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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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hey! i love all ur fics sm (esp the bodyguard gaz ones omg i ate those up like candy 😩)

u don’t have to write this if u don’t want, but tf141 (and lv, if u write for them) and body worship?(separately, not poly) like fem reader’s had a tough day or wtv, n she’s feeling insecure so they js like show her how beautiful she rlly is

could be sfw or nsfw it’s ur choice

if that’s too many characters then feel free to leave some out!

have a good day/night ‼️

babygirl gaz my beloved <3 i need to write more on that. that unofficial series is a train wreck honestly but i love them so much. and oo i do love some good body worship. i don't really write for our sweet cowboys because i'm not all too comfortable with characterizing them yet, but i'll give you some hc's of our 141 boys!

Simon

he is honestly really surprised when he first learns that you're insecure about yourself. you're the most beautiful thing in the world to him, and really he's dumbfounded you don't see yourself that way.

i feel like he's one to stand behind you in the mirror with his hands on your hips and whisper sweet affirmations to you. how he loves the curve of your nose, how your teeth peek through your lips when you smile, how your eyes always shine when you look at something you love.

he whispers this all while you're looking in the mirror because he has to make you see what he sees. he's spent his fair share of time looking at his reflection, the scars on his face, his crooked nose, and hating every moment of it. he refuses to let you do the same, and so he plans to rewrite all of those emotions.

or he can just fuck you like he does in this drabble i wrote a while ago lmao.

Kyle

he always calls you pet names that are along the lines of "pretty girl" "my girl" things like that, so when you mention something about disliking your appearance, his brain literally restarts. his pretty girl? feeling insecure about herself? that simply won't do.

i feel like his immediate reaction would be to just kiss the pain away. sort of like how parents will kiss their child's injury if they scrape their knee or bruise themself, he does that but like all over.

he's kissing your nose, your forehead, your lips (of course) but more than that. he's trailing kisses down your arms, along your stomach, your legs, all the parts of you that only the sun had ever kissed before.

and of course he's whispering praises to you the entire time. doesn't even have to be in a sexual way either. you're the love of his life, and it saddens him that you feel down about yourself. so he'll just kiss away the bad thoughts until there's nothing left but his love.

Johnny

when he hears you say something degrading about yourself, Johnny is a little too enthusiastic and excited about correcting you. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he's going to make sure you see yourself that way too.

he's definitely the most handsy out of all of the boys. he's rubbing his hands up your arms, over your stomach, tracing your spine with his fingers. but then it escalates. he's groping your tits, pawing at your thighs and ass.

really, you can't blame the man when he eventually ends up between your thighs. you're just too pretty to resist, after all. look at what you do to him! bewitching him with your beauty, turning him into a pussy drunk man that can't get enough of you.

also, this might be his way of pavloving you. conditioning you into loving yourself as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. no, you'll stop shying away and disagreeing when people call you pretty or compliment you, you'll just get insanely horny lmao

Price

i actually just wrote a little thing about him and body image issues last night! and really, i think he would totally do this.

the whole getting on his knees in front of you as if you were royalty, holding your hands in his, just looking up at you with so much love and adoration. he'll caress you softly while he speaks because honestly he can't get enough of you.

he'd meet your insecurities with mostly rational ideas. how your body is normal, your appearance is perfect, you're beautiful inside and out type thing. i feel like out of all the boys he might have the hardest time appealing to you emotionally with that stuff.

doesn't mean he won't try, though! he'll constantly affirm you, treat you like royalty and all that good stuff. he'll cook you a nice meal, and maybe the two of you will cuddle on the couch. really, he'll just try and fill you with so much love until you forget about what had upset you in the first place.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #f!reader #fem!reader

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kairiscorner · 10 months

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Helloo, can I request Miguel with an artist reader who draws him a lot? 👉👈 Like the reader has a secret crush on Miguel and he inspires them a lot, without even knowing it. And maybe there's a Gwen-and-Miles-like-situation where Miguel by accident discovers the drawings of him in their sketchbook?

AAAAAAAA ANON THIS IS SO CUTE !! tbh i wanted to finish the miggy fic i had for ate @binibinileonara bc i wanted to connect these two together, BUT I COULDN'T RESIST, I'LL MAKE IT SEPARATE BC WHY NOT !! thank you for the lovely idea btw (i also had an idea like this actually in my notes) THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE OOMPH TO DO IT !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you always had this desire to capture all that interested you in its full beauty, in its unbridled greatness. that was, to you, the essence of all your art pieces; they always reflected how you saw the world, how you saw nature, how you saw people.

you never believed people had one or two faces to them, you believed people were multi-faceted, that every person was a kaleidoscope of beauty, skills, quirks, flaws, fears, hopes, and dreams. you loved capturing every bit of people who intrigued you the best you could, and you hoped that if you stood back and admired the big picture that was them, going over the details and fibers that made each person their own–from the good, bad, pretty and ugly details–you would finally see the whole, uncut image of the person you were illustrating; who you were painting in the colors you saw them in, the colors that stuck with you and filled the empty canvas of your mind with all sorts of shapes and splotches of hues and shades that formed the image of them when their name would come to mind.

and for some reason... that person to you right now was miguel o'hara. you had a lot of things to say about him, even words that many would argue don't exist. you felt a myriad of feelings when you were around miguel, and you knew there was more than just the dictating leader miguel that everyone was familiar with. like all people, miguel, too, was an explosion of different kinds of colors to you–colors that only you could see, because when he was around you... he was more than just the cool, calm, and collected boss everyone saw him as.

he was much more caring, much more funny around you. his smile when you told him a funny story illuminated a bright yellow and a warm orange to you–his eyes would twinkle and you'd see the hazelnut brown in his eyes, and a shade of what appeared to be coffee brown at the bottom of his irises. he exuded a commanding aura, a dark, cool blue–but when paired with you, and only you, he exuded a bright red; a color of fiery passion, intimacy, and most of all... attraction.

he was the subject of your affections, you, the soulful and emotional artist that admired him and all that he was from afar and up close. you admired the way he held your hand when you were scared on a few missions, you admired how gently he held you when you two were caught between a rock and a hard place; and how soft and loving his eyes were when they gazed at you. you knew he might have felt a platonic kind of love for you, what with being so comfortable around you and all, but you felt a different kind of love for him–and you hated denying your creative side the indulgence of capturing him in all his beauty.

hence, you began slowly filling the empty spaces of your sketchbooks and notebooks, or whatever other papers lay around when inspiration struck you, with images of him and only him. you caught his face in moments where he was nonchalant, disappointed, angry, grumpy, and... smiling.

when you witnessed his smile for the first time when you met him, that image was burned into your retinas, into your mind, into your heart. you saw that smile from the minute you went to bed to the minute you woke up, the only thing that saddened you was that you could never hold that man who smiled at you and made your heart beat a little faster–you could only watch him and be with him at a distance. but art was the bridge between you two that'd close that distance you wanted to cover so, so badly.

you did, at times, believe what you were doing was... a little creepy. you refused to let anyone see your sketchbooks even before you drew him, and that was out of embarrassment at your drawings. but now, it was a new kind of embarrassment, a feeling adjacent to guilt and disgust at how nobody but he could fill your mind and have you wanting to keep him in your mind by feeding yourself, indulging yourself in putting him on paper and coloring him in; to be with him at a closer perspective than how you two were in the real world.

you had to admit it–seeing him constantly in your mind, wanting to let thoughts of him out on paper as you wanted to be through with imagining him, but knew you couldn't the more and more you portrayed him–it meant you... wanted him. you really, really loved him.

you knew nobody should know, nobody had to know about this little crush you had on miguel. you'd rather die than have someone peek at your sketchbook that was filled with all kinds of drawings of him. but unfortunately, the man himself bore witness to your caricatures and illustrations of him when you left your sketchbook at his office.

you ran as quickly as you could, praying he hadn't opened it out of curiosity. he was always asking you what you were up to, and you'd immediately shut your sketchbook and laugh awkwardly, claim you were merely doodling. you always left out the part that you were constantly drawing him, and only ever him; and now, he'd find out.

as you entered his office, scouring with your eyes for your sketchbook, a figure emerged from the darkness behind you and gave a slight cough. "this is yours, isn't it?" that low, fluid voice was none other than miguel's. you turned around in fear of what he was going to look like–would any of the faces you drew seeing him as be one of the faces you'd see?

to your surprise... no. he had a different, completely new face that you had never drawn him in; a flustered state. he was blushing, his angled cheeks and high nose bridge were covered in a pink-red hue–and he was grinning. he handed you the sketchbook with a now sheepish smile. "i'm sorry, i wasn't sure if it was yours. i had to... look through for a name. and, um... it was very–" he wanted to continue, but then, he saw you were on the verge of tears.

