at him again. He throws up his hands before digging out another cigarette. He doesn’t offer you one but focuses his angrily shaking fingers on striking a match.

“This isn’t a game.” Jan cuts at you. He keeps his gaze averted like he’s too furious even to spare you a look. You are just shaking your head like you’re trying to shake your thoughts into place—to start making sense out of the chaos. In any other situation, you would never let any comment like that from anyone, but especially not Jan, go without defending yourself. Fuck.

“I’m going home.” You leave no room for argument, turning on your heel.

“Is he still here?”

The question makes you stop dead in your tracks, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out the noise around you. You feel that twinge in your stomach again, stronger this time. One thought suddenly looms large over the chaos in your brain, silencing everything: you can’t make sense of this because it doesn’t make sense.

“I can help-”

“The mission was completed.” You cut him off flatly, not turning back to face him. Don’t elaborate. Biting your lip, your mind races to put the puzzle together. Something is off. You can feel it in your gut. It just doesn’t quite fit.

How did Jan know you were at the station?

If he knew you were there, he must have seen Bradley.

And if he didn’t see him, what did Jan think you were doing there?

Slowly, you turn to face Jan again, blinking, face wiped clean of emotion. His movements are sharper now, like he’s going through the motions forcibly, never looking anywhere for more than a few seconds. He’s shuffling in place, like he wants to run from the situation, but is rooting himself in place.

As you finally take the time to observe Jan, you realize his movements don’t look like frustration. They look like nerves.

Now that the maelstrom of emotions and panicked thoughts in you has finally stilled, you can feel it. The weight of the realization is crushing—it’s just not adding up.

Trust your gut.

It’s like the world suddenly jerks into movement again. The noise is picking up into a deafening roar, the stench so heavy it’s misting over your eyes. Your body sets in motion before you can fully rationalize what you are doing. You need to get out of here.

You’re halfway up the stairs out of the tunnel when you hear Jan screaming at you, his lumbering footsteps closing in. Now is not the time to stop—lungs burning, heart pounding in your throat, you push on. You have a head start, which is your only chance to outrun Jan, who is larger and stronger than you. Nearly tripping over your own feet in your mad dash to get away from him, you cut through the shrubs surrounding the park, branches whipping against your body. When you think back to the moment later, you have no idea how you summoned the strength to scale the iron-wrought fence, nearly pivoting off the top as you tried to avoid the pointy spears decorating the top.

Don’t look around. Don’t look around.

You have no idea if Jan is still following you, but looking around will slow you down, and you can’t afford to lose a single meter of your head start. Blind panic is your fuel now.

The main street is busy. It’s nearly lunchtime, and people are filing out of offices into shops and restaurants. You’re attracting attention, dressed so casually, running like mad—but you can’t stop now. A tram is just leaving the stop, bells ringing loudly. If you go a little bit faster, if you push yourself a little bit harder—desperately, you reach out, your fingers only brushing against the open balcony's metal handle for the departing tram.

You are breathing so hard, your focus singular, to get out of here; your heart nearly stops when you hear Jan calling out your name. He’s so much closer than you anticipated.

Straining, a strangled sound escaping your lips, you push harder. The tram is speeding up, you only have seconds left.

You can’t miss this tram.

It one final burst of energy that you didn’t know you still had in you that propels you forward just enough to grab onto the metal bar. Using your momentum, you jump, crashing onto the rear balcony unceremoniously, bashing your head and elbow against the dirty floor.

You stay down for a moment, your mouth completely dry, spleen aching, head throbbing.

It’s a good thing Bradley left today. If the Gestapo really is looking for you, you couldn’t protect him anymore. Now, all you can hope is that he makes it out.

He will. He has to.

Sitting up, you roll your shoulder back to give your lungs more space as you catch your breath like Bradley showed you. It’s a good thing he isn’t here anymore, but… who can you tell now what happened? It’s like only now you realize that Bradley is not waiting for you at home. It hurts.

He’s no longer there to kiss you, ease your mind, and help you navigate this situation. Despite your ceaseless attempts to convince yourself that everything about your time was temporary, a lightning-in-a-bottle moment between two lonely souls and nothing more would ever come from it, the realization is dawning on you that you’ve grown accustomed to having him around.

The only person that you could speak freely to. The only person who could truly see you.

Bradley was the only person that knew you—the person you are now, the person you’ve been forced to become.

