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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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the girl next door 9

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You don’t go straight home. You don’t want to upset your mom. So, you wander the suburbs, walking around cul-de-sacs, some you’ve never been down, and circling around the avenues. You pass mothers and fathers with strollers and children running and yelling on green lawns. It’s as if you’re walking through a utopia, floating by like a cursed wraith.

You glance down at the book in your hand. Maybe you should try some lighter reading. Your mind tends to go to dark places.

When at last you let yourself go back to the house, you do so cautiously. You don’t see Steve or your mom. As you come to the front door, you wonder if you should knock. You quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door as you stand on the mat. You leave your shoes on the low rack and tiptoe down the hall. Your mom can’t be mad if she doesn’t know you’re there.

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve’s voice as you tripping over your own feet. You turn to the archway as you pass and peer in. Your mother’s in her recliner, her eyes closed. Is she sleeping? You watch her warily. “How was your walk?”

“Um,” you blink and shrug, “fine.”

He stands by the window, his hand on the wall beside it. Did he see you come up? You hadn’t noticed him behind the curtain.

“Breakfast for you in the oven. Won’t be very warm but if it’s no good, I can start a new batch,” he offers.

“Don’t bother with all that,” your mother grumbles and shifts in her chair, groaning as she shakily rubs her cheek. Her eyes open only slightly. “She can warm ‘em up.”

“Always better fresh,” Steve stands straight and faces you fully.

“Thanks.”

You leave them with the single word. You feel like an intruder. You stop by your bedroom and hover in indecision. You just want to hide but you would hate to be rude. Steve went to all that trouble and you know, even as your mother says he’s already done too much, she’d be even more upset if you wasted his effort.

You put your book on the foot of your bed and go down to the kitchen. You take out the pancakes, content enough to have them cold. There’s a bottle of real maple syrup. Steve must’ve supplied that; you can’t afford the pure stuff. You don’t use very much, mindful of the expense of the sugary nectar.

You grab cutlery and bring the plate to the table. You sit alone. You can hear the hum of the ceiling fan from the front room and the dulcet song of birds floating in through the windows. Steve’s low tone rolls through the din but you can’t make out his words. You mother answers his with short mutters. She’s not having a very good day. You're surprised he stayed this long.

The pancakes are good, even at room temperature. They’re fluffy and taste richer than the frozen ones you get a bargain on. Is that blueberry too? With each bite, your hunger clenches your stomach tighter, mulching down the food greedily. When you finish, your body growls and aches.

You wash off your plate and put it in the tray. The lull of the house thickens as you pad down to your room. You slow as you near the door frame. Had you closed it? You can’t recall.

You turn into the room and let out a noise of surprise. Steve looks over as he stands over the folding table, his hand on your sketchbook, a page half-turned. Your heart drops as you clasp your hands together.

“Sorry, er, didn’t mean to...” he rescinds his hand and lets the page flutter down, “It was open and...” you don’t know whether he means the door or the book. “You’re really talented.”

Your forehead crinkles and you charge towards him. You step around him and shut the book, swiping it up. He leans back on his heel.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t trying to...” he sputters, “I just wanted to pass something by you.”

You hug your sketchbook at you face him. You stare at this chest. You feel violated. Not just that he’s in your space but he touched your stuff. The one thing that’s really yours; your drawings.

“Me and your mom were talking, you know, and she said it would be good for you to get out, maybe make some extra money,” he explains, “and I’ll be around so you won’t need to worry about her so much.”

You frown. You and your mother have had this talk a billion times. Get off your ass and get a job. It’s not like you haven’t tried.

“So, I got some work you can do. Like I said, I gotta get that pool open,” he continues, “and there’s little things around the house. You got a good hand so maybe some painting here and there.”

You push your shoulders up. You don’t think you can say no, especially if he’s already said as much to your mom. You half-suspect this is her doing.

“Complementary milkshakes?” He offers breezily.

You’re quiet. You have no choice. You know as much.

“You know,” he softens his tone, “if I’m gonna... hang around with your mom, we should get to know each other. It’s a good opportunity for us.”