"i'm... sorry..." you muttered, feeling incredibly ashamed of yours and busted for having indulged in drawing him without him knowing. guilt stirred in your stomach and elicited tears to well up in your eyes. miguel smiled, and as his eyebrows curved upwards together to form a look of reassurance, he placed both hands on your shoulders.

"listen, you have a wonderful talent. i'm sorry if you don't hear that enough, but that changes today. i'm so... wow, i'm so flattered you thought i was good enough to be drawn that way. it feels... amazing, to know an artist sees me fit to be their, what would you call it?" he asked as he wiped a tear rolling down your cheek away from you.

"a... muse." you whispered, wiping the rest of your tears away. miguel chuckled. "right, a muse." he said as he inched closer to you, with the sweetest smile on his face. "i might sound really crazy right now, but... i want to be your muse. i really, really want to be your muse." he said, with emphasis on 'your'.

your face lightened up as the tears that welled up gave your eyes a glassy look, and you saw the blush on his deepen as you became more and more flustered. you smiled and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him in for an embrace you needed to release. "and i want to be your artist. only yours." you whispered, to which miguel reciprocated your hug. and it was here that you witnessed him in a new color, a pinkish, reddish hue that made you feel all kinds of happiness and excitement.

a love meant to be captured and painted in with bursts of emotion and care for one another.

a/n: I'M SO SORRY IF IT DIDN'T COME OUT THAT WELL NGL I MADE THIS A LITTLE RUSHED 😭😭😭 BUT I LOVE MIGGY HERE PLSSS AND I HOPE Y'ALL LOVE HIM HERE, TOO <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spidersona

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deth-of-a-junkie · 4 months

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i have a lot of postal dude headcanons, so ive split them up.

so heres my postal 1 dude headcanons

p1 dude has a special interest on the jets and weaponry used in ww2 and the vietnam war, but also the U.S military as a whole. he specifically likes to collect vintage U.S military memorabilia and propaganda. he can go on for hours about the faults of the government and government greed and corruption, he hates the system. he also knows a lot about JFK assassination theories and will go on for hours about them.

oh yeah. postal 1 dude is autistic.

he also has a spin on guns. he knows them all by name and loves to learn about different manufacturers and how each one are built. he knows how to deconstruct them and put them back together. he even has some guns he's made himself. legal? probably not. he doesnt care.

p1 dude also prefers reading in books for information instead of searching the web for them, so amongst the mess of his house is just piles upon piles of books.

p1 dude also is great at poetry. he loves writing too, which is why i think he started his diaries.

he also loves drawing! he loves going out and drawing scenery the most, he also likes drawing nude figures. he finds the human body to be interesting.

p1 dude is religious. im divided on if i see him as someone whos spiritually aligned closer to catholics (though i wouldnt call him a straight up catholic, he doesn't like the church.) or pagen.

talking about pagen dude, correct me if im wrong, i dont know much about pagenism (but ive been trying to learn more as of recent), but he specifically worships greek gods. out of the gods, his favorite is ares.

he hangs around poostall dude a lot. they arent really friends, they're kinda opposites of each other, but poostall looks up to him as a mentor in philosophy among other things.

he used to be active in his local punk scene when he was younger. he has a lot of cds and tapes of obscure bands that almost no one has heard of.

he loves metal more then anything though, and he also has a large collection of horror films (all on vhs, a few of dvd. he doesnt have his dvd player plugged in so he only uses it if he has too. also refused to buy blueray. if its the only option he burns it onto a disk himself.).

his favorite genres of metal are melodic death metal and prog metal. i would also say dsbm but i feel like thats too corny. he loves opeth. also death.

he's non-speaking most of the time by choice. the older he's gotten the more he started to isolate himself, and he usually chooses to ignore people when theyre talking and not respond at all, mainly just people who ask for directions and stuff on the street he'll just ignore. he just doesnt feel the need too, he likes to stay invisible.

talking about that, he hates leaving his house. it used to be because of anxiety but it slowly became due to his other mental health issues getting worse, especially his fear of everyone being out to get him/everyone else being demons/whatever your interpretation of his reasonings behind postal 1 is.

3 in one shampoo. also uses hand soap to shave instead of shaving cream. also uses hand soap to wash his face...

he needs glasses. his sunglasses also has his normal prescription lenses in them, his eyes are sensitive to light so he chose to make them sunglasses too (i believe this is possible. if its not, well it is now). he also has a 2nd pair that are just normal glasses, he uses them only to read or when he's walking around his house at night. (this is totally not me self reflecting with the realization that i just found out i need glasses..../s)

I DONT KNOW HOW I FORGOT TO MENTION but also has a special interest on nuclear disasters, nuclear power plants, and radiation. theyre not separate theyre all apart of one fixation that branches off the core idea of nuclear power. like he cant have one without the other. if that makes sense.

also uses he/they. he doesnt out right say it, he doesnt use social media so its not like, in a bio or anything. he just naturally picked it up. will also accept she being used to refer to himself, but is not something he states publicly or asks people to do. he was surrounded by the queer community growing up as most of his highschool friends were apart of the community so he just one day realized he wasnt opposed to it being used in reference to himself.

he is an ASSHOLE. he used to be more considerate in his youth but the older he got the grumpier he got. he is SCARY when he insults someone. like he will have an entire ass speech of him just degrading someone until they literally have nothing left to say for themselves.

doesnt get angry though. he's calm when hes upset and frustrated, or will straight up just make fun of and make harsh jokes about the situation (i mean that like. if he gets into a disagreement with someone on the street he will laugh at them and mock them by teasing them. thats what i mean.)

#sorry i love p1 dude so much. like so much.#i think about him way too much.#im so not normal about him #please correct any incorrect info in here crying emoji #postal #postal dude #postal headcanons #postal dude headcanons #postal 1 #rws #running with scissors #p1 dude #postal 1 dude

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igotanidea · 1 year

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Fire: multifandom imagine

Minors - with all the sympathy - GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND DNI!

As for the rest : If this gives you feelings - sorry, not sorry.

***

“Baby, why are you crying?” she woke up from her little slumber on the couch, still a bit hazy and much to her surprise found her boyfriend next to her, his eyes watery. He wasn't there when she was falling asleep and the view made her awake in an instant “What happened?” her voice turned a bit more nervous as she observed him starting to shake due to all the emotions running though him. “Tell me” she cupped his cheek and caressed it slowly not to startle him. “I’m here. Tell me.”

“I love you so much…..” he whispered closing his eyes.

“And…. And that is making you cry?” she gulped, not really sure what his words meant. Was it bad? Was this love something he did not want? Did she hurt him somehow? Was he in love with someone else and she was the obstacle? “I….. I’m sorry…..”

“Sorry?” his eyelids fluttered and he looked straight at her face, orbs reflecting so many feelings it made her shiver under this watchful gaze. “Why are you sorry?”

“You make it sound like it’s something wrong and ……”

He did not let her finish, pulling her in, kissing her with so much passion and fierce it made her moan. Their bodies were so close, separated only by the thin material of her pajama and his sweatpants. Even though he took her by surprise at first, it was an instinct when her hands travelled to his chest, resting there, making sure what was happening was real and not just an extension of her dream. Normally he wasn’t the one to act like this. So possessive, yet gentle. Emotional , yet still collected.

“Baby…..” she whined pulling away “I don’t understand……”

“I love you.” he captured her lips again, not explaining a thing, not that she was complaining. His chapped lips working against her effectively drown out all her questions. “Don’t you understand? I love you…. I want you…. I need you.”

“I still don’t…..”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, sitting up, grabbing her with him and forcing her to straddle his hips.

“Baby…..” she whined feeling his excitement brushing against her core “why….. why the tears?” forming any coherent sentence was becoming harder with every second his hands caressed her body, his lips claiming her, moving down to the neck, collarbone, lingering over still covered cleavage. Burning. She was burning and it made her grind on his thigh trying to get any release to that fire forming inside her.

“Because I miss you even when you’re next to me. Because I can’t focus on anything else than you. Because….” He sucked on her pulse point, leaving a mark, lost in the sounds his actions was drawing from her “this love consume me whole and I can’t tame it. And I worry what I might do to you if I don’t …..”

