#messy background oops
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Got new boots
#messy background oops#knee high boots#boots#short dress#tights#black nylon#nylon#me#my uploads#body#babygirl#legs
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@intotheelliwoods I love your art and comics and I drew this based off your newest update i hope you like it :]
the newest update for 2AL oh my gosh emotions go brr. Like noooo big Leo and Casey are leaving nooo but also yess cuz Casey and Leo need to go experience the world again but mann
(I did a background and a no background version cuz I couldn’t pick which I liked better)
#2al fanart#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#future leo#lil baby must protecc#the last part got me aaa#The background is super messy but I think it’s ok#Fjeijejajkakekw#Big Leo and Casey are gonna go on so many adventures:000#Ok I’ve gotta get back to studying Oop-#Love your art my guy! Keep it up!#2 arms left#f!leo#HES STILL GOT THE BEAN BROWS AND AAA <3#I didn’t know what expression to do hope this one works Oop-
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The amount of fucking iterations of composition this wip has gone through in the past like. 1h30-2h is ridiculous.
Like there’s this, where you can see the original intention, but it’s erased bc anatomy/proportions/perspective were dying
And I actually got that anatomy before to work pretty well—but then changed composition to this bc I realized it wouldn’t fit on the page the other way lmfao and also this was more like my original intention w showing part of the chain of people behind hsy
And then there’s this, the most recent version, which I changed to bc I did reference pics of myself to figure out the hand/arm foreshortening and then realized the second one is fuckery when it comes to anatomical possibility (too much neck and shoulder/back strain involved lmao) in relation to the head position I have established for hsy, which I really don’t want to change bc I spent too much time on that and I like it too much dammit—
ough but might change the face perspective anyway tbh bc the anatomy/perspective is a pain as it is and I kinda liked the second layout of the composition better tbh
argh idk
#oughhhhhghhghhh frustration#also shit I haven’t posted art to tumblr in. a Hot Minute damn#might artdump a bit bc of that tbh#but also ough it’s 2am and I’m tired lol#also sorry for the messy obstructive watermarking(?) oops#I was liveposting(? ig I’d call it) as I finished each iteration on twt and it was kind of a motivator to actually finish it later—#like “if you finish it you can post w prettier watermarking”#which is kinda backwards ik—if anything should have more excessive signage it’s the final piece bc that’s the valuable version lol#but wtv#also on that I feel less sorry abt the obstructive signage bc it’s a wip haha#but uh yeah#orv#hsy#ysa#bc yeah that’s a v scribbly ysa in the background of both 2 and 3#should I tag jhy#ehh nah lol she’s literally a scribbly sort-pf-vaguely-a-circle and some lines and only in the last image pfft#han sooyoung#art#fanart#traditional art#orv fanart#omniscient reader#omniscient reader’s viewpoint#omniscient reader fanart#omniscient reader’s viewpoint fanart#wip sketch#wip art#wip fanart#idk I’m tagging as many random tags that are relevant-enough that I can think of
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That post i just saw about the log cake with meringue mushrooms on it reminded me of this, which i made last december in school!
#baking#culinary school#log cake#christmas cake#ignore all the shit in the background#i'm a bit messy oops
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Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭
You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3
Back Chat
Words: 1k
CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap
Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.
Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.
Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.
“Look MacTavish was it?”
“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”
“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”
“Listen here ye wee bitch-”
You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.
He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.
“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”
“Excuse me?”
“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”
You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.
“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”
Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.
“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”
He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.
“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”
“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.
The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.
“I'll bring it right doon.”
You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.
When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.
“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”
“You can see that it's working.”
He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.
“Speakers are fucked.”
You squirmed in your seat.
“I can hear it just fine.”
“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”
You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.
“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”
“I-It's working!”
“Prove it, what ye hearing?”
He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.
“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”
“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”
He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.
“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”
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Shadow Milk x Reader
Oneshot
Warnings: Implied Swearing (?) Not proof read
-Rainy Day Shenanigans-
What is one supposed to do on a rainy day?
Sleep in? Play games? Read?
According to Shadow Milk Cookie, it's clinging to your lover.
"I'm not clingy, I'm conserving body heat."
His arms wrapped around your waist, and he'd hold you close to him.
"The only one cold here is you," You'd respond.
"Okay, what's your point?"
You'd sigh.
There's no reasoning with him.
But oh well. It's not that bad.
"Oh! We should bake something!" He would suggest out of the blue.
"What- Why?"
"Come on, it'll be fun!"
Shadow Milk Cookie took hold of your hand and dragged you into the kitchen.
You had just cleaned the counter earlier, so it was pristine with a white glow.
That wasn't going to last very long.
"So, what do we plan on making today?" You asked him.
"A cake!"
"You know neither one of us know how to bake, right?"
"Yeah but how hard can it be? We get the recipe and do the things. Easy."
He found an easy enough recipe and started to collect ingredients around your house.
"This is everything!"
Flour, eggs, milk, vanilla extract, sugar, butter, and baking powder.
"Okay, what do we do first?" You asked.
Both of you went through each of the steps, measuring and adding ingredients.
Sure, it was messy, but things weren't that bad..
...
"MILK WHAT TEMPERATURE DID YOU SET IT TO?"
"3,500?"
"WHAT THE F-"
So yeah. That happened.
The cake came out as a pile of ash.
"Um, ta-da?" He smiled at you awkwardly.
"You were supposed to set it to 350, not 3,500," you said while glaring at the 'cake'.
"Oops! My bad..." He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.
"But at least I failed with my most beloved~"
He kissed your neck softly, snaking arms around your waist.
"So cooking isn't realy our thing. Wanna play games instead?"
"I guess-"
《☆》
"Go fish."
You rolled your eyes and drew another card from the pile.
"Do you have a seven of hearts?"
You handed him your card. This is the tenth match he's had this game.
"Are you cheating?" You'd ask with a skeptical look.
"No, you're just bad."
"I'm am not. This game is basically luck based."
"Okay, whatever. Do you have a king of spades?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, love," he said with a grin.
"Go fish!"
...
"I want a rematch! I can definitely win this time."
You played ten rounds with him, and only won two.
Each time he'd snicker at you, and give you that cheeky grin.
"Doll, I admire your persistence. Really, I do. I just think we should try something else..."
"Like what?"
"Like watching a movie. That way I can hold you close to me, and admire you."
"So you don't really care about the movie then?"
"I mean, I do care about it. Just not as much as I care about you. There's nothing I care more about that you, dove."
You couldn't help the slight blush on your face.
You couldn't help the way your heart churned.
