#i dont know when i drew this but i found it on my canvas as a layer titled ‘whimsical fucking thing idk’
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Day 38: whimsical fucking thing
#my art#daily jas#doodles#digital art#fursona#furry#whimsy#creature#day 38#29 april 2023#i dont know when i drew this but i found it on my canvas as a layer titled ‘whimsical fucking thing idk’#so here you go
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Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door Part 1
TW: Death, Unreality, Swearing, Main Character Death, Angst?
Masterpost, Next
Tell me if I have missed a trigger warning, ask if you would like me to tag this with anything, and I hope you enjoy.
If you don't like any of the triggers above, this is sort of a prequel so you can skip to Part 2, unless you don't like angst, then it is even worse.(Edit:Looking at part 2 its worse, and you don't lose many of the above so just dont read it I guess.)
Word Count: 3962
FOR EDWARD it was a normal day. Well as normal and as close to a day as you could get in heaven. Everything merged into one- nobody knew how long they had been there, and nobody could know unless they saw the passing of the days in the simulation they called "Earth". There were few who remembered, and even less you could approach or talk to without putting yourself in danger. Edward was not one of these. They were unable to see Earth- or even anything other than the blank canvas created for the angels to roam, a few small civilisations created by the guardians for those who were more homesick the only solid thing on the landscape. Nobody knew why it was that way. Nobody dared ask. Everyone ignored it, hoping that it would not hurt them. It didn't for the most part. But then you could say the same about the Guardian Angels.
Cruel and soulless were the most common words used to describe the Guardians, and they were right on one count- they had no soul. Most people didn't remember the personalities of the people before due to most of the Guardians being the originals. The few that weren't were the first few to arrive from the simulation, to what they deemed to be "heaven". And so, the simulation continued. Even after death. The few that did remember the Guardian's original selves were so withdrawn you could not find them if you tried. They were the only ones that knew what happened to turn all of the people like that. But they refused to answer, they knew something that was so dangerous, if they told someone they would die. So, they didn't. Everyone wondered. Nobody realised that they would find out. Nobody could have predicted it.
It was the 4th of May. For once Edward knew that. But then, every now and then they paid a visit to one of the old ones. Just to visit, check in on them. Most knew one or two and how to find them. Some became friends. Some of those searching disappeared. It was the way it was. No, the day was definitely the 4th. He remembered that vividly - who could forget with what happened that day. It started as per usual- with Ansel being an idiot as usual. After being abruptly woken up, they managed to shout a few swearwords to get him out of their room, and laid back down. Well, as well as you can when you and your bed is soaked. “Again?” they thought clambering out of bed and heading into the bathroom. “I guess it’s one of the downsides of siblings.” For Ansel was his younger brother- not by much mind you, but he still enjoyed pranking and annoying his sibling at any chance he got. Edward didn’t really mind. Not that much. Sure, he was a pain, but they loved him more than they would admit. Once they managed to dry themself off (for the third time that week) they got dressed, and ready. One of the downsides of heaven is every surface is blank and almost certainly not reflective- nobody knew what they looked like except from other’s perspectives or how they remember what they looked like on Earth. Edward died long enough ago they forgot what they looked like. They didn’t mind though. It doesn’t really matter when you’re trapped in a void.
“Idiot,” Edward reprimanded jokingly, ruffling Ansel’s short wavy hair.” If you weren’t my brother you would be dead by now.”
“Is that a threat?”
“So what if it is?”
"You know you won't win Mx Long Neck. "
"Don't be so sure Mr Witch Hazel. "
"Now you have done it!" Ansel smirked, running head first into Edward, knocking him to the ground with his force. Within minutes they were both laid on the floor in a pile on top of each other, exhausted and looking rather dishevelled - no serious wounds beyond some of Edward's pride (as predicted, he lost). It would heal pretty quickly. It always did. Well, usually.
"You win this time, but I will win eventually. That is a warning." Edward threatened, smiling.
"Maybe, but not any time soon."
"Don't be so sure." Edward replied." You ready to go? "
"Yeah, just need to put the gifts in the basket."
"OK, I'll help. "
They stood up, Ansel springing to his feet, Edward taking more time.
"Hurry up, the quicker we leave the quicker we can see Jojo"
"Excited are we?" Edward teased.
"Of course I am, we only see him once in a while."
"Come on then, we've got a Jojo to meet."
It was an hour later they arrived, gifts and food in tow. It always took too long in Ansel's opinion, but that was the way Joseph liked it- to live on the outskirts of society. His house was out of the way, and cosy looking, almost like a cottage. It was short and thatched - similar looking to a Victorian house but in cottage form. Outside there were plentiful flowers, almost always in bloom. Having no seasons did have its benefits. Gardening was always easy and possible. Plants always looked healthy. Jojo (as his friends called him) took this to his advantage. A quaint little chimney was always spilling out smoke, even when the fire was off. Edward always felt at home and loved the little place. It always reminded them of their childhood home. Joseph himself, was an older man- he had managed to live until his body gave up of old age. It showed on his face- it was slightly more weathered and worn than some of the others and he looked like he had seen a lot. Despite all this, when he entered heaven he was reverted back to closer to how he looked when he was most happy, therefore he had the appearance of a teenager, twinged with some of the feature of an older man. He wore a wide brimmed hat on his mop of dark brown hair, which framed his emerald eyes. Always, he would wear on a short sleeved shirt with long trouser shorts.
Quickly, they walked up to the front door, eager to see one of their few friends- most people couldn't handle their personalities. Knocking, they heard Danny, Jojo's grandfather's childhood best friend and Great Dane begin to bark: clearly he was as excited to see them as they were to see him. Before Joseph could even get to the door, Danny had managed to open the door- one of his many talents- and jumped up at the pair, resting his paws on their shoulders and giving them a thorough 'hello'. "Hello boy," Edward murmured, in the way all people do when talking to animals and children. "I've missed you too.
"Danny! Let our guests come in! I'm sure they don't want to stand in the doorway all day." A familiar voice rang out, Danny instantly obeying, running back inside and sitting by the sofa. "It’s good to see you again, although the gap was a little bit longer than last time. Anyway, come on in, we have a lot of time on our hands, and a lot to catch up on."
"Thank you Joseph, " Edward replied, always polite as possible.
"Thanks Jojo," replied Ansel who was not.
Both entered the house, bringing the gifts and placing them in the hallway, before entering the living room and sitting down. It was how they remembered it. The sofa was opposite a brick looking fireplace and against the wall of the old wooden stairs, which lead to the front door. In front of them was a rug, square and red on the wood floor, with an armchair at each end. To the left was door, leading directly to the dining room, and to the right was a window, with an immediate view of the garden and the void around them. The rest of the house was a mystery to them- they didn't need to go in there so they didn't. Ansel secretly wanted to but he was sensible enough to not try to sneak around and see what Jojo was hiding.
It was a few hours later when he had asked. “What day is it Jojo?” Ansel inquired, “I assume you know.”
“Of course I know,” Jojo replied, unfazed by his straight to the point nature,” but do you want to come and see for yourself this time?”
“Would I!”
“If you wouldn’t mind it Jojo, I think we would both like that,” Edward inputted
“Sure, I don’t mind. Come on let’s go, heel Danny.” Jojo commanded, standing up and heading for the door. Danny sprung up and followed, looking expectantly at the pair of brothers, both of whom were excited, once he had caught up to his master. He knew he wasn’t his original master, but knew he was as close as he would get, and adopted him as his own, obeying every command. Edward and Ansel followed close behind as they set out on their trip. Once they left the house, Jojo warned them not to touch anything over the other side and not to get too close or it would alert the Guardians to their presence. They both agreed not to. Only one would remember. Carrying just a small picnic they set off, covering large amounts of blank flat ground in just a short time- they went through areas they had never seen before, met some people in the other civilisations before finally arriving at the final outpost, an intimidating tower and wall separating heaven, hell and earth. It was one of the only textured buildings in the entire place and was a distinctive shade of mauve that instantly drew the eye. At the front it had a window not dissimilar to that of a drive-through.
“Brought your apprentices this time Joseph?” questioned the guard, an intimidating but polite woman from within the window. Behind her was a smaller person, attempting to hide behind its short bob length hair, wearing clothes most of the angels wouldn’t dare wear (although they are allowed to wear anything, most avoid black and darker colours due to guardians not liking them). It was wearing a black shirt with a lilac ascot and black jeans. Edward hadn’t seen anything like it around the area, and for some unknown to them reason, found that comforting. They ignored that thought.
“Yes, I have,” Jojo replied, turning to Edward and Ansel. “Edward, Ansel, meet Biff and behind her is Isi, the recordkeeper for all of the people who cross the border. Isi, Biff, meet Edward Longneck Smith and Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith."
"Pleasure to meet you," Edward stated.
"Hi!" Ansel exclaimed, "You look cool!"
"Thank you," Biff replied, "it's a pleasure to meet you too."
"Hi," Isi timidly replied. "It’s nice to meet you. We don't usually see new faces around here. I have marked you all down, you can go through now if you're ready."
Joseph thanked them, before moving to the door and turning around. "Come on you two."
Edward and Ansel followed quietly.
Across the border was nothing like they were expecting or had ever seen. A spherical plain room, bright white on one side (the side they came through) and black on the other opposite them. In between those two sides, were the realms the demons and angels watched over, one that was instantly recognisable to them as earth, and about 3 visible other realms that none of them could name. Ansel was left speechless by the wonders he saw- a rare occurrence- and both could barely believe what they saw in some of the other realms. But most of all they saw themselves. For the first time in what seemed to them forever, they could see their reflection in the sphere.
Both studied themselves, memorising their appearance, knowing they might not get this chance again. Edward had a medium brown mop of hair, slightly curly and quite long, especially in comparison to Ansel, whose hair was shorter and a light copper brown, though it was still wavy. Both had brown eyes – Edwards a startling bronze-amber colour, Ansel’s a more chocolate brown, but still had an amber undertone that couldn’t be ignored. One thing Edward had remembered is why they got their nickname- Longneck. Both had normal necks, but Edward’s was slightly (honestly, quite a bit) longer, and to them it was noticeable. Ansel’s face was rounded, but Edward noticed theirs was slightly more defined. Looking down, they saw their clothing: white jeans and a grey button up shirt, with a pair of fairly plain dark grey trainers, that looked pretty worn.
At this point, they looked back to where their brother’s reflection was, only to be met by the abyss. “Look Longboi, it’s Ash!” They heard from behind them. “And she’s visiting our graves!”
“Wait, really?” Edward blurted out, shocked that it would show them someone they knew, and that they actually remembered them. Quickly, they turned on their heels and sprinted over to where Ansel was now stood, staring intently through the sphere. “Wow, it really is her.”
“I know, didn’t she hate us at one point?
“Yeah, but once I died I watched her and they appeared to regret what she did.”
“That’s good, she finally understands her actions have consequences, and not everything is about them.”
“Yeah. Shame she didn’t learn it earlier, I wouldn’t have objected to being friends with them, her personality was nice when she wasn’t being an asshole.”
“I noticed that too.”
Down below Ash was crouched down, placing flowers on the two graves next to each other. Their eyes were a similar shade of brown to Ansel, but her hair was a much darker brown and straight, cut at shoulder length except for a centre parted fringe. Black was all they were wearing, I mean it is typical of people to wear black when in mourning or to pay respects, but it was a change – most people hadn’t seen her in anything other than bright colours, and the two had never seen her in anything so not revealing as what they were. Instead of her old show-all-the-skin-possible outfit, she was wearing a dress, still short but more concealing, and it was simpler than the outfits they remembered. “I am sorry. I hurt you, and why? Just because I was jealous. I apologise for all I did to you, and I promise in the two years you have been gone, I have changed.” Ash stated.
“Only two years?!” They exclaimed, surprised at the lack of time they had spent there.
“Yes, only two years.” Jojo answered.
“Wow.” Ansel murmured.
“I forgive you,” Edward stated, towards Ash despite knowing that she wouldn’t hear. They turned around and begun to study the other realms. “Can you tell me a bit more about these realms I haven’t seen Jojo?”
“Of course Edward, which do you want to start with?”
Ansel had zoned out at this point, drawn towards the portal to Earth. “It wouldn’t hurt if I go through it. Just for a second to tell Ash we forgive her, and then come back. They wouldn’t notice, I mean they are distracted.” Ansel thought. He made sure that nobody was watching, before tentatively stepping through the portal. Quickly he said “I forgive you” and left before Ash could notice he was there. When he got back, he saw Ash looking around her, before quickly leaving, spooked by his voice. He saw Edward looking and knew he was in trouble, but not how deep he was from that one small action. I mean, it was harmless, wasn’t it? He re-joined the group and acted as if he had been there the whole time.
When Edward has a chance to confront their brother, it was an hour or two later- Jojo had walked them through everything he knew about the 4 realms, or as much as he was able to in the time they had, and as such left them no time to talk to him. It was on the way home that the had a chance- Jojo led them to a park before heading home to get a picnic for them, as a reward for accompanying him. “Why did you disobey him? He said not to touch anything or go into the other realms.”
“I don’t know why, I just felt drawn to it in a weird way.”
“I believe you, you wouldn’t lie about something like this, but just be glad that nobody else saw, if you were found out, you would be in massive trouble, not just with Jojo, but with the border guards and also possibly the Guardians. Be more careful. I don’t want to lose you.” Edward lectured, but that sort of lecture you know is for your protection- the kind that you know is sensible and are likely to follow.
“I promise now, nothing like this will ever happen again.”
“Thank you.”
The rest of the “day” was pretty peaceful and happy- they ate the picnic, played a bit in the park, and traipsed home, dropping Jojo and Danny at their home, before starting back themselves, taking their time for once. That was one of the good things. And one of the few things Edward would remember. However, to Edward that walk felt like agony. They had a feeling that something very, very bad would happen. The kind that can’t be averted, only postponed.
Once they got home, they could already tell something was wrong- for one, the door to the house was unlocked and open despite being locked when they left. Second the note taped across the entire doorway was kind of a bad omen. Only one group of people communicated that way. If you received one, you were unlikely to return. Ever. Edward signalled for Ansel to stay where he was, before carefully walking towards the house, stopping just about where they could read the note. “Ansel Caitlyn-Rose Smith must come to the Guardian’s temple as soon as possible.” Edward instantly felt fear flood through his body, adrenaline joining it shortly after. “Ansel, they know!”
“Wait, what?!”
“They! Know! Ansel! They have summoned you!”
“No, they can’t. They can’t can they. So that means..?”
“I’m scared that the answer to that is yes.”
“No, I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to become like them.”
“I don’t want you to become like them. Not now, not ever. But if you don’t go it may be worse for you. You may end up gone with no hope of recovery. It is better you go and face the current consequences than disobey further and get punished worse. I am sorry, there is no way out- they can track you through all of the realms. I can’t promise you you’ll be safe, but I can promise I will find a way to fix this place, and save you, even if it kills me.”
“Alright. It makes sense. I still don’t like it. But it makes sense. Can we spend some time together before I go?”
“Yes, Ansel, want to go inside and watch some TV before you go?”
“Please.”
It was at this point they both trudged indoors, attempting to keep how fearful and emotional they were from each other, because both of them knew that Ansel would be lucky to make it out alive. That was the guardian’s way. Both knew this. The tension was thick enough you could cut it with a knife. If Ansel wasn’t so worried, he probably would have tried. But he didn’t.
“I am going with you,” Edward insisted.