“Ah…..” she moaned, squirming when he grabbed her tighter, her soft hands grabbling his flexing muscles. Passion and desire taking over her senses leaving no place for anything else than him, doing all those things to her “Babe….” That need for friction was just too much to handle and she was so desperate.

“Tell me to stop.” He panted, his breath hot on her face, lips hovering over hers “tell me to stop, contain me …..”

“Don’t stop. Don’t…. don’t stop. Give me more. All of you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you….” at this point, she was unsure whether to admire his self-control or rather smack his head for trying to leave her high and dry.

“I want you…..” apparently it must have been her to push him through the limits “just lose control. I can take it….” she moved away slightly and pulled that fucking unnecessary shirt over her head, her breast exposed and it made him groan.

“Forgive me for everything that’s going to happen now, babydoll.”

Without any more inhibitions, he pressed her flush against his chest, her boobs brushing his skin. If any of them though there was fire in their veins before, now they were dealing with the conflagration. The only remedy for it being closer than physically possible. Hands moving around frantically, exploring each other's bodies, breaths joined and panting, space between them limited to zero, but it was still not nearly enough.

“Take it off…..” he mumbled, sucking on her nipple and tugging at the drawstring of her pajama pants “Take it off now.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want….” Her mind was completely blurry when she pulled that piece of material down, now completely exposed to him “Take me…. I’m begging you” her back arched to him, giving in, submissive to all his power, all his will.

“Since you asked so nicely” his own pants were gone in a blink of an eye, previous tears already forgotten. Nothing was standing between their bodies, nothing was separating her warm, perfect, silky skin from his.

She was his, his, his. Only his. Mouths connected again when he slid inside her, swallowing almost all her moans.

“Oh, god!” she threw her head back, her breast bouncing when she automatically started moving, unable to hold back “Yes! Please!” fingernails clawing on his back being the sweetest torture. ‘Don’t stop! I'm all yours."

“You are. And I’m not letting you go anytime soon, baby.” He groaned “we’re only getting started.”

@pinksirensong, about that smut talk of ours..... :D

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kittensartswriting · 2 months

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Happy STS! I hope you’ve had a good week :) What is something about your WIP that’s either on your mind lately or that you wish more people would ask you about?

Hi! Happy STS!

I haven't been writing in several months (I've needed to focus on uni), so I have been mainly thinking about worldbuilding. For a while now I've been quite obsessed with figuring out the fashion in far too much detail. It's honestly not that important for the story, but I love dress history so it's just extremely fun for me to come up with a hundreds if not thousands of year of fashion evolution for almost a whole continent. Figuring out Ahinian fashion has been most interesting and hardest part too, because I'm trying to base it less on anything historical and more trying to come up with something different.

I can best figure visual things like fashion out by drawing it, so I started with the royal siblings, Agrippa and Manoheahpi. Here they are showing of court fashions. Black, dark blue, white and yellow are colors of the moon cult and their clan, which is the head of the moon cult. Agrippa is wearing a formal gown and a headdress of the heiress. The extreme sleeves and the ribbon skirt are part of the formal court dress. Manoheahpi is dressed in a casual outdoorsy aristocratic men's dress. He is a sage, hence the tattoos.

I think it's very interesting to figure out gendered clothing because it reveals so much about the gender construction and gender roles of a society. Ahinians have technically five genders, voasin - a woman, deavin - a man, vašáin - a third and separate gender category, voasdár - afab or intersex person, who lives as a man (-dár is masculine suffix), and deavnei - amab or intersex person, who lives as a woman (-nei is correspondingly a feminine suffix). In their culture gender is less defined by the body and more defined by the spirit. Their society is not entirely egalitarian though (even if more egalitarian than your typical patriarchal binary society), since their society is theocratic and gender essentialist, not in biological way but spiritual way. Therefore magic is very gendered. They are matriarchal so women hold most of the political power. This is reflected in dress - upper class fashions are more feminine coded, lower class fashions more masculine coded, and religious attires are vašáin coded because they are traditionally sages. In more formal setting aristocratic men too wear long gowns, and lower class women also wear shorter gowns.

I'm still figuring out the details of vašáin dress, clothing of lower classes and ceremonial dress. But I do know that very warm layered clothing is considered finer and more upper class, since the climate is very cold and the upper classes live in large castles, which can't be warmed to very comfortable temperatures. On the other hand lower classes live in small log cottages that are filled with hot smoke that even in very low temperatures keep the cottages in near 30C temperatures, so their indoors clothing are basically one layer, which they see as underwear. So even in hot summer upper classes dress in a lot of layers for formal occasions, the layers are then just thin and made of silk, linen and/or nettle. They don't wear crowns, but they wear elaborate hair jewelry indoors (with caps when it's cold indoors too) and elaborate hats outdoors. Lower classes also wear more toned down and more practical hair jewelry, but mostly caps and hats.

Also this all applies only in the agricultural area, which is along the Vuolhú river (the area marked in the map). The societal structures are very different outside it (so most of the country) where agriculture is not possible and people are herders and hunter-gatherers and quite nomadic. Population density is quite expectedly much higher in the agricultural area, so people wise, it's most of the country.

#sts #storyteller saturday #art #fantasy #worldbuilding #my wips #bcc #bcc worldbuilding #bcc art #answers

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charlewiss · 2 years

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loved by you / daniel ricciardo

masterlist

summary: first rule in y/n's book: don't fall in love with your brother's best friend, daniel. what do you do when the inevitable happens?

word count: 784 words.

you weren't planning to fall for daniel ricciardo. in fact, you had avoided it since you can remember. him, being your brother's best friend, was there since you could remember. at birthdays, anniversaries, even on holidays like christmas and new year's. it was almost impossible to get away from him, but you had done it successfully.

at least until last new year's party. after a couple of drinks, dancing and getting sweaty on a random club in monaco, your brother, who had invited you, was nowhere to be seen. so, in a moment of clarity, you decided it was time to go home.

'hey, are you alone?' daniel appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his hand on your wrist, just when you were about to get out of there. without intending to, he drawed you into him, causing you two to clash in the middle. 'oh, sorry about it' you said, trying to put some distance between your bodies, as to remember the rule you had set all those years ago to yourself: don't get too close with daniel ricciardo.

getting more sober because of the realization, you continued to explain 'yeah, michael disappeared a while ago so I decided it was best to go home' you checked your phone, showing him the time. 'it's kinda late already'

'i will go with you' he sentenced, and interlaced your fingers together, now taking the initiative and getting you two out of the packed club. at the sudden drop in the temperature, you shivered and daniel noticed instantly, taking his hoodie off to give it to you. 'here, it's too cold for you'.

you two made it back to the hotel were you both were staying. but too stupid to notice or too drunk to care, one thing led to another and now daniel and you were kissing in his room, bodies pressed against eachother and messily walking to the bed. when you two separated to breathe some needed air, it was like something clicked on daniel's head. you were about to push him into the bed when he stopped you.

'i really want to be with you, but you're michael's sister' he said, realization now dawning on his face. 'you didn't seem to care when you were all over me two seconds ago, dan' you said annoyed. 'what's the real problem?'

after a few seconds, he spoke, now fiddling with his fingers and with his eyes glued to the carpet below him. 'if this goes sideways, I don't want to lose you. or him' the curly haired boy whispered. you scoffed. 'you won't. why are you so scared? your job is 100% times more scary and you do it without a second thought' you said, sitting on the bed to put your heels back and preparing to leave the room, thinking that he didn't want anything to do with you.

'i've been doing it my while life. i don't care about the consequences it could bring. but I don't want you to go through it' he said, not finally looking at you. 'and you think that pushing me away will help? you think that if something happened to you now, I wouldn't care?' getting up from the bed and making your way to the bathroom where you checked your hair and makeup to ensure that you didn't look too messed up. 'at least I won't break your heart' you heard daniel said softly, still sitting on the bed.

'how are you so sure you'll break my heart? is this supposed to be a fucking game to you?' you almost screamed, getting out of the bathroom and going to confront him. he got up from the bed quickly and towered over you. 'stop talking bullshit, y/n. i don't deserve it'. you half laughed again, now grabbing your purse that was laying on the floor and making your way to the door. 'oh, i'm sorry sir, you don't deserve what? being faced with your stupidity? you could use some self reflection sometimes'

what you didn't know was just how much he wanted this too. he wanted to be the one you thought about before going to sleep and the firs thought when you wake up. he wanted to be the one to make you laugh. but he also knew the trouble it would cause you to be that close to him. the amount of press, the hate, the distance that would inevitably broke you two apart. he didn't know if what he had to offer would be worth it at the end. he knew you deserved the world, he just didn't know if he could give it to you.