And he accepted you.

Suddenly, you feel like crying again. Sitting on the dirty tram floor, people staring down at you as they pass—you feel so incredibly alone.

Finally getting up and dusting off your pants, you enter the tram, trying to blend in with the crowd. A part of you wants nothing more than to go home, crawl into bed, and forget this whole goddamn day.

But you can’t ignore what Jan told you—his story doesn’t add up, but surely he wouldn’t lie about the Gestapo looking for you. It’s not even a question of why; plenty of things you have done could get you arrested at any point. Stealing, forgery, break-ins, harboring a fugitive…

So it’s a question of what—how much do they actually know? And how much more information will they want to extract from you?

Your head is still throbbing—from the impact, the confusion, and the tears you’ve been holding back the whole morning.

Whatever happens next, you need to get rid of any evidence. If the Gestapo wants to pin something on you, they will find a way, but the line ends with you. You will not give them anything that could lead them to the others.

That’s the least you can do.

The closer you get to home, the worse you feel. It feels like lead is being poured into your boots, making every step harder. You are completely unsure of what to do now. After you get rid of the evidence, what will you do? Should you stay with your parents like Jan suggested? Wouldn’t that put them in danger?

You can’t even think about that right now.

Your stomach is churning by the time you unlock the heavy wooden door to your building. Something is wrong, and if your head weren’t feeling like it was about to explode, you would probably have stopped to examine your gut feeling. But you don’t have time. The quicker you get this done, the better.

Blindly, you make your way up the stairs. Voices of neighbors are echoing through the halls—it’s strange for so many people to be out of their houses. You are not in the mood for building gossip, so you hope you can slip into your apartment without any nosy aunties catching you. As you reach the first landing, you hear someone call your name. Can you pretend you don’t hear them? You keep your head down, legging it to the next flight of stairs at the far end of the landing.

However, before you even make it to the first steps, your downstairs neighbor blocks your way—despite her being old enough to be your mother, she exudes so much class it’s age age-defying today her normally carefully coiffed blonde hair is… well, messy. Flyaway hairs are sticking out of the casual bun on the back of her hair. The sleeves of her normally crisp ironed blouse are wrinkled as she rolled them up in a hurry. It’s certainly not how your appearance-conscious neighbor, in all her vanity, would ever show herself.

“Anna, don’t go upstairs,” Worry is etched on your neighbor's face, her piercing blue eyes imploring you to stay. She is holding you by your shoulders. It’s an almost motherly gesture—it’s possibly the strangest part of an already confusing situation. You’ve known this woman for the majority of your life—she lived here before your family moved in. But you think that in all those years, you may have at most shaken her hand.

You don’t have words. Unceremoniously, with an incredulous frown, you pull away from your neighbor, pushing past her on the stairs. You break into a jog going up the stairs.

Today can’t end soon enough.

Something changes in the air the moment you reach the top of the stairs. Your neighbor’s voice still echoes through the hall as she screams out your name. Her frantic footsteps are coming after you. The second-floor landing is unusually crowded; more neighbors are looking at you in shock.

It’s like you walked on stage for an audition, unprepared. Eyes are on you from every angle, staring.

Why is the door to your apartment opened?

You should have stopped walking at that moment. You should have listened. Turned around.

But you speed up. You need to know. You need to find out exactly what happened.

Tearing through the doorway, you immediately slip on the soaked wooden floor. Clumsily, you break your fall by planting your hand on the floor. Your palms take the brunt of the impact, the ache ringing all the way up through your shoulder, your hands getting coated in the sticky liquid covering the floor as you scramble to get up.

But you cleaned up all the coffee this morning.

There is commotion behind you, but it could be on the other side of the world as far as you are concerned.

Because across from you on the floor, in the semi-darkness of the apartment hallway, Eva’s lifeless eyes are staring at you accusingly.

She’s wearing your skirt, the rusty color blotted with the blood flowing from her head.

note | sorry i was going through some shit and stuff and I literally just finished writing the missing scenes - sorry for any oddities, it's almost 1am here, I will revise this tomorrow again but I also felt bad for taking so long

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc

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vynnytypesstuff · 1 year

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Hello! Im here for a request if you dont mind, i loved the platonic stuff you wrote for lmk and wanted to request a platonic drabble with Sun Wukong and Macaque. If you don’t do that then can i get some headcanons? Enjoy your vacation!!