“You sure?” Ansel tentatively asked.
“Nothing could dissuade me.”
“Thank you Longneck.”
“You’re welcome Witch Hazel.”
They set off, through the village. All of the people had seen, all of them knew one or both of them had been summoned. Most looked with pity. Or anger. Or disappointment. Or all of them. Or none of them. But they were all there. Watching as they traipsed into the distance. Wondering if anyone would come back. Wondering if they did come back – would they still be the same people.
It took a long time to reach the Guardian’s court. For the siblings, not long enough. Anything to drag out the experience, the walk up to the place they may not return from. It was a towering Parthenon-style building, built in glowing white and much larger than it needed to be. At the entrance stood 2 statues of what they presumed to be some of the different interpretations from the different realms they ruled of what an “angel” looked like. As they got closer they realised they were not statues as such; they moved and talked as if they were alive. Once they got to the door, they tried to enter the building, but failed. The angels stopped them. Pointing to Ansel, they boomed “Only he may pass.”
“I guess this is where we part.”
“I guess it is.”
“See you on the other side.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Ansel murmured, before crossing the blockade created.
“Ansel, I’ll miss you,” Edward spoke out loud, as they watched him disappear from view.
Normally, Edward would have stopped there and waited, but today they felt braver than usual. Probably because they knew their brother was at risk, but they decided to return the favour of doing something stupid and reckless. Guessing from the way the angels were made, they were unable to move, and so as long as they stayed out of range of them, they could sneak in through the side of the building. Making sure the angels believed they were walking off, back where they came from, they circled around to the side of the building, gaining a view of inside the building. All of the guardians were in a circle around Ansel, who was looking rather like a deer in the headlights. Most of the people Edward didn’t recognise, but one they recognised from visits and checks on the village. The one thing the guardians had in common- their eyes were pure white, no pupil or iris. Apart from that, they were anyone. All different ethnicities, ages and genders. All different. All to be feared. Edward watched on as they all linked hands, creating a barrier around all of them, one that they could see, but not touch or get anywhere close to. Glowing white tendrils surrounded all of them, snaking threateningly inwards- towards Ansel. Eventually they all linked together forming a bubble around him that gradually shrank around him, disappearing from view, before bursting back out again. Only this time, the bubble was filled with a glowing ball of light, that blinded anyone who could see it. It disappeared into the sky, leaving Ansel laying on the floor.
Intimidatingly, a creepy voice boomed “Now you have lost your soul, rise Guardian Ansel and join us.” The body on the floor, snapped open it’s eyes, revealing a lack of pupil and iris, with a chilling look, before calmly standing up and facing the voice, which Edward could not see the face of. Floating, the new Guardian made its way into the crowd, joining it in standing to attention. “Now then, go find more suitable candidates, we need to expand the army if we want to destroy earth and hell. Soon, all of the realms shall be ours, and nobody will be left to fight back.”
“Yes master,” replied all of the Guardians in union, instantly setting off to perform their wishes.
Edward couldn’t look anymore, and they knew if the guardians found them they’d be in trouble, so they turned and left. Alone and hurt. No family left.
#Knockin' On Heaven's Door#tw death#tw main character death#tw swearing mention#tw unreality#tw angst#original content
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Crescent Chapter 3 Revision Notes
Revised Chapter 3 is out baby, view it on tumblr dont talk to me about the links not working on that post its broken for some reason or ao3! Since this chapter feels like the one most heavily updated, here’s some notes on what was reworked
Removed Roman’s pov from the very beginning and replaced it with Patton’s pov. I made this decision because it felt like it made for a stronger opening. Some of Roman’s beginning inner monologue in the original is reused at the end of the revised chapter
Patton tearing that mugger apart is now 40% more gruesome and descriptive.
Patton’s character is now more rounded out and thoroughly explored imho
Roman, Patton and Logan are now 20% more werewolf in their behavior
Instead of Logan conveniently arriving home for that Dramatic Entrance when Patton finishes telling Roman what’s up, he’s just there and ready to silently disapprove Patton’s choices in life
The Argument at the end between the three is a bit more expanded upon and Patton has a bit more agency in it.
Original Word-Count was 2557, Updated Word-Count is 4574, little over 2k more than the original.
Included below is the original chapter 3 so you can see the differences if you’d like
To be fair, Roman wasn’t surprised when Patton came home a stray in tow. Patton had a heart of gold—there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. He cried easily. He cried when a girl and her dog got separated in a movie, and he cried again when the two were reunited. He couldn’t bear passing by a downed bird, injured and all alone. It was why they now had a flock of ravens that took shelter within the confines of their yard.
Roman knew it was always hard for Patton to let go of the strays after he nursed them back to health. He grew attached to their presences, loved them like they were his own children. But he also knew that they couldn’t really care for pets with their type of lifestyle beyond the wild animals like the ravens that just wouldn’t leave. However, that was alright. A flock of ravens were considered good luck among werewolves.
So the ravens stayed, whilst the others were sent away. Logan always did his best to help situate the animals into loving homes. It made Patton feel better knowing that they went to owners who’d care for them just as much as he did.
What he was surprised about was the…species of the stray Patton brought home.
He heard the door click open, as he worked on his canvas. He didn’t bother glancing up. He didn’t need to use his nose to know it was Patton entering their humble yet magnificent dwelling. It couldn’t be anyone else, but Patton as Logan didn’t get off work this early, and there wasn’t anyone else who had a key to the house.
“Hey, padre!” He greeted, frowning as he redrew the eyes of his sketch, “Did you complete your quest to obtain the chocolate chip cookies with the extra chocolateyness?”
“Oh my goodness,” Patton gasped, “I left the cookies back in the city!”
“What happened? Did you get sidetracked by a baby squirrel again?” Roman chuckled.
He expected Patton to launch into some excited ramble about the cute poor animal he came across, or perhaps amazing scent trail that derailed him from his errand. But instead Patton seemed hesitant to share information.
“Not…exactly.” Patton admitted.
“What do you mean?” Roman finally looked up.
Instead of the kitten or baby bird that Roman expected to find, there was a stranger in Patton’s arms. Small and thin and pale in baggy black clothing. His first thought that must be another werewolf—Patton wouldn’t dare bring a human here, would he? But Roman took one sniff and knew immediately.
There was no mistake about it; Patton had brought a human into the home.
“Patton why is he here?” Roman growled, “He’s a human!”
The older man pressed his lips together, walking past Roman to lay the human on the couch before facing him once more.
“He was in trouble, Roman! He—he was all alone and I couldn’t just leave him—” Patton drew a breath, “Please, let me explain.”
-
To be fair, Patton did not mean to go sniffing out for trouble. He only meant to go sniffing out for cookies after another botched attempt at creating them. As much as he loved making food in the kitchen, baking was not his strong suit. Logan said it was because he wasn’t exact with his measurements. Patton didn’t see how adding more sugar could ruin the recipe that much. He only wanted to make the cookies sweeter, and what’s sweeter than sugar itself?
It was alright though, because that just gave himself an excuse to visit Thomas. He let his nose take all the way downtown to the Piece of Cake bakery. The bell jangled as he bounced in, grinning around at the pastel interior of the bakery. He took a deep breath in, letting the sweet scents of the desserts invade his nose.
“Hi Patton! What’ll it be today?” Thomas asked, giving a friendly wave from his place at the counter.
“Thomas! It’s so good to see you!” Patton squealed, reaching over the counter to give the man a hug.
The man let out a surprised yelp, but eagerly returned the hug just the same. He learned by now that Patton often to forgot to ask before he invaded people’s personal spaces in his rush to lavish them with affection.
“Opps sorry,” Patton gave a bashful grin as he withdrew from the hug, “I was just excited to see you! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”
“Patton, it’s only been like three days,” Thomas laughed.
“I know, but still.” Patton pouted.
The two made friendly conversation as Patton picked out his order. It wasn’t until another customer came into the bakery that the two exchanged their goodbyes, and Patton made his departure.
He hummed cheerfully, swinging the bag of cookies with each stride. Occasionally at intersections he took a moment to open the bag and smell the delicious sugary delights. Chocolate Chip, Snickerdoodles, Sugar Cookies—the scents tickled his nose with glee.
Patton loved scents—they often told the truth more often than someone else’s words or his own eyes could. He was happy he could always trust his nose when his other senses failed him. He couldn’t imagine not being able to smell! He’d rather give up his sight or his hearing than not being able to smell the comforting presences of his packmates.
Once, Logan revealed to him that humans couldn’t smell as well as their kind. Patton cried for fifteen minutes straight after that.
“Why are you crying?” Logan asked, awkwardly patting Patton’s back, “Humans’ sense of smell may be feeble compared to ours, but they have been able to survive just fine with it the way that it is. Besides, it is not as if they know the difference.”
“Exactly!” Patton sobbed harder, “They’ll never know how—how wonderful smell is.”
Logan sighed.
“Would it help any to say as a former human, that I now know how wonderful a heightened sense of smell can be?”
“A little.” Patton sniffled.
The crosswalk switched from an angry red hand to the cute walking stick figure that signaled it was the pedestrians turn to walk. The crowd surged forward, a few people bumping into Patton’s shoulder as they passed by him.
“Oh!” He looked up from the bag, spying the crosswalk signal. He covered up the bag once more and hurried across the crosswalk.
It was a long walk to the outskirts of the city where Roman, Logan and Patton lived, but he much preferred it over taking the car. As much as he enjoyed driving, he didn’t enjoy that thick traffic that left him antsy in the seat knowing he could walk faster than how fast the car was crawling across the interstate. When there wasn’t traffic clogging the streets, the car whipped by faster than Patton’s liking.
He took the idiom “stop and smell the roses” literally. Patton enjoyed walking because of the journey. He loved hearing the chatter out of the bustling city, the wind rustling his hair, seeing the various sights that the city had to offer. Not to mention the smells. While some scents like gasoline could be nauseating to smell, there was scents like—pizza. Greasy breading baked with tomato sauce and cheese with a variety of toppings. His stomach grumbled in agreement.
As if in a trance, Patton’s feet led him in the direction of a nearby pizzeria. It wasn’t until he was a block away from the restaurant that he realized how far off he deviated from the walk home. He needed to walk north, not inwards towards the heart of the city. As much as his mouth watered for pizza, he already prepared a delicious meal at home. He would have to save pizza for another day. Perhaps he could even make homemade pizza! He hadn’t tried that doing that yet.
It was hard to suppress his urge to chase after every wonderful scent that infiltrated his nose, however. The closer he came towards home, the more overwhelming it became. When Patton had been younger, it was harder for him to ignore the urges to chase after the scents. Flowers, perfume, the smell of Asian food wafting in the air from a nearby restaurant—it enticed and overwhelmed him.
He chased the scents, curious to see where they led. Often, he found himself in trouble from sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. After spending his childhood largely isolated from the human world, he had been ignorant of appropriate manners among humans. For example, humans often took offense if you smelled them. Whereas werewolves had very little sense of personal space. Something that could be found inherent in Patton by how he heaped affection on people within five seconds of meeting them.
Patton knew better now. He recognized he couldn’t gleefully chase each scent without abandon. He had a responsibility to look after the needs of the others. If Patton didn’t remind the two workaholics when to eat, he wasn’t sure who else would.
Gotta focus, gotta focus, gotta focus. The mantra ran through his mind repeatedly. He opened the bag of cookies once more, taking a deep whiff to remind himself of his mission. The rich chocolate, cinnamon goodness and fear reminded him that he can’t wait to share them with the others—wait.
Patton paused in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the person behind him to grumble in frustration. Fear? That can’t be right. That scent doesn’t belong with a cookie but rather—a living being. He scanned the bustling crowd who traveled down the sidewalk as usual. The scent of increased perspiration clung to the air, how could the humans just ignore it? Could they not smell it?
He didn’t stay put to find out. There’s no question in his mind whether if he should not follow this scent. His heart pounded, as he dashed after the scent. He trusted his nose to lead him to the source.
“Opps, Excuse me! Sorry!” He called out, apologizing to disgruntled pedestrians as he tore through the foot traffic. His large, hulking figure was perfect at plowing through the crowd—no one wanted to get trampled by a 6’2 man.
He skidded around a corner, the scent leading him to the entrance of a winding, dark alleyway. There lay a sight that angered him. A large burly human held a gun against a smaller one, who shook badly from terror.
Patton let out a low growl, too upset to say anything intelligible. His claws came out as he launched himself at the mugger, tearing him away from the small human. A shot rang out from his gun, and Patton could only hope it didn’t hit the human on the ground. The mugger attempted pointing his gun towards Patton, but he ripped the weapon out of his hand and onto the ground.
The mugger made a frantic scramble after it, but Patton pinned him to the ground. He sunk his claws into the man, and only let go when the man went limp.
He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to relax. His instincts screamed at him to remain on guard. But the danger had passed, and he needed to make sure the small human was okay. He was ignorant of a lot of things about humans, but he did know they could be easily frightened by his more wolfish appearance. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor guy even further. As soon as he morphed back into a humanoid appearance, his focus went immediately to the small human—his eyes widening in concern at their collapsed figure.
“Are you alright?!” He called out as he rushed to their side. Their head lolled backwards, signaling that they had gone unconscious.
A surge of protectiveness took over him as he immediately gathered the human in his embrace. He can’t help but marvel over how small and fragile the human looked! He must have been the runt in his litter. The human wore a raggedy black hoodie and ripped jeans with scuffed up converse. His face was too thin to be healthy, and those circles underneath his eyes! If the poor thing didn’t faint from fright, he certainly fainted from exhaustion.
He gasped upon seeing the bandages wrapped around the human’s hands. The skin underneath looked red and swollen, indicating it was a fresh wound. The human’s hair was glistened with sweat. Patton pressed a hand against his forehead and nearly flinched at how warm it felt. He shouldn’t feel this warm…humans shouldn’t feel this warm, right?
Patton snuck a glance towards the mugger, and immediately withheld the urge to vomit. The wounds looked deeper than Patton had initially thought and although the mugger was still breathing, it might not be for long. Patton was a lover not a fighter. The thought that he could be this man’s cause of death was haunting. But as he looked back down at the runt, he didn’t regret it. The mugger had threatened an innocent life, and Patton wasn’t going to stand there and watch it happen.
That was also the reason why he couldn’t just leave the human, alone and unconscious, in the alley alone with the bleeding-out stranger that tried to kill him. If someone came across him, he’d be an easy meal. He had to take the human somewhere safe. The only thing is, Patton had no way of knowing where he lived. He had no way of tracking down his home. It was nearly impossible to distinguish a scent from the hundreds of millions of aromas existing in the city air.
A scream interrupted his thoughts. Patton looked up to see a woman staring from the entrance of the alleyway, covering up her mouth in horror. Patton’s mind came to a screeching halt as his instincts screamed a singular command at him. Run.
This was not a time to attempt explaining the situation. His nerves were shot, and he was afraid of what was going to befall on the human. Would the other humans see how sick and small he was and attempted to finish what the mugger started? He couldn’t let this small human go through any more pain than he already had. Not now he was here. He scooped up the human in his arms, sprinting into through the sidewalks of the city.
He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, afraid that police sirens would be after him at any moment. Patton was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a car. Especially while carrying the human, despite how worryingly light he was.
Patton, being paranoid, took detours—attempting to throw off any would-be pursuers off his trail. When he finally reached the porch of the house, he almost collapsed from exhaustion. The human let out a cry in his sleep, and Patton stroked his hair.
“Shhh,” He said, “You’re safe now.”