'no, I don't deserve being loved by you'.

#f1 imagine #f1 x yn #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 one shot #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo angst #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo blurb

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bougiebutchbitch · 1 year

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Desperately gnawing on the concept of a universe-swap fic where Batman winds up with Jokester and Joker winds up with Owlman...

CN: violence, smut, violent smut insinuated, dubcon insinuated

Batman doesn’t trust Jokester at first - how can he? But the more he learns about the other universe and his counterpart, the more he understands. The more he believes. The more he starts to let himself feel what he’s never allowed himself to feel.

After all, is Jokester not what he’s always searched for? A light within the monstrous dark; a beacon of hope on which Batman has burnt himself so many times, he’s almost given up and doused the flames? A sign that not even the Joker is irredeemable in every iteration of this world?

But if that’s true, then the Owlman must be a sign that Batman is far from uncorruptable, too.

Jokester is as much of a flirt as the man he replaced, albeit with significantly less blood on his hands. He teases, he pushes. Batman can’t help but fall.

Far away, in another world, Joker gnaws his cheeks raw and gnashes his teeth, because he knows - he just knows - that his Bat would love that snivelling, pathetic, defanged version of himself, who gets all squeamish about murder and maiming and - ugh, oh, isn’t he just an embarrassment to every other Joker in the multiverse?

Why, the thought that his first time with the Bat might be stolen by that purple-haired little trollop is almost as offensive as it’s hilarious.

But if Batman is honking the wrong clown’s horn, why shouldn’t Joker have some fun of his own, huh? Especially since the big, bad Bat - no, Owl - of this world really puts the emphasis on the ‘bad’. He doesn’t bother with all those silly silly morals that hold Joker and Batman apart. He rules Gotham with an iron fist, and Joker can’t wait to get it around his throat.

And thus, for a while, on both sides of the divide, everything feels exactly as it should be.

But it’s not long before the cracks begin to show.

Batman buries his fingers in purple hair when he kisses his partner at the end of each patrol. He feels the soft curls tangling in the heavy, armoured joints of his gloves, the warmth of the mouth against his, the acid scars and the strange, mutated smoothness of Jokester’s skin. And every time, he shuts his eyes and tries not to think of green.

One night, hungry for a dance, Joker nicks a bunch of chemicals from the mansion’s bathroom and blows one wing of the house sky-high. But when the caped crusader of Gotham pummels him into the floor (and then the bed) in punishment, mouth tight with fury under his cowl, his cloak is white, not black.

When Joker calls him Brucie, Owlman sneers and tells him Bruce Wayne is dead. A heavy collar clicks shut around Joker’s neck as he laughs and laughs and laughs until it’s almost screaming.

One night, Jokester takes Batman up to the roof of the tallest skyscraper in Gotham - one of Wayne Enterprises’, of course. He gazes out over a cityscape so familiar, yet so different. So twisted in such alien ways.

“Well,” he says, in that acid-scratch voice, like he’s been gargling with bleach. “This has been swell, partner. 10/10 on Trip Advisor, for sure. But it’s been a long staycation, and I’m not the only one who’s been thinking of home, sweet home.”

Bruce’s brows furrow beneath the cowl until they match Batman’s permanent black rubber frown. “What do you mean? This is my home, right here.”

The look Jokester shoots him is rather too knowing. For a moment, in the distorted glare of the reflected city lights, his green jacket almost looks purple.

Bruce’s tongue works dryly against his throat as he swallows. “It could be your home, too.”

Jokester pats his cheek, drawing back along the thin ledge that separates the roof from the empty night sky. “I bet you say that to all the clowns...”

“I’m serious. You don’t have to go back.”

Gotham - his Gotham - is so much better now. No more Joker gas. No more regular mass-murders or breakouts from Arkham. No more monthly birthday presents.

Batman still feels that strange tightening in his abdomen when the end of the month approaches. He used to think it was worry about what mayhem Joker would wreak next.

Now he’s not so sure.

“What about my world?” the Jokester wants to know. “Ol’ Owlie’s gonna find plenty of entertainment with my worse half, for sure - but just think of the mess I’ll have to clean when I get back!” He flashes his dark-painted nails. “This manicure is not made for housework, I’m afraid.”

Batman reaches out, but Jokester dances away so his hand closes on air rather than his arm, windmilling his arms with pantomimed clumsiness, the toes of his dress shoes slipping against the roof’s edge, like he couldn’t balance along a tightrope as easily as Selina.

“I don’t want you to go back.”

Jokester goes still, balance perfect despite his ungainly pose, then slowly resettles on the balls of his feet, hands dropping to his sides. His face is all familiar marble lines. Bruce knows them so well he could sculpt him with his eyes shut - but he’s never seen this particular expression on his Joker.

Regret.

“I want to go back,” he murmurs, and it strikes Batman suddenly, guiltily, that maybe he isn’t the only one who’s bit his tongue at the point of climax to keep the wrong name from spilling out.

There’s little more to say, after that. Perhaps Bruce should fight harder to convince Jokester to say. He should definitely fight harder to convince himself that’s the outcome he wants.

But he doesn’t.

He takes the world-swap project off hold, and within a week he has a working prototype. He kisses Jokester one last time, as they wait for the machine to power up. It’s a goodbye. It’s a thank you. It’s a silent, soft understanding - one neither of them will get from anyone else (already, the rest of the Batfam, who had grudgingly begun to welcome a purple-haired clown at their table, have evacuated the house and fled for their respective corners of the city).

Batman will miss them. Hell, he’ll miss him. As he curls his arms around Jokester’s body - the body he’s sending back to face a version of himself built from Bruce’s deepest desires and his compounded nightmares - tilting him back, deepening the kiss, he wonders if he’s making the worst mistake of his life.

But then, his mouth fills with the hot wash of blood. The spidery hands on his shoulders tense into claws, nails scraping sharp across the Kevlar plates. The machine’s hum reaches its crescendo. The lights flicker, then dim. Sparks burst from a console; something, somewhere, goes Zzzzzzp. The world tilts ten degrees starboard, then realigns like it’s settling after a wave, and the clown in Bruce’s embrace is suddenly all edges rather than soft compliance.

There’s a moment where that thin, rangy form winds tight like he might bolt or bite. But he only draws back far enough to slap Bruce across the face. Hard.

Bruce jerks, pain exploding through his right ear. “Ow?”

“Ow?” Joker rages. “Ow? Took you long enough! What’s the matter - you decided you prefer the grape flavor, over lime?”

He looks incredible. Vicious green eyes and knife-sharp bones and fists balled so tight at his sides they very-almost quiver. The springy curls wrapped around the fingers of Batman’s gauntlets are green. As they’re supposed to be.

He also looks terrible. Black eyes, hunched posture like he’s cracked a rib or five. Bruises everywhere Batman can see. Blood, too. Clothes in tatters, his acrid scent muddied with burnt mortar and singed hair. Like he’s been running, fighting, running again, for a very long time. Chased and caught and chased and caught over and over, a mouse beneath the paw of a cat.

Just like he’s always wanted, right? A nemesis who loves the dance as much as he.

“I honestly figured you were enjoying yourself,” Batman admits.

Joker huffs, crossing his spindly arms. “I was. Other-you - although he’s not other-you for your flesh mask, by the way? Just to make things more confusing! He’s a riot. Same stoic straight-man to my clowning routine. Same willingness to demonstrate that straight-man really ain’t the best description. But he’s completely absent of a moral compass! No more Joker, you can’t do that, or Joker, stop before you hurt anyone else, or Joker, won’t you think of the children?” Joker clasps his hands to his chest with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, why would I ever want to leave?”

Why indeed?

Batman’s gaze clings to the white metal collar wrapping Joker’s neck. He’s never gone quite that far before. Just as Joker hadn’t gone quite as far with him as Jokester had - straddling Bruce on the mussed sheets of his penthouse King-Size, riding him fast then slow. Panting, whining, dragging Bruce’s hand to feel that slick, hot, perfect point of connection where he stretched his clown out on his cock. Leaning forward to catch him in a kiss, purple curls tickling Bruce’s cheeks...

Batman tries not to dwell on that. Like he tries not to dwell on the nauseating coil of hot and cold, intrigue and repulsion, that wraps as tightly around his guts as that collar on Joker’s throat.

“Sometimes,” he says, as the lights slowly buzz back to full, illuminating the interior of one of the many abandoned warehouses at the edge of the docks, “we get what we wished for. Only to realize...”