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Platonic Drabbles for Sun Wukong and Macaque

Ngl I had fun writing this request. I think I favor writing platonic stuff lmao

Thanks for your patience and here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

(Word Count: 430)

[Name] yawned, stretching their arms outwards as they laid on their back against the firm mattress of Wukong's couch. With the long week they've had to deal with, a lazy Sunday was the exact crowning jewel they needed to kick back and unwind, and what better way to spend them than with one of your closest friends?

Resisting the urge to let their exhaustion coax them into slumber, [Name] turned over onto their side, curious to see what Wukong had been up to during the time they had been staring at the ceiling. The Monkey King had been seated on the floor, surprisingly too focused on whatever task he was trying to complete to respond to [Name]'s movements. Upon closer inspection, in front of him was a piece of paper with art supplies scattered around him.

[Name] blinked, "since when do you draw?"

That seemed to be enough to grab Wukong's attention. "Uh, since always? Didn't I tell you this before?"

"Yeah, but… I kind of figured you were bluffing."

Wukong looked at them with false offense, sputtering in exaggeration, as if he were actually upset by that comment. "Wha- I'm shocked! Offended, even! I have my hidden talents you know. See for yourself!"

Reluctantly, [Name] rolled off the couch to get a look at Wukong's supposed masterpiece. A lingering part of them still expected to see a humorous assortment of scribbles, yet they were completely blown away once they witnessed his scarily realistic and accurate depiction of Flower Fruit Mountain, fully sketched down to it's finest details. It even had Wukong's little monkeys companions, who's sketched counterparts were scurrying around the mountain.

"How is your work not on display in a museum?!" [Name] exclaimed questioningly. They felt a little guilty about underestimating Wukong's artistic talents. They just weren't expecting him to be insanely good.

"Stage fright, or something," Wukong nonchalantly shrugged.

"Or maybe being the Monkey King is just a cover for your true identity as an artist," They mused. "I can't believe you've had a secret identity all this time and you didn't tell me."

He laughed, deciding to play along with the joke. "Caught me red-handed! And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

Their exchange of friendly banter went on for quite some time before [Name] finally decided to abandon their original Sunday plans of having an intense ceiling-staring session, choosing to watch Wukong color his work before grabbing a piece of paper for themself and joining him in his makeshift "art studio." Overall, it was the perfect close to a weekend of relaxation.

Macaque

(Word Count: 446)

"'Come hiking with me' you said. 'It'll be worth it' you said," a muttered complaint spilled into the air, courtesy of [Name]. Macaque and [Name] had been hiking the same mountain for a little over an hour. The rugged terrain combined with the narrow twists and turns of the trail wasn't helping with [Name]'s growing exhaustion. "It feels like we've been at this for ages! How much further until we're there?"

Macaque's voice rumbled in a soft, fond chuckle, clearly finding amusement in his friend's whining. "Relax, we're almost there. Besides, I meant what I said. You'll be thanking me once we've reached the top. Would I lie to you?"

[Name] opened their mouth to respond, but Macaque beat them to the punch with a quick "don't answer that."

Thankfully, Macaque had been truthful. A mere ten minutes after that small exchange, they had finally reached their final destination. It was the height of the Spring season, so despite the gentle chill of the flowing breeze hitting their skin, the weather was warm and comfortable. The view itself was breathtaking. The natural assortment of flora below them shone vibrantly against the sunlight, resembling the picturesque nature of a meticulously painted landscape.

The awed look on [Name]'s face didn't escape Macaque's gaze. "Told you it would be worth it." He grinned, finding a spot near the mountain's edge to sit down. "Honestly, even I forgot how beautiful the view was from up here."

"You haven't been here recently?"

Macaque shook his head in answer. "I used to come up here all the time with an old friend, so it just brings up a lot of memories, you know?" Perhaps [Name] was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a hint of sadness in his voice. They chose not to question it, instead letting him continue. "I wasn't sure how I'd feel about coming up here again."

'It's part of the reason I invited you,' a sudden thought that went unspoken. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes.

[Name] walked over to where he was sat and settled next to him. They didn't speak after that, instead choosing to take in the view in comfortable silence. There was nothing awkward about it. Believe it or not, Macaque wasn't always the most talkative, so having someone he could sit with in silence was a pleasant change of pace.

Time passed, with [Name] being the one to break the silence. "Thanks for inviting me, this was actually pretty nice."

"Glad you like it. Does that mean you'll stop bugging me by asking 'are we there yet' every time we climb up here?"

"Don't count on it."

#lego monkie kid #lmk #platonic x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #platonic drabble #askblog #askbox is open #vynnytypesstuff

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its-short-for-jackalope · 11 months

Text

Poe Party Is A Very Pretty Show.

I've thought that every time I watched it.

I think I'm up to 6 times now? idk.

The humor is probably the first thing that comes to mind with this show, and rightly so, the comedy is great, but it's also just so nice to look at! So I wanted to show some love for the visuals and awesome camera work, too.

I've wanted to try this art exercise where you watch a movie or whatever and sketch out the different compositions when scenes/camera angles change and whatnot so you can learn some composition tricks and see what works and looks good, so I was like, Hey! Perfect show for it right here!

I started this little project for Rewatchers 2000 last week (vastly overestimating my drawing speed and time management skills 😅) and I finished it today, so here are all the mini composition study sketches I did!

No close-ups. I was lazy. Y'all can zoom if you want. <3

These are just tiny rough sketches because it was also supposed to be an exercise in not spending too much time on what were meant to be quick drawings, buuuut I forgot that a few times so some of these are way more detailed than others, lol.

I also didn't redraw every single shot I like, or else I'd still be going, so this is really more of a little sampling of Poe Party's majesty. Special shout-out to Chapter 6 in particular, which has a lot of cool visuals where the camera is constantly moving so I couldn't exactly capture that w/ static sketches. 🥲

idk how to finish this post in a clever way so, uh.......... bye!

#jack jabbers #poe party #edgar allan poe's murder mystery dinner party #shipwrecked comedy #rewatchers2000

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monstrouslyobsessed · 4 months

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Will you ever draw papa bull and duke together as a comparison of what they look like? I’m genuinely curious to see duke in your artstyle.

sure thing! i was already working on a drawing anyway, so any excuse to exercise a quick sketch never hurts.

—all rights reserved to @monstrouslyobsessed, the beastfolk characters, papa bull and duke for character design sketch, with a bonus doodle of dorothy fawning over devon with her faceless spouse and child (being held by the bulls' darling in a very vague appearance) in the background with some random expression tests and two babies, devon and dorothy's still-nameless baby.

additional details/ramblings under the cut.

im not really too good with drawing furries so they probably look pretty awkward. anyway, yeah, you can tell there's a lot of resemblances between duke and papa bull. i actually copied and mirrored on purpose and just changed certain details (mainly age and fashion sense).

i tried to make papa bull to look softer, kinder, in his eyes, while it's harder to interpret with duke, other than him being a bit awkward.

they all do have hair tho! a bit more mullet-like, i suppose, but i don't think they can help that considering how their anatomy works (and i'm somewhat trying to keep true to the irl animals as well so there's not really any 'rainbow anime gravity defying' hair going on there). papa bull have a bit more hair than duke, since he had a beard whileas duke doesn't.

if you noticed that duke didn't have the nose ring, good eye! i figured it's a specific species cultural factor, that the head of the family has it (regardless of the gender).

they're actually supposed to be darker, closer to black, but i also wanted to show the wrinkles and other finer details in their looks thus the brown. i...think i might like them better that way, but eh.

as for dorothy, she adore kids regardless of who or what they are. she's always happy to see the little devon and fawn on them lol i kind of tried to keep her to look like a (summery) farm girl, with a lot of body confidence in herself, but it's pretty sketchy so i don't think thats obvious. she's a big, happy gal though.

yes, i just wanna doodle her lol

if you're having troubles reading the text because my handwriting is crappy, i gotchu

"hoovedfolk babies are so heavy..." "i can hold them?" --Dorothy, who traded babies for a minute --Devon, in dino onesie

thats about it for my nonsense, hope my doodles are passable?

#monster's art. 🎨#my art #monster's oc. ⚰️#beastfolks #beastfolk #papa bull #duke #dorothy #beastfolk au #monster doodles #anonymous #ghosts are curious.👻#asked #answered

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edsnun · 10 months

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fluffly request!

female reader (if your okay writing that)

imagine reader has a spiderperson as an older sibling and Gwen (coughs in i love her too much.) develops a crush on R but is too scared of her older sibling to go for it. and then R confesses or something.

