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painted-bees · 11 months

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A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

(image description under the cut)

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

(First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

(Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

(Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

(Fourth panel): The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

(Fifth panel): Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

(Sixth panel): The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

(Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel): Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain. But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

(Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

(Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

(Thirteenth panel): The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

(Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks. Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

#sketch #comic #Hi-Note #magritte #rafael

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elizabeth12131312 · 1 month

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jaegersdevil · 2 months

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style [sukuna x fem!reader] summary: a collection of (cute) moments between you and ex!sukuna w/c: 1.9k a/n: bruh idk how these two are STILL exes, but it's a yes from me // yes, another taylor fic because i'm in love with her

sukuna 12:56am u up?

you audibly groan at the text, face scrunched up in disgust. sitting up in bed, you shove another pillow behind your back. your fingers fly across the screen, but only for a short time.

12:57am fuck off

throwing your head back in anguish, you sigh at the ceiling. and when your phone buzzes again, you brace yourself for the reply.

sukuna 12:57am ladies first 12:58am open the door 12:58am please

despite the abruptness of his text, you fly out of bed and run into the living room of your apartment. you stare down the hallway at your front door and peek at your phone when it vibrates.

sukuna 12:59am quit thinking so hard i'm cold

rolling your eyes, you tiptoe to the door, lifting yourself on your toes to look through the peephole.

and there he stands, pink hair dimmed against the yellow lights of the hallway, his head tilted back. biting your lip, your eyes glance down at his exposed neck, strained as he studies the ceiling.

stepping back, you unlock the three locks on your door (courtesy of the man outside) and pull it open.

your ex stands in the hallway, a sight you've seen too many times to count, and he tilts his head in greeting. "hey, baby."

you grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt and tug him in, locking your door when he's safely inside. when you spin around, he's gone.

you ignore the clink of glasses against one another in the kitchen and head back to your room, rubbing your eyes are you go.

glancing at the clock on the wall, 1:04am, your shoulders visibly deflate. you pull back the duvet and climb into bed after turning off the lamp on your bedside table. facing away from the door, you get comfortable, tuning out the sounds of sukuna knowing this place like the back of his hand.

"i didn't come over for you to ignore me."

you turn over. sukuna leans against the doorframe, sipping idly from his glass.

you flip back around, snuggling your head into your pillow. "i'm sleeping."

"oh, poor baby," he pouts falsely, crossing the room and setting his glass on his nightstand. you shake your head, your nightstand.

when you hear a rustle, you glance over your shoulder. sukuna tugs his sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head and pushes his sweatpants down his legs. you feel your cheeks heat at seeing him in only his black boxers.

he lifts the blankets and slides into your bed, avoiding your eyes as he does so. despite his naturally cocky attitude, along with his annoying habit of suppressing everything he's ever felt, you know him too well.

"c'mere," you mumble, circling your fingers around his wrist. sukuna says nothing and shuffles toward you, wrapping his arms around your torso, head on your chest. "wanna talk about it?"

he shakes his head softly, tightening his arms. "in the mornin'."

you nod, fingers threading through his hair. "okay."

you wander the building aimlessly, with a lunchbox in your hand and a coffee in the other. you know this place well, though once he got promoted, sukuna moved offices. but you wouldn't call it an office; more of a place to sort through employee contracts and qualifications and watch the cameras around the complex.

he'd complained to you over text that he'd have no time to eat today. so, you took it upon yourself to ensure your ex had an adequate lunch to keep him going, duh.

the sound of your name in that deep voice of his rings down the hall, and you spin around.

"i knew it was you," sukuna tilts his head at you. "what're ya doing here?"

you lift your hands and grin. "lunch."

sukuna stares at you, and you swear you'll melt from the intensity of his gaze. he wears his usual black cargos and a black t-shirt with the company logo on the left breast, but he looks more delicious than ever.

"seriously?" the corner of his lips upturns, and he bites his bottom lip to stop the smile from breaking. he fails. "you're so cute."

sukuna steps forward to wrap his arms around your head, his biceps flexing against your ears.

you smile giddily and circle your arms around his torso, hands hovering over his back. "it's a bento box with rice and steak and those little sausages you like—"

sukuna cuts you off by leaning down and pressing a hot, wet kiss on your lips, and you squeal at the public display.

"kuna..." you turn around the see if anyone is in the hallway to witness.

his laugh is deep and rich, and you can't help but watch the sparkling smile on his face.

"thank you," he mumbles, his smile fading as he becomes serious.

your face heats at his words, shoving the box and coffee in his hands. "just eat your lunch."

sukuna presses a final kiss on your forehead and turns around, returning to his office. "see you at home!"

you shake your head, laughing. "go to your own home, nerd!"

"sukuna, what are you doing here?" the smile in your voice doesn't go unnoticed. leaving the lab at 8pm was a drag, but it was necessary for your thesis, and sukuna knew its toll on you.

sukuna pushes off his car as you approach, his smirk laced with mischief. "picking you up," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

he meets you halfway, walks behind you, and takes your backpack off your back. you loll your head on your shoulder when he falls into step beside you. the streetlights are aglow, and you giggle at the orange tint on his hair.

"such a gentleman."

sukuna scoffs, swinging your bag onto his shoulder. "not the word i'd use."

"oh yeah?" you bump into his side, smiling smugly when he throws his arm over your shoulder. "and what word would you use?"

"whipped!" a voice calls from the car. your smile grows larger when you see sukuna's younger brother, yuuji, hanging out of the passenger seat window.

"yuuji!" you laugh, heart leaping in your chest. "when did you get back?"

after graduating highschool, yuuji and his two friends, megumi and nobara travelled around europe for a year and a half. you remember sending him off with a snack pack for the plane and a kiss on the forehead.

"this morning," the younger boy says, stepping out of the car. "been forcing sukuna to take me everywhere until i get my car fixed."

you embrace him in a hug. "i hope you had fun."

yuuji leans back—he used to be shorter than you, but now he's nearly as tall as his brother. "it was better than fun; i'll tell you all about it when we get home."

you glance at sukuna who's doing a great job of being silent, and get into his car when yuuji insists you get in the front.

sukuna never brought up the topic of your breakup to yuuji, it seems.

and on the way home, 'one way or another' plays through the speakers while the younger boy talks your ear off about his drunken nights in greece, and all the experiences that made him miss you (namely laundry and home cooking).

when you arrive back at sukuna's, you notice the disarray of the apartment.

you hear your name being called from the spare room, and your heart explodes, both in whose calling and the nostalgia of it all.

"here, i got you a few souvenirs," yuuji emerges from the room with a bag held out in front of him. "sorry i couldn't;t give them to you this morning, suk said you left early."

you have to stop the smile on your face from dropping at the last part. you know sukuna is standing in the kitchen a few feet away, watching you.

"yuuj!" you grab the bag, wrapping your arm around his torso in a side hug. "you didn't have to get me anything."

the younger boy rolls his eyes. "of course i did. before i left you said if i didn't bring you a miniature figure of all the sights i saw, you'd wash my whites with my reds."

the memory returns to you in a rush. "oh, yeah..."

yuuji's grin and pure excitement make you lead him to the couch. "put a movie on."

"yes, ma'am," he laughs. there's no doubt in your mind that he's putting on human earthworm 8.

while he's occupied, you glare at sukuna, who leans against the kitchen counter.

after you unwrapped all of your gifts, a generous collection of monumental landmarks, you excuse yourself.

shutting the door of sukuna's ensuite, you turn the light on and cover your face with your hands. you swallow and look at yourself in the mirror.

remnants of mascara have collected under your eyes, so you open the mirror to get your makeup remover out of the cupboard.