He trails off, unsure how to finish. But Joker breaks into a beam that has no right to look so gleeful, with so much blood caked to his face. Although, at a closer look, Batman reckons only half of it’s his.

Joker left a scar on his counterpart. The thought sparks a strange marriage of envy and pride.

“That what we wanted was right beside us all along?” Joker chirps, batting his eyelashes. “My, Mr Batman B. Wayne! Is this where you get down on one knee?” He holds out one slender hand, like he’s showing off a ring. Or the knot at the knuckle of his ring finger, where the bone has been pulled from the joint and twisted abnormally to the side, no doubt while escaping cuffs. “Pick any stone but amethyst.”

Batman still doesn’t know if he’s walking the right path. Should he have insisted that Jokester stay for Gotham’s sake, while letting the other world burn? Or just that the Jokester stay for his own sake, so he won’t be delivered into the waiting arms of a monster like the Owlman?

But Batman’s monster is right here.

“I’m taking you back to Arkham,” he says, burying his fist in Joker’s collar, tugging him out the warehouse and towards the idling car. Then, when Joker pouts - evidently too injured, too exhausted, to put up much of a fight - “After we visit the cave, and get that thing off your neck.”

That perks Joker up; he trots the rest of the way to the car and plonks himself in the passenger seat while Batman enables the prisoner controls. Once there, he leans back against the headrest, stretching out the long, lean line of his throat. His skin is rudely white against the shadows. Like something cut from paper, or bone.

“Why? Wanna replace it with one of your own?”

He laughs when Batman fumbles the wrong button, sending out a loud blare of police radio static. The cackle is high and ugly and utterly, inescapably him.

Batman basks in it. Then he slams the correct button, tough fabric restraints wrapping around Joker’s chest and pinning him tight to the chair. He settles into the driver’s seat while Joker’s still sniggering and roars away as the warehouse bursts into flame, erasing all evidence of their collision between worlds - except that which lives on in the memories of one bat, one owl, and two clowns.

#batjokes #batman #joker #batman x joker #joker x batman #my fic #bbb creates #owlman #jokester #dc comics #the joker #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x joker #joker x bruce wayne #jokester x owlman

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sarafroot · 10 months

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pls talk about technique!! sorry if i’m annoying you but i’m eating this up lmaooo. i appreciate your responses a lot!

i’ve been having trouble with coloring/rendering?? like idek where to start when it comes to that part of a drawing and every time i try it i get frustrated which just sucks

Answering this under the cut because its LONNGGG 😜😜😜 also you are so not annoying me I have been waiting for someone to be as interested in this as I am lolz

Here is a detailed walk through of how I'm going about coloring something for that band au-- I hope this helps!!!

For skin I start by putting down a base color; this is the color that shadows and highlights should be considered in relation to! I always set the layer to "alpha lock" so that when I start rendering my strokes stay within the silhouette I originally colored

From here I add redness to her skin first in the form of any natural flush her face may have. I pick a color for blush by beginning with her original skin tone and adjusting the hue to a slightly cooler color and increasing its saturation. I use a soft, buildable, and blendable brush to apply this (quoll). In this scenario, I want the flush to be subtle as she's supposed to be in a darker setting.

For shadows, the first thing to consider is where your light source is. In this scenario, the light will be hitting her from the right, so shadows should be most prevalent on the left. I pick a color for shadows the same way I pick a color for flush, only this time I don't saturate the color as much and darken the shade more. The color usually appears purple-ish. I use a more defined brush to apply shadows and blend them around where I imagine the contours of her face are softest.

Finally I color finer details like lips, eyes, scars, and freckles, and add highlights where a light source would likely reflect on her face. I love adding washes of neon oranges and pinks along harsh shadow edges and cheeks as well! I feel like this makes faces feel more alive.

When I use this method on a face in profile, here is my color placement:

For bodies, I use the same colors that I used on the face for the sake of consistency. I start with any natural flushing on the body, typically on joints, tummies, butts, upper backs, and hands and feet. I use the same brush I used for flush on the face.

For shadows on bodies, you really have to use your imagination or a reference to form a 3D image in your head. While face shadows are more straightforward as there's often a formula you can follow, body shadows are more diverse. If you were to break her body down into shapes, where does her body protrude most, and where do you imagine there are crevices? How will light interact with these shapes to form shadows? Again, I'm imagining a light source on the right so the shadows I place will be mostly on the left.

Then I go in and add highlights and other tiny details.

For hair, I start with a base color before putting down highlights closest to the light source and shadows in places that I imagine are hidden from a light source, such as underneath a particularly prominent strand of hair. Finally, I pick a color I feel like encapsulates the "true" color of her hair and scribble it over the base color I chose, making sure to leave some base color peaking through. I feel like hair has a lot of depth, and by doing this you can kind of mimic that complexity in color without sacrificing a simplistic art style. In total, I used four colors for her hair. I separated the darks and lights for a clearer demonstration of how I think her hair would fall.

You can apply these techniques to really anything, especially clothes!

Yayyy done!! I will absolutely answer any other questions you have

#ask #am i a professional? no.#is my favorite color rainbow? yes #i think this makes me extremely qualified

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vampi-fixx · 2 years

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honesty

devilman crybaby; akira fudo x reader; 1.5k; fluff; miscommunication + hardcore pining

akira has to be honest with you. he wasn't really pretending.

Akira had always been by your side since you were children, seeming more like another limb than a separate person—when you moved, he moved. When he cried, you were always there to wipe his tears away, to reassure him that you didn’t think any less of him for his gentle disposition.

Even when his mysterious transformation happened, and he filled out, looking less like a boy and more like a hardened man, things hadn’t changed. If possible, he seemed even more attuned to you. His newfound confidence made him bolder, more direct about his own wants and desires—which apparently, centered mostly around staying right where he always was, by your side.

He wasn’t the only one affected by his shift however. Akira’s forward personality made you terribly aware that your feelings for him were more than just that for a close friend.

You liked Akira, you always had. But if before his timid hesitance prevented you for bridging that gap between friends and something more, now the matter was his devilish new appearance attracting the attention of every girl within a ten mile radius.

But now you could be selfish. You could indulge in all the things you only dreamed about. Because now—

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

He paused, his story about another one of the illicit schemes Ryo entangled him in dying on his lips. Your gaze was trained on the river flowing beneath the deck the two of you were seated on, the small waves drawing ripples in your reflection. Your tongue felt heavy with the weight of your words; they were hard enough for you to voice. You didn't want to see his reaction. You didn't think know what to do if he said no—

“Alright." His answer came as easy as the breeze that drifted past your bodies, ruffling your clothes. When your head shot towards him, he grinned. “Can I start now?”

No questions asked. You were foolish to doubt him for even a second; of course, when it came to you, he would agree to anything. But he fit into the role almost too seamlessly. He held your hand in public like he was proud to, liked to sneak in sloppy kisses to your cheeks whenever you were focused on a task, and his full-bodied hugs became a constant in your life.

You liked being his significant other, so much so that you never mentioned when your creepy coworker stopped leering at you and trying to meet up with you despite your obvious lack of interest. You never told Akira that he didn't have to pretend anymore. (When he’d found out about the guy though of course he'd been pissed.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?”

“Mm, because last time you talked to some guy bothering Miki, he ended up in the hospital.”

He frowned. "Not like he wouldn’t deserve it.")

You wanted to live in this moment for as long as you could. It felt right—doing things your heart had always yearned for, being with him under the thin guise of a favor, without fear of repercussion. But all good things came to an end, and so did the day when the reality of your situation became too much for even you to ignore.

It was a dream. In it, you and Akira were sitting on the bridge, the same spot you’d first made the request of him. But it felt so real, Akira's eyes a soft brown glow, the sunset's rays catching on the tips of his hair, as he told you he’d never felt so strongly about anyone else, that he didn't want to feel this strongly about anyone else. He leaned forward, the distance between your lips seeming to span miles. Just as he kissed you, your eyes flew open and you were staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom.

It wasn't real. But what was real was the reverberating ache in your chest. Your eyes stung, and you furiously rubbed at them. You'd been lying to him, and to yourself, for god knows how long.

You loved Akira, you couldn't deny it any longer. But would he still like you once this was all over? Once you admitted that the last few months were a ruse, and you’d been using him for your own gain?

You weren't certain. But the idea that he wouldn't terrified you.

You texted him; you’d never been good at keeping secrets from one another, and the guilt was chipping away at your resolve.

When the two of you met up, Akira's grin faded once he saw the grim look on your face.