YESSYSYSYSS YES YES YES this was so fun 2 write i love it sm

i think this could be passed off as gn! reader BUT there’s one description of your sibling calling you their sister so!! lmk if this is good or bad or if i should tweak anything 😔🫶

words // 1024 genre // fluff, (s/n) = sibling name, warning this is not proofread so i’m sorry for any spelling errors 🫶

you were drawing in your room, sketching peacefully when a bright light comes open you. shielding your eyesight with your hand, you see a familiar figure drop in on your bed.

“gwen!” you say excitedly, hugging her. she giggles and hugs back, rubbing her hand up and down your back. “hi.” she mumbles back.

“where’d you come from?” you ask, watching the previous portal disappear. “oh, i’m supposed to be going on a mission with s/n, but they haven’t been picking up the alerts.”

“ah! they’ve been knocked out for a while now.” you mutter, taking gwen’s hand and leading them to your siblings bedroom. there they lay, knocked out in their spidersuit.

“s/n!” you whisper, slightly shaking them awake. they jolt awake and wipe the drool off their face. “hmm??”

gwen chuckles and helps them up. “cmon, you got a misssion alert 5 minutes ago and you’re still knocked out, let’s go!” you chortle, leaving the room. “be safe!”

gwen smiles as she watches you walk away. over the past couple of months, gwen grew closer to you through your sibling, and eventually the three of you hand out regularly. the closer you got, though, the more attracted she got to you.

the way you laughed, smiled at her. how you’d share a piece of food with her before if she’d never try it. how caring you were, and mainly how good of a personality you had.

but gwen was scared that if she confessed, s/n would forbid it to the max. they were a little overprotective of you, especially since they were a spider person , and that’s what gwen admired about s/n.

at the same time, though, she was petrified that they wouldn’t want to be friends anymore if she confessed.

“nd i just dunno what to do! wait, am i interrupting your mission?” you ask, on a call with miles. you heard some trains bustling and weird grunting happening on the other line.

“no, you’re not, i swear!” miles yells, making you cringe and put him on speaker, putting your phone on your desk.

“if you feel like confessing, then just do it! i’ve seen too much of you guys awkwardly flirting to know that you’d be perfect for each other.” miles rambling on, as you sketch, drawing you and gwen as cats. “awkwardly? are you sure?” you asked, feeling self conscious.

“awkwardly.” look, just confess by tomorrow, hm? don’t have that big of a gesture, okay?” you nod. “i gotcha. thanks, miles.” you hang up the phone, and continue your sketching.

as the day goes by, you walk into the kitchen to make a couple of snacks, when you hear the portal opening again, s/n and gwen coming through.

“hey! you’re back!” you giggle as you hug your sibling, and then gwen. the hug lasts longer than usual, her arms sliding to your waist, giving you a firm hug. “you’re okay? no scratches?” you ask, checking gwen’s spidersuit. “i’m fine too? thanks.” s/n jokes. you check their spidersuit as well, then give them a quick side hug.

“i told gwen that she could hang for a bit until she goes back to hobies place, that okay?” s/n asks. you nod. “can we go draw together?” you ask, nervously fiddling with your hands. “i’m shit at it, but yeah.” gwen says, as you both walk to your room.

you shut the door, and then sit on your bed, inviting her to sit on it as well. “i actually have to- to talk to you about something first.” you say, and gwen looks at you with worry. you look away from her, picking at your nails. “is it bad?”

you shake your head, and sit in silence for a bit, trying to think of what to say.

“this is nerve wracking, yknow. i just- is it getting hot in here?” gwen rambles, pulling on the hoodie part of her costume. “yknow lately the humidity just gets wors-“

“i like you, gwen.” you blurt out.

“huh?”

“i like you.” you say, as you look up at her, smiling warmly at her. she mirrors your action, as she leans in closer to you. you lay her head on her shoulder, heart pounding out of your chests, she lifts you up and cups your cheek, caressing it with her thumb.

“can i kiss you?” she asks, face flushing a deep red. you nod, breathless already, as she presses her soft lips into your plush ones. you softly grab her wrist and smile into the kiss, cupping her face lightly as well. she pulls apart as you look at each other, giggling softly.

you hear a door freak open and you nearly jump out of your skin and jump practically off the bed as you see s/n walk in. “hey, i made snacks and popcorn, we can watch a mov- are you okay?”

you nod, feeling your face heat up. gwen giggles and helps you off the floor, standing up with you. “i’m- in fine.” you say, brushing off.