"have you eaten?—"

you spin around with a makeup pad under your eye, spying sukuna's face through the crack in the door.

you look back at yourself in the mirror, putting the cotton pad onto the counter. "i'll eat when i get home."

sukuna's deep sigh has you turning to him again.

"what?"

"you're not going home."

and when the door clicks closed, your temper reaches its limit.

"you did that on purpose," you scold, but the bite you intend is weak.

"fuck yeah i did," sukuna whispers. "i can't tell him, he loves you."

"ryomen—"

"don't start that again," sukuna snaps. "we've only been apart for two months."

you don't reply.

"hell," he throws his arm out to his right. "i slept over last week, you brought me lunch when i was at work! we haven't acted like we're apart anyway, and you know it."

you bite your lip. "we broke up," but the more you try to drill the fact into your mind, the less you believe it.

"what the fuck for?"

you scrunch your face up in confusion. "you know why."

sukuna throws his head back in exasperation. "we've moved past that now. i've gotten better."

"i know you have..." you mumble, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, not knowing what to say. though, when you think about it, why haven't you gotten back together?

"if yuuji can't tell we've broken up, then we must be doing something wrong."

tears line your waterline in frustration and sadness. "kuna..."

he sighs, running a hand down his face. he steps closer, softly placing his palms on your face. "please, baby."

you chew on your bottom lip, nodding softly.

sukuna uses his thumb to pull your lip out from between your teeth. "i love you, okay? i will get you back."

"you already have me," you laugh, a breath from the back of your throat, your hands grasping at his waist.

"damn straight."

"just stop leaving your shit everywhere and acting like a child in serious situations, and i'll move back in."

and when sukuna rolls his eyes (albeit lovingly) and opens his mouth to agree, you push yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his mouth. he groans deeply and moves one of his hands from your face to the back of your head and the other to your back, pulling you closer.

"you guys done fucking in there? movie's on."

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shares-a-vest · 2 months

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Update: 29/04/24 Now turned into a 1.9k fic here

Eddie begins making a Hellfire t-shirt and declares it is for Steve.

The Corroded Coffin boys oscillate between teasing and confused horror. Dustin is annoyed that it is Eddie who has managed to convince Steve to finally join a campaign, while Lucas is elated and beyond excited.

Mike and Will of course, do everything in their power to stop such a nightmare, including some ill-conceived scheming that is thwarted at every turn by Lucas.

But they needn't worry.

Because Eddie is just simply making Steve a Hellfire t-shirt to sleep in. It's a size too big. He paid extra for the softest cotton and it has short sleeves and a loose scoop neck so it doesn't scratch Steve's scar.

All so Steve can get a cozy night's sleep.

#three posts in a day LOOK AT ME GO #welp looks like my haitus-turned writing crisis is over #i may or may not be wearing my hellfire shirt rn...#steddie #hellfire club #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie headcanon #lilys hcs #👕🧥#healing steddie

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elizabeth12131312 · 1 month

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mortallyburninglady · 2 months

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luveline · 2 months

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How about ploy marauders going to a party and Sirius promised to do readers make up, but is late so the other two are making an attempt. Sure they might know how to do Sirius's messy style, but do they know big dramatic styles? Can James do a perfect wing?

<3 fem, 1k

“Can you stay still?” Remus asks, turning your face a half inch where it’s held in his hand.

“Can James stop kissing me?” you ask.

James pulls his face from the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

You smile. Remus rubs the softest curve under your eye with his thumb, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, concentrating instead on your face and the wetness of your makeup where it’s beginning to sink in. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he sighs.

“You know better than I do,” James says.

You don’t know a thing about it, that’s why you’d arranged for Sirius to do your makeup tonight before Marl’s birthday bash, but where is your awful boyfriend? Late, decidedly unavailable for makeup-ing.

“You’ve done his mascara a thousand times,” James argues with Remus.

“Yes, but Sirius has never asked me to do his blush.” Remus’ hand moves to the side of your face. “You are lovely, though. I think using only a little of everything is working in our favour.”