How had you gotten so lucky?
"Now come on, I wanna hold you!"
Shadow Milk Cookie would pick you up in his arms and place you down onto the couch, where he spent his time wrapping his arms around you, and giving you his affection.
A random movie played in the background, but to him, you were much more entertaining.
"I love you," he cooed.
"I love you too," You'd respond.
《☆》 Fin
#cookie run kingdom#crk#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookie run#crk shadow milk cookie#shadow milk crk#cookie run kingdom shadow milk cookie#shadow milk x reader#shadow milk#shadow milk cookie crk#shadow milk cookie#shadow milk cookie oneshot#shadow milk cookie x reader crk#shadow milk cookie x reader oneshot#shadow milk cookie x reader#reader x shadow milk cookie#shadow milk cookie fluff#shadow milk cookie x reader crk oneshot#shadow milk cookie x reader fluff#shadow milk x reader oneshot#shadow milk x reader crk#shadow milk x reader fluff
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Oops, my hand slipped. Late night doodle of @kevin-ibw's salvation hotel au.
idk why but their vox always reminds me of a hawk so i drew him perched over the city like one
ignore the background ignore the background please ignore the background
apologies for messiness
#btw its so hilarious that this dude got kicked out of heaven for starting a cult#fell to hell and was like yknow what#yeah imma start another cult#vox#hazbin hotel#au: salvation hotel#my art#also oops i drew it in b&w cuz i thought the au was mostly b&w but i might have goofed cuz the sky is still red??#aw crap i got the wrong design agsjdkf nevermind ill edit it tmr when its not like paat midnight
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Scare 2
Summary: Part 2 to this. You and Hobie get to know each other a bit more via a makeup session.
Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Scare Actor Hobie Brown
Warnings: Fluff. Gwen makes an appearance because I love her. British slang that may or may not be bad but I’m British and hoping it’s the second one. I’m not confident in this but it took me a month to write so take it my brain’s dying. Maybe abrupt ending? Like I said my brain’s dying. Comedy too (I guess? I hope you laugh.) 2nd Person POV with no Y/N. Hobie has fans. Hobie’s also a little less flirty this time. One (1) single mention of Pavitr because I also love him. Not a warning just wanted to say I love him.
Words: 1.3k
@miseries-mistress
An hour later, your mind’s sole focus was Hobie. You couldn’t think about anything other than Hobie, his scary makeup, his cool clothes, and the fact that you were standing right outside his break room.
“You can’t go in there,” the man standing outside raised a hand to stop you. “It’s for staff only.”
“I’m meeting my friend in there,” you protested, hands fidgeting with the ring said friend had given you, before quickly adding, “And he works here.”
The man only snorted in amusement. “Yeah, good try.”
You blinked a few times, frustration welling up inside you. Squinting at the man’s name tag, you tried to reason with him, “No, Greg, I’m telling the truth. His name’s Hobie and he—“
Before you could finish your sentence, the door to the break room opened, and the person you were talking about poked his head out.
“Ah, there you are,” Hobie chuckled. He grabbed your shoulder and tried to pull you into the room, but Greg stopped him.
“You know that’s not allowed.”
Hobie struggled to hide an eye roll. “Mate, come on, just do me a favor.”
Greg pursed his lips, sighing. “If I get in trouble—“
“You won’t. Promise,” Hobie said, and then he pulled you inside the break room.
Songs with a spooky theme played quietly, used as background noise whilst people chattered. Most were in scary costumes and the few that weren’t were in the process of getting ready.
Lights lined the ceiling, glowing red. There was a table pushed to the side and piled full of foods and drinks. A crowd gathered around it, playing a game of tossing bloody red popcorn into each other’s mouths.
The mood was light-hearted and joyful, despite the creepy decorations in the room.
Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Hobie kept you pressed against his side as he navigated the room. You were glad for it. You were never scared of anything but you had to admit that all of these strangers in scary costumes were intimidating.
“Greg’s so bloody uptight,” Hobie scoffed. Then, he tilted his head to one side as he thought for a moment, “But he’s alright most of the time, and he keeps the creeps away.”
You arrived at what you assumed was Hobie’s space. It was a desk stained with paint and makeup, a mirror hung on the wall with bright lights around it. The desk was messy, rubbish strewn all over and makeup containers opened like he left in a rush.
“So, this is where the magic happens,” You grinned.
“Oh, oops,” was all Hobie said as he grabbed handfuls of the rubbish and tossed them in the bin.
You watched Hobie as he did so, studying the way his brow furrowed and his makeup creased. He was a unique individual, you had to admit. You’d never met anyone as confident or as fascinating as him; you barely knew the guy and yet here you were in his dressing room, wanting to know more about him. Hobie certainly stood out from the crowd and you didn’t understand why, but he had an energy about him that made you smile. Oh, and he was obviously hot as hell.
“You got a starin’ problem, love?”
“What?” His words shook you out of your trance and you found him looking at you, “Oh, no, your makeup’s just really nice.”
“Want me to do yours?” He asked.
“That’d be cool,” You admitted, eager to be turned into something frightening—and to feel his touch.
Smirking, Hobie grabbed you by your shoulders and sat you down on a nearby chair. One hand rested gently on you whilst the other grabbed products and applied them.
“So, how long have you been a scare actor?” You attempted to make conversation.
“Only about six months,” Hobie replied as he spread some sort of primer over your face, “I wasn’t arsed about it at first but my mate was really into it and didn’t want to do it on her own, so ‘ere I am. And it’s fun make people jump, innit?”
“I’m usually the one jumping,” You responded.
Hobie shook his head, “Nah, no way. You’re tough as nails. Your friend, though—their screams might’ve fucked up my ears.”
You laughed, “The whole reason I’m here is because of them, actually. You know, to make them less scared.”
“Where are they?” Hobie questioned, “Did they get too scared and went home?”
“No, no, they become obsessed with the skull cotton candy that’s here,” You chuckled, “I physically couldn’t drag them away from the stall.”
“Hell yeah, that stuff’s great, I always have it when I’m Hank Marvin,“ Hobie smirked.
“When you’re what?”
“Starving,” Hobie laughed when you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. Then, he did a double-take at his desk when he tried to grab another makeup product, “Where the hell—“
“Looking for something?” A younger kid—a girl with blue and pink tips in her hair—appeared out of nowhere and held out some colourful eyeliner.
“That’s mine, you plonker,” Hobie said as he ruffled the girl’s hair. Then, he uncapped the eyeliner and cupped the kid’s face, bringing her closer, “Hang on, Gwendy, you’ve mucked it up, mate.”