“i take it you did it gwen?” s/n asks gwen. you look at gwen shocked and then your sibling, who looks at you with a knowing smile. “you- you knew?” you ask, looking at them with a scared expression. “course i did. we have thin walls, yknow. why didn’t you tell me sooner?” they say, looking at you, then gwen.

gwen and you share a look. “i’m scared you wouldn’t let me.” you say. “you can be kinda..”

“overprotective.” gwen finishes. when your siblings mouth gapes, she chokes and waves her hands around. “i-i mean! that’s what i like about you though, and especially as a spider person, you-“

“i don’t care if you date. i was teasing.” they joke, throwing a kernel of popcorn at gwen. “you guys are really good for each other, and you better treat my sister right, you hear?” gwen nods, and you hug your sibling. “thank you so much, s/n. i love you.”

“i love you too, now come on, let’s go watch this movie.”

#gwen stacy x reader #gwen x reader #gwen stacy #atsv x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse x reader #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy atsv x reader #atsv

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mykatzone · 7 months

Text

Answering asks #4

I have been... procrastinating over answering asks in my inbox... just a bit 🥺

I'm really grateful for everyone's patience so I'm finally sitting down to answer all the asks I got! Again tysm ;w;

• Finny art request + Timelapse and brief overview of my art process

My deepest apologies anon! Not only did you send this ask back in July, but I additionally promised you a reply back in August- and it's October now! 😭 I am so sorry for my lateness and am so grateful for your patience!

In any case, you asked for a Finny drawing so I offer a Finny drawing! As well as a timelapse of my art process and brief overview of how I do things since you were interested!!!

I wasn't sure what style you wanted me to draw him in (I have so many styles RIP) so I picked the most difficult one I (sometimes) use! Aka my painterly style!

As for how I draw like this uhh, it's a lot of messing around trying to find the right colors basically!

Also focusing on quick brush strokes that communicate the shape of whatever surface I'm rendering!

I also love casting most of the upper part of the face in shadows. Does it make sense? No. Does it look good? Yes!!

As for my lineart, again- rly depends on the style I'm going for- but I tend to use a more sketchy style of lineart these days.

Like a superrr clean sketch. I think it looks nicer with my rendering style, bc the lines have that sketchy rough quality so it's easier to hide the imperfections bc I can hide under the "well it's supposed to look rough duhh" excuse LOL. Work smart not hard! I always say that.

I hope I'm making sense with my rambles. I've never been the best at explaining my art process bc I myself don't rly get what I'm doing usually. It just kinda comes as a reflex almost?? I've been drawing for so long I just kinda go with the flow at this point.

Anyhow hope it was worth the wait XD enjoy your Finny!!!

• Kuroshitsuji Musical idea suggestions

To refresh everyone's memory (bc I'm so late at answering asks), awhile back @shadowalkingschemer asked if I ever planned to make a Kuroshitsuji musical parody type songs/animations like I did for Umineko, to which I said "probs no bc an actual official Kuroshitsuji musical exists, but it sounds like a rly fun idea tho". ANYHOW- this was the followup ask I got from the same person! So let me finally answer!!!

Oki so I looked up this Beethoven's Last Night thing you mentioned and???? OMG??? It goes hard from the first few minutes I listened to. It's a rock opera I assume? And it's such a bop?? And yes this would be perfect for Kuroshitsuji, it matches that classical sophisticated vibe SO WELL with the general edge of the story (bc duh. it's a recreation of Beethoven's compositions but with epic rock music). God this is so good, thank you for the recommendation I will have to listen to the full album soon bc WOW.

• Nice person in my inbox :D

Thank you so much @eynnwwyjth !! That's such a sweet compliment too ;W; to call my art enchanting AAA ty!!! :>

• Animation advice

Thank you for checking out my YouTube @aeowolfestheater !! It's my primary social media, and I'm glad you fell down the rabbit hole of my many many uploads I posted over the years XD

To answer your question, I don't rly have the best personal advice when it comes to starting out as an animator rly! I kinda... fell into it? XD I started animating (well trying to animate in MS Paint), before I even turned 10, so I didn't really have that traditional learning curve? It was mostly a lot of trial and error, trying to figure out what works and what doesn't.