The human unconsciously leaned into the touch, completely relaxing in Patton’s hold. The werewolf’s heart melted even further. If Patton’s heart was a popsicle, it was now a puddle of sugary sweet liquid.
As he sat on the porch, the human lying draped across his lap, he started to realize that Logan and Roman probably wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement. But Patton wasn’t going to abandon him, even if he was a human!
Which was why, he was now pleading to let the human stay with them.
“Please Roman, he needs help, I couldn’t just leave him all like that!” Patton begged, “Please don’t tell Logan—not yet, at least.”
“Tell Logan, what?”
Logan stood in the door frame, arms crossed as he stared down at the unconscious form of the human on the couch. Patton gulped.
He did not look happy.
“Hi Logan,” Patton chuckled nervously.
“What is he doing here?” Logan gestured to the human, “He shouldn’t be here, Patton. Do you remember what happened last time we let a human in our house?”
“This—this is different,” Patton insisted, “He needs us!”
“He needs to go!” Roman burst, clenching his fists.
Logan turned to look at Patton.
“Explain.” He said, and Patton did.
He repeated the same story as he had with Roman, with a few occasional interruptions by Logan who reminded him to stick the facts and not stray off into tangents. Once he finished, Logan sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers.
“So, what I’m hearing is that you panicked and weren’t thinking straight.”
Roman snorted. “Patton doesn’t think straight—ever.”
“I couldn’t just leave him all alone like that! What if he got attacked again?” Patton huffed.
“You could’ve left him at a police station or taken him to the hospital if you were worried about his health.”
Now that he thought about it, those might’ve been better options. Logan had always been good at figuring out more rational solutions to problems than Patton. But it didn’t change the fact that the tiny human was here now and needed their help.
“He needs a pack, Logan. And I know you know how to care for sick humans!”
Logan raised an eyebrow, “Patton, humans are social creatures, I’m sure he has packmates of his own who are concerned by his disappearance. There’s also no telling how he would react once discovering our true nature. We should take him to the hospital.”
Patton frowned. He hadn’t taken in consideration that the small human might already have packmates. If he did, Patton didn’t think they were good packmates based on the human’s malnourished appearance.
“We don’t have to tell him about the pack. But we can’t just leave him alone in the hands of strangers, Logan! We should care for him until we find out where his packmates are.”
Roman glanced between the two like a child observing an argument between their parents unfold in front of them.
Logan said nothing, reaching downwards to feel the human’s forehead.
“His temperature is unusually warm,” He noted, “We should take his jacket off—to help cool down his temperature.”
Patton’s eyes widened.
“Does that mean—”
“Yes, he can stay,” Logan said before clarifying, “only until he’s no longer ill.”
Roman’s eyes flashed angrily.
“Wh—”
“Patton, can you go prepare the spare bedroom for the human?” Logan interrupted.
“Of course!” Patton beamed as he scurried out.
As soon as Patton left the room, Roman turned to face Logan.
“Do I have no say in this?” Roman spluttered indignantly, “Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea? It’s a human, Logan. A. Human.”
“A human who is physically weaker, underfed and feverish compared to us. While it would be optimal to take him to a hospital, you and I both know about how attached Patton gets to…strays. I theorize he’s able to pack-bond more easily with other species than us.”
“Look, I don’t want to hurt Patton’s feelings as much you do, but we should put the safety of the pack first.”
“I did consider the safety of the pack in my decision making. This is a compromise—we’ll look after the human for long as he’s sick in exchange for Patton promising to return him to his friends and family,” Logan explained, “Who knows? The human might even want to leave early.”
He walked towards his study before turning to glance back at Roman.
“Make no mistake. I know how dangerous humans can be; I was once one myself, Roman, and I have no intentions of harboring the delusion of keeping one in our home any longer than necessary.”
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I Promise
word count:1481 words
Siren Jisung/ Reader (ft. San ATEEZ)
Warnings: slight abuse
next
INTRO
Y/n POV;
“Here you go the keys if you need anything I'll be downstairs okay” the landlord said
I just moved into my new place at jeju it's not that big but its comfortable plus its near to the sea and let me say very very very cheap, I take the keys and head in my house “darong-ah I told you those are just drawings of fish not actual fish” i tell my cat who's trying to catch the fish that I drew on the canvas.
I'd say I'm not much of an art person to begin with. I just like to draw things related to the sea, which is one of the reasons why I moved here. “Okay that's it it's time for us to go to bed, come on” I pick her up and head to my room.
My room was a little big it had a study in the corner a bookshelf in the right corner and bed in the middle I put Darong on the bed “I'll get freshened up okay and don't you dare go back for the fish there just drawings okay” she just dismisses me and looks away “whelp I guess that’s my cue”.
“Darong you asleep?” i say in a low voice cats aren't deep sleepers, i take the towel off of my head and- Ring Ring~
My phone starts ringing “where the heck is it” i go outside to find it on the kitchen counter
Hyunjin
“Hmm what's up Hyunjin”
“Hey what sup you settled yet?” he asks he sounded a bit tired from the other side
“Yes I did what's wrong? You sound a little tired?”
“Yeah me and Chan just got back to find the house ruined by Kkami… so I'm just cleaning up I guess” I laugh at that I mean Kkami always ruins the house when Hyunjin’s not there but Darong ..noooo she ruins the house infront of me it's like I hear her saying I don't like this throw it away.
“Give me the phone” Chan says to Hyunjin from the other line
“Y/n what do you think should I beat Felix or not?” the twist in the conversation
What did Felix do now!!?
“Why are you asking me that what did he do now?” I ask getting a little curious at what he did
“What.. did Seungmin not tell you yet?...” okay I think now I'm getting a little worried
“No…. what's wrong” I ask a little hesitant
“The guys in the hospital”
“What WHY… is he okay”
“You should expect it by now … food poisoning he ate too much brownies” blank I think my mind went blank
“I'm gonna kill him” that’s all I said, and I hung up on Chan and quickly dialed Felix’s number
I mean I should have expected it. Felix's love for brownies is beyond this roof and it's not like this is the first time he had to visit the hospital for food poisoning.
~beep beep~
“Hello”
“Where are you?” i go straight to the point
“I- I'm home” he says a bit hesitant
“I swear to God Felix if your at the hospital I'm gonna kill you”
“It was just a little brownie. What's wrong with that and you know how much i love it and…”
Buzzing my head starts buzzing i could hear Felix calling out my name and asking if im alright, but the pain i can't see anything clearly
Deep Breaths, Deep Breaths
I tell myself I take in deep breaths the buzzing slowly goes away and my sight slowly comes back. I slowly get up from the ground and sit on the nearest sofa, my hands were shaking violently i've been getting these Migraines from about 4 years now, and when i say it's severe its severe my phone rings again
“Felix i'm fine”
“Y/n it's me Felix told me you had a migraine again are you okay?” the voice of my older brother says from the other side of the phone. I stop.
“Minho Im fine its okay it was just a small one im fine you don't need to worry” i tried to sound as okay as i could
He sighs in relief “Okay good good… you almost gave me a heart attack” he says
“Im fine im sorry you dont need to worry” i tell him
“It's okay but just call Felix before you go to sleep okay he was really freaked out …. And don't stress okay”
“Okay i'll call him good night” i hung up before he could say anything i just did not wanted him to be worried, i dialed Felix again
“Y/N ARE YOU OKAY? Im sooooo sorry ill never eat brownies again just don't stress out okay i'm sorry” he says trying to control his tears from the other line
“I'm okay Felix i'm sorry i got you worried” i say trying to control my laugh he so cute
“Okay okay you take rest okay” he says sniffing
“Okay you take your medicines kay” i say
“Okay promise go to bed and rest okay bye”
“Bye
_____________________________________
Flashback~
“I told you to wash the stairs why didn't you” my step mother yelled at me
“I had to go to school. I told you, i'll do it after i'm done with my assignments” i told her, her face got so red.
“Don't get smart with me i'll lock you in the basement again” she said her face close to mine her anger radiated this heat off of her, i hate her so much, i do everything and then she takes the credit for all of it, i can't even tell dad, she just makes him so happy i can't take that away from him and Minho he was so hurt after Mom's death that i don't wanna burden him with all my problems.
“I told you, but i think you didn't hear me i have to go study and when im done ill do it” with that i started to head to my room when something hit my head, i started to get dizzy i look behind me, then down on the floor to see the vase broken, after that i pretty much don't remember what happened, everything just blacked out
“She's going to be alright” a voice said, “just please don't give her a lot of stress she has a sewer case of migraines that vase hit her at a very sensitive area its better to avoid things that hurt her”
I slowly opened my eyes to see my dad, and the doctor, Minho was in the corner his eyes puffed up as if he cried “Please come with me Mr. Lee i want to prescribe her some medicines” the doctor said my father squeezed my hand, smiled at me and followed him outside, when he left the room Minho came close to my bed “Hi” he said with a small smile i wanted to say i'm okay but i couldn't “its okay dont say anything you need rest, i'm just disappointed in myself you used to tell me everything when we were kids and…… why didn't you tell me she was treating you like that?” he asked i just stared at him “Dad found out and its okay shes gone Dad divorced her” he said but he had that sad look on him, i know he was sad that i didn't tell him anything, i wanted to say a lot of things but we just sat there, silently communicating.
______________________________
I came out to the beach, the night sky was beautiful, the calm cold air, and the sand beneath my feet, it was such a beautiful moment, i took a look at the sea, sometimes the sea looked so lonely, so lonely that i wanted to go in it and forget everything, i wished that rather than having a migraine i could have lost my memories, i walked along the sea, with the soothing silence.
*singing*
I could hear someone singing in the distance, my feet started to follow the voice as I got closer the singing became louder, i wouldn't lie the song was beautiful almost hypnotizing, it felt like it was calling me i got near a rock, the sound was definitely coming from here, but what i saw was unbelievable it almost took my breath away, a man half naked with ….. A tail.. A merman, I was looking at a Freaking Merman, he had black stunning hair with rainbow streaks, a beautiful face, and a red or maybe a maroon tail. It was beautiful, when he noticed me, he got scared and quickly went into the sea.
“Wait!” i said but he was far off gone, this can't be real “i think i took too many sleeping pills” i told myself trying to deny the fact that i just saw a merman, or something.
______________________________________
#stray kids fanfic#stray kids reactions#stray kids#hanjisung#han jisung#starykids#siren au#angst au#fluf au#bang chan#lee minho#hwang hyunjin#kim seungmin#seo changbin#yang jeongin#lee felix#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop incorrect quotes#kpop au#stray kids au
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jordan, my love, i’m feeling hitoshi deprived & i love your writing so ! may i request some toshi fluff ? anything you’d like to write, i’m givin’ ya full creative freedom as long as it’s fluffy ! 💗
bright whites || hitoshi shinso
desc.: You paint a portrait of your boyfriend. It’s not that good.
a/n: evy when we inbox each other next we can only write like a longing victorian couple, separated as i was sent off to study in paris and you to a nunnery in austria. one day, if we have not found each other again, i will drown myself in the school’s lake, and you will weep until your grave as you never heard from me again and assumed i’d eloped with a french aristocrat. it has already been seven long years since last we’ve seen each other. also this is my first time writing for shinso dont hurt me [navigation]
w/c: 387
“Hey, ‘Toshi?”
He hummed from where he lay on the couch, slowly eating the grapes you’d set by him for artistic purposes. You pressed your finger into the canvas with purple paint for each one.
“When this is done...promise me you’ll let me hang it up?” You asked, smirking as you added the same purple to his hair. Hitoshi glared playfully.
“I don’t think I trust you enough for that.”
“I promise it’s good!” You giggled. He smiled to himself and stood, but you quickly moved to shield the canvas. “No, no, it’s not ready!”
“I just wanna see what progress you’ve made, seeing as how you’re an expert artist and all that.” You ran around the painting and shoved your body gently into his as he tried to get a glance at the canvas. Yes, you knew exactly what you’d done, and yes, you wanted him to see it. There was no pain in fighting him for it, though.
Hitoshi shoved back against you, just as gentle and playful even more so. “Let me see it!”
“No! It’s not done!” You giggled, gasping as he escaped your hold. For a moment, he was quiet as he looked at it, but grinned with a lazy sort of happiness as he pointed at his portrait.
“What the fuck is this?” He laughed, and you giggled as you came to stand by him. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “You drew me as a stick figure! Are those the grapes? They’re the same size as my fucking hands, look!”
“I think it’s good enough for the Louvre,” You joked, and he sighed. “You know that art exhibit of, like, that banana? This is at least at that level.
“Didn’t someone eat that?”
“That’s not the point. Anyway, I think it should go next to the portrait of Bartholomew.”
“I can’t possibly disrespect our cat like that,” He grinned. You wrapped your arms around his torso. “It’ll go in the bathroom. To scare our visitors.”
“Here, hold on, I’ll make it scary…” You took a thin brush and drew lines pointing in and downward right above “Hitoshi’s” eyes. “Look, he’s fucking terrifying. He’s gonna steal your grapes and your firstborn.”
Hitoshi kissed you. Needless to say, Kaminari wasn’t too understanding when he came over for a project, later.
-
ALL WORKS TAGLIST: @heroheads @knifeewifee @keigos-dove @hanniejji @bvnnyclouds @wesparklebitch @katsukis-sad-angel
#hitoshi shinso x reader#hitoshi shinsou#hitoshi shinso#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#reader insert
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Warm Sunset
Pairing: Hongjoong x Female Reader
Genre: fluff, smut
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: explicit unprotected sex
Anon who requested this, I hope it’s okay that the reader doesn’t paint a portrait of Hongjoong, but smth that reminds her of him.
Hongjoong’s birthday is next week and he’s always talked about how he’d love to have one of your paintings in his apartment...to admire it whenever he wanted, to always remember how talented of a girlfriend he has, to have it on the wall so everyone can see it and, maybe, now it’s time to create something absolutely and only for him.
Since you’re living alone in an apartment that’s more than enough for one person, you’ve turned one of the biggest rooms into your personal atelier. It’s not a massive workplace, it’s just a little bigger than a normal bedroom, but it fits all your art belongings perfectly. However, it’s not the cleanest place someone would lay eyes on...paint has gotten everywhere through the years and canvases lie here and there on every corner of the room. The tools are, also, soiled with paint because most of them have been with you since when you started painting but, truth is, you love seeing them like this...they show the hard work you’ve put into all your paintings even if they turned out to be beautiful in your eyes or not.
Being a Sunday today, you had the entire day to yourself...Hongjoong would probably come over during the evening to spend the night there, but you will have already stopped working on the painting by then. You started working on his painting last week and, even if you don’t work on it every single day, you’re on a good path and it’ll probably be ready by the day you’ll give it to him.
The painting is a landscape, a landscape of an- untouched by humanity- island. With its crystal waters shining and the sun setting and colouring the sky with millions of different hues of orange and yellow. The flora is rich with many trees and some flowers here and there that create a beautiful contrast with the colours of the sky. This landscape is him. He’s colourful and beautiful inside and out. He’s a peaceful place that you always wish to be around. He’s so pure, like he’s never been touched by the seaminess of the world. He’s a warm sunset in the middle of the summer, with a slight breeze that smoothly touches your face and gives you the feeling of a beautiful dizziness.
You were painting a number of trees when the door of the atelier opened and you turned around to face Hongjoong.
“I knew you’d be in here” he says and the corners of his lips curl up.
“I- yeah...I’m painting” you laugh, kind of nervously.