"Look Akira, I'm sorry, but I can't... we can't do this—” You gestured between your bodies "—anymore."

His demeanor changed instantly. His tone was measured, cautious. “Why not?”

“I.. it's not fair to me or you."

“You don't need me—” He paused, seeming to catch himself. “You don't need a boyfriend anymore?"

“Y-yeah...” You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d been clinging to things you couldn’t have. "I don't. I... haven't. For awhile now."

The silence between you stretched across valleys.

Akira broke it first, as always. He was always the one to reach out. “But...”

Here it comes.

“But you never asked me if I wanted it to be over.”

Your eyes widened. “I...”

“Look, I... Shit, this is coming out all wrong.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to go back to the ways things were...” he trailed off, his expression curling into a frown.

Your heart clenched. This was the worst you’d expected. He didn’t even want to be friends anymore.

“I see. I-I understand." You took a shaky breath. "Sorry for wasting your time." You made to move past him, but his hand reached out to stop you.

“Wait." Now Akira was the one who sounded confused. "I don’t think you do—"

“I know it was really selfish of me to ask you in the first place. And to... to keep this going on for so long.” Your voice wavered, and you couldn’t meet his gaze. Gosh, were you really going to cry right now? It was ironic; usually you were the one comforting him. How the roles had changed.

“No—wait. Stop, (Y/N), stop. That’s not what I’m—"

"Bye, Akira. I'm sorry for lying to you." You bowed your head, dipping past him—that is, if his arm didn't shoot out to grasp your shoulders. He drew you into a fierce hug, the kind that had your breath catching. You stilled, your heart pounding loud enough you were sure even he could hear.

“I’m not mad about anything, you dummy.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I’m saying...” He held you closer to him. You could feel the way his own heart was pounding, the way his hands trembled around your shoulders.

“Pretending to be your boyfriend is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. And I don’t want to stop.”

Your eyes widened. "Akira—"

“I’m in love with you,” he said, pulling back from you. “I didn’t mind if you wanted me to pretend to be your boyfriend. I was glad to play along. I thought I’d be fine with just that, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m not okay with just pretending anymore! I—”

His gaze met yours, his eyes intense but vulnerable. “I want to be yours, for real.”

You blinked rapidly, your lips parting. Akira shifted from one foot to the next, your lack of response beginning to worry him. His brow furrowed.

“Have you ever... thought about us before? Together?" he asked, hesitant.

You shook your head rapidly, before realizing what kind of answer you were giving. “O-Of course I have!”

“Yeah?” He gave you a tentative smile, a crooked upturn of his lips, that had cracks forming in the walls around your heart. "And did you..." He cleared his throat. "Did you like the idea?"

“I... I was so worried about ruining this," you said in a rush. You flushed, burying your face in his chest. "About ruining us. I was worried you'd hate me, and—and we couldn't be friends anymore—"

"Why would I ever hate you?" he murmured, rubbing circles into your back. "You know how much you mean to me." He brought you even closer to him, resting his chin atop your head. "You could never ruin anything."

“Oh...” Your voice muffled into his shirt. "Oh." It was then that you realized: Akira really, truly loved you. Akira wasn't mad. Akira was just as happy that this had all happened...

"God," you groaned. All that worrying was for nothing.

His laughter rumbled against you. Your face felt even warmer and you wanted to keep hiding it from him. How embarrassing... That is, until Akira's hand went from rubbing your back to stroking through your hair.

"Hey. Hey, look at me."

You glanced upwards. Time seemed to slow as Akira's hand slid from the top of your head until cupping your cheek, tilting your face towards him. His thumb traced from your chin to the bottom of your lips as he inched forward. His lips pressed against you earnestly, carefully, as if he was savoring it. His lips were chapped, and moved a bit clumsily against yours, but they were thorough—like he was mapping out every inch of you.

When the two of you parted, he grinned before resting his forehead against yours. “Been wanting to do that for awhile."

"Wh—Why didn't you then?" you asked, your gaze half-lidded.

He raised a brow, his grin turning devilish.

“Wanted our first kiss to be a real one.”

"And this? This is as real as it gets," he said, before leaning in for another one.

#akira fudo x reader #dmcb x reader #devilman crybaby x reader #akira fudo imagine #dmcb imagine #tati writes #dmcb thots;

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lizardsarecute · 7 months

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Made a lot of comic progress that I've been really proud of, but it's more on the technical learning side lol

Clip studio has some really seamless comic workflows built into the program, it's really nice

re-organized the Chapter 5 file from group folders to CSP's webtoon template. I can swap pages around freely, batch save and export all the pages at once. Copypaste elements between pages with ease. so fucking good ugh. It takes more time to set up, but the payoff is incredible and I'm so glad I caught it this early. Plus the vertical overview makes planning compositions to the script so much easier, because it will be an accurate reflection of the comic when posted on ao3. Looking at the old group folders again and man. This was definitely a pain. Fucken...hiding and unhiding folders and trying to imagine pages in a vertical layout. how tf did I live like this.

csp has a dialogue balloon tool that can automatically link the bubble to text where you can edit them together and separately. I took some time copying my cleanup pen's settings to the freehand balloon pen so it looks more in style

Also made a font for my handwriting, so it would match the style from earlier chapters. Just cleaner and more editable. Don't have to erase and rewrite so the hands get more drawing time. Nice.

I've had Lazy Nezumi for *checks notes*....almost 3 years now. It's a windows app that's for line stabilization but it's my go to for perspective rulers since it's so robust. I haven't actually used it as much until now. And learning how to do perspective manually actually helped a Lot in deep-diving into this program. So yeah, spend a week making boxes and cylinders with this app in csp and building things. (if you made it this far here's a bonus wip pep workshop. She had me watching a lot of interesting videos of things I did not understand)

Setup a whole bunch of auto actions for repetitive tasks. We'll definitely continue to add onto this as we go.

I'm also continuing to build up my reference library from the models in-game. There's so much and I am so thrilled about seeing all the models and bg assets in detail.

on the writing side, I've pretty much laid out the whole plot line and the important beats out. Have several pages of first draft dialogue for all of them too. I am having such a good time! I love learning shit like this!! This year has probably been the most fulfilling year I've had artistically in a long long time--Thanks game!!!

(me getting lost in the sauce of detail work. "ah yes, THIS is my happy place")

#personal #lac blog #hell yeah progress #i am so happy! time to unspoiler those pages and draw more!

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musiclover2732 · 9 months

Text

@zexalmonth Day 8: Dress-Up Day

so for today i wanted to assign Eras Tour outfits to different characters. this will just be a list because that is way too many outfits to try and draw.

gonna limit this to one outfit per Era otherwise it might get confusing since there are some variants and she adds things to the base outfits like jackets and shirts and idk if those count as a separate outfit or not. there will be a bias towards the dresses from my show.

Lover Era bodysuit w/ blazer - Rio Kamishiro: the blazer that Taylor wears during The Man (and just that song itself) fits Rio so well. it’s sparkly and fun, but still has an aura of power. and Rio would definitely enjoy flexing her muscles in front of over 70,000 people! the Lover Era in general fits her very well. trying to be confident but still visibly insecure and unsure. there are less love songs on Lover than Rep and it shows. all color variants of the outfit work well with her too honestly.

Fearless Era dress - Mizael: it’s too perfect. specifically the variant that looks like a flapper dress. like, can you imagine him doing the little twirls that Taylor does while she sings Fearless. it’s an Era about discovery and embracing new changes, so that can be compared to how Mizael has his whole sense of self shaken when he finds out he was once human. the outfit also just generally fits the aesthetic we see from him in the show.

evermore Era orange dress - Thomas Arclight: the depressed and forgotten middle child. am i talking about IV or evermore? the world may never know. the orange dress specifically because it’s for ‘Tis The Damn Season since the No Body No Crime dress was too sparkly and badass for him.

Reputation Era asymmetrical bodysuit - Vector: my second favorite Era goes to my second favorite character. i almost wore this Rep-inspired top that i have but remembered that it’s a three hour concert and decided to prioritize comfort. he is Rep Era to a T however. the black and red suit him as do the snakes. the bridge of Don’t Blame Me takes us swifties to church which is incidentally how i feel watching Vector duel. vaguely sexual but clearly the focus is on being bitchy. Taylor mocking and flipping off the other Eras during LWYMMD is very Vector.