(If anyone wants to see how my old animations looked and how they improved over the years, I posted many "Animation Improvement" type videos that showcase my work over the years, so you get the idea of what I'm talking abt!)

youtube

Best advice I can give to any animator right now is probably the boring advice I personally never took (hence why it took so long for me to get where I am now). Learm the fundementals (the principles of animation, the ins and outs of the animation program you're using, general art skills are also a bonus depending of what you wanna animate). I think it's also important when you are first starting out to focus less on making your animations smooth and clean and more on learning how to capture movement itself (that's the point of animation after all!). Learn how things move depending on material, speed, physics etc. and how to communicate that in animation. I think just observing life helps a lot. References are your friend (video references are probs the best). Ofc clean and smooth animation is great as well, but that comes after you learn the basics I think. Stay on model the best you can while animating any shot (ofc unless you are doing squash and stretch or experimental animation). It makes it look less janky. Uhh I can't think of much else right now (bc again I never rly learned animation the normal way haha), so I will link my two animation tutorials here! They are abt Clip Studio Paint EX though, idk how helpful they are if you don't have that program :'0!

youtube

• Tumblr mutual reunion!

Omg hi @rissynicole and so sorry for the late reply!! As this post has shown so far I am extremely slow at replying to the asks I recieve in my inbox! Anyhow it is me! Katrinci! I got back on Tumblr in 2022 (has it already been over a year??)! Sadly someone else took my old username (an innactive empty blog too... I'm so mad), so I got a new username heyooo. I hope you've been well!! I'm doing better then I have in gosh, years I feel like XD. Mostly bc I'm finally out of school and finally focusing on stuff I wanna be doing (art career stuff and irl stuff!) But yeah I hope you've been well too!!! Feel free to reply or shoot me another ask if you feel like, I'll do my best to reply on time this time! (I'm so so sorry for being so late!!) Anyhow YIPPIE!

• Where to watch my silly Umineko Musical parody

It's here! I privated it on my main channel bc I thought it was too goofy/self-indulgent even for me (also it wasn't doing well and y'know how YouTube is with channels that underperform T_T), so I moved it to my secondary channel! It has both the song you are referencing and the other song I did! Enjoy :>

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• What Croatian stereotype is Katzone?

Well every region in Croatia has its own stereotype, I'm from Dalmatia, and we are stereotyped as loud. So I def fit that one! And also I fit the "cura iz umjetničke" (girl from art school) stereotype quite well. I went to an art highschool and I'm gay, autistic, slightly mentally ill and look vaguely alt (literally I don't btw, but ppl see a buzzcut and it blows their minds, like "woah that's so alternative and quirky", not knowing I only have a buzzcut so I can't pull my hair smh (trichotillomania, look it up for more info)). Though I don't smoke weed so mby I am a bit subversive and not like other art girls.

• Kat sexuality confirmed??

Oki so what @xxparanoidvampirexx is referencing here is when I posted a poll asking my followers to guess my sexuality.

These were the results!

I have been democratically declared a lesbian by popular vote. This is probably true. Listen I'm like 95% certain I'm a lesbian but you never know. My autism makes it hard for me to figure out any sense of my identity bc I often mirror ppl around me (and most of my friends are lesbians or sapphic women in sapphic relationships), you get me? We can never know. My sexuality is currently a Schrodinger's cat situation I'm afraid.

ANYHOW, to answer LMAO- I mean fair assumption. I do mostly post about women on my blog (Saldy... I got back into Adventure Time recently and my blorbo there... is a *shivers* man. I saw someone on Twitter today as that fictional middle aged men are to lesbians what Taylor Swift is is to gay men. And like. Yeah.)

• Nice person in my inbox #2 + "What's your favorite Ciel outfit?"

First of thank you so much anon for the kind words!!! I'm rly happy to hear my art makes you gayer (the only correct compliment ever). Jokes aside, but fr this is super sweet :'D thank you!!!

To answer your question, I had to go skim through this video by @/nullbutler to refresh my memory on what outfits Ciel wears throughout the anime/manga/official art.

Here's the video if you wanna watch it!