You had forgotten you had given each other a second key to your apartments and he could come in anytime with it, but you thought he’d come over much later.
“I thought you’d come over in the evening”
“yeah, that’s what I did”
“what?”
“it’s 6:30 Y/N” he said laughing “look at the clock”
“OH hahah, I lost track of time” you set the brush and paints down slowly and make your way towards him so that you’ll both leave the room without him asking about your painting, but that failed.
“what are you painting today?”
“oh it’s just...a present for a friend”
“it must be a dear friend...you have paint all over your clothes and face, baby” he laughed.
“really? I didn’t realise” you tried wiping your face while standing on the door.
“wait...is that sea I see? Is that an island?” he walks towards the canvas.
fuck.
“hah yes...my friend reminds me of...pretty islands and warm sunsets”
“that’s cute”
“why don’t we go now?”
“no, keep painting...I didn’t wanna distract you”
“you already did though”
“oh I’m sorry, do you want me to leave?”
“nonono I didn’t mean it like that...uh fine sit on the couch and I’ll go back to the painting, you might get bored though”
“there’s no way I’ll get bored of seeing you creating”
You felt a burn in your stomach, he’s so cute...
At least he didn’t ask anything else about the painting, but you didn’t wanna seem suspicious so inviting him to just stay there was the best option now...
You went back to the canvas, brush and paints in your hands again and kept creating tiny trees, but without even realising you kept looking back at Hongjoong...it must have been instinctive, since this is for him.
“what?” he laughed at some point.
“I’m sorry...you just inspire me” you said facing the canvas again.
“aww my baby is getting inspired by me”
He got up and walked up to you to give you a back hug.
“has anyone ever told you how cute and hot you look all concentrated?” he kissed your neck and you shivered.
“n-no”
“well, I am telling you right now”
“thank you”
“that’s all? not a kiss, not a lil grind, no nothing?” he lowered his hands to your sides.
“I’m trying not to get distracted, like you said Hongjoong”
“I did? A little break is never bad, then” he said and started kissing the place under your ear as his hands caressed your sides slowly. You let your head fall on his shoulder and your eyes fell shut.
He hadn’t realised that you still had the paints and brush on your hands and when he turned you around to get you closer, the palette got squeezed between your bodies and colours darted on both the floor and your faces and clothes.
“HONGJOONG”
“I’ll clean that later” he said and took the palette and brush off you hands fast and placed them on your desk. You checked the canvas to make sure paint wasn’t thrown on it, but before you were even 100% sure, Hongjoong cupped your cheeks and smashed his lips on yours. He didn’t hesitate a bit and turned the kiss into a sloppy make out session. He’s giving open mouthed kisses and so are you, giving him the chance to slip his tongue in your mouth. He didn’t stay there for long though and the moment he bit on your lower lip, a moan escaped from your lips, making him smile against you.
“that’s exactly what I wanted to hear” he said and slightly, but forcefully, pulled your hair back to expose your neck to him.
“fuck” you exhaled and when you felt his lips on your neck, you knew he would try to hold back his bites and that’s what he did. Every time he’d bite with a little more pressure, he’d instantly stop at the best part, but you were not having it.
“It’s okay Hongjoong, I can cover it”
“Are you sure?”
“yeah”
He bit on the side of your neck and you felt your knees weaken, but tried to hold onto his shirt for support. He harshly sucked on the place, making your eyes fall shut and driving moans out of you, which got mixed with his sounds against your neck. You really needed some support right now, something you can lean on because his shirt wasn’t enough. So, when he nibbled on your skin and you felt your head fall all the way back, you guided him backwards till his back touched the wall, where the canvas stood on the left and a big window on the right.
He drew his head back to admire his own canvas and your eyes snapped open, only to see him smiling at his creation. He looks so pure, like he didn't just mark your neck or like his boner isn't brushing against your thigh in need of friction.
"lie on the sofa" you told him and the smile on his face turned into a smirk, like he knew he was about to have a good time.
He immediately did as you told him and after pulling his and your own pants off, you climbed on the free place between his legs.
"look, I've never sucked someone off on my workplace and you know that..." you said as you pulled his underwear down, freeing his member and letting it hit against his stomach.
"...but there's always a first time for everything, I guess" you tapped his tip on the last words and started pumping him slowly, adding more and more pressure on each pump, until you took him in your mouth.
He inhaled loudly and supported his body on his elbows to watch your every move, as you twirled your tongue around his width. You didn't force yourself to take him all in, your hand can do just fine on the part that won't be in your mouth, so you started blowing him. Your head is moving fast in all directions on his shaft and his head fell back as a loud moan left his lips. You leave him just for a second to get the wetness all over his dick, but as you pump him, pre-cum leaks from his tip.
"oof baby, why are you so quick today?"
He didn't have the time to answer as you took him in your mouth again, bobbing faster now while your hand is massaging the lower part of his member.
"fuuck, just like that baby" he groaned and his eyebrows furrowed.
You kept going, bobbing faster and faster and your hand squeezed on his base, until a wave of praises mixed with curses fell from his lips and his legs started trembling. When he throbbed in your mouth and gasped, you stopped, trying to prevent his orgasm. He let his body fall on the sofa as his chest is rising and falling fast.
"why are you so good at this?" he said through sharp breaths and with a quick move, he pulled your legs making you lie down this time.
"I'm good too, though", he's hovering above you.
"I know-" his hand flew to your clothed centre and you gasped as he started massaging your clit with his thumb. His left hand lifted your shirt and you took it off, letting him caress your lower stomach. The bundle of nerves on your clit is going crazy and you can feel your thighs starting to slightly tremble as low moans are leaving your lips.
"Hongjoong n-no...I dont wanna come yet" you whisper, grabbing his wrist to stop him and keep him in place.
"don't worry babygirl, I'd stop anyways" he said and before you could even come down, he slid your panties to the side as he smoothly pushed in without warning. Your eyes widened and your breath got caught in your throat at the sudden stretch, but his eyebrows also furrowed at the feeling.
"ffu-uck" you cried and he kept pushing in, slowly and steadily until he bottomed out.
When he did, he came close to your face brushing his lips on yours “I won’t be gentle, princess” and pulled almost all the way out to thrust in fast.
A whimper found its way out of your throat and his hand travelled up to wrap around your neck. This made a smile appear on your lips and you felt your core getting wetter. He started thrusting slow but hard and the force of his hips could be heard on the way your skin slapped against each other.
“a-ahh, yess”
He moved faster without pulling out more than halfway before he thrusted back in again. His fingers around your throat tighten with every louder groan he lets out and his pace is fast enough to make you see stars. The blood runs fast through your brain and your moans have turned into a distant echo in your ears.
“Hongjoong, fasterr-” he shoved himself into you harder and your cries got mixed with high-pitched moans. You couldn’t control your vocals, it’s like every thrust pushed a louder moan out of you and every whimper of his got you closer and closer.
“do you- like this-?” His fingers on your neck tighten.
“yess-”
The sofa moves along with his movements, his grunts are strained and his dick starts twitching unexpectedly. He’s pounding into you and you can feel your walls clenching leading you to feeling every ridge of his cock drag along. Your cries and his moans are in unison and fill the silent room, but when you let your orgasm get over you, he quiets himself down. It’s like he’s pressing himself not to make any loud noises, just to hear yours. He’s heaving through his nose, as your colours get all over his size and before you were done, he reaches his own climax, throbbing uncontrollably and mixing your liquids together. Incoherent syllables leave his mouth and his hold around your throat gets loose, while the orgasm washes over him. Your cries stopped getting louder as you’re panting now and when he slowly pulls out, the sudden emptiness feels weird. He lies on you, with his head buried in your shoulder, still breathing fast.
“I’ve never done this in here” you say.
“I know, baby”
“By the way, thank you in advance for this beautiful painting” he smiles and gives a kiss on your shoulder.
“w-what painting?” your eyes widen and you’re glad he’s facing the other way.
“you’ve told me before that I’m your warm sunset and that’s what you said when I asked you about the painting too”
“FUCK”
“It’s really pretty, really...but not as pretty as your eyes” he said and faced you. Your heart skipped a beat, but you laughed it off.
He’s still so pure...like he didn’t just fuck you on the sofa of your workplace, with paint on your clothes and faces as the sun is setting. Maybe he really is your warm sunset...
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez hongjoong#kim hongjoong#hongjoong smut#hongjoong fluff#painter reader oof#kpop fic#kpop imagines#kpop smut#kpop scenarios
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Listen I’ve got a buddy who desperately wanted to get some real art advice that’s more than “just practice” and ya know what? I’m putting this on here to-
DISCLAIMER: This is all art advice that I’ve discovered- it helped me improve, there is no guarantee any of this will work for you so stay curious and experiment around with your own unique style!!
These are in no particular order:
1. LOOK AT OTHER ARTWORKS!! I know it’s hard to look at better art, it can be demotivating sometimes, but looking at other artworks can help you decide what features you want to incorporate into your art. For me, I often looked at Pemprika, Ask-Antarcphos, random Japanese artists, and reblogs from Houseki-no-Suffering to search for elements I wanted. You can see influences from those blogs on my work!! In fact they STILL help influence me today!
2. DO NOT TRACE!! I know it’s tempting and some people may recommend it to help study anatomy and all that, but when I say tracing hurts more than helps- I mean it. Use references and set the pictures next to your sketch as you try to draw- this will help you develop an eye for anatomy waaaaaay faster than tracing ever will.
3. FIND CERTAIN NICHES OF YOUR WORK!! Just because it’s not perfect means you’re already on the right track! I have a habit of drawing long legs and fingers and that eventually became my style- sure they’ve gotten a bit more proportionally accurate but they’re still longer than usual and that’s okay! That’s my style and I’m happy to have it!
4. FINISH THE DRAFT AT LEAST!! We all have a habit of doing one thing and then giving up- trust me I’m guilty of it too- but finishing a draft means you’ve gained experience doing something new. Yes it may look wonky and it may not be how you imagined but it’s a start and you can never run a race without starting.
5. THE PEOPLE YOU LOOK UP TO ALSO HATE THEIR OWN ART!! Creators always hate the things they create, it’s just a fact. It doesn’t matter if your art could be the most beautiful thing ever, you’ll still hate it. So instead of letting that hatred kill you, try harnessing it to find ways on improving next time. Make your greatest weakness your greatest tool so to speak.
6. DONT TAKE PART IN HOSTED EVENTS IF YOURE NOT CONFIDENT THAT YOU CAN DO ALL THE PROMPTS!! Yes drawing prompts are a fun way to test your abilities and challenge yourself, but if you can only confidently do a few out of the whole- it’s not worth it. You’ll be spending more time stressing and be anxious than actually having fun- and at that point art becomes a chore and you lose your motivation.
7. USE YOUR EMOTIONS!! Art comes out the greatest when you can harness what you’re feeling into the piece. Find a good song that makes you feel strongly in a certain way or remember a moment that triggers something visceral- let it out onto the paper freely without restrictions. Sometimes it’s the lack of form that gives art its beauty.
8. TRY ONE NEW THING AT A TIME!! I know we often get the advice to “try new things” and “get out of your comfort zone” with art. But I’m here to say that’s a terrible idea- not only are you setting yourself up to fail, but you’re overworking your brain and making art feel more like a chore. Instead of completely 180’ing your style to try and copy someone else’s- change parts of it sometimes. Maybe ink with a new brush, use a different colour, shade with hard lines rather than soft lines. Progress doesn’t come overnight.
9. IT’S OKAY TO GET CRITICISM!! Have other people look at your art that you trust and know can be truthful! Sugarcoating is a bad idea for improvement so you need to women up and accept that viewers may see things differently than you do. It’s not that your artwork is bad- far from it! It’s just that different people will see it differently- I’ve had lots of people look at the same artwork and one person may notice the eyes while the other the hair and so on- it’ll help to know what the majority of the people will notice first!
10. GET FRUSTRATED AND CRY AND GIVE UP!! Hey, let’s be real, it’s hard to improve, especially when you’re not doing so at the rate you want. Perhaps you’re not in the right moment in your life, or find that art is tougher than you thought- maybe you just can’t do it right now and need a break. Rip apart your pieces, delete those files- wipe away all trace of your artistic career- art is something that is found by the inner self. If you can’t sit there at the canvas and bleed, then you’re not trying hard enough. You’re drawing for yourself and only yourself, and if your inner self can’t handle art, then don’t force it. Wait until the time is right.
And finally, keep in mind these are all things I’ve found as a self taught hobbyist artist- I’m sure art classes are worth it. I’m not saying you should go to one or not because honestly that’s up to you-
If you wanted more technical artist tips... I can’t do that. Everyone has their own unique way of drawing- I can tell you to use a ruler or use a specific pencil- but in the end that’s creating a world where everyone drew the same. We need variety.
At this point I’m just kinda spitting bullshit so I’ll shut up and let y’all yell at me at how unuseful and pointless this all was haha
Chow!
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Not Scared (Dean x reader- request)
Tags: fluff, kidnapping, platonic
A/N This was an ask for @werewolfbarbie Their prompt was "Reader gets kidnapped by deranged hunters and Dean has to go on a solo mission to find her. Focus on the friendship." CAN you believe I wrote 2k words without a single smut?
You woke up with a start and opened your eyes. The room you were in was pitch dark and you were lying on a bed tied down with your wrists locked together. Your first instinct was to scream for help. Then you stopped. That's not what Dean would do. You had no idea where you were or who might hear you, friendly or unfriendly and so you waited. You had a throbbing headache that made it difficult to think but gradually you cast your mind back over how you could have possibly gotten into this situation.
You had been hunting with the Winchesters for several months now. It had started when they solved a case on campus at your college, a monster who was preying on the basketball team. One of the young men that had been killed was your roommate's boyfriend. You were there with her when the Winchesters told her the truth about what was going on. You and your roommate stayed with them while they gave the body a hunter's funeral, burning it to prevent anything else from happening. Sam comforted you're crying roommate while you and Dean kept watch.
You were impressed by his stoic compassion as well as his hunting skills, and when he left town you exchange numbers. For a little while you texted back and forth until one day your phone rang.
"Hey," said Dean, "want to go hunting?" Turns out there was a case in your hometown and the Winchesters were hoping that someone with local knowledge could help them out. You joined them on that case and never looked back. Most recently you had been tracking a case of -well at first you thought they were monsters, but the scenes kept turning up signs that hunters had already been there - rock salt, Devil's traps painted on the wall. You couldn't quite figure out what was going on but they always seemed to stay one step ahead of you. Dean, Sam and you had checked into a crummy motel in this crummy little town last night; the boys taking one room and you taking another. Before bed, you slipped out of your room go to the vending machine for a soda. No sooner had you pressed the button then strong hands grabbed you from behind.
"Help," you screamed, just once before a hand slapped over your mouth and you felt a knife at your throat.
"Scream again," said a voice in your ear, "and I'll cut your throat and leave you for those pretty little Winchester boys to find." Then your world went black.
So that's where you were. Kidnapped and tied up by, well, whoever it was that you had been tracking- monsters, hunters, both? Carefully, so as not to upset your pounding head, you turned and looked around the room. The only thing you could see was a tiny sliver of light under the door. You flexed your arms and legs, testing the strength of the bindings. It seems like you were strapped down with wide canvas straps across your hips, chest and feet while your hands were bound together with a piece of rope. You reached as far as you could but couldn't find any hope of freeing yourself. Just then the door opened and you started. A man flicked on a little lamp, and the golden light sent bolts of pain thru your head.