“Sirius only lets him do mascara because he already has nice eyelashes,” you worry. It won’t matter if Remus messes up or doesn’t get close enough to the root.

“Yes, and because he likes it when Remus holds his face like that,” James points out, eyeing Remus’ hand where it stays at your cheek. Remus has long fingers, ever-so slightly thick with two golden rings that kiss your chin as he lets his hand fall, and he’s always gentle.

“James, I’m tapping out.”

James pretends to roll up sleeves he isn’t wearing, your bulkiest boyfriend in a short-sleeved t-shirt that showcases the lean muscle of his forearms, the not so lean ridges of his biceps. They tense as he sits up, his knee jabbing yours, the bed creaking dangerously beneath your angled weight. “What’s there left to do? She’s gorgeous.”

“What did you want?” Remus asks you.

“Uh, I wanted, you know…” You sound ridiculously shy. You wish you could just do all of this faff by yourself rather than force their attention, but neither boy seems annoyed. “He does that smudgey eyeliner, it makes my eyes look bigger. And lipgloss, but I can do that myself.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the best part,” James says. He gives you a smile confident enough to reassure you and handsome enough to make you shy from his touch all over again. “Pass me the black pencil, Remus. I’ve got this.”

James does not got this, his expression melding from happy, adoring, to perturbed, and then annoyed. “Aw, I’ve fucked it.”

Remus shakes his head vehemently. “You haven’t! We just need a wet wipe.”

They search the room for Sirius’ wet wipes and come up empty-handed. A towel is wetted and taken carefully to your eyes instead, cold and rough on your eyelids.

“Be gentler,” Remus whispers.

James is practically atop you know, your chin tilted up to his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers in turn, then to you solely, “‘m I hurting you?”

“No.” You’re whispering too. It feels appropriate; they’re both very close to you, and this movement might fix or ruin your makeup with the party’s start time drawing ever closer.

“I think I’ve fixed it,” James says, taking the pencil up again, the nib soft as it rolls over the corner of your eye. “Sirius can perfect it in the car, right?”

“I thought you were good at everything?” you ask.

James turns your face up impossibly higher, craning his head down for a peck. “Yes,” he whispers severely, “I’m good at everything. But Sirius is usually better. Quick, let’s find your lipgloss before we’re late.”

Remus tries to tell James that it isn’t true, a serious conversation at a bad time, and James won’t listen to a word of it. They quibble over who’s doing your lipgloss, bathe you in compliments when they’re done —aw, dove, you look so cute, and cute? she looks perfect— then suddenly an abrupt beep is sounding outside. The three of you scramble into your jackets and down the stairs, meeting Sirius where he leans against the car. He throws the keys to Remus, ushering you into the backseat with him for some last minute clean up.

“Hey, they’ve done a good job,” he praises, another hand on your face to turn it up kindly to the light. “Did you bring your lipgloss?”

You nod quickly and dig for it in your jacket.

“What!” James says from the front, turning in the passenger seat to complain. “That’s the one thing we did perfectly.”

The car starts. Remus laughs to himself behind the steering wheel.

“Did I say otherwise?” Sirius asks, letting his fingers curve toward the back of your neck. Pale in the light, eyes lit with something funny you’ve yet to hear, he dips in close to you and talks quietly, “I’m sorry, I promised I’d do your makeup for the party. But you’ve all done well without me, you look perfect, especially your lips.”

“Then what did you want it for?” you ask, confused, your seat belt pulling as Sirius encourages you forward.

“To reapply.” He taps your neck with a fingertip. “Spare a kiss? I promise I’ll fix any mess.”

Commotion from the front seat.

“James–” Remus warns.

“What? I want to watch.”

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly.

“How am I a freak? She’s my girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re doing that voice like you’re gonna lay her down in the back seat.”

“James.”

—

requests r open!! pls think about reblogging if you enjoyed, I hope u did either way!!!

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