“Fine,” you answer.

“Fine? So that’s a yes?” He asks.

You close your eyes and flick them open, “yes.”

“Great. Well, when can you start? How about tomorrow? Supposed to be another sunny day.”

“Okay,” you agree, “tomorrow.”

He doesn’t move. You want him to leave. The conversation is over. He got what he wants and your mom too. He’ll pay you dimes to clean the pool and your mom will reap the profit.

“You know, I draw a little too,” he points to your sketchbook, “maybe if we have time tomorrow, I can show you.”

“Maybe,” you mutter.

“Ah, uh,” he chuckles bashfully and rubs his neck, “right, I'm in your way. Well, er, I’ll leave ya be.” He turns and struts to the door. He stops just inside the frame and looks back, “oh, how were the pancakes?”

You take a breath and stay staring at the wall, “good.”

“Great, did you have some of the syrup? It’s Canadian.”

“Yeah,” you turn and tuck your sketchbook into your dresser draw. “Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie,” he taps the wall and the door closes with a click.

You sit on your bed and hunch over to hold your head. It’s still heavy from the night before and now you’re even more tired than before. You don’t know if it’s from being out in the sun or all the walking you did, but your eyelids feel dry and seem to cling with each blink. You yawn and bring your legs up, curling your body up near the edge of the bed.

You know you shouldn’t sleep in the middle of the day, but you just can’t help yourself.

🏠

You wake up in the haze of the late afternoon. Your eyes hurt and your limbs are achy. You lay on your back as the curtains stir with the lazy breeze. You look over to find them open but you don’t remember pulling them apart. You barely remember anything past your awkward morning stroll.

It takes you a while to push through the stiffness. You never sleep on your back; it leaves it racked and your ribcage hurts. As you stand, you notice the door. It’s slightly open.

You get up and go to it, pull it inch by inch. The house is quiet but for a soft rumble, rhythmic and rocky. You putter down the hall and look into the front room. Your mom’s asleep in her chair. She’s almost peaceful as she snores in the recliner.

The scene strikes you as odd, almost dreamlike. Your mom’s never been much of a napper. In fact, she always nagged you about the habit. You think of waking her but think better of it. She won’t be happy to be awoken, even if she might be irritated later to know she slept away the day.

Steve is gone. You search each room to be sure then go to the kitchen. It’s clean and everything is put away, even the dishes you left in the tray. The large bottle of syrup is gone as well.

You mutter and go back to your room. Another soft wind drifts in. You stumble over to your bed and fall back onto it. You yawn again. Gosh, you’re so tired.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #captain america #marvel #mcu

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2dmax · 2 days

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digital collage out of my sketchbook page

tumblr is making it look blurry so pls click on it lol

if you like my art please donate to restoring municipal services in Gaza, or another Palestinian fundraiser of your choosing 🌼

thinking about a larger/more involved piece with these guys. finally, finally got to agate city in my on-again-off-again replay of colosseum (mostly off again). so now i can finally start purifying my pkmn lol

#manga art #manga style art #retro manga #anime art #traditional art #2dmax #umbreon #espeon #pokemon #eeveelution #kawaii #90s anime #2000s anime #2000s nostalgia #gen iii #pkmn fanart #fanarts

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unoriginal-and-dumb · 3 days

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heello do you have any tips for noobie artists? ur art is just so very neat to me :) plz never stop arting

Never do what I do unless it is drawing all the time

Use references!! Always use them!!! Seriously please use references never let a stupid little rat in your ear take that away from you, they are always so valuable

If you see art you like, don’t be afraid to basically try recreating the same exact thing. All you have to do is not claim it as youre own, and better yet don’t post it online! It’s for practice, people don’t need to see practice in the end it’s only for you

Tracing is NOT wrong. I’m tired of people saying ohhh tracing is bad don’t do it ITS LITERALLY NOT!!!! Just don’t trace over someone else’s work/images and claim it as your own it’s that easy. If youre struggling with hands take photos of your hands and trace over it! Break them down into simple forms until you have an understanding of them in a meaningful way!

Do some studies of specific things. Struggling with leg anatomy? Draw a page full of legs, just push and pull and scribble and see what works, study images and see how you can reproduce it or stylize it

Never feel like you need to find your own art style immediately, that task is practically impossible. Everything comes from something, be inspired by others take little art bits from styles you like and only then can you create your own style!! (I mean dawg my style can be broken down into adventure time, owl house, invader zim, gooseworx, eddsworld, sr pelo, a few others im probably forgetting)

Don’t worry about broadcasting your work, not everyone needs to know all that you draw, the internet can be a hateful place and it really does suck a lot but also try not to rely on strangers online for support on everything you do, I know it is hard and that approval feel good I cannot deny it but remember to keep some stuff for yourself, a little treat where nobody can criticize you :)

Try to draw everyday! Or having a sketchbook where you make it a goal to completely fill 2 pages a week, and if that’s too much then just some doodles! Art takes a lot of constant practice, and there’s really nothing more fun than just having a little sketchbook with you where you draw random stuff all the time. When I was doing that I would make 2 page mini invader zim comics

I feel like a bit of a hypocrite because I do maybe 1 of these things but i know they are really good, I have done them before and they were super helpful! But in the end I think the best you could do is just keep at it! Don’t let people get you down, do your own thing, break rules if you want, it’s all art and art is AWESOME!!!!!!!

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luckycharms1701 · 16 hours

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*waddles into your inbox and drops this into you lap before scurrying away*

Hello

Behold my humble offering to the Mikey Well Please Suffer 🧡🫡

Angel Kisses

It was just another day.

You were at the lair, just chilling with MIkey on the couch.

He was scribbling furiously into what looked to be a well warn and obviously well loved sketch book, if the frequently thumbed pages and what seemed like a 100 faded stickers were any indicator.

His tongue was poking out in the corner of his mouth, bleping the way he did when he was working intently at something.

And intent he was.

You watched as his eyes flicked around the page, bright with that rare sense of direct focus as his hand danced over the page with his pencil. he was even humming a little, or maybe it was him just talking to himself.

He did that sometimes when he would get into these “Mikey Mojo Moments” as he called them, and you absentmindedly wondered if that was a subconscious trait he had somehow picked up from hanging around Donnie.

You could never be too sure with this one. He was a wonder through and through. A wonder that you could never quite believe that somehow landed as your best friend.

Your lips quirked up with a soft smile at that thought as you secretly peaked at Mikey from over your phone.

You liked seeing him like this. Happy. Creative. In his element.

It had certainly been a while since he had last hyper focused on an art project. But when he did….whew… it was like magic in action. He just had this…light about him that sort of made him…well…you didn’t know…

It sounded cheesy but he just kind of… glowed.

Your eyes flicked to the little bright spots that decorated Mikey’s face like small yellow freckles that peaked out from underneath his orange mask.

Just like those spots lit up his face, without even trying, Mikey could just light up a room.

There was just something about that sunny smile of his that always made your heart happy. He made you happy. Chasing those rainy skies that often would cloud into your life with that ever bright sunshine of his.

You loved it. You loved him.

Whether platonically or romantically, you really didn’t know. You really didn’t care either. All you knew was that you wanted him in your life anyway you could have him because it was brighter simply because he was now in it.

So lost in your musings, you hadn’t realized that Mikey had somehow become aware of your attention. Might be due to the fact that you were burning holes into the sides of his head with your gaze. Or maybe it was the fact that he had ADHD, and he caught ahold of more than what meets the eye.

Who knows? Turtle was a ninja. A ninja who was now grinning like a cat before the cream in front of you.

“See something that you like, Clementine?” Mikey all but purred to you with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows.

You blinked in surprise as his words broke you from your revelry, a slight heat coming to your cheeks as you realized that you most indubitably had been caught staring. Directly at him.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had in fact caught you, you cleared your throat and placed your phone down.

“Actually yeah…” You quirked back at him, placing an elbow on the back of the couch, so you could cradle your head with your palm with a soft smirk. “I was thinking how cute your freckles are.”

It was Mikey’s turn to blink as your comment was obviously not what he was expecting.

“My…freckles?” He echoed dumbly, placing his sketchbook down and turning to you, his head tilted in such a way that you were somewhat reminded of a curious puppy.

You chuckled softly at the mental image and nodded with a soft grin, reaching up to gently trace those little sunspots on Mikey’s face with your finger.

“Mhm. They’re super cute, and I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted freckles.”

Mikey froze the instant your finger touched his face, his baby blues widening comically to the size of dinner plates.

Mikey had always been a very affectionate turtle, that was no question. Hugs, cuddles, hand holding, playing with hair, painting fingernails, you named it, he did it.

Well…that was the problem. In this case at least. He did it. Usually he was the one to always initiate with you warming up and reciprocating only after he started.

This was the first time you had ever touched him first, and in a way that was so…so…Mikey didn’t have a word for it, but he knew in that moment he didn’t want it to stop.

He swallowed a little as he felt the tip of your finger slowly trace his “freckles” as you called them with that unfairly adorable smile. That smile paired with that soft look in your eye made his heart skip a beat, and Mikey absentmindedly found himself leaning in a little closer to your touch.

“You…wanted freckles?” He murmured curiously, feeling that a moment like this needed to be treated with a whisper for whatever reason.

You chuckled again and nodded your head, a most darling shade of pink crossing your cheeks as Mikey leaned into your hand. You changed from gently poking his forehead with your finger to tenderly cupping his cheek with your palm, lightly caressing a “freckle” on the corner of his jaw with your thumb.

“Yeah…I always thought they looked so pretty. Small smackerings on the bridges of peoples noses. Dark spots like cheetahs on others. Or even the ones that are so tiny they look little stars on peoples faces, peeping through the skin. I once heard freckles described as angel kisses, little reminders of a love that couldn’t be contained and well…as cheesy as it sounds…I really haven’t been able to see them any other way since.”

A muscle thumped in Mikey’s jaw as your thumb brushed up against the sensitive skin there and he had to resist the urge to just lean into your hand and start churring like some ridiculous reptilian cat, it’s just felt so good. He shook off the shiver that travels down his shell and blinked up at you with his signature crooked grin.

“Angel kissed huh? You’re right. That is cheesy, but lucky for you, I love pizza so cheese totally is my jam.”

You snorted at that and reached up your hand to poke Mikey’s forehead with a shake of your head.

“Cheese is your jam? What you making sandwiches or something up there, Mikey Man?”

Mikey snickered at the poke and reached up to capture your hand with his, holding it tightly as he smirked up at you. There was an interesting light in his eyes as he caught your gaze directly. It seemed friendly and innocent enough at first glance, but the way he held it had you leading to believe otherwise.

That look was dangerous because it made your heart do that weird skip hop thing like a drunken frog attempting to land a jump onto a lily pad, but before you could further that thought, Mikey interrupted with his own.

His head tilted at that doglike angle again and he leaned in with his all too eager curiosity.

“What can I say? I’m always in the mood for a good snack. But, back to the angel kisses thing. You got me curious now. If you could have freckles where would you want them most?”

You blinked a little at Mikey’s question, and sat back a little, tilting your own head in thought. Your free hand that wasn’t being held captive by Mikey’s reached up and lightly touched the bridge of your nose and the tops of your cheeks.

“Huh…that’s…actually a good question. Probably somewhere around here? Gimme that cute look that you have working so well for you or something.”

Mikey sputtered at the light flirt and shook his head with a grin. He rather adored how quick you were. It meant you were comfortable with him and that alone meant the world to him.

He looked up at you as you traced your own face, that same gleam shining in his eye. Mikey leaned in a little closer and said with a raise of his eyebrow, “You know…I could probably help with that…”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at Mikey incredulously before your eyes widened and you excitedly grabbed his hand and leaned closer.

“You…can help me get freckles? Wait…is that something you can do with your ninpo?!”