With a few quick strokes, Hobie fixed her eyeliner while she stared at you with wide eyes.
“Is this one of your groupies?”
“I’m not a groupie,” You said, unable to hide the annoyance in your tone.
“They’re a friend,” Hobie said and your heart warmed. He scoffed in response to the kid’s question, as irritated as you. Though it quickly melted away and he affectionately patted the kid’s shoulder, addressing you, “This is Gwen.”
“Nice to meet you,” You offered her your hand after telling her your name, but she ducked away from it.
“I’m messy, sorry,” Gwen said before grabbing a packet of wipes out of the mess on Hobie’s desk and scrubbing their hands with it.
“Those are mine when you’re done,” Hobie scoffed—though it was full of endearment. He clearly adored the kid and vice versa.
Even though Gwen’s costume was spider-like, it had many similarities to Hobie’s. The most striking ones were that they had the same makeup and Gwen was wearing a shirt that was clearly created by Hobie.
As Hobie continued to do your makeup, applying some eyeliner on you, he wrinkled his nose, “I don’t have groupies, Gwendy.”
“Tell that to the people who edit you on TikTok,” Gwen replied teasingly as she swept some makeup to the side and sat down on his dressing table.
“I would but that app is a piece of shit that destroys your attention span. I’ve told you that a million times, mate,” Hobie grumbled, “I don’t have it for a reason.”
“Wait, are you guys serious? People make edits of you?” Your eyebrows shot up and Hobie pushed them down with his fingers before continuing with your eyeliner.
Gwen nodded, “Yeah, people go crazy over him. His hashtag has, like, thousands of views.”
“Wait, seriously? Like, genuinely? Actually?” You found it hard to believe. Not because Hobie wasn’t worth it, he absolutely was; he was attractive and charming. It was because you hadn’t come across any of these edits.
“Yeah, and it’s bloody weird. They don’t even know me, and they pick the worst music known to mankind. They’re out of their goddamn minds if they think I’d like MSI.” Hobie groaned before turning to Gwen, “You and Pav need to stop sending me those edits. I already said I don’t wanna see ‘em.”
“You should be glad you can’t see the comments.” Gwen grinned.
“Wait, hang on, I wanna see this—” You began to say but she cut you off.
“You really, really don’t. The comments are the worst part. But the attention’s good for business, though,” Gwen pointed out.
“Yet my wage is still the same,” Hobie grumbled before stepping back from you and gesturing to the mirror, “Have a look, mate.”
Gwen shuffled out of the way so you could see yourself properly—and you broke out into a grin. You were wearing the same makeup as Hobie, matching with both him and Gwen.
Hobie clapped you on the back as Gwen grinned at you, “You’re one of us now.”
And you definitely felt like it.
#i have been trying to post this for days now. but my internet is fucked and it just WONT.#if this fails to post again ill die /j#hobie brown#ash shut up challenge#across the spiderverse#hobie brown x reader#spiderpunk#spiderpunk x reader#spiderpunk x you#spiderpunk x y/n#spider punk#spider punk x reader#spider punk x y/n#spider punk x you#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x gender neutral reader#atsv#atsv hobie#spiderman: across the spiderverse#spiderman: atsv
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Dancing on the Ceiling (Frank Castle x Reader)
MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST FORM
A/N: I accidently wrote 4,000 words. Oops. Enjoy!
Requests are open.
Summary: Your neighbor, Pete, helps you after you get into a bind. A friendship develops, but all hell breaks loose when you walk in on him pulling a bullet out of his shoulder.
(Warnings: mentions of blood (what’s new honestly), gunshot wound, soft!frank, female reader, short reader, sMUT!, SMUTTTTT, fem receiving oral, p in v, let me know if I missed any!)
“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You watched as the potted plant you had just held inbetween your hands rolled down the apartment stairs, cracking with each step and finally shattering once it hit the landing. You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. Your eyes found the ceiling, gently closing.
That plant had been very expensive. Well, it could’ve been very expensive at one point in its life. Probably. You’d picked it up at a flea market on your way home, figuring it would bring some much-needed color to your lifeless apartment. And now it was sitting in a pile of glass, dirt, and frustration at the bottom of the stairs. You huffed, intent on cleaning up your mess when a voice startled you.
“That was a lot of ‘shits’ for a lady.”
You swung around, cradling your hands over your pounding heart. Your neighbor was standing a few feet away from you, hands tucked into his jacket. You hadn’t met him yet, but you recognized him from around the building. He lived across from you. You rarely ever saw him come or go, except for the few times you’ve been up really late.
His hair was longer than most men kept their hair. His beard was dark and thick, but well maintained. He looked rather intimidating, actually, but he hadn’t given you a reason to be afraid of him. He was always quiet, sending polite smiles your way, but never stopping to talk as he made his way in and out of the building.
Tonight was the first time you’d heard his voice.
“Yeah, well, today was a shitty day.” You responded, glancing back towards the mess you’d made. You made your way towards it and crouched down, intent on cleaning up as much of the glass as possible before sweeping the rest into a trashcan.
You heard your neighbor’s boots on the floor as he grew closer. You tensed, but quickly relaxed as he bent down to help you pick out the pieces of glass from the dirt.
“Shit!” You yelped as a piece of glass imbedded itself in your palm. Blood pooled in the palm of your hand. You tried to keep the blood from spilling onto the floor, but the gash was deep, and your blood spilled over the sides of your hand anyways.
“You always this messy?” Your neighbor was half-grinning as he gently cupped the injured hand, bringing it closer to his eyes to get a better look.
“It’s pretty deep. You might need stitches. You got insurance?” You shook your head. Of course you didn’t have insurance. Who could afford it these days?
“You got a first aid kit?”
“Yeah, but probably not with stuff for stitches.” Your hand was throbbing now, slightly shaking from pain.
“I have one. I could stitch it for you, but it’s gonna hurt.”
“Are you a nurse or something...” You let your question trail off, indirectly asking for his name.
“Pete,” he answered, keeping his focus on your hand, “I’m not a nurse, or something, but I know my way around injuries. Marine Corps.”
“Oh,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed that you had assumed differently. The more you look at him, the more apparent his military background becomes. His stature, the way he holds himself, the way he walks with a purpose even if it's just down the hallway.
“Will you let me stitch it up?” He asks, meeting your eyes and then looking back down at the cut, which was still bleeding profusely.
“Uh, yeah.” You nodded. It was better than sitting in the E.R. for three hours. He led you to his door, briefly pausing before opening the door and letting you in.