"I thought you were awake," he said. As he drew closer, you could see he was about the same age as the Winchesters. He looked rugged and strong, but an ugly sneer twisted his face. "I'm surprised I didn't hear you screaming."
"I'm not screaming because I'm not scared," you said, even though you were terrified.
"Not scared?" He asked with an evil chuckle. "I've kidnapped you and tied you to a bed in a dark room. How are you not scared?!"
"Dean will come for me," you told him, setting your chin defiantly.
"Yes he will, and that's exactly what we're counting on- Dean Winchester will come for his pretty little toy and then I will have my revenge."
"So this is what this is all about," the pieces started to come together in your head. "All of these killings- it's just been a way to get Dean Winchester's attention?"
The man clenched his fists angrily. "Dean Winchester got my brother killed in a hunt years ago. And damned if I won't have my revenge."
"How do you know it will work?" "Dean Winchester is the best in the business. Trust me, every hunter follows his methods. It was pretty easy to get him interested in monster killings and then I just waited for the right opportunity to snatch you up." "That's a lot of innocent people you killed to get back at one man," you said.
"My brother was innocent too, and because of Dean he's dead." The man turned on his heels and left, slamming the door behind him.
A few minutes later, an older man came in with a plate of food that he set on the floor. He told you he would free your hands and chest so you could eat, as long as you didnt attack him. Seeing as you had little choice, you agreed. Right now you didn't have any strategy for escape. You figured you would find out as much as you could and then before you made your move. And hope that Dean got here soon.
"So is it just you and the angry guy? You asked as you ate. This hunter scoffed.
"He has plenty of reason to be angry and it's none of your business how many of us there are." Still you knew from that answered that it was at least more than two hunters. Your odds weren't great. But then again what had he said? Dean Winchester was the best hunter in the business.
It was hard to tell exactly how long you had been there, especially since you didn't know how long you had been blacked out. You guessed it hadn't been more than a day. But it was hard to say. Eventually the older hunter came back to take your plate. You hated to have to say it but you really really really needed to use the bathroom
"I have to ask," he said. Eventually he came back. "You can go, he said but I'm going to keep your hands tied together in front of you and dont look around or try anything." When he led out out, you blinked in the early evening light. Your instincts had been good about the day. Even with your head down, you could make out enough to see that there were several more people in this hunters pack. When you got back to the room, he commanded you to lay down on the bed and tied you back up.
"I'm not scared," you said "just please leave the light on." He paused then nodded before he shut the door. For one thing you didn't want to be stuck in the dark again. But you also hoped that when Dean came for you, he would see the light under the door and know where to find you.
For what felt like hours, you lay away, unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling. You couldn't get comfortable, of course, and deep down inside, you had to admit that you were scared. What if Dean never found you? What if these hunters grew cruel? What if Dean did make it to you, but was hurt- or worse?? You would have to live knowing that it was your fault.
You couldn't think about Dean, tho, without amazing memories flooding in- all the crazy adventures of the hunters life you shared. He was fiercly protective of his family, but funny and even goofy when he felt safe. And he loved to cook as much as he loved to eat. He was a wonderful man to fight, work and live alongside. Of course, alone in the dark, you did have to admit that you wondered if there would ever be more between you. For everything else, Dean was gorgeous- tall and ripped, with a handsome face. More than once you had wondered what it would be like to feel his pouty lips on yours. Lulled by good memories and sweet dreams, you must have drifted off.
You started awake to the sounds of fighting. Your heart lept with hope and fear. Had Dean come for you? Were things about to get worse- or would you be rescued? You couldn't tell. Finally you decided to take a risk.
"Dean," you shouted, "Dean!"
You heard him shout your name in response and you called back to him.
"I'm here for you; hang on," his voice was deep and he was breathing hard as he fought.
Dean was here! He had found you! But how many men did he have to fight through to get to you?? From the sounds of the fighting, it was several. Suddenly there was a loud crack then silence. You held your breath.
The door creaked open and the soft lamplight illuminated Dean's strong jaw and high cheekbones.
"Dean!" you cried. For just a moment, he sagged against the doorframe with relief, and your name crossed his lips with a sighn. With two long bow-legged strides, he crossed the room to you. His knife made short work of your captivity, and then you were in his arms. You leaned into the comfort of his embrace.
After a moment, Dean gathered himself. "Are you hurt?" He began to pat you down in a methodical way, checking for injury. You shook your head.
"No Dean, they just wanted to use me as bait for you. I'm not hurt at all. I'm just-" suddenly you felt tears in your eyes- "just scared."
"Hey you" said Dean, using one hand to press your forehead to his, "didn't you know I'd come to rescue you?"
You nodded, time seemed to slow in the golden lamplight, just you and Dean in each others arms. For a moment, all you needed was the warm of his body against yours and the comfort of his presence.
After a moment, Dean stood up and held out one hand. Throwing his leather jacket over your shoulders, he warned you not to look as he led you out of the room and eventually, outside.
Once you were in the Impala and headed down the road, you felt some of your tension slide away. The relief brought tears to your eyes again. You had known Dean would come for you.
"Hey," Dean said putting one big hand on your knee, "None of that now. You're okay, and that's what matters. No matter how many deranged hunters I have to fight through, I'll always find you. You know that, right?"
You nodded, wiping away the tears hard. Dean reached for the radio and turned it up. Led Zeppelin, his favorite. He began to sing along, first in that goofy way that never failed to make you giggle. Then his voice grew deeper as he began to really sing, belting out the words in a way you had never heard before.
You reached for Dean's hand. He took it and your fingers laced together on the leather seat of the Impala. You leaned your head back and smiled, in spite of everything. You were with Dean, and you were headed home.
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hi! i have a problem with drawing. right now i have artblock and yesterday i tried to draw something like 3 times, but i can't do anything. i try to somehow calm myself so that i don't get hysterical. and, of course, i tried to find something about it in internet, but i found nothing. why people don't talk about art struggles, mental struggles and emotional burnout? what to do if you can’t draw because you’ll get hysterical or anxious at the end of the process?
Hmm… I don’t really know your situation, I don’t know if it’s because you draw too much (for school/job), feel some social media pressure, or if it’s just this “I can’t draw for shit” stage that every artists seems to have from time to time.
The anxiety when you don’t produce art might be overwhelming. You draw and nothing comes out right. People post beutiful art every day and are successful with their zines, comics, books. They get featured, they’re hired, they are a part of big projects! And you can’t draw the pose right, it’s stiff and you know the lineart will look even worse. People won’t like it, you’re such a disappointment. It makes you want to scream. It’s a horrible feeling. I know that feeling. But… to quote the classic: “Let it go!” \(u-u)/
Take a deep breath. (´ο`)=3
My advice (I’m not sure if useful) would be to stop drawing for a week or so. Do something else, watch some new series, go for a walk, read books you haven’t read yet, try some games, definitely try something new. If you were in a particular fandom and created for it or drew inspiration from it - stop. You’ll feel itchy and will try to draw but don’t. And don’t feel guilty about it! You need to recharge, so instead of producing stuff try to comsume something new. Enjoy it.
Then try to draw but don’t expect anything. Find a few photos, very simple ones, of the sky, field, something not too complicated and study colours, try to draw with big shapes, blocks of colour, don’t expect it to look good, it’s just a study. It’s about reigniting the curiosity and pleasure of creating. When you try to draw something more complicated treat it as a study, a sketch, a stage. Draw something you’ve never drawn before, design a chair. Focus on the chair and not on the feeling you should be drawing something else and it’s just a waste of time, it isn’t. Draw a few thumbnails, you don’t like it, start a new one until your hand gets loose and you start to get some new ideas. If it’s getting too frustrating go for a walk, or dance to your favourite song.
(Also, go to people who inspire you, not those who make you feel shitty about your art. I’m not talking about negativity or toxic people. Some artists are the best human beings and they are very good at what they do but sometimes they make you feel not good enough. It’s not true, and it’s not their fault, but it happens. So sometimes it’s good to find someone who doesn’t overwhelm you with their detailed artworks, huge followers count, achievements etc.)
Allow yourself to make bad art. You won’t escape from it. All the art you see on the internet was chosen by artists for you to see. And there are tons of shitty drawings on their computers and in sketchbooks they chose not to show. Sometimes you open your canvas and this is your end result for the day:
It’s fine!
And there’s one thing I suppose is very important if you want to fight art axiety. Don’t think about the drawings you made before, they’re done. Don’t think about the drawings you will do, you should do, or you want to do. Open the canvas, draw not thinking about the result, don’t expect it to be good or bad. To quote another classic: “Be in the moment.” Don’t be scared to ruin your drawing with the wrong line, try a different option and allow yourself to be surprised with the result. The result is bad, well, tough. What does it change, you won’t post it online? Who said you have to? Draw for yourself, not for other people, not for followers (don’t share your art with a big audience for some time, even if it’s good), not even your inner critic. Discover rather than force the outcome.When you draw a line don’t think about the final result, think about what that one line does for the drawing in that very moment.
And if you find yourself panicking about your art my ask box is always open, we can chat about art and exchange doubts. It’s all about not overthinking stuff because it doesn’t help.Wow, it’s a bit lengthy… xD Hope you find something that’s usefull. It’s based on my experience. I’m not saying that I got over it, I still stress over art and everything but I try to get better at calming my mind, and those things help me.
#art stuff#sorry for mistakes#I haven't checked grammar and spelling#but hope it's understandable#Anonymous
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Enjambment (chivalry au)
A/N: it’s the first not-main-story story!!!! wrote this while tryna figure out how to get from point a to point b, and it doesn’t really fit in with the story’s Flow, so it’s gonna be its own lil part! it’s also got a little bit more character building for the Playwright and the Artist, if anyone wanted that lm a o — they’re good bois, they’re just. really bad at being good bois.
also i kNOW chapter 11 came out like, last night, but ,. ., ., .. . ive had this sitting ready for literally a week ., ,. ,.. sorry for bombarding y’all with this au :’’D
WARNINGS: self-deprecation, self-hate, touch starved, threats, cursing/swearing, destruction of property, destruction of art (ewe)
Words: 2085
AO3 link to this story; AO3 link to chivalry’s main plot
MASTERPOST! <-- i dont think this story is understandable without reading the other parts, hence im plugging it so much ; v; i’m sorry y’all ilu <3
chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil
general tag: @jemthebookworm
hope you enjoy!! <3 <3 <3
The Playwright didn’t like admitting he was wrong. He often wasn’t. Having the position of an omniscient narrator meant he got to be right a lot, which was one of Roman’s favorite things.
But his argument with the Artist may not have been one of those “right” things. The Playwright leaned on the table, twirling a pencil absentmindedly as he contemplated. He wasn’t entirely wrong, no. The Artist had to keep in mind the safety of the other Sides. If anything happened to any of them, Thomas would be hurt, and Roman would riot. Every bit of him, except for…. The Playwright winced. On the other hand, this in-fighting was exactly what they should be countering. Sure, everyone disagreed and that was the purpose of this dismantling, but the Playwright was above these squabbles. Should be above them, figuratively, because in physical space, he very much was above them.
Apologizing would be the logical thing to do.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t enjoy entering the medieval town, didn’t like going deeper into the Imagination, but it seemed he would traverse there more often.
The sound of a paper flipping caught his attention. His eyes shot open as he looked around the room. No one was there.
But he’d definitely heard movement. The Playwright swallowed down his fear. “Hello?” he called out.
Nothing. None of the costumes had moved, none of the shoes or benches or any of his paperwork.
Wait, no, there was something. The Playwright moved a few scraps to the side and picked up an envelope. This hadn’t been there before.
Cordial invitation of Roman ‘Playwright’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.
The Playwright’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck.
He tore the envelope open and read its contents.
The Artist wept.
He ran his hand along the ruined canvas — ruined by his hand, torn open with his own knife and dirtied with his tears — and pressed it fast to his chest.
Why was he so mean? Why did it hurt so much, for his creations to be picked at like vultures and a carcass? Wasn’t that the point, wasn’t that how artists improved?
Ah, who was he kidding. He wasn’t a real artist at all. Just a name he’d selected when they first started this game.
The Artist was so wrapped up in his lamentations that he didn’t hear the soft sound of paper falling onto the floor beside him.
He shouted again, cradling the broken mess of canvas and wooden frames. All good artists got second opinions. No one was safe from criticism, and there was always room for improvement! He should know this, he DID know that, it was reasonable. But hearing it from the others always made him so anxious—
He sniffed, wiping his face with the paw of his sweatshirt. If he was falling apart this bad, it must mean he was losing this challenge thing. But thinking of anxiety and then, well, Anxiety, Virgil…. the Artist wished he’d gotten to meet the two, too. Like every other bit, he did love them.
The sound of debris being scattered, then a surprised yelp. The Artist sighed, curling up tighter. God fucking damnit.
“What—I’ve—Artist?!” the Playwright asked.
The Artist was sat against the wall, cradling a bundle of broken paintings to his chest, previously white sweater dirtied with layers upon layers of paint. All around him, every painting that has previously been neatly stacked in the room was torn to shreds. Broken pieces of wood and canvases halved were strewn around the room in piles, or one thick pile, with only a small circle of ground around the Artist. Sketchbooks were torn, even the drawing tablet was — okay, the Playwright wasn’t going to look at that and think of the physical monetary price, because none of this was real. Holy shit, the Artist had put a hole into the wall of his house. There was a hole? He’d punched a hole into the wall? Good heavens.
The Playwright, in an effort to not damage any of his art, accidentally appeared on top of one of the piles. He fell over, landing on his butt amongst the shreds, and looked around wildly.
“What happened?” he asked once he caught sight of the Artist’s frozen figure in the corner, still since he arrived, “Did Dragon—”
“They weren’t good enough, so I tore them up,” the Artist whispered into his own folded arms.
The Playwright’s brow pinched in worry. That had happened only a few times before, where a single work had been so terrible that the Artist ripped it to shreds in anger, but he’d never done….this. And he especially wouldn’t have done this, since he had numerous pieces he wanted to show the other Sides.
He drew in a breath as his mind filled in the gap.
“Oh, Artist, what did they say?” the Playwright whispered, pushing himself up and slowly making his way closer.
“Nothing. Get away.”
He grit his teeth. The Artist was going to be difficult, wasn’t he? Now, now, it wasn’t a good time to lose his temper. He came with a job to do, and he wasn’t cruel enough to leave the Artist to be upset alone. And he needed his help. This was purely logical.
He wanted to laugh. Being logical was so taxing; how did Logan do it all the time?
“Artist. I’m not leaving,” the Playwright sat in front of him, “I take it that Logic and Morality didn’t take well to your paintings?”
He glanced up at the Playwright, quick enough to now show an expression but slow enough that the Playwright caught a glimpse of his tearstained eyes.
“They–They said my art’s unfinished. Logic did.”
The Playwright frowned. “Wait. That’s it?”
The Artist curled up more, and the Playwright gently put a hand on his forearm. “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it judgy. I just….that’s something you’ve complained about, too.”
To that, the Artist shot him a small glare. When the Playwright put it like that, then the Artist’s reaction seemed childish. “Yeah, but,” he sighed, “I didn’t want them to say anything about it.”
“Then why didn’t you warn them about it?” the Playwright asked, confused.
“Look, I don’t–I don’t know!” the Artist tossed the painting he was cradling aside and ran his hands through his hair, “It all happened so fast, and Padre was getting mad at me for not letting Child stay here. It—they both got upset at me, and they interrupted my painting, and Padre kept hugging me and it felt weird.”