Speak Now Era ballgown - Michael Arclight: this one is obvious but so fitting. fairytale era for the history nerd. he is so the Speak Now Era with his sword and sweetness but also with his deep longing for the last which has been lost and a ruined childhood you can never get back, but still you must move forward with optimism tainted with fear. he also just deserves a big, beautiful, sparkly dress. honorable mention to Durbe in the one long sleeved SN dress that i don’t particularly care for at all.

Red Era 22 outfit - Yuma Tsukumo: ah yes the playful t-shirt that will say “A LOT GOING ON AT THE MOMENT”, “WHO’S TAYLOR SWIFT ANYWAY, EW”, or “WE ARE NEVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER. LIKE EVER” alongside the famous black hat that is handed to one lucky fan each night. this is just so Yuma. joyful and fun, but still very kind and generous. the energy from 22 is very much his style, spending time with friends as a way to let got and distract yourself from the scary and sad stuff.

folklore Era green dress - Astral: first and foremost Astral would look amazing in green. but more importantly, folklore is an Era that involves a lot of self reflection and having wisdom from experience. there’s the playful sassiness and joy of betty, the 1, tlgad, and even august. those long sleeves were clearly a lot of fun to move around in; very gentle and floaty like Astral. but then there’s the pain and anguish of the illicit affairs bridge (which calls to mind Yuma’s betrayal at the Sargasso duel). the quiet acceptance and sorrow of my tears ricochet. and finally the knowledge and looking back while also looking forward while loving someone not quite as mature as you in cardigan. (the white dress could also work here, but not the purple one)

1989 Era orange two-piece - Anna Kozuki: the fun and peppy pop Era, my favorite Era! cheerful, yet destructive. i could so see Anna wearing this while destroying a man’s possessions with a golf club. still a hint of romance, but also this is where Taylor shows the Lover house being burned so y’know how it is. i actually debated putting Anna as my favorite girl on Day 4 but i had felt bad about not liking Rio before and she tied into the OC i talked about. i’ve loved Anna since the beginning tho and she is so underrated much like 1989. they would both kill a man with a smile on their face. Anna uses a bright pink cannon and Taylor has a light-up golf club so you can see the similarities. (the pink variant would also apply here but not the green one)

the Surprise Song dresses - Kaito Tenjo: because the surprise song is different every night there really is no theme or deeper reason. i just think he would look cute in them. he also has acoustic guitar vibes.

Midnights Era t-shirt - Ryoga Kamishiro: the depression shirt. i could fill a book with characters that fit the lyrics of Anti-Hero (my self-insert OC included) but not only does Shark fit that song (along with some of Midnight Rain, which is sung for part of when Taylor wears this outfit), he also would look the best in the outfit. we see the leggings for the rest of the set, but they aren’t the focus. the oversized and sparkly shirt is very Shark in a way i can’t quite explain. i actually drew inspiration for this by dressing my doll custom (who i still need to do the eye-swap for) in a similar outfit. it also kind of parallels the Lover outfit which i already assigned to Rio. (bonus: Kyoji Yagumo in the outfit for Vigilante Shit would kill. it already reminds me of his canon outfit anyway. i think he deserves to do a sexy chair dance after all his trauma. plus he likes getting dirt on corrupt people and making them pay!)

so that’s my list. i may draw these one day, but today is not that day.

#tumblr bumped me out of this when i was nearly done and i almost died but luckily it saved it #this is late because i ended up scrapping a different but still swift-related idea since i didn’t wanna draw today #hope this is comprehendible to normal people #might carry this theme and do day 3 at the end of the month #it would be assigning a character or ship to all 44 songs from my tour night #zexal month #zexal month 2023

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seariii · 3 months

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I'm sorry things feel so overwhelming. I promise there's no being left behind! Everyone is doing everything at their own pace, no matter how it may look. You are right where you're supposed to be :)

While I'm here uhhhh can I hear about the girls kissing and holding hands!!!!

Hii lovely anon! Thank you... Yeah life is not a race and I really should chill about that heh... Thank you

About my girls, let's see... What can I tell you about them... Let me see if I have some old drawings! (After searching) okay some of this are bad but hey Seari was experimenting lmao

Infodump under the cut

Okay so, I was particularly thinking about this two girls, their names are... Well... I guess I should talk about context first

(I did this quick sketches to explain lmao)

So, they are childhood friends (there is actually a third friend, it was a group of 3, but she has her own stuff going on). They are orphans, and well, grew up on an orphanage. The girl with the side ponytail arrived after an accident that took away her parents, and she, reasonably, was a crying mess and was badly depressed. The girl with the long hair kept insisting and insisting to look after her, to befriend her, and would pull her along on her silly adventures.... Actually I feel bad for not talking about the third one

(old drawing) so, this is the 3

The girl with long hair is kinda... Hmm... Innovative let's say, and she loooooves nicknames, so she just calls herself A, and that's how the other two girls know her as, and a nickname that stuck the rest of their lives (her name is Arely). The side ponytail girl goes by M (Mimi), and the green haired girl is K (Karen).

A would always pull M along everywhere, and M is extremely grateful for that, she feels like she saved her. K was also dragged along and as much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed the other 2's company.

K was serious and easy to anger, she had very little patience and would prefer to so stuff on her own instead of dealing with others, and used to be like that until one day after M's arrival she did something for her. She saw her struggling and without hesitation went and helped her. Later on M told A about this and A adopted her into the group, despite K's complaints.

Each of them have her own little details like how M loves to learn more about flowers, K collects different color laces and stickers, or A trying to come up with her own language.

Some more pictures

But yeah, as they grew up, at some point they got separated, they went their own ways.

Even as an adult, M always missed the other two very much, she just wanted to see them again. She also noticed that whenever she thought about A she had a pain in her heart, but she wasn't sure what that was.

On her own life, A became a designer for a popular fashion magazine, while K is doing her own thing (quite literally has her own story, but she's some sort of wizard that helps to watch over the world).

One day because gay destiny, M and A finally cross paths again, they recognize each other instantly, despite how much they've changed. During the whole time they talked M kept feeling her heart beating loudly. They parted ways but not without exchanging their phone numbers.

They continued in contact after that, and at some point M noticed that she was badly in love with her childhood best friend, and as she started reflecting about it, she notices she had always felt this way about her and is like "I've loved her for all my life?!?" And gay panic lmao

A is REALLY DENSE and she's not gonna notice anything unless explicitly said, and even tho M is more confident, she still can't dare to do that and keeps trying to drop subtle hints. On the other hand, while A has less energy, she is still really affectionate and does some gay shit like placing her hand on M's cheek or playing with her hair, which absolutely kills M. Non functional lesbian lmao.

I don't really have a sexuality assigned to A, but the girl is obviously queer lmao. And I'm pretty sure she also likes M, but is unaware of it and just thinks it's because she loves her childhood best friend, will notice her type of love isn't the friendship kind when they meet up with K.

A: how weird... When I saw you I wanted to hug you

K: what?

A: yeah, when I saw M something in me wanted to kiss her, but when I saw you I just wanted to hug you

K: *looks at the non existent camera like "do you hear this shit"*

K: and why do you think that is

A: ... Maybe because you were always grumpy?

Poison: you're in love-

Poison is another character lmao but she's part of K's story. Anyways yeah

Also, M has a framed picture of them together. My ginger girl is down bad and she needs to kiss her girlfriend lmao

But yeah that's them, the girls that need to kiss and hold hands

If anyone read all this, thank you, this are some of my gay babies and I love them very much

#thats a lot of text wow #... thank you anon it helped #seari answers #seari talks #my ocs <3 #< wait i forgot about that tag lmao

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wigglebox · 1 year

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i’m going to go on a mini art hiatus from now until the first of the year [so just like, two weeks]

i think it’s important for ourselves to understand when we need a break. i never understood the importance of it i think until just now. usually i try to push through it all and white-knuckle my way through burn out but that never had good results. There were several years i barely drew at all because i pushed myself too much and was too frustrated with my art and what to do with it [also suffering from ‘this isn’t my own style’ syndrome]

not saying i’m in that state now, on the contrary i’m more secure in how i draw now. it feels original, and for once it’s reflecting how i want to feel versus how i’m feeling at the moment. and, it feels wholly my own.

however, between sept. 28 and nov. 30 i have drawn over 80+ things. some i haven’t posted bc they were just doodles, but that’s a lot to do.

in fact, it was so much, that i am on the verge of getting tennis elbow. or, i already have it. but the last couple of days have been okay so who knows.

regardless, while i loooooved doing suptober prompts and was super proud of myself for getting every day done, and i loved doing all of y’alls awesome requests from voting, i was so drawn [heh] into it that i didn’t allow any time for me to rest, thus resulting in an almost serious injury to my arm and wrist. i never had that problem before!