Various books were scattered around the kitchen and living room. A faint musky smell overtook your nose as you walked in. His cologne, you thought, or maybe his after shave. His walls were mostly bare, but the apartment itself looked lived in and clean – militant, even. You followed him towards his bathroom, looking over the few belongings he had near his bed. A copy of Moby Dick, a wallet, and a creased picture, tucked into the headboard. You let your eyes skip over the picture, not wanting to be too nosy and upset Pete five minutes after officially meeting him.
He patted the bathroom counter as he opened his cabinet, indicating that he wanted you to sit there. You tried – you really did – but with one of your hands out of commission, it proved to be much more difficult than you’d expected. Strong hands gripped your waist and lifted you up, gently setting you on the counter. Pete continued to move around the room, not acknowledging the fact that he just had his hands on your waist, and you watched as he pulled out gauze, antiseptic, needles, and stitch material.
Your leaned over, looking into his first aid kit, which reminded you more of a combat casualty response kit rather than a simple kitchen one.
“My first aid kit definitely doesn’t look like that, Pete.” His lips pulled into a tight smile, but he didn’t respond.
Gently, he grasped your hand and pulled it closer. Your knuckles lightly brushed against his abdomen.
“You never told me your name. This is gonna hurt, by the way.”
“Wait, what–oh!” You yelped as Pete pulled the shard of glass out of your hand. He was quick to add pressure to the cut, which was bleeding profusely, once again.
“Sorry,” Pete winced, grabbing the antiseptic off the counter, “your name?”
Your name slid through gritted teeth as he began to clean the wound. It stung, but you knew the worst was yet to come. You’d gotten stitches exactly one time in your life, when you had slipped on a patch of ice and busted your forehead open, and you weren’t keen to experience the pain of a needle sliding through flesh again.
He began to stitch the cut, holding your hand gently between his own. You leaned back against the mirror, breathing through the sting every time the needle re-entered your hand.
“I’ve seen men twice your size faint at the sight of a needle, so you’re doing pretty good. Honestly. Pretty tough for such a small woman.” He murmured, focus shifting between your hand and your eyes.
“You’re just saying that.” You huffed out a laugh.
“I’m not.” He was grinning again. It was jarring to see his smile after growing so used to his furrowed brows and grim mouth.
He finished the stitches and began wrapping your hand in white gauze. A slow process that required his hands to move around your wrist and arm.
“Try not to take this off for a few days. Let the wound start the healing process, and once it gets better, I’ll take the stitches out for you.”
You held your wrapped hand out in front of you, flexing the fingers a little. A sharp pain followed the movement, and you winced.
“Don’t do that either,” Pete winced with you, “We’ll try again in a few days, yeah?”
You nodded, hopping off the counter.
“I don’t know how I could ever thank you. Do you like pie?” You asked, walking towards the door with him.
“I like pie.” He affirmed, nodding his head once.
“Any requests? I own a bakery a couple blocks away.” You asked, stopping at the door.
“A bakery!” His question sounded more like a proclamation. It was the loudest you’d ever heard his voice, but even then, it was still softly spoken.
“A bakery,” you repeated, “Do you like apple?”
“I like anything homecooked, honestly.” His mouth had formed into a small smile.
“Okay, Pete.” You smiled, walking through the door. It was then that you remembered the giant mess you had left in the stairwell.
“Shit,” you groaned, “I still have to clean up.”
Pete shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You’d probably end up spreading the mess around instead of cleaning it, seeing that you only have one hand in working order right now.”
“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to be a bother, and you’d already basically forced him into doctoring your hand tonight. You didn’t want to push it.
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Okay,” you looked around, not knowing what to do with your hands now that they weren’t being held by Pete, “Thank you.”
“Anytime, little lady.” He responded, heading toward the stairwell.
The next day, you spent entirely too long baking his pie. You had to be careful, and it did take longer since you really only had one hand to work with, but you knew you were taking your time because you wanted Pete to like the pie. From the small observation you’d been able to make from walking through his kitchen the night before, it looked hardly stocked. A couple of packets of tuna and a box of ramen. Probably only beer and mustard in his fridge.
After you left work, pie safely secured in your delivery bag, you stopped at the Thai place around the corner from your apartment. You didn’t know what Pete liked, but he didn’t seem like the kind of person that would deny food simply because it wasn’t catered to his preferences.
When you got home, you swiftly knocked on Pete’s door as you unlocked your own. You left your door open behind you – an open invitation to come over.
Pete’s shadow spilled in from the dimly lit hallway. God, you thought, he really is giant, isn’t he?
“Special delivery,” you called over your shoulder, “only because I don’t like being indebted to people, and since you saved me from going into financial debt. A double debt is not something I like being in the middle of.”
“A double debt, huh?” He closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly by the front door and taking in his surroundings.
“Come sit down. I got Thai food.”
You talked with him for hours. About your late husband and how his death still affected you, even though it had been three years. About your bakery and how you’ve never been so busy in your life. Hell’s Kitchen being on the rise, supposedly, and how you couldn’t complain about the business, but how much you missed the regulars and the quiet.
He opened up a little, telling you about his wife and kids dying, though he didn’t go into any details. He had nodded empathetically when you talked about your husband, agreeing that his own wife’s death was still affecting him. After you were both spent, he bid you goodnight and thanked you for the food and pie.
You thought about the way his face had lit up after he had taken his first bite of pie. He’d leaned back, breathing deeply as he chewed.
“That’s the best damn pie I’ve ever had.” He had mumbled after swallowing, shoving another forkful in his mouth.
The next morning, when you opened the door to head to the bakery, a small potted plant was sitting on your doorstep. A replacement for the one you’d dropped down the stairs the other night. You smiled, gently setting it down on your coffee table, and headed to work.
//
The next few weeks flew by. Thanksgiving was fast approaching, so the bakery was busier than it had ever been. You’d made so much pumpkin pie one day that you swore you’d smell like pumpkin for the rest of the week. Hanging out with Pete quickly become a part of your daily routine. You’d get home from work, knock on his door, and he’d follow you into your apartment.
Sometimes he cooked for you, claiming he would’ve been cooking anyways. You knew that probably wasn’t true, but you never called him on it. Other times, you’d bring home new desserts you were experimenting with, questioning him about the flavor combinations and the textures. It was a genuine friendship; one you’d grown to look forward to every day.