The Playwright exhaled. He put a mental pin on the hugging thing — a similar thing had happened to him the other day, and he would have to talk to the others about what may be occurring — and then scooted closer again, sitting beside the Artist.
“Seeing as I wasn’t there, I cannot speak to what your argument may have been about. But I know that Logic and Morality wouldn’t have wanted to intentionally harm us.”
“How do you know, Pencil pusher?” the Artist hissed, though his words held an emptiness that betrayed his disbelief.
“Because they wouldn’t. They’re calloused, but they wouldn’t hurt us. Maybe Prince.”
The Artist snorted. “You really hate that guy.”
The Playwright smiled. Good. He cleared his throat and threw up his hands in the Prince’s signature style. “Hoo hoo, look at me, I’m a Disney Prince and I like singing songs and being an idiot!” he said, mockingly emphasizing a mispronunciation of “Disney.”
That got the Artist to laugh, shoving the Playwright gently. “Hey, hey, Disney’s cool! I’ll defend Disney to the death,” he rubbed the back of his neck.
The tension returned, but only slightly. The Playwright didn’t want to push him, but he was a little impatient for the Artist to pull himself together. His feet gently tapped against the ground in a small, familiar tune.
After what seemed like ages, the Artist let out a breath.
“....I did….overreact. A little,” he said. “The knife was too much.”
“A lot. Wait, did you say knife?”
“Yeah. I, um, I lost it a little.” He rubbed the back of his head again, looking up at the Playwright. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
The Playwright smiled. Wonderful. He patted the Artist’s arm comfortingly. “If I cannot comfort myself, then what am I doing?”
They both shared a small chuckle at that. It was easy to forget that they were two parts of a much more cohesive whole.
It was also easy to forget that the Playwright had something else he wanted to ask. He clapped, sitting upright and startling the Artist.
“Sorry,” he put his hands up, eyes blazing with new worry, “I actually came to ask something else — did you get invited to the party?”
The Artist’s brow furrowed. “The….party? No?”
“Oh, come, you must have,” the Playwright looked around.
The same envelope he’d received prior was sitting beside the Artist, on top of some of the ruined paintings. He picked it up and found two more envelopes beneath. “Great Ben Jonson, you got Logic and Morality’s invitations, too,” the Playwright flipped through the three cards and handed the one addressed to the Artist, to the Artist. “You must not have noticed it earlier. I got a letter similar, this morning. From Dragon.”
“From Dragon? Fuck, how’d he find us?” the Artist read the front and flipped it over again, tearing it open.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he just sent it to the location of whoever said Logic’s name last night. I also don’t know how he got backstage to deliver mine,” the Playwright read over his shoulder, “I honestly came here hoping to find the other Sides. We need to warn them.”
“We do? About what?” the Artist shot him a frown, but the Playwright just gestured to the paper, so he read the invitation.
His eyes scanned through it once. His body slowly tense as he realized what was being asked, and he flipped it over, checking all around the letter and the envelope that there wasn’t more.
“This,” the Artist reread the letter once more before lowering it and staring, stricken, at the Playwright, “This is a fucked up joke, right? Like, it’s gotta be a joke. Dragon’s Disney pranking us, without friends.”
“I don’t want to hazard that,” the Playwright stood up and motioned for the Artist to get up, “We need to find the others and warn them. If Logic and Morality’s invitations are here, then they must not know, and it’s a safe bet that if they don’t know, then Anxiety and Deceit don’t know, either.”
The Artist pushed himself up, rolling his sleeves up and wiping his face slowly. “He wouldn’t hurt them,” he mumbled. “Why’s he mentioning Prince, too?”
“I don’t know. And after what he did to Damsel?” The Artist rolled his eyes as the Playwright continued, “I don’t think Dragon would hesitate to hurt them, and he’s using the concept of Prince as bait.”
Goddamnit, he was probably right. The Artist rubbed his eyes and fixed his glasses. “Alright. I just,” God, he was hideous. “Should I change?”
The Playwright squinted. “Have you not left your house since this all started?”
“No,” the Artist looked at him like he was stupid, “Why would I?”
Alright. Alright, this was a predicament. The Playwright blew out a lot of air, eyebrows raising as he tried to figure out, in the most concise way, he could tell the Artist that he wanted to throttle him. His attire was absolutely not correct for the setting that they’d established, and he couldn’t fathom WHY the Artist wanted to parade around a medieval town looking like THAT.
No, you know what? It was fine. Sleep was walking around in a leather jacket, it’s FINE. Perhaps the Playwright was the only one who cared about the sanctity of the setting.
Meanwhile, the Artist looked around and waved his hand. The torn paintings all disappeared, leaving the room empty, looking larger than ever. The hole in the wall faded away, establishing itself as a solid wall once more. He looked down at his outfit and simply wiped it, the paint stains all disappearing as his hand passed over them, revealing a creamy-white color once more.
“That’s good enough,” the Playwright snapped, grabbing a fist of his shirt and tugging him forward, “Come on.”
#chivalry au#roman#roman sanders#ts roman#ts fanfic#sanders sides au#this is truly a sanders au lmasdlkghasldfkj#sanders sides#my fic#fic#now i get to do all the designs for the next part oh hell yes#i love designin fancy#its always s O FUN C ASLDKFHASLKDSHASLKDHASHLDKJSFF
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Freaks - Bruce Banner x Reader
Title: Freaks
Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader (female)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1627
Requested by @headcannonqueen
“Hey plz can you do a bruce banner x reader where the reader is a artist and has the power of shapeshifing and she s talking to natasha and wanda about something and he was listening in idk 😂Am really bad at this but i havent found a good bruce one in ages that i havnt allready read. I have tried to write one myself but didnt work very good . xxxxx thanx Keira”
Authors Note: Alright soo i hope this is what you were looking for! i really hope you like it! <3
You drew your hand aimlessly across a canvas creating yet another beautiful work of art. You always loved to draw and paint, it was a way of expressing how you felt without any need of communication and to let your mind completely loose. Tony appreciated your work that much he had even given you your own work space, where you had everything you had ever wished for when it came to utensils for your work.
You hadn’t been with the avengers for long but with the time you’ve spent with them, it had honestly been the best months of your life. Though you weren't like others, you had a type of power that would make you considered to be a freak. You had possessed the ability to shapeshift into any person you desired.
On a mission, the avengers had found you and gladly took you in under their wing, especially Doctor Banner. You were quiet and very reserved when you had first met them, afraid that you were nothing but of a nuisance to them all. But Bruce helped you and spoke to you in ways that no one has ever treated you like before. It was something that truly did set off a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had never felt before.
“My god y/n, this is amazing.” You heard Wanda from behind, making you jump in fright causing you to change forms.
At first Wanda was taken aback at your sudden change of appearance, but quickly you changed back into your desired look, your cheeks flushing a bright red.
“I’m- uh sorry about that, you scared me... but thank you,” You said with a slight smile, as you took down your canvas from the easel to replace it with another empty canvas to start yet a new project.
“No don't be sorry, i was the one that came in without knocking, which for that i’m sorry,” Wanda reassured as she walked over to the large table in the middle of your workshop that was covered in all of your paintings.
She impressively looked over them all a smile across her lips. Everything you had painted truly were remarkable, each telling their own story. Expressing different emotions and personas.
“Hey girls,” Natasha greeted as she suddenly walked into your workshop.
“Hi,” Wanda and you both said in unison looking up at her as she strided in.
“I was getting sick of everyone out there so i hope you don't mind if i hang with you guys?” Nat suggested as she took a seat at the large table that Wanda was just previously observing.
“No of course not, i’m actually glad you two came in. I was honestly kinda getting bored on my own to be honest,” You said, as you again absentmindedly began to draw your brush across the board.
It was then Natasha’s turn to admire your amazing work, a bright smile came across her face as she reached a certain piece of work.
“What’s this one of y/n?” Nat asked, as she held up the canvas to show you.
Your eyes grew wide and your cheeks flushed red, quickly you ran over to Nat and snatched the art work off her.
It was a painting of Bruce with the hulk standing tall above him, it truly was beautiful, as it was filled with all types of different greens across the canvas.
“I don't see any other fanart of us, care to explain?” She questioned, while Wanda sat next to her, her too with a growing smile over her face.
You held the piece of work close to your chest, as you rocked back and forth not knowing what to say.
“You like him, dont you?” Wanda inquired.
You didn't have to be a mind reader to know that you liked Bruce. From the moment you had met him you started falling for the scientist. Though you knew you’d never even have a chance to be with him. Sure the two of you were close friends but that was it, nothing more. And that sure did break you.
“Yeah, yeah i do. But i will never even have a chance with him, you know how he is. And besides, im a shape shifting freak.” You sighed, placing the canvas in a draw so no one else would find out, if they didn't already notice.
“And he turns into an enormous green rage monster, so? Have you seen the way he looks at you or anything else he does around you? He is head over heels in love with you!” Natasha addressed, making you softly smile at even imaging a chance with Bruce.
“Still- I don't know, don’t you girls have any love interests at the moment since we’re sharing?” You asked facing the two girls behind you, wanting to change the topic from yourself.
“Uh yeah no,” Natasha laughed as she put her feet up on the table, careful not to knock your work.
“What so not even the super soldier Steve?” Quickly you changed into Cap, in his full uniform, putting your hands on your hips in a proud looking stance.
“Aren’t i just everything you want in a man? Strong, handsome and courageous?” You said, making the girls laugh and soon after you join them, changing back into your normal appearance.
“I’m sorry that was rude,” You apologised after recollecting yourself, instantly feeling bad for mocking the avenger, going back to your work.
“No, no it was great actually. You nailed it.” Wanda commented, still trying to collect herself from her fit of laughter.
You found yourself again painting yet another picture of Bruce, you hadn’t even meant to. You smiled upon it looking at the bright greens that covered the canvas once again.
“What about you Wanda, anyone you’re crushing on like y/n over here?” Natasha asked, looking at the beautiful young woman on her left.
“No, no one here really appeals to me to be quite honest,” She replied as she fiddled with her long brunette locks.
“Hey, i thought you might want something like me? I’m- what was it? Oh yeah that's right- a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist.” You spun back around changed into nonetheless, Tony Stark.
Again the room was filled with laughter, hardly anyone able to hold back their fit.
“Now that im not sorry for,” You cackled, before turning once again back to your art, changing to normal.
“Well I’d love to stay and chat but i’ve got to go, sorry girls” Natasha said, with a huff. Wanda too had to go as well, just as they went to leave they saw Bruce standing in the doorway.
“Bruce? What are you doing here?” Nat commented, her eyebrows furrowing, a slight smile spreading back across her lips.
Bruce looked flustered and completely confused. You quickly looked back upon hearing his name, butterflies now forming in your stomach. He hadn't been standing there that whole time without anyone noticing had he?
“I-uh-um, I’m sorry i- i didn't mean to pry but i came to talk to y/n but i-” Bruce stumbled upon his words, completely at loss because 1. He had just been caught snooping and 2. He found out you had feelings for him.
“You listened to our whole conversation, didn’t you?” Wanda interrupted, as the two girls put there hands upon their hips a playful smirk on their lips.
Bruce looked back and forth between the two girls, shoving his hands into his pockets before responding with only a slight defeated nod.
Your eyes widened and again your cheeks flushed. The room suddenly becoming an extra 10 degrees hotter as you felt your heart leap into your throat.
“Well, we’ll leave you two together to do some explaining,” And with that, you were left alone with the man you had yearned for from day one.
“Like i said, I’m sorry, i didn't mean to eavesdrop its just i heard-”
“It’s fine, Bruce. Listen, i’ve been wanting to tell you for ages how i felt about you but i just hadn’t known how to or if you even felt the same way,” You begun, as you slowly walked over to the scientist.
“And i'm fine if you don't, of course, i understand. These past months have been amazing and having you by my side is everything i've needed, you have no idea. I honestly don't know what i would have done without you.” You rambled, Bruce looking into your beautiful glowing e/c eyes.
“I’m sorry, i probably sound like an idiot.” You laughed covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.
Bruce chuckled, softly taking your hands away from your face and holding them now in his hands.
“You know, i’ve felt things with you that i’ve never felt with anyone else before. I could barely even put my head around it. But i finally began to understand and what i was feeling-” Bruce looked down laughing at himself, he couldn't believe what he was just about to confess. It was as if it was all some dream.
“I- I love you y/n.” He confessed before cupping a hand over your flushed cheek.
You brightly smiled, placing your hand on top of his, over your cheek. Leaning into his large callused hand.
“And i love you, Bruce,”
Suddenly Bruce softly placed his lips onto yours, it wasn't much but it was everything you had dreamed of. The soft touch of his lips on yours made you want to melt right there and then, it felt as though everything in the world didn't matter anymore.
The two of you pulled back, your foreheads resting on each other’s before Bruce spoke up.
“And i guess that means we can both be freaks together,”
#the avengers#avengers#the avengers x reader#the avengers one shot#the avengers imagine#avengers x reader#tony stark#iron man#captain america#steve rogers#clint barton#hawkeye#jeremy renner#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#black widow#scarlet witch#rdj#robert downey jr#chris evans#bruce banner#the hulk#hulk#thor#chris hemsworth#scarlett johansson#bruce banner x reader#the hulk x reader#x reader#female reader
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Whats your opinion on the headcanon that bakugou is hard of hearing because of how loud his explosions are? If you dont mind my asking
I think I answered this q on this blog already? Maybe? But anyway, I don’t exactly mind it, but I can’t say I share the headcanon myself - for one, because I’m of the opinion that their bodies are built to withstand a safe use of their quirks (a bit like you can’t break a leg by simply walking, you know), so in general I’m not a fan of headcanons that include damages caused by simply doing what their bodies were born to do?
But also because generally, even under the assumption that his body isn’t made to hold up with his explosions, isn’t it awfully convenient how only his ears take damage in these scenarios? What about his eyes? How come he can still see with no problems even with the continuous exposure to the explosions’ light? How about his hair? How come he can stand so close to fire without it ever being damaged by it? His palms have thicker skin and we know that thanks to his UA file, but what about the rest of his body? How come he can stand smack in the middle of an Howitzer Impact without getting even slightly burnt? When you say “only his ears aren’t made to withstand his explosions” what you’re telling me is that his whole body is tailord to deal with his quirk but his ears, and that just feels unrealistic to me - by which I mean, when this is the scenario we’re talking about, you can’t give the fault of the damage to Bakugou’s quirk. It’s a problem his body has, not a natural consequence of having that sort of quirk. And imho with those premises you sort of end up with a different kind of story, you’re supposed to write it differently - that’s what I think, at least
Anon said:Maybe the reason Baku raises his voice so often is because he can’t hear very well, which isn’t due to his explosions, rather, he was born with bad hearing to protect him from taking damage by them.. and then his other senses are sharper to even it out, and his body can even subconsciously notice air vibrations, resulting in really fast reflexes.