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Anyhow, my personal fave fits of his are extremely basic. While I do love Ouji fashion, I dislike seeing him in most of the oufits Yana puts him in. Like yes they look lovely, slay extremely hard and fit the visual aesthetic of Black Butler perfectly- but every time I see him in these frilly oufits I'm like "this is not reflective of his personality in any way, he would not wear this on his own, it's pure camp". Don't get me wrong- I love camp, and this anime/manga is as camp as you get. So while I love the more campy frilly oufits he wears aesthetically (and those are way prettier), I perfer when he's in stuff like this:

Like yes, these outfits are objectively less interesting and pretty- but I see stuff like this and I'm like yeah that's him. If Sebastian dropped dead and couldn't pick out his clothes anymore, this is what he would wear on his own accord methinks.

• STOP MAKING ME FEEL OLD 😭

Here's my live reaction of reading your ask @porfiriea :

What do you mean?? You were 6?? I doubt you watched my 2014 MS Paint animation era, I assume you found my channel during 2016-2017 at earliest (my Undertale and Yan Sim animation era). I refuse to believe you were born in the 2010s. Nuh-uh. No. Not happening. Fake news.

Jokes aside, but it's always cool to see ppl be like "oh I watched your stuff b4, I didn't know this Tumblr user was you!" It's a strange feeling!! Makes me feel like I did leave a mark on the animation side of YouTube. Feels nice! :'D but also old. And I'm only 20!! How will I feel when I'm 30 or 40?? Will I just turn to dust on the spot??

• Grelle's gender masterpost update

I'm so sorry anon, but I completely lost interest in this topic T_T! Plus even if I ended up making a masterpost, it wouldn't be fully accurate (or at least- I wouldn't be able to verify its authenticity completely), as I don't speak Japanese. So I would have to go off of Google translate and translations by English speaking fans who understand Japanese. And I don't wanna talk too much abt Japanese queer culture either. Even though I did a ton of research, I'm not Japanese and I never went to Japan! So I'd rather not risk spreading any potential misinfo. Sorry to let you down ;;!

• Another YouTube viewer spotted me in the wild!

Omg you spotted me!! In the wild!! That animation was crazyy, bc I made it rly fast and rly didn't expect it to do well. But I remember it did super well during the first day (got 100k views on the first day it was wild), and while I love that old video, I'm like. Rly? That one blew up?? Out of all my other ones?? I mean the idea was creative! But I feel I half assed it a little, I barely animated anything for it outside the headbop tweening and blinking animation XD. Mby I'm being too harsh on 14 year old Kat here. Nahh I'm not, I felt the same when I posted it innitially as well. But hey I still love that vid. Love the style I drew in at the time, I was still using a mouse for everything back then. Love the colors too! Mby I should remake it one of these days. Mby!!!

If anyone wants to watch the animation @gentle-starlight is refering to:

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• Umineko time

@anawkwardlady This is the universal Umineko fandom experience I'm afraid. Being sad over Beato and wishing she was vibing (after you learn abt... the horrors...) XD

• ???

I'm so very concerned and do not know what this means or what this is refering to. I'm afraid O_O @hononyan what does this mean...

• What happened to my old Tumblr blog

It's completely ok to ask anon! In truth, I have this rly bad habit where I delete social media accounts when I'm having a bad mental health moment. It's always an impulsive decision I end up regretting. I deleted my old Tumblr in early 2021 I'm pretty sure, and I'm still so sad about it. I wish I didn't delete it. I had that blog since 2015 and now it's gone like poof. I can't get it back and I'm always emo abt it.

I might make like, an archive or something of my old art one day. I mean I still have most of it saved on my computer, but it would be nice to have all of it in one place publically again (it's always good to have stuff backed up somewhere)! Adding that to my to-do list XD

Oh and the worst part? I can't use my old username on Tumblr (Katrinci). Someone else took it. A BLANK EMPTY BLOG. I'm so mad. I'm soooooo mad give it back to meeee.

• THE END!

And with that I have answered all the asks I had in my inbox! Well, all the questions and stuff, I still have other stuff in my inbox like art requests but I'll get to that some other time if I feel like doing any of those! In any case, tysm for being patient everyone! Ik it took me very long to reply but I hope my responses were worth it! I wish all of you a nice day! My hand hurts from typing owie.

#📬 askbox #i talk abt sm stuff in this post holy cow.#it even has some art/animation advice bc some ppl asked for that so do read this post if it interests u!#oki DONE.#Youtube

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