You pondered your odd relationship with your neighbor as you walked home from work. Pete offered little about his personal life. You knew he worked in construction, but you didn’t know where. His wife and kids had died, but you didn’t know the details, and you didn’t ask. He would offer that information on his own, or he wouldn’t, and you were fine with that. He talked a little bit about his time in the Marines, but again, he didn’t give you many details about it. Your relationship was mostly him asking questions about you; your past, how you got into baking, where you grew up. You didn’t mind his silence. You recognized a man haunted by the ghosts of his past, and you didn’t pry.
You made your way down the hallway, knocking on Pete’s door as you unlocked yours. A stilted grunt behind his door made you pause. You frowned. Pete was one of the quietest men you’d ever met. A grunt loud enough to carry through the door was cause for concern.
Or, you thought, maybe he brought a girl home? A pang of jealousy hit your stomach. You hoped he didn’t have a girl in his apartment. You had only ever been inside once and you were, well, you.
Another grunt, this one louder and laced with pain, had you dropping your keys. Pete was in pain. Did he get hurt at work? You didn’t let yourself overthink it when you banged on his door again.
“Pete?” You called, knocking harder. “Are you okay?”
Someone shuffled behind the door. Steps grew closer and you tensed. What if the person behind the door wasn’t Pete?
Your shoulders visibly relaxed when Pete opened the door, though your face morphed into a frown when you saw the state he was in. His brow was soaked in sweat, he’d cut his hair, and his beard was gone. He was also shirtless, standing halfway behind the door. His pants, you noticed, were on, belt still in place. At least he wasn’t in the middle of fucking someone.
“I need your help with something.” His voice was hoarse.
“Okay.” You nodded, stepping forward to enter the apartment. He held his hand up, stopping you.
“I need you not to freak out, okay?”
Your curiosity was piqued. You agreed to his terms with a small nod and then reared back when he fully opened the door.
There was a small bullet hole in his shoulder, blood smeared down onto his chest. Your eyes widened.
“Pete, we have to get you to a hospital!”
“No, no hospitals. I didn’t make you go, did I?”
“That was a small cut! This is a bullet hole! You do realize you’ve been shot, right?”
He ushered you through the door, shutting it and locking it behind you. Your back was pressed against it, standing chest to chest with Pete.
“The bullet didn’t go all the way through, and I can’t get it out. I need you to get it out.”
Your eyes widened even further. “Oh god.”
“Don’t freak out, you hear me? I need you to do this for me.”
“Pete...” You mumbled, looking into his stern gaze. “Who shot you?”
“I’ll explain everything, I promise.” He winced again as he moved towards the bathroom. You quickly followed, not sure what else to do.
He sat down on the toilet lid and looked at you expectantly. You paused, contemplating how you’d gotten into this, then moved towards the sink.
“Let me just wash my hands first.”
Pete winced as you set your cold hands on his shoulder.
“It’s in there deep. You gotta dig.”
“I just...dig my fingers in there?” You asked, horrified. He nodded once, taking a deep breath.
The squelch of the wound was the only sound in the air as you dug your fingers into his shoulder. He immediately tensed, clenching his fist. His other hand dug into your hip. You tried to focus on the matter at hand instead of the fact that this was the first time he’d touched you since the night he’d stitched your hand up.
Your fingers wrapped around the bullet, tugging slightly. Pete let out a low groan, resting his forehead against your abdomen.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wailed.
“’s okay. Get it out.”
You pulled the bullet out, placing it on the counter. Pete sagged with relief; forehead still pressed against you.
“You have to tell me what to do next. I’ve never done this before. I’m a baker.”
“A damned good one, too,” He mumbled, sitting up, “Just wash it with that water bottle,” he tilted his chin towards the bottle sitting on the counter, “cover it with Vaseline, then gauze.”
You breathed, reaching for the bottle.
You began to clean the wound, Pete focusing on your face as you worked.
After you finished bandaging him, you arched your eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the explanation he had promised you.
He sent you a tight smile, grunting as he stood.
“You’re gonna need a beer for this.”
//
“So, your name isn’t really Pete, you’re technically dead to most of the world, you got shot in the woods while trying to help one of your old military buddies, and you have an unusually high pain tolerance?” You listed off, counting on your fingers as you went. You’d added that last part on your own.
Pete-Frank nodded, sipping his beer. You were both sitting on his couch, legs stretched out on the coffee table. His foot lightly tapped yours.
“You mad?”
“Why would I be mad, Pe-Frank?”
“I lied to you. For weeks. Then I made you dig a bullet out of my shoulder.”
You shook your head. “I’m not mad. I don’t think,” you shrugged, “I think I’d do the same thing if I was in your position. Or I’d want to, at least.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
“Okay.” You echoed.
You sat in comfortable silence with him, slowly sipping your beer.
He sighed, setting his beer down on the table and turning to face you.
“When my wife died...” he started, “and my kids, I couldn’t just...accept it. I had to do something. I had to make someone pay.”
You nodded, setting your bottle down on the table next to his. Your knees brushed his as you curled your legs in.
“That doesn’t bother you? That doesn’t make me crazy in your book?”
“You don’t hurt women and children, right?”
He shook his head.
“Then no, it doesn’t bother me.”
“You’d just accept that? I kill people.” His voice had risen. He sounded angry – upset even. He stood, pacing a little near the coffee table.
“Are you seriously mad that I’m not mad?” You followed his motion, rising to meet him. Your chests were touching as you panted angrily.
“I think you’re being unreasonable.” He stated, placing his hands on his hips.
“I don’t think that’s for you to decide, Frank.” You copied him again, hands resting on your waist.
He barked out a laugh. “You look ridiculous when you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry. That’s what we’re debating right now, remember?”
He grinned, shaking his head and shifting his body forward. You were now fully pushed up against him. You knew he was built, but you didn’t realize how insanely jacked he was until this very moment. You could feel the lines of his abs through your shirt.
“I think you may be as messed up as I am.”
“And why is that?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Because I think you’re just as turned on about this as I am.”
You scoffed, blush creeping up your neck.
His hands made their way to your hips, wrapping around and pulling you against him. Your lips were inches apart, and you sunk into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, tongue scraping tongue. He ran his hands down your thighs, patting the back of them. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. He fell back, plopping on the couch and cupping your ass as you grinded into him.
“What about your shoulder?” You panted, returning your lips to his.
“I don’t care.” He mumbled against your lips, cradling your cheek in his palm.
You groaned as he kissed you deeper. You pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it behind you. His hands quickly unclasped your bra, pulling it off of you and hurling it to the side.
You stood and shimmied out of your pants. He slowly dragged your panties down, looking up at you for confirmation.
“Any other night, I would take these off with my teeth. Kiss every inch of your body.”
“Why don’t you?” You asked, watching him pocket the pink fabric. He lifted his hips up, undoing his belt and removing his pants. You were both now bare, sizing each other up. He leaned forward, pulling you on top of him again. His mouth left a wet trail up your chest, licking a stripe up your neck and sucking on a spot on your jaw. You groaned when he teased you with an almost-kiss.
“Because” he said, nipping at your neck, “I’ve wanted this for too long. You’re here now, putty in my hands,” you smiled, grinding into him, “and I don't want to waste any time. I can’t wait any more. I want to taste you. Is that okay, baby?”
“Yes,” you let out a breathy moan.
He flipped you over, pushing you back on the couch. One leg rested on his uninjured shoulder, while the other was hanging off the side of the couch. His lips hovered over your heat. You could feel his heavy breathing and you began to squirm, begging him to touch you.
“You want this, sweetheart?” He asks, grinning up at you.
“Please. Please.” You sigh, begging.
He dove in, tongue licking between your folds. You groaned, arching into him. He pulled back, running his tongue along his bottom lip.
“Sweet.” He mumbles, a small smile forming on his face.
You began to roll your eyes at his bad joke, but he was already lapping at your heat like a man starved. Your eyes did, in fact, roll, but towards the back of your head instead of around in a circle.
Your body ached with need. Frank splayed his hand across your stomach, forcing you not to move as his tongue picked up speed. A growing heat formed like a knot in your stomach, and you knew you were seconds away from cumming all over his tongue.
“Oh my god, Frank.” You moaned.
“Y’gonna cum, baby? I’m not even in you yet.”
You bucked your hips towards his mouth – or tried to, at least. His hand was still holding you down.
“Please, Frank.”
“Cum, baby.” His tongue returned to your heat, swirling around your heat. You felt the build up all the way down to your toes. He curled his arms around you when you tensed, cradling you as a wave of pleasure erupted from your core. Frank didn’t slow down or stop until you were completely spent, a sweaty, panting mess on his couch. The smirk on his face said it all – that was because of him, and he was proud of it.
Your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t feel anything except Frank’s hands softly caressing your thighs. You lazily looked him over. He was glorious; hard muscle all over, a strong jaw, a big nose, an even bigger-.
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?”
His voice snapped you out of your haze. You sat up, softly pushing him back into a sitting position.
“Can I ride you, daddy?” You asked, sly smile on your face.
He audibly groaned, grinding his hips up towards you. A daddy kink? You could definitely help with that.
He murmured your name. “Please.”
You sank down on him, groaning as he filled you to the brim. He tilted his head back, resting it against the back of his couch, eyes closed.
You started to move, slowly at first to fully adjust to his size, and then faster. His hands tightened on your hips, helping you grind on him. Your body would probably go into shock after this. Your bodies were electric, grinding in sync faster and faster. He leaned forward, pulling your tit into his mouth. His tongue flicked across the nipple, looking up at you in awe.
You stuttered out a moan, begging him to never stop touching you. Your body wasn’t even down from its last high, but you felt it building up again. You let out a low moan as he bucked up into you.
“’m gonna cum, Daddy.”
“Already?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around you. “You can cum on my cock as many times as you want, baby.”
“Oh god,” you moaned, pleasure building up. You couldn’t tell where your body ended and where his began. He grunted as you squeezed around him. For the second time that night, an orgasm washed over you. You nearly screamed, clenching anything and everything you could get your hands on.
“Cum in me, daddy. I’m on birth control. Cum in me.”
Frank tensed up, groaning into your neck as he came in you. Warm spurts filled your hole, and you watched his face as he came down from his high. His eyebrows were clenched together, eyes closed.
You leaned against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. His hands ran across your back in hazy, sweeping motions. When both of your heartrates slowed, you moved, intent on rising off of him, but he stopped you, pulling you back down on his softening member.
“You’re cute when you cum,” he mumbled into your neck.
“You think I’m cute?” You ask, grinning.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re cute. Don’t let it go to your head.” He returned your smile, kissing you softly.
“I’d say you’re cute too, but I think ‘god-like’ is the better word to use.”
“God-like, huh?” He nuzzled your neck, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses down your shoulder. You groaned when he licked a particularly sensitive spot.
“Round two, already?” He asked, nipping your skin.
“Oh, god yes.”
End Note: I hope you enjoyed this! My goal was around 2,000 words, and then i ended up writing double that. I was going to split it into two parts but then decided against it. If you catch any mistakes, it’s probably because I drank rosé while writing this. Thank you for reading!!
Tag List:
@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @alexxavicry
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle fluff#frank castle smut#frank castle oneshot#frank castle imagine#the punisher#the punisher x reader#the punisher x you#the punisher x y/n#frank castle x y/n#frank castle fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine#marvel smut#amhrosina
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Happy birthday! How about a celebrity AU with Yoichi?
Celebrity AU!
The picture’s messy, sorry 😅
I’m answering late because it became a Christmas gift 😉
I’m calling AFO Hisashi just to make it easier ☺️
Also spoilers for second and third ofa users names! And of the Shigaraki brother’s back story! I’m not sure if you caught up, but there’s not really any other spoilers here besides that.
This is how I think the au would go:
The Shigaraki twins started out with nothing, even lived on the streets. Hisashi was stronger so he was always the one to protect Yoichi and provide for both of them. Yoichi wanted to earn money to help out his brother who always looked out for them. He had always been talented and his looks attracted movie scouts and he jumped on the opportunity! His first role was successful, but being inexperienced, the brothers were cheated out of the money. His brother didn’t like all the talent agents taking advantage of him, so to protect his little brother, Hisashi took over as Yoichi’s manager. However, he sorta became what he wanted to protect Yoichi from. Oops. Hisashi became super controlling, not letting his little brother have any freedom outside of acting, interviews, modeling, and even pushed him to enter a music career, which was successful too. Hisashi worked in the background while Yoichi was the face of their success. Yoichi went along with everything because he wanted to make Hisashi happy, but the stress was getting to him.
One night, Yoichi was late to start a show, a security guard checked his trailer, only to find Yoichi crying. Yoichi asks if he’s going to tell his brother, but Kudou doesn’t really care about his boss atm and just wants to make Yoichi feel better. They talk for a bit and Kudou decides that Yoichi just needs a bit of freedom to feel better so they ditch the concert.
Yoichi has fun and is thrilled to be breaking his brother’s strict rules, even though it’s just an evening stroll with a stranger—soon to be friend. Eventually he returns because he doesn’t want to let his fans down. He starts late but it goes well.
After that they keep in touch and Kudou encourages him to set boundaries with Hisashi—that leads to a lot of fights between the brothers and Hisashi hates Kudou for it.
Yoichi breaks out of his professional relationship with his brother, which also results in a fight between the brothers.
Yoichi likes acting still so he starts to audition for small local theatre productions and independent films. He meets third—Bruce, a fellow actor and Yoichi is having fun again with his career.
Happy ending, Hisashi eventually comes around and lets his brother have agency and freedom and they make up.
Ty and I hope you like it! Merry Christmas
#bnha#my hero academia#yoichi shigaraki#celebrity au#third ofa holder#spoilers mha#second ofa holder#AFO#ofa#answer#sorry for any grammar mistakes and misspelling 🥲
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✧.* coffee
— summary : in which you meet a pretty customer while working as a barista in your local coffee shop.
— pairings : nancy wheeler x gn!reader
— word count : 0,6k
— warnings : tooth rotting fluff, coffee shop au, modern au(?), sorta set around s3 but canons off the table again, the typical love at first sight stuff, foul language, robin is readers coworker, messy plot & writing.
a/n : this is so cute so thank u for the idea jas ^^ hope u like this little blurb <3 also i don't know shit about coffee oops.
summer of 85' was suppose to be like some kind of rom-com you've imagined.
but here you are at 8 am, working at the local coffee shop to get some extra change, and the sounds of the old coffee machine breaking up was already annoying you.
your coworker aka the only other person here, robin who you've been getting really close with now, was ranting about the pretty person she met a few days ago.
"i'm telling you, y/n, they're really pretty, their hair is like molly ringwald, and they have amazing taste in movies." she continues. "i can look like molly ringwald." you joked, "but you've only met them once robin, they could be an axe murderer or something." you shrug.
"yeah but we had like a chat and stuff, they seem nice." your coworker stated, "that. only happens in movies, beware." you joke, getting interrupted by the welcome bell.
you roll your eyes at robin mocking you before approching the girl infront of you. "hi! welcome to bear brews, what can i get for you?"
"hi, can i get uh-" she paused, looking at the menu screen above you. "actually, what do you recommend here?"
the stranger looked incredibly gorgeous, you were love struck to say the least. her makeup was flawless and her hair was neatly clipped into a small ponytail.
you realize you were probably staring, "oh sorry, uh well are you looking for americanos or lattes or?" you asked. "oh uh, anything with caffeine little or big, up to you." she replied.
"okay, uh does a caramel macchiato with oat milk sound good? it's one of my favorites. i can upper the caffeine level to your liking if you want." you smiled. "yeah, that sounds good!" she smiled back. "the names nance by the way- nancy." she continued.
"pretty," you blurt out — "the name, your name is pretty, sorry uh." your face turns pink as you fumble your words. "sorry, i'll ring you up. your totals $3.75" you smile, "it's alright, thank you so much." she smiles, handing you the money.
you give her, her change before walking towards robin again as nancy sits in one of the seats.
the shop was empty, it was early and most people already made their coffee from home. it's quiet, most of the noise coming from the probably broken coffee machine, robin ranting, or the faint background music you probably forgot to turn on.
"that only happens in movies." robin laughs, "i just saw you go head over heels over a person you just met by the way!" she continues.
"i wasn't-" you paused, "i didn't know a literal princess would be entering a hawkins coffee shop!" you say, a bit too loud maybe.
"go talk to her." robin points.
you thought about it as you made her the drink, ringing it up as soon as your done.
you build up the courage to talk to her when she got up to get the drink, and the talk slowly became a conversation.
you've gotten to know the girl, turns out she works at the hawkins post a few walks away from where you work. her job doesn't start for another hour, and she's already got everything prepared for her 'coworkers' she explained as well, while drinking the coffee you suggested.
time passes and she has to go back.
"it's really nice talking to you, nancy." you smile. "yeah, it was nice talking to you too, i will 100% come back here." she smiled waving before sending you a wink.
you smile before turning to robin who has been behind the counter the whole time. "only in the movies?" she asked as you chuckle, "i change my mind."
#nancy wheeler fluff#nancy wheeler#nancy wheeler x reader#nancy wheeler x reader fluff#stranger things#stranger things imagines#stranger things imagine#nancy wheeler x you#nancy wheeler x y/n#nancy wheeler imagine#nancy wheeler imagines#nancy wheeler blurb#natalia dyer
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It took me a minute to finally get my notes straight so I could answer this— I hope it was worth the wait! I’ll give some bullet points of tips I use to help boost my production speed in addition to the strategies I use to try to keep characters consistent. Let’s get into it!
First up: How I draw faster!
Note that these mostly apply to digital art, as that’s my preferred medium.
If your art program has them, experiment with brush stabilization levels. My hands shake really bad, especially while I’m drawing, so I put a lot of effort into finding a stabilizer level that works with my need to control lines while also smoothing out the tremors in my hands. It’s made it so much easier to draw lines like I want to, and therefore lets me move on instead of redrawing the same line over and over again.
Creating templates for your art helps so much— setting up things like canvas size, color profile, DPI, background colors and images like the paper texture PNGs that I love to use ahead of time helps me get drawing faster, while I’m excited and inspired! Similarly, having a naming system for your art files is useful for speed as well as finding and organizing old pieces easier.
Having premade color palettes of local colors for characters is also super helpful for speed, as well as keeping characters on model :>
Personally, I use a single brush for lineart and rely on the selection tool and bucket fill for coloring when I actually bother to color things in. My lines are pretty loose nowadays, and the same goes for when I color things— I don't abide exactly by the lineart I draw, and get pretty messy with the selection tool and bucket fill!
I simplify character designs as much as possible— the standard design of a sigilyph, for example, is pretty complex. But I made Sen a lot simpler (and also forgot the spikes on her torso in this panel. Oops)
As for keeping characters on-model…
I’m very flattered that you feel otherwise, but I actually don't keep characters very on-model between different drawings— just look at the different ways I've drawn Ark below— however, I'm improving over time as I become more familiar with how I want to draw the characters! A big part of my process of keeping characters on model is drawing characters over and over to familiarize myself with how they should look through trial and error.