Ah, this is also another reason why I’m not a huge fan of the headcanon - don’t get me wrong! If you like it then go on, I’m not trying to stop anyone from enjoying ideas and possibilities!! But personally I like Bakugou not having any reason to be loud-mouthed and rude, that’s just his personality and how the environment he grew up in made him, and lately I’ve seen the hc used to justify his behaviour more than I like? Bakugou being an asshole is just who he is, and I love it! I love that his life made him like that and I love that he’s working hard to fix that flaw, giving him an external reason, something he has no control over, to justify his personality changes the core of his character too much, and that’s not something I’d ever want to do tbh
And it’s also cool to think that he was somewhat genetically engineered to be better in a fight to compensate for a lack of earing (though again, why only his ears and not his eyes or his sense of tact too), but that goes to cut on all the hard work he put in becoming as good as he is, right? If that’s what you like than who am I to stop you! But Bakugou’s hardworking nature is one of the things I love about him, I don’t really feel like taking away from him all the effort and work he put through the years in becoming as good as he is now
Anon said: Kiri’s grades suddenly getting sky high after Baku started kissing his cheek for every correct answer
Kirishima: “OKAY NEXT CHAPTER LET’S GO”
Bakugou: “the fuck, no, we’re done, that’s how far we went in cla–”
Kirishima: “GOING A BIT AHEAD CAN’T BE A PROBLEM CAN IT”
Anon said: Kiri is seriously talented at dirt doodles
lmao it’s just stickmen hahaha
Anon said:aww your miri/tama collage is so precious! have you considered doing something like that for kiri/ kami as well? those boys are in desperate need of some love.. totally understand if not! have a wonderful rest of your day/night :3
Uh, well, it’s not like I “haven’t considered” doing it, but more than a collage it’s… just how I always draw? Only usually I cut the pics for each of them to be a different image so they’re easier to see, while yesterday I was too lazy to do that and left them all on the same canvas haha so I guess yeah next time I’ll feel like drawing krkm if you’d like I can leave the drawings all in one pic, that’s just less work for me after all lol
Anon said:Ahhhhhh~ I had had… Such a need for miritama after that chapter and I couldn’t find anything w the right feel or anything and ??? Then you just??? Bless you thank you they look wonderful and so so soft and happy and I’m just !!!
AHHHH!!!! Thank you so much!!!! I’m glad you liked them :O
Anon said:thank you good lord you’re gonna help me get out of the depressive spiral chapter 152 has put me into
BOI ANON DON’T I FEEL YOU it’s why I drew those to being with hahaha
Anon said:DUDE YOUR PINING KIRISHIMA GOT ME DEAD HOLY FUCK SO PURE SO AWESOME 10/10
THANK YOU!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
Anon said: I just recently became obsessed with MomoJirou because it’s an incredible ship and I can’t get enough and then you give us these adorable drawings of them? I cry
Anon said:fran….your girls…… they’re so good……..
Anon said:I love how you drew Momo 😍
Anon said:FRAN THANK YOU FOR THE MOMOJIROU CONTENT I LOVE IT I LIVE FOR IT I HAVE BEEN DEPRIVED OF MOMOJIROU FOR SO LONG AND NOW I CAN SEE SOME BEAUTIFUL ART OF THEM IN YOUR STYLE WHICH MAKES IT TEN TIMES BETTER THANK YOU
AAAAHHHHHHHHH BOI THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I’m ??? so glad you guys liked them???? Momo is so hard to get a grasp on for me, it makes me happy to know I did her right!!!!
Anon said:What do you think about futakuchi? xox
He’s my fav in Dateko!!!! Also one of my two biggest #same in Haikyuu haha (the other’s Kuroo lol)
Anon said: I haven’t seen semi on your blog for a while? ;)
That’s 100% most probably because there hasn’t been any haikyuu on my blog for a while, I’d say :O
Anon said:You keep drawing… So many soft things I’m in love… momojirou is so sweet it cleared my skin (and !!! I know you said you have no idea how to draw her but she looks wonderful and I loved it!!) And pining Kiri his face at the end??? Saved me. And STUDY DATE I CAN’T FORGET tbh baku looked so good esp the way you drew him kiri I Understand. Anyways you’re a blessing and I hope you have a lovely day!!!
God anon….. you just go……….. and slay me like this……. how am I supposed to deal………………………. (ilu)
Anon said:Does the Octopus Team still exist? I was scrolling through Shouji tags and saw the art.
I’m not sure what this ask means :O like, are you asking me if I’ll ever draw them together again? Because tbh that one doodle sort of just… happened while I was doing something else……… oops….
Anon said:Is it just me or are you getting more and more notes a lot quicker? Bc congrats my friend
:O thanks!!! But to be fair I think more than on my art this is mostly on the Bakushima becoming a much more popular ship, lately! The anime will do that haha
Anon said: I literally check your blog multiple times every day to see if you’ve posted anything new, your art just makes me so happy??? Like it could literally be bakugou as an orange and kirishima as a strawberry and I would reblog it faster than lightning and stare at it for five mins. Your style is just so nice and it like…. flows well?? Is really clean??? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT MY DUDE but BASICALLY i love everything you do and thanks for blessing us with all the cute kiribakus and bokuroo :))
sob thank you ;O; so much ;O; holy shit ;O; ;O;
Anon said:So I’m new to the BNHA fandom and you’re probably the first artist I stumbled across but I am HOOKED. I love your bakushima A LOT and your headcanons are so perfect I get so hype when I see them on my dashboard *v* Do you ever think about what would happen if Bakugou’s family found out about his new relationship? Do you think they would love Kirishima? (Of course they would it’s impossible not to). I imagine that would be an interesting scenario!!
I’m 100% sure Mitsuki would be like “HOW THE FUCK did you manage to get such a nice kid to like you” but when we’re being honest Masaru is a super sweet man married with a firecracker too so does she have any right to talk? Nope, she does not
And thank you so much for the compliments!!!! :O this fandom is super full of talented and nice people, I hope you’ll have a great time in it!
Anon said:Dude like mate honey love bunch bro man,,,,, YOUR FR*CKING ART!!!! SO H*CKING GOOD???? BAKUKIRI (cries because I love them so f*dging much) LOOK SO GOOD IN YOUR ART STYLE? SO PURE! WHOLESOME!!! I just went through your art tag for the last hour and I love everything. Kirishima is my FAVE I LOVE HIM!!!$ and the Baku squad mm mmmmmm good shiz right there. AND YUUJIIIIII AND BOKKUROOOOO AND THE VOLTRON AU!!!! Honestly we have such similar tastes ah. Anyway I’m running out of words love you fran xox
HOLY HECK I LOVE YOU A LOT TOO ANON!!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS!!!!!!!!
Anon said:Kirishima and bakugo furiously (not mad just intense) making out I know what your thinking but please give it a try
I mean the idea isn’t something I mind at all, but drawing this sort of things requires a specific mood for me which isn’t easy to come by and more often then not when I do draw that sorta stuff I don’t finish nor post it? So in general that’s not the type of things I’ll draw as a suggestion, sorry orz
Anon said: Whenever I see a new post from you but it’s reblogged I immediately go to your original post so I can read your tags. I love them so much!
Heck !!!!! I’m glad you enjoy my nonsense? hahaha
Anon said:*whispers* hey hey…. kiribaku hide and seek got any thoughts on that
Are you asking about one against the other or hiding together? …either way I can only see that ending in disaster and explosions ngl lol
Anon said:It came to my mind after reading your last comic that Baku usually dresses up pretty nice¿? Its canon that his family works for the fashion industry and his costume is SO EXTRA™, we never really see him in cringey or weird clothing (please correct me if I’m wrong (?)) but I still like the idea of him having lots of skull/punk tees and struggling to find normal stuff lol
Wouldn’t call them cringey or weird, but it is canon that every time we’ve seen him out of his costume/uniform in the manga he’s worn either plain black tees/tank tops or t-shirts with skulls on them :O that’s actually his canon style, I wasn’t taking a wild guess back there haha
Anon said:I miss your art on my feed on the days you don’t art. So I scroll through your old posts whenever that happens. (This is not a plea or pressure for you to do anything more often btw. You make so much amazing art and contribute so much to this fandom. I love going back and looking at all your art. We are not worthy!) I literally can’t think about Kiribaku and the Bakusquad without thinking of your art.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!!!!! Oh my god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;O;
Anon said:Cons of Kirishima being the protagonist of MHA: He would constantly be hurting himself and making us as the audience suffer in the worst way. Pros: if the recent chapters are anything to go by, he would be /very very pretty/ by now due to how much he’s been beaten up
I still prefer him healthy and happy tho ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡ once in a hospital bed is enough for me //sob
Anon said:I can’t describe how happy these deathstar doodles made me?? Your art is top notch as always but you drawing one of my all time favorite ships when there’s so little content for them gave me strenght for the next 57 years, thank you sm!!! And have a good day!!
Anon said:Ahhh you have no idea how much of a blessing it is to see deathstar in your artttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!! I love you so muchhhhhh!!!
I’M!!! HAPPY!!! YOU GUYS LIKED THOSE!!!!! I never understood why there was so little content for them tbh, like??? Okay the anime didn’t reach any of The Good Stuff for them and most fans never read the manga, but the manga makes them such an obvious ship?? So good so right so healthy and supportive and beautiful b o y rereading that manga gave me a lot of feelings bless the two of them ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡
Anon said:Oh my god, I was just looking through like all your art and I realized how much you’ve improved. Like oh my god you’re fantastic, all your art looks so great. I mean this as a compliment and that’s you’ve improved a lot and you’re so great. ❤️❤️
THANK YOU OH BOY (●´□`)♡ this means…………….so much…………. gahh
Anon said:i got so busy with college apps and entrance exams that I stopped watching the anime around the intern time and I stopped reading the manga around about the time sun eater faces off against those guys. man I have so much to catch up on but I still don’t have much time at all. all I know is Mirio is being an angel and I’m at peace with that.
Mirio………… is such a good boy……………….. he deserves so much more…………….. so much better………………….. o
#fran answers#again about the hoh!Bakugou hc#i do think everyone should be free to headcanon whatever they please#that's just my personal opinion on the matter#it's mostly based on how much i like bakugou as he is you know#uhhhhhh the reason why he's my fave is that i like him#and that sound like an obvious statement haha#but all i mean is that all of bakugou's flaws and struggles and good points and growth#i want to keep it all#i love it all#headcanons are good and let people work with their imagination in what ifs a lot#id never tell anyone to stop that that's what art is all about#my answer was just about... the limits i put to my own headcanoning#there's some lines i don't want to cross and this headcanon crosses a bunch of them#that's for the second ask#as far as the first ask goes it's like...#well#im not saying it's impossible for bakugou to have been born with a predisposition to earing loss#but when that's the headcanon we're talking about i feel like bakugou#would have different reactions between 'my quirk is against me' and 'my body is against me'#?#i think he'd find it easier to accept if it were just something natural as far as his quirk goes#I DUNNO I DUNNO it's not my hc anyway haha#anonymous
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190. Someone told me once that to create true art you must be willing to bleed and let others watch. (with Jackcrutchie please? Also what ships are you okay with writing so we know which ones we should send in, if you dont mind me asking? )
[I’m comfortable writing pretty much anything! The only people I write together exclusively are Jack and Crutchie (I won’t write Javid or Crutchie/Spot, for example.) But other than that, send me whatever! This piece has a trigger warning. They is a little bit of talk of self harm. No graphic depictions or anything, but it’s there.]
190. Someone told me once that to create true art you must be willing to bleed and let others watch.
Art had always been Jack’sescape. The feeling of paper beneath his hands, watching his feelings come tolife on the page in front of him. Swirling colors together, putting them ontothe canvas. It was a comfort, a way to express the things that had happened tohim when he was young.
Jack hadn’t always beencalled Jack. When he was young, he had been called a different name, a wrongname. He had felt wrong too. His mom had made it better. She didn’t care whathe wanted to be called. She called him Jack and she loved him so much, givinghim crayons to express himself. Everything changed when she died. Suddenly hewas Jessica again and his mommy was gone. He felt wrong again. The dresses hisfoster families forced him into, the name they called him, the pronouns theyused, it was all wrong and horrible. He lashed out, he was angry at the world. Therewas one family that was worse than the others. They were sugary sweet when hissocial worker was around, but when she left they were horrible. They made himgo to ‘counseling’ which was really just their pastor telling Jack that if hedidn’t stop pretending he was a boy, he would go to Hell. They forced him towear dresses and skirts every day. The worst thing they did, however, was takeaway his art. He wasn’t allowed anything that could write in his room. If hehad homework, he had to do it sitting at the kitchen table. He turned tounhealthy ways of coping. The scars that remained on his arms and legs wereevidence of this. When his social worker found out, she went ballistic. She gotJack out of that house and he was placed in a new home, his forever home.
Medda’s house was sodifferent. The first day he arrived, he knew that within minutes of walkingthrough the door. Jack had his own room, to start. His desk was the highlight.It had art supplies on it. Not a ton, just colored pencils and charcoal. But itwas so much more than he had been able to have in years. He started high schooland he was able to enroll in Drawing and Painting. It was life changing. Histeacher was amazing, he encouraged Jack in everything he did. He pushed him tobecome a better artist. When Jack set his sights on the Rhode Island School ofDesign, he half expected his teacher to laugh at him. Instead, he helped Jackdevelop his portfolio.
“Art,” Mr. Denton toldJack, “is being willing to bleed and let others watch.”
Jack took those words toheart. He drew what had happened to him all those years ago, reopening woundsthat had scabbed over long ago. He drew faint memories of his mother, based onthe few pictures he had left of her. He drew his world during the time he hadn’tbeen able to draw. He was accepted on a full scholarship. Those four yearschanged Jack. He saw art differently after it and he did art differently. Hecould see more than just the shapes and lines that made up a piece. He couldsee the unbridled emotion, the pain, the joy that went into each piece. Hisemotions fueled his art, pushing him to do better, to share in an intimate withpeople what had happened to him. That didn’t pan out as a career at first. Hehad no idea what to do with his degree after he graduated. He did politicalcartoons for an online magazine, took commissions online, and worked other oddjobs. The starving artist was a reality for him, there were many days when allhe could have to eat was a package of ramen. When a gallery contacted him aboutshowcasing his pieces, he was floored. A professor had recommended him. So hehad gotten to work. He only had half the amount of drawings he needed and onlya quarter of the paintings. His first opening was nothing less than a success.He sold all his paintings and nearly all his drawings. After that, itsnowballed. More galleries wanted to show his work and more people wanted to buyit. He was a success, in almost everyone’s eyes. He didn’t have to work oddjobs to make ends meet, he moved into a better apartment, he didn’t have to worryabout going hungry.
It was four years afterhe graduated college that Jack’s life turned upside down. It was a galleryopening, full of stuffy people that Jack couldn’t stand. He had to wear a suit,which made him uncomfortable. He was never good at this side of things. Hisstudio, in paint covered clothes, that’s where he shined. He stood in thecorner, nursing some drink probably worth more than Jack’s entire outfit. Hewent back out to mingle after a moment, tugging on his tie gently.
“Wouldn’t do that if Iwere you. People will think you don’t belong.” A voice said behind him, lightand teasing.
Jack turned, searchingfor the source. His eyes landed on a sandy haired man that looked to be aroundthe same age as him, dressed far too casually to be a guest. He was wearing agrey blazer with a white t shirt underneath, along with jeans and a pair ofconverse. Jack noticed the camera, then the press badge around his neck. Aphotographer. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I snuck in.”
The man laughed. “Consideringthat your signature is on the corner of all the paintings, I highly doubt it.”He held his hand out. “Charlie Morris, but you can call me Crutchie.” It was onlythen that Jack noticed the silver crutch tucked under his arm. The man-Crutchie- grinned. “You’re wondering if it’s demeaning. Yes, but it’s betterthan having people call me it behind my back.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Makessense. How did you recognize me, Crutchie?”