Mikey was not expecting you to lean in as close as you did, but he wasn’t complaining. Not at all.

He’d never get sick of getting to see the little masterpieces that were your eyes up close like this. Mikey could get lost in those eyes if you let him.

Shaking his head to clear that train of thought, Mikey just smirked up at you.

“Hmm something like that…I was thinking more along the lines of…angel kisses and what not.”

It was your turn to parrot back dumbly as your eyebrow raised in confusion, your heart picking up pace from a drunken frog to buzzed hummingbird.

“A-angel kisses?” You stammered especially as Mikey leaned in even closer, his nose almost brushing yours.

His hand reached up to cup your cheek in mirror of your movements just moments earlier. That bright rare sense of direct focus now centered solely on you as he leaned in even more, his warm breath barely ghosting over your face as he whispered in a low murmur.

“Yes…angel kisses…because I do put the angel in Michealangelo after all…”

@yorshie @justalotoffanfiction

#ANON-CHAN #YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING YOU #i’m squealing and kicking my feet #this was SO cute #i loved every bit of it #‘mikey mojo moments’ i’m screaming #i also refer to freckles as angel kisses because my mom did and this makes me so soft #he’s so fucking cheesy oh my god i love it i love Him #thank you so much for this contribution to the mikey well we will feast today #and thank you from me because i really needed this today #excellent motivation to finish this raph fic so i can write the next chapter of sunshine #tmnt #rise mikey #rise mikey x reader #aughhhhhh it’s so goodddddd #fave #long post

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malacandrax · 3 days

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hi sry this is a lil long but i just felt like giving my own comments about ur post re: feeling left out/regarding more detailed work, and wanted to say that your work singlehandedly has inspired me SO much to the point that because of your more simplistic coloring/shading and focus on movement/body language, i was finally able to find a coloring/rendering style that i actually like aesthecially and enjoy doing! i've struggled w replicating color in a way i like digitally for over 6 years but your work, and especially so your sketchbook scans on patreon have been so useful for inspiration and for my own understanding of anatomy and what not. we're always our own worst critics with comparison and whatnot, but please know that your work and your style are a huge accomplishment and skill in their own right, and your comics inspire me to keep studying so i can one day make my own!!! i'm so thankful you share your work with us and to have come across it and be able to draw inspiration off it! your colors, expressions, and the palpable intimacy and dynamic character interactions are so amazing and specifically unique to your work, never doubt the impact it has just because of other's having a different style or approach or something <3

This is so extremely nice I don't even know what to say!!! I honestly feel so hyped that my style inspired someone else, I feel like it's not something I expected and its SO COOL. I sometimes feel like my style isn't particularly STYLISH you know, I often admire really strong punchy styles, so it's nice to hear my own kind of chiller style is inspiring! And that the things I enjoy come across as strengths, too! Also I am so happy to hear someone enjoys my sketchbooks haha, they're really precious to me but I also try not to be too fussy about my art in them which means it's not 'beautiful'*- they're for studying and/or chilling out, so it's SO nice that it's inspiring nonetheless! Wishing you the best in your art journey and also I think if you want to make comics you should just give it a go! Make teeny tiny comics! [it does not have to be good] [tangent oh my god] I feel very hypocritical because for the longest time comics were something my friends made and I didn't know how to, and I felt like my style didn't work for comics, but honestly when I eventually sat down and started a long comic the style happened out of necessity, I Had to simplify or I wouldn't be able to keep up. And you can see from the links that I just did sketchy comics before and that was fine! I think it was just as valuable as making polished pages. I actually probably ended up making comics For Real because I made a silly fandom ask blog, where I kept wanting to say more than I could do in one image, and that gave me the confidence to try something longer with OC's.

ANYWAY thank you so much!

*I find polished sketchbooks so inspiring, but its so limiting imo to try to make a beautiful sketchbook HAHAHAH

#this is so many backhanded negatives about my own work im sorry i swear I am not fishing #I love my work!#but i always want to get better!#I get really excited about learning new stuff #opening my sketchbook to draw fucking collarbones or some shit lol #mal talks

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