Learning common angles and poses I will draw characters in is very helpful for making sure they look consistent. As a bit of a downside, though, it makes wonkier angles stick out like a sore thumb! Drawing Ark with his head slightly angled downward was really hard, and I don't think I communicated it that well here:
I try to have the characters broken down into as many simple shapes that fit into each other as I possibly can, like Twig’s head (circle + rectangle snout + angled rectangle horn) Ark's hair (that weird bangs shape) and Dusknoir's upper body (beanbag shape / slightly elongated circle torso, arms coming out of his frill that comes in a very particular arcing line). This makes it way easier to draw characters quickly and consistently, because I can learn those lines and shapes and get the motion of drawing them into muscle memory.
Also, knowing the ways characters emote is like knowing cheat codes. Giving characters things like a signature comedic expression of shock or grin that they make when they're happy are very helpful!
The biggest tip I can give on the topic of keeping characters on-model (at least without model sheets— model sheets are THE way to go. Don’t be like Sofie and neglect those pieces of gold) is really just to practice. Build up familiarity with the shapes and proportions of characters, get a feel for how your hand and wrist moves to get the lines right.
#creativity tips with sofie#art tips#drawing tips#drawing advice#art advice#stuff by sofie#sofie answers asks#(kinda)
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15. fav scene (except there's no background and the rendering is messy oops sorry)
#blood cw#a bit#yandere high school#sam gladiator#sam yhs#grian#yhs#taurtis#taurtis yhs#saurtis#a liiiittle#is it shipping if this actually happened in canon#art
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Last Twilight ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม Ep 5
Another P'Aof ep 5/12, another domestic morning scene with teasing and breakfast.
did Mawk just skip one of the comments?
oh that's gonna be a thing with the hands in the picture innit
called iiit
the Phiinawnging is STRONG in this one
that teddybear, whaaaa
did we just skip an entire day
the way Mawk looks at Day, my goodness
adasdfasdfasdfasdfasdf GEE
Gee you really just quoted the song I CANNOT
hi August oops
oh dear, bad blood? even though they're supposed to be playing together?
is he a homophobe or what
or does he just think Day sucks, which in the current context I could kinda see
wow Day's hair is concrete solid
awww
oh man this is tough
so it WAS him who asked for that
food as a love language, godddd
oooh Mawk opening up
the rainbow flags in the background, are we supposed to not read into that, p'Aof??
oh, that's sweet but possibly also misguided
that seems like it was too easy, idk
awww
so that WAS the match Mawk watched
that WAS the invitation to a date and also Day used to have a crush on him, I guess
did Mawk just set them up on a date?! I love this, oh my god
so it's Saturdayyyy
I love Phawjai so much
Phawjai ilu but body spray and perfume aren't the same
is this the date place from Step by Step??
If *I* still can't tell how much of Mawk's flirting is serious and how much is him playing, how is Day supposed to be able to tell???
fgsdfgsdfg wow Mawk is laying it on thickkk
don't take away his food three bites in!!!! hey
oh Mawk is enjoying this so much
don't play with your fooood
oh no I want this to well for day but I'm also WORRIED
where are they finding all these cute food places, godddd
Mawk is so good, gdi
thanks for letting Jimmy act without speaking for once
oooh is he actually gonna quit/cut down??
is August gonna stand him up?? that sucks
he probably texted and Day didn't see, huh
but wow an HOUR?? he could've at least called.
poor Day :(
I love this a lot
DATE
this is the most unrealistic thing in the show so far, what 20something dude knows flower meanings??
oh Day, don't say thatttt
the close-ups here!!! the close angles!!!
I love that Day's honest, but also Mawk just got his heart broken a little, huh
he turned up!!! oh no? yay? which is it???
did he know???
oh fuck
Mawk really, really likes him, huh
not the bus stop music of change!!!!
oh next week looks DELIGHTFULLY messy, maybe even moreso than this week
#last twilight the series#last twilight#ภาพนายไม่เคยลืม#last twilight ep 5#bl watch liveblog#my nonsense#q
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Thank you for enabling my addiction! (You honestly didn't have to, I was just lamenting and had to do *something* or else I'd be crawling up me walls by now)
I do have a question for you though! You write canon divergent stories, do you always write Gojo the same way?
Metaphor: I have 5 different Barbie dolls. They are all barbie but they're all slightly different, and how I *play* with them and give them character varies depending with what I want. One barbie may be more analytical and cold vs. Another barbie that is more sardonic and mean-spirited.
Do you have 1 Barbie that you use for every story, letting that one barbie react to different scenarios or do you have several different barbies depending on what you want.
Cause will admit, between your adult gojos and teen gojos, it's kinda hard to pinpoint is there *is* a varying difference between them, if any.
~Messy, being nosy
Haha, don’t worry, I’m generally one gentle poke away from throwing my ficbits all over Tumblr. I genuinely love sharing and seeing you guys’ reactions 💜
As for your question—yes and no!
The Barbie metaphor won’t work for how I approach this, so let’s go with a very cliched one—a prism. Gojou (and Yuuji and any character I delve into deeply and/or frequently) is a prism to me, and what the story decides is which side of it I’ll focus on. So, in a way, I do always write the same Gojou—similar tastes, similar history, similar choices. The details will vary depending on the kind of canon divergence, plus an assortment of headcanons I pick and choose from, but the way I conceptualize him is essentially the same.
But a blend of the setting (canon period plus the canon-divergence alternations, if any), the plot (background, inciting event, and related developments), and the character interactions (primarily the Gojou–Yuuji romantic/sexual element) is what determines the specifics of his character in a particular story.
For example, little lamb to the slaughter centers his morally dubious side as applied to his desire for Yuuji, with undertones of manipulation and coercion that taper off as the story progresses, while every version of the story (Ao3 version here) dials these aspects up to eleven to the point that the story earns every one of those additional tags and then some. I think the time travel threesome fic is the best for observing the differences and similarities between his teen and adult versions, albeit filtered through the teen one’s rather biased perspective. The similarities dominate, especially when it comes to anything that matters.
And that makes me pretty glad you can’t pinpoint any distinct differences as much! Mission accomplished.
Still, I think the most decisive factor is age. Pre-Toji Gojou, post-Toji Gojou, and canon adult Gojou are all subtly different flavors of the same dish (oops, new metaphor) to me, and if I were to write kid Gojou or early–mid 20s Gojou, the characterization nuances would be different again. The blueprint, however, would be the same.
That all said, full disclosure—I’m an instinctual writer. All the observations above are ones made after the fact. The way I figure out characters is by writing them—serpent tongue was how I got a handle on Gojou, little lamb helped me get deeper into Yuuji’s head, and isolation neophyte was a revelation or ten about Nanami.
And a very big thank you for being nosy because this was hella fun to answer! I’d never considered my approach to characterization from this angle before.
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