Crutchie shrugged. “I’vebeen to a couple of your gallery openings before. I’m a fan.”
Jack nodded again and glancedat the time. There was still an hour and a half before he got to make his exit.He looked around the room, observing the people. Most were rich, boring snobsonly there because they wanted to appear cultured. There was the occasionalcollege student, some obviously forced there by a professor but also some wholooked genuinely interested in the art. It was always an interesting blend ofpeople at these things, people from totally separate worlds colliding over onecommon thing. He heard the click of a camera and turned back to Crutchie.
Crutchie shrugged. “Sorry,it’s my job. My editor would kill me if I didn’t come back with at least onegood shot of you, considering I’ve been to three of your openings and gottennone.”
Jack nodded again, takinga sip of his drink. “No worries.” He sat down on one of the benches, pattingthe space beside him. “Want to interview me too?”
Crutchie sat down, shakinghis head with a laugh. “No, not that type of reporter. I’d rather capture themoment in a picture than in words.”
Jack looked over. “That’s…oddlybeautiful.”
Crutchie grinned. “I’vegot a knack for oddly beautiful.” He snapped a picture of the crowd gathered infront of one painting. It was one of Jack’s favorites. It depicted the sunsetting over the city of Santa Fe. Jack had traveled there the previous yearand loved it. The air felt cleaner, the people were friendly. It was sodifferent from New York, with its constant hustle and bustle. He loved the citybut he often wondered what it would be like to live somewhere else, somewherecalm. The rest of the night passed much like that, Jack and Crutchie makingidle chatter while Crutchie took pictures of the art, the people, and Jack. Atthe end of the night, Jack felt slightly disappointed. Usually he tried tosneak out early but he stayed until the end, Crutchie making the time passquickly.
“Thanks. Tonight wasactually fun.” Jack said as they collected their coats. “Crutchie…can I getyour number? Maybe we could get a cup of coffee or something.”
Crutchie grinned. “Thoughtyou’d never ask.” They exchanged numbers and went their separate ways. Thatnight, Jack began a new piece. It was a depiction of two men standing closetogether, all while a crowd swirled around them.
One coffee date turnedinto two and then three and then they turned into dinner dates until finally,almost two months later, Jack asked Crutchie to be his boyfriend. They werelaying on Jack’s couch one night, Jack nearly asleep. Crutchie was staring athis laptop, looking at something quite intently. Jack didn’t know what. Hishead was pillowed against Crutchie’s chest, curled between the other man’slegs.
“Jack?” Crutchie’s voicebroke the silence, one hand stroking through Jack’s dark hair gently. “Can Iask you something?”
“Mhm…” Jack mumbled,pressing his lips to Crutchie’s neck.
“I…I’m looking at yourpaintings.” Crutchie bit his lip. “Why are some of them so…dark?”
Jack sat up then, lookingat Crutchie’s laptop. One of his older paintings was on the screen. A youngboy, trying to climb out of a hole while dark hands pulled him down. He wincedslightly. He hadn’t told Crutchie anything about his past, not really. He knewJack was adopted and that he was transgender, but that was the extent of it. Jacktook a deep breath, trying to figure out how much he should say.
“Someone told me oncethat to create true art you must be willing to bleed and let others watch. I…Iwas four when my mom died.” Jack began. “She was a good mom, Crutchie. She didn’tcare when I said I was a boy, she encouraged me even. She called me Jack. She lovedme. When she died, I was too young to really understand. I just knew that shewas gone and I had to live with other people. People who weren’t as nice aboutthings. They called me Jessica and made me wear dresses and stuff. That wasmost of my foster families, I went through quite a few. The worst was when Iwas twelve. They…They made me go to therapy, which was just their stupid pastortelling me that if I didn’t stop my ‘sinning ways’ I’d go to Hell. They made mego to their church every Sunday and I had to wear dresses and skirts to schoolevery day. The mom did my hair with these stupid bows and she put makeup on me.They…They took away my art. I wasn’t even allowed to doodle. If I did, I wasgrounded for a week. They thought that art was driving me away from God. So…Istarted hurting myself. That went on for about a year. My social worker foundout and she got me out. That’s when I went to live with Mom.” His voice wasshaking slightly, he had sat up fully and his head was bent, staring at theground with his hands clasped in front of him. It was easier than looking atCrutchie.
“When I started schoolafter I went to live with Mom, I got to take art classes. The art teacher wasamazing. Mr. Denton. He cared about me. He’s the entire reason I kept doingart, he’s the reason I got into school. Without him, I wouldn’t be who I amtoday. He’s the one who told me that I had to use my pain in my art. That’s whysome of my stuff is so dark. That pain, I…I have to try and expose it. Everytime I draw or paint or anything, I have to try.” Tears were swimming in hiseyes, he tried to hold them back.
Crutchie was silent for amoment. He slowly set his laptop on the coffee table, then wrapped his armsaround Jack. “Jack…”
“I’m sorry.” Jack mumbled.He pulled away and wiped his eyes. “I shouldn’t have laid all that on you.”
“Jack, I’m yourboyfriend. I’ve laid plenty on you.” Crutchie brought his hand up and wipedJack’s eyes carefully. “That’s what I’m here for.” He kissed Jack softly then,pulling him closer. “I love you.”
Jack froze. They had beendating for three months and hadn’t yet said those words. Jack knew though thathe loved Crutchie. On a certain level he thought that maybe he had fallen inlove with Crutchie that first night, at the gallery opening. “I love you too.”He murmured, turning and kissing Crutchie more firmly. He clung to Crutchie,the only person he had expressed to in words everything that he tried to say inhis art.
Over the next few years, artcritics and fans would debate a change in Jack Kelly’s style. It was lighter,happier. The colors were more vibrant. It was a subtle shift, something thathappened over a long period of time. Most people liked it, some didn’t. Jack couldn’t care less either way. Theyall seemed to agree that Jack’s change seemed centered on a person, a blonde man whofeatured in his sketches and paintings often.
#jackcrutchie#jack#jack kelly#Crutchie#crutchie morris#charlie morris#newsies#fansie#fansies#newsie#carrying the banner#king of new york#tw self harm#my fic
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Hello! I'm new to digital art and I was just wondering if you had any tips? Your art style is just very nice to look at and it looks like you've had a lot of practice. I don't know where to really start I suppose. Thank you for any help you can give! :)
i uhh. to be honest have no clue about digital art specifically a lot of my method is just Bullshittin It™ but heres some more general art tips if that helps?
and i did a little tips thing for coloring a while back
flip your canvas while you work. I know it sucks and makes it look like you drew it blindfolded but you gotta. flipping the canvas is a good way to show if something’s asymmetrical or wonky, and you keep fixing it until it looks alright both ways. this is easiest and much less frustrating if you start doing this from the beginning instead of halfway through your piece so youre not ‘wasting time’ undoing an hour of work. its really irritating at first but eventually youll get used to it and your art will look alright both ways!
like here’s a horizontally inverted face i drew before i started flipping back and forth compared to a more recent one, its much less wonky and off-center (even though my style is more cartoony in the latter, the anatomy is still weird looking when flipped)
draw things you dont like drawing using the techniques by someone you admire good at drawing that thing. bad at hands? does an artist you like have a hands tutorial? try that and draw them anyways. its gonna suck and youre not gonna like it but you gotta (and by the way everyone sucks at drawing hands at first, not just you)
if you’re drawing drawing people, practice features you’re not used to. for example making everyone white because you dont want to color dark skin/giving everyone upturned button noses because you dont want to draw broad/big ones isnt an excuse you gotta! dark skin and broad noses arent inherently harder to draw, you might just not be used to them. practice monolids, hooked noses, broad noses, big lips! again using the above example i used to give everyone the same upturned nose for no real reason besides that i didnt want to experiment. if youre drawing a black character they’re going to have different physical features than a white or asian character. in the beginning it might be tricky because you want to avoid making caricatures, and this can be easily avoided by doing studies of real people of that race
even if you have a cartoony style, you need to learn anatomy. you can only break the rules if you know them first! obviously my style gives bodies a very exaggerated shape-- like genji here, obviously no real human is shaped like this and i’m focusing more on gesture/personality than realism--
(and i’m not saying my grasp of anatomy is perfect obviously, still learning) but i do study anatomy and the exaggerated shapes here are more exaggerated/extreme versions of real shapes found on the body.
i uhhh idk if thats helpful but yeah! if theres something more specific you want help with feel free to ask
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Hello, yes, hi, I recently found your art and account and I love what you do. I'm turning 14 in April and I've asked for a drawing pad, but I have no idea how to use one as of yet. Have you got any tips or anything? Because I've wanted to try digital art for a while and your art makes me want to even more lmao. Thanks! - B.A.
BOI OH BOI DO I GOT SOME TIPS FOR U
(I’m not sure what kind of comp you’re going to be using, so I’ll list for both.)
FIRST: Drawing Programs; the free and the great.
-Firealpaca: Lightweight drawing program. I draw Recovery using this! It’s easy on the RAM if you have a weak comp/are paranoid about yours like I am, it is mainly for basic comic making, and has all the basic brushes you need (pen/pencil/airbrush/symmetry/etc). You can add your own brushes as well but they’re p basic settings. Has basic Animation/Gif making as well using Onion Mode! Layout is a piece of cake. Please note that If you leave it open for a week it’ll crash on you, even if you haven’t anything on it at the moment, and sometimes the brush sensitivity just stops working so you just have to close and then open it again. (Also I have no idea how to update it aside from deleting it completely and just downloading the new version from scratch, so thats a thing.) Mac/Windows
-MedibangPaint: This is basically FireAlpaca But Better. Has tons of screen tones, brush patterns, and tools. I don’t use it much because I’m used to FA’s layout and get confused with the the placement of tools in here, so if you can I highly suggest just going with this first. Also has basic animation/gif making! Has storage for the website as well, and you can upload more preset brushes. It’s v anime. This program has waaay more in terms of basically everything, so it just takes more RAM. NBD, you don’t have to have every brush downloaded from the storage ^u^. Mac/Windows
-Clip Studio Paint: Okay this one isn’t free, it’s a pricey one, HOWEVER once a year they take the price way fuckin down by at least 75%. Sign up for the email list and it’ll let you know when that precious day comes. It’s how I got it @u@, around christmastime? This program is basically MedibangPaint On Steroids. I do all of my digital-yet-tradition-style-painting on here! The brushes all have some neat af settings to play with, you can make your own brushes, has tons of screen tones, pre-made panels, and settings. You can save projects as basically anything you need, is a hardy program that almost never crashes, and It’ll take a nice chunk of space on your comp depending on how much memory you have but hey, its worth it. It’s much more complex layout-wise than the other two here, but you get used to it after playing around and watching tutorials haha.
-Mischief: It’s a 25$ app, has like four brushes and five layers only but is vector-based with an endless canvas. Not really worth having unless you like the vector thing. UP TO YOU. I spent forever with this one doing all that homestuck stuff, so it’s not really bad so much as it is a basic bitch. Mac
-MyPaint: I used this a bunch when I still did digital art on my windows laptop before I upgraded to a Mac. It’s easy on the comp and has plenty of brushes and settings. You can also get brush packages if you don’t feel like you have enough that comes with the program! Also has endless canvas; pretty sure you can just select an area and then export as is. I barely remember the rest but It’s pretty great. Windows/MacPorts(which I hate)
-GIMP: I hate this thing. I cannot figure it out for the life of me. It’s got loads of shit though, can handle layers, has plenty of brushes, and can do basic animation/gifs if you ever figure it out. Windows/mac
I’ve heard good things from paint tool SAI and Krita as well, but have never used them myself.
***You can always pay through the nose/use a student discount for the photoshop series and pay that shit monthly, those fuckers have literally everything, but I am a cheap college kid making minimum wage with a car payment; I’d rather just pay once/not at all.
TABLETS: treat that shit like a newborn babe 24/7
-I have literally only ever owned a Wacom Intuos4. It has lasted me six years, and at least five moves across many miles. I broke one of the cord ports the day I opened it by holding it wrong, have one left, and now treat it like it’s going to die if the cord moves badly. Please be aware that if you break both ports, you better either sodder it back together yourself or upgrade to smth else because it costs about as much as the tablet itself was bought at to be fixed. Good news, though, it comes with at least six extra pen nibs, has programable buttons on the side (that I have never bothered to use) and a scroll bar in case you’re too lazy to use the keyboard (…I don’t really use that either unless I’m just scrolling through tumblr LMFAO).
-I would die for a Cintiq.
HOT TIPS: its useful.
-most of the programs listed use the same keyboard shortcuts. MEMORIZE THEM. It’s pretty easy, since you’ll use em a lot. [cntrl/cmmd+T] lets you resize what you just drew on that layer, and [cntrl/cmmd+z] is undo. I use those the most, for obvious reasons.
-vector-based programs are pretty great because when you resize an image it looks prefect. You can’t do that with a program that isn’t, so I just resize the base roughdraft and draw the lineart again on the layer above so I don’t get weird JPEG quality lines.
-You can use a ruler with your tablet, just slap it on and go, but honestly most programs have settings for that. just use those.
-You can also trace stuff on your tablet, so long as the paper isn’t too thick. I just scan/take a photo and then open it up in the program, though. much easier.
-SAVE CONSTANTLY. Art programs like to crash on you, even when they’re hardy and you have a good comp. make it a habit to quick save your work.
-Use a desk and have good posture. You’ll be able to draw a hell of a lot longer if you do. I personally keep fucking up my knees by sitting on my legs as I work out of habit, and don’t actually have a desk chair. Keep your screen at eye level and at a fair distance to prevent eyestrain and also neck-strain haha
-Chances are you won’t be used to the tablet right away. Most places you buy from say it’ll take a couple of months to get used to how weird it is to draw while not looking at your own hand, so don’t be frustrated If your drawings look a bit off at first.
-if you draw at least one thing every day, by the end of the year you’ll have improved exponentially. I literally made this blog to make myself draw once a day.
-don’t be afraid to check out speedpaints and tutorials. It’s always good to get more familiar with the program you’re using and new techniques previously unconsidered.
-get familiar with clipping layers. They are insanely useful; you clip one layer to the one below and then when you draw it only shows up on the drawing of that layer below. Shit is a godsend if you’re bad at coloring in the lines/lazy. The bucket tool is also really useful, and you can adjust the expansion by pixel so you don’t miss anything between the lines.
-experiment with your brushes, shit be fun af
-warmup your wrists before and after drawing. prevent swollen veins and such. dont want hand pain/numbness, its reaaaaally bad.
—basically if your hands hurt stop for the day.
-PNGS are for internet, JPEGS are for printing/fucking with quality (cough hack homestuck)
-resolution doesn’t have to be much more than 350 dpi if its just going to be on a webpage. Maximize that shit if you’re going to be printing, though. Especially if you put stuff on redbubble.
-DeviantArt has this thing called Sta.sh where you can dump art, keep it in perfect quality and just share it with certain people with a link instead of all of the website. Great for storing commission pieces, its the only reason I have DA in the first place.
-you get a different audience depending on what site you use for posting art, so keep that in mind for the kind of feedback you want.
-after awhile of drawing using a tablet, you may lose patience/forget that in traditional art there isn’t an undo button lmfao It’s cool; you don’t have to choose one over the other or anything.
-Honestly you can work around almost anything. You just invent new ways and techniques for yourself and you’ll do just fine.
Aaaaand that’s all I got for today! Thanks for sticking around
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