and i don’t even use my hands just for drawing. i like to write, i like to crochet, weave, embroider, crossstich, so on and so forth so it’s important to me that my hands and arms can continue to function how i need them to.

but physical injury aside, i think i want to take these final two weeks of 2022 to just reflect on my art journey, and where i want to go in 2023.

i’m on the edge of real burnout and art block and i don’t want that energy to carry me into the new year.

i’m excited for my goals for 2023 which i’ll do a separate post on, and i want to make sure i stay excited for that.

i know when i’m starting to get to real burn out [and not just ‘i’m tired’ temporary burn out] when it’s hard to shake the worry over ‘low engagement’ on my art. that’s when the low confidence comes back, the fear and the disappointment and the sadness.

so — maybe i’ll sketch some things, put those videos on tiktok [wiggleboxart] or something, but for the most part, i’m going to take a break these next two weeks and just recharge for the new year.

i hope you all understand! and i’m not going anywhere of course, you’re still going to see me on here and stuff, and i will draw again and post stuff again —

but just going to take a smol break so i can recharge and start 2023 with fresh energy! <3

#housekeeping4444 #long post #jen in real life4444 #if you're an artist or any kind of creative and are feeling exhausted pls take a break #no big deal to do so

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just-antithings · 1 year

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All these people saying to go outside and talk to "normal/real" people make me laugh. I talked with my friend who is more vanilla than vanilla extract a while ago about fanfic stuff and outside of that she is basically entirely offline she doesn't participate in fandom she doesn't use social media or tumblr or any of this stuff. We just got to talking and she brought up some 'problematic' ships from Teen Wolf that would get someone fucking roasted on tumblr for even mentioning let alone straight up saying this is my favourite ship to read and I just love the dynamic between the characters. I came out of the conversation so happy to finally talk about this stuff with someone without fear because I knew she got it and subconsciously knew before she even said anything we've been reading buddies for years she gifted me one of my first large books back in grade 3 and we've traded reading suggestions ever since both of us where pros at both separating reality from fiction and deciding if we where reading something that was to much for us from a young age because we both read well outside of our recommended age range and had to exercise our own caution deciding if we could handle something or not, my reading tastes often skewed slightly darker than her but we both knew that if we brought up something absolutely vile that happened in a book we'd read it was not a positive judgement on the action being a good thing in real life because that's just not how books work and we knew that I read detailed torture scenes fresh out of elementary a character was threatened by two grown men while she was lost trying to get back to the group after they'd beat up her travel companion and the men where not subtle about their intentions if they got their hands on her I knew that I was mature enough to handle that and draw a line in my mind between fiction and reality, and finding someone else my age who learned that young on the same books and talking about fiction with them was a breath of fresh air after the bullshit I see on this website do often. Long story short the "normal" people these antis keep talking about think proship ideals are perfectly fine, my friend reads massive age gap (minor and an older adult) enemy to lovers fics my mum who's nearly 60 thinks that it's silly to believe that what a person reads is a reflection on what they think is moral antis need to take a deep breath and exercise their critical reading skills and then come back to the table and maybe we can start having a civil conversation.

I love that for y’all

#mod erin #ask #torture mention

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wayhavenots · 1 year

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Okay, since I can't *not* ask about Nate and Avery, how about number 31 for them? Feel free to change the pairing for either prompt, though. And no pressure of course <3

Thank you, Seren!!! ❤️ I feel like this one is so fitting for them (even though it's only so high on my list because it is on a playlist for a Mind Blind fic I never finished lol).

This was supposed to go in a slightly different direction (and!! would have referenced some of the textbooks you recommended :) ) but the transition was a little awkward and I wanted to keep it sweet, so I shortened it into something else. I hope it still makes sense lol.

Spoilers for the Book 3 Demo ahead!

31. My Sanctuary by Amelia Warner (from Mary Shelley (Original Motion Picture Score))

Nate hears the sputter of Avery's car as it comes to a stop outside the Warehouse, a sound which draws him out of the tale of the Bennett family and places a smile on his lips. He places his bookmark to keep his place—not that it is necessary, when he has read this story so many times—and searches for a reflective surface in the library, settling on the black screen of his phone. He lets his hair down, rather than fixing the few strands out of place in his bun, combs through with his fingers.

He would have liked to accompany Avery on her journey home—or rather, the Warehouse, now that her apartment's ceiling has caved in—but he missed the series of texts in the group chat culminating in Morgan's acceptance of the task. Still, it makes him happy to know that he can look forward to seeing her every day, and that she is getting along with the team, his family. Not that he's surprised. Avery is brilliant and charming and witty and...

He hears footsteps—hers and Morgan's—into the Warehouse, followed by the sound of Farah leaping up from where she was lounging and, no doubt, desperate for amusement.

"Oooh," Farah exclaims, easily heard even through the walls that separate them, "you're in a mood. What's up?"

"Oh, I'm ecstatic," says Avery in a deadpan. "I love my job. It's a fulfilling way to spend the time that I'm not being hunted down by people who want to use me as a juicebox."

"Or sell you to the highest bidder," adds Morgan.

"Thanks," says Avery flatly, her footsteps continuing out of the room, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Natey's in the library," Farah calls after her, her tone teasing. "In case you wanna spread some of that cheer his way."

Nate expects Avery to make a beeline to her room—he knows that she prefers to be alone after a bad day, curled up with some math or physics problems to boost her confidence—and he is deciding how best to help when her footsteps move in his direction.

His stomach flutters. What should he be doing when she arrives? Should he greet her at the door? He gets halfway there, changes his mind (it might be unsettling for her to know how much he can hear of her movement), settles back on the couch. Checks his reflection once more. Casts his eyes over the stack of books he has pulled out of the bookshelves and is struck with an urge to tidy up.

Soon, Avery is pushing the door open, and Nate greets her with a smile.

"Avery," he says warmly, "what a lovely surprise."

The ghost of a scowl on her face twitches into a half-smile as she takes a step inside. "I didn't think I could surprise you," she says, her voice not quite as tense as it was just a moment ago.

Nate smiles and says, truthfully, "You often do."

Avery's smile widens, and she takes another step forward. "Do you mind if I hole up in here for a bit?" Her hands move as if to hide in her hoodie pockets, but now that the weather is warm, she is dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, pockets too small to hold her hands. (And isn't that what his hands are made for?)

"Of course," he says, and he pats the open seat beside him. "You don't need to ask for permission," he adds. "How was your day?"

She lets out a sigh as she crosses the rest of the room. "Fantastic. Didn't find the kid, made an ass of myself on the record to Bobby, and I drove back to my apartment after work instead of here. Morgan so helpfully said nothing until—" Her eyes scan the pile of books near him, and she pauses before she sits. "Are you sure you're not busy? I really didn't mean to dump about my day."

"Please do," says Nate with an encouraging smile. "It gives me the opportunity to tell you that we will find her, Bobby will have only good things to report, and your home will be repaired in no time."

Avery scoffs. "I don't have as much faith in Bobby or my landlord."

"You would know better on both counts," replies Nate with a chuckle. "But I do have faith in us. We make quite the team."

She sinks into the couch, her body angled towards his with one leg bent between them. Her cheek rests tiredly against the back of the sofa as she gazes up at him with captivating dark brown eyes, which slowly sweep over his face as though she is looking for something. (And oh, how he wants to be what she is looking for.) These are the eyes he recalled while he was reading, at the line, "The very great pleasure that a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

"We do," she admits.

He is expecting her to deflect, to take shelter in the ambiguity of the us and the we. When she doesn't, he feels his heart grow bolder.

"I hope we only grow closer while you're staying here," he adds, slowly extending one hand to rest a hair's breadth from hers, fingers nearly but not quite brushing. "And that this can feel like home to you."

"It does," she says softly, almost difficult to hear over the sweet crescendo of her heartbeat in his ears. Her fine eyes flick to the space between them, and she carefully hooks an index finger around his. "It's starting to, at least. Tell me about your day?"

Nate cannot help the smile that spreads across his face at the contact. His heart taps a hopeful tune against his chest. "Well," he begins, "it is certainly looking up."

#book 3 spoilers #nate x detective #twc fic #he was originally going to be reading frankenstein to tie into the prompt more but i got distracted by the fact that the framing device #is with a captain of a ship on a potentially dangerous journey and maybe nate has never gotten past the first few pages for that reason #anyway lol #thank you for the request <3

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