#Ask Sketch And Pals | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellierenae · 8 months

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SUPER UNIQUE writing ideas for hobbyists and professionals looking for fun, personal projects to get their inspo back

get a fictional pen pal (ask your other writer friends!) and spend time decorating envelopes, picking out a handwriting style, maybe buying a cheap perfume/cologne that smells like your character to really get to know them and feel their presence. if you have hand tremors or bad handwriting like me, you can choose a handwriting font for them and print their letters out!! more examples: save the dates, wedding invitations, birthday cards, party invites, etc.

use old calendars in character (there are many "expired" planners on sale around the end of the year, usually August) personally, i use them to record major life events like first band tours, trips abroad, holidays, birthdays... even trash pickup days and when they forget to roll out the bins!

sketch floor plans this can be on graph paper if you have the know-how when it comes to scaling down, but there are also tons of simple apps that allow you to both create the floor plan a builder would use and add furniture like an interior decorator. some even let you rotate them afterwards and see the furniture and walls burst to life in 3D! you can think of them as the sims but where everything is actually to scale

make an architectural model if you have some scrap cardboard, paper, and glue, you can easily bring the floor plan you just made to life (you'll need practice if you want to get really fancy with it of course! window panes and railings are the gnarliest part for me, haha)

make a playlist as your character maybe the most accessible one on this list, you can make the playlist your character listens to. sometimes this can be fun and surprising, like when my little guy Possum from Violence Without Plot is covered in tattoos and plays punk music on stage but listens to nothing but spa music to wind down between shows

write something your character can see this one is so weird to summarize but what i mean is like... a school essay for your teacher character to grade. cryptic street signs warning about danger by the lake. a memorial plaque beneath a statue. a character's online blog. a few of the cards in a grandmother's recipe box. a business card for a smooth-talking lawyer. things you can write that make everything feel so textured and real

these are all things i do on the daily, and it makes my life as a writer a thousand times more joyful and fulfilling. so have fun, be safe, and don't forget to unplug the hot glue when you're done <3

#writing advice #writing inspiration #writing tips #writeblr #writing prompts #from ellie

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ask-sketch-and-pals · 1 year

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C: "Dammit Sketch! Cant you use the doors like everyone else?!" S: "It's quicker like this"

#DHMIS #Dont Hug Me Im Scared #SAP #SAP AU #Sketch And Pals #Ask Sketch And Pals #Sketch's Ask Tag #Colin's Ask Tag #Tony's Ask Tag

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fraugwinska · 10 days

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Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #hazbin hotel niffty #quick fic #oh so fluffy #i love ieatcocoa #fraugwinskas frauchen

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tookhimtomypenthouse · 5 months

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Hate Yourself - Chapter Two

series warnings: female!reader x oliver quick, past/implied felix x oliver, dub-con, stalker behavior, voyeurism, degradation, dacryphilia, bloodplay, gaslighting, manipulation, untagged story elements (the warnings aren't exhaustive!), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT bbgirl

summary: you’re hired as a maid after Oliver comes to own Saltburn, and find your employer to be very invested in your work

minors dni!

Lyuba had left this morning. She hugged you tightly before stepping into her cab, much to your surprise. The normally stern woman was unexpectedly tender with you that morning.

“Take care, zayka,” she whispered as she held you. “Don’t let this house devour you,” she added before pulling away and walking to her cab.

You shiver at the thought, her words chilling. You try to ignore the eeriness of her warning as you dust the study. Dusting was gentle work and a welcome reprieve from scrubbing and scouring the other rooms. Plumes of dust kicked up by your duster shimmer in the late afternoon sunbeams, and you catch yourself watching them float around. The study is full of dusty spots – tall bookshelves, busts of important men, and an overstuffed upholstered chair. Your focus is on the chair when you look up to see one of the many hanging frames of art.

Unlike most art decorating Saltburn, the frame doesn’t hold a stuffy oil painting of a king or lord. Instead, a sketch of a handsome young man looks back. His soft eyes and nonchalant pose invite you in. His clothes seem modern, his messy hair unfussy and tousled. The strokes of charcoal are loose and messy, giving the impression the subject wasn’t as buttoned-up as the rest. Who might he be? In the corner was the artist’s signature, a delicate cursive EC. You search around the perimeter of the sketch for a name, but there’s nothing else. Only the kind, mysterious face.

“Keep your secret, then,” you fake pout to the sketch. You’re pulled out of your examination by clicking footsteps from the hallway. You keep at your dusting, but you hear someone come into the study and rifle through the stack of papers on the desk. Turning your head, you see Oliver sit down and shuffle through a few documents, concentrating deeply on his task. Plucking up some unknown courage, you decided to soothe your burning curiosity.

“Pardon me, sir,” you start, faltering a bit as his eyes connect with yours, “but do you know who this is?”

Oliver pauses as his attention moves to the frame. A sad smile ghosts over his mouth. “Ah,” he says gently. “That would be Felix Catton.” He returns to his task at the desk, but he seems distracted.

“D-do you know him?” You ask, curiosity piquing at his visible reaction.

“I did,” he starts, stepping back from the desk and approaching the picture. “We were…mates.” He’s close now, close enough that your shoulders touch. “Met at Oxford.”

You feel your brows furrow. He’s not giving enough detail for your tastes. “How did he get a picture on the wall if he’s just a mate? There must be more to it than that.” You try and meet his eye, but he is fixated on the image.

“His family owned this place. He invited me to stay for a summer back when we were in university and died at the birthday party they threw for me here. In the maze.” He angles his head back to you, an unreadable expression on his features.

“Oh,” you mumble, “I’m so sorry.” An uncomfortable silence envelops you for a moment. You remember Lyuba’s clipped warning in the bathroom, and you aren’t sure how to react.

“The rest of his family followed,” he finally offers, “so his mother left me Saltburn when she passed.” The revelation surprises you, but it makes sense. You had never seen his surname in the numerous journals, paintings, or statues that graced the halls. It seems odd that an Oxford pal came to own this massive estate. Then again, you’re just a maid. Rich people do crazy things like give away houses to friends, right? Maybe people like Lyuba and you could never understand. The few precious things you own you guard fiercely, but finery probably doesn’t seem as precious when you’re constantly surrounded by it. You can understand the grief on his face, though. His prolonged, desperate look at the drawing makes your chest twinge with sadness.

“Wow,” you whisper. “You must miss him terribly.” The weight of his gaze rests squarely on you. His presence feels suffocatingly close, especially because everyone else has so far made themselves scarce. You haven’t had someone so near to you since Lyuba left. You fight the urge to lean in even closer.

“Sometimes,” he admits. He lingers next to you for a moment longer before stepping back to the desk and grabbing a sheet of paper. You shake your head quickly and return to dusting, hearing his footsteps move out the door and down the hallway. You give the picture of Felix one last glance before busying yourself with the rest of the room.

Hands on your hips, you survey the pristine room. You feel a sense of satisfaction, having made it through your to-do list earlier than anticipated. Making your way back to your room, you decide to reward yourself with a soak in the bathtub. A hot bath. The thought alone is enough to bring a dreamy smile to your lips. The days of work haven’t been too exhausting, but your muscles are sore from adjusting to the workload.

Reaching your room, you rifle through your drawers. Grabbing out your pajamas and socks, you move on to the underwear drawer.

That’s…strange.

You rifle through the contents frantically. Where did they all go? You know you brought more than this. Only a few pairs are left. You shake your head, trying to be rational. They’re just in another drawer, you tell yourself. Hands shaking slightly, you paw through all the drawers in your dresser. By the final one, your breathing comes in raggedly, and your vision blurs with tears.

“What the fuck?” You feel sick to your stomach. Who had been in your room? Suddenly, you feel very vulnerable, too exposed. You rush to the door and try to lock it. The handle jiggles uselessly. A sob breaks from your throat as you sink to the ground. Everything feels like too much.

You miss home, your shoebox room with the ugly brown shag carpet and the tiny window to nowhere. You miss your mother, the twins, your friends. It’s so lonely here. Everyone keeps their distance, and now the one sanctuary you have to yourself feels tainted. Unsafe. If you could go back home, you would.

But you couldn’t. Well, wouldn’t. The private school the twins attend has steep fees, and Mum’s cashier job isn’t cutting it. You think she has enough to worry about as tears flow down your face freely.

“Pull it together,” you choke out to yourself. It was probably a cruel prank, hazing the new girl. You won’t let them send you back home with your tail between your legs. You’d give your siblings a shot at a life beyond the dreary little town you grew up in. They wouldn’t have to clean other people’s houses if you had any say. Peeling yourself off the ground, you resolved to take your bath. Fuck it, you weren’t going to give up so easily. You could take the silent treatment and other nonsense if it meant a future for them.

Clutching your things, you walk to the bathtub and run the water. You can’t help but feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but ignore the feeling. I’m just overthinking, it’s fine. You slip out of your work dress and slide into the steamy bath. You bring your head underneath the water, heat soothing your puffy and tearstained face. You weren’t going to let this place break you.

It’s too bad the person peering through the bathroom keyhole would disagree.

You sleep terribly.

The broken lock and missing panties have rattled you despite your best efforts. You spend your nights watching the door, muscles twitching in anticipation of a confrontation that never comes. Each morning, an increasingly wan face stares back at you in the mirror.

You decide to do something about it. Your distant coworkers have offered you nothing but wary glances and clipped responses the whole time you’ve been here, so you feel certain it had to be one of them. A good boss would want his employees to feel comfortable here, so you make it your mission to bring it up with Oliver once you finish your tasks for the day.

You wander the house looking for him, nervously popping your head into every room. You don’t think he has business outside the house today, so you get increasingly worked up with each empty room. When you end up back in the foyer with no sign of him, you stomp out into the garden. It’s dark and chilly out, but you can’t even care. You just want somewhere private to scream. The maze beckons you. You’ve never had a chance to go inside, so you trudge right inside it.

The twists and turns are dark and disorienting. You feel your anger ebb away into fear as you make your way deeper. The cold nips at you, but you press on. How much time has even passed here? You’re tempted to turn around and try and find the exit when you see a clearing. You press onward, unsure of what lies ahead. You notice a huge statue, its form monstrous but somewhat amorphous to you in the darkness of the night. It looms menacingly over the space, filling you with dread.

You hear rustling and nearly jump out of your skin when you realize you aren’t alone.

“W-who is it?” You call out, voice trembling. You cast your eyes around and see a man’s form in the corner.

“It’s just me,” comes the response, and you almost sigh with relief at the sound of Oliver’s voice. You sheepishly walk to him, relaxing at the edge of the clearing. “Are you alright, love?” He peers up at you with concern.

You try to clear your throat and give a nonchalant response, but your voice comes out brittle and pinched. “Of course,” you rasp out, faltering. You don’t even realize the tears are coming out until Oliver hops to his feet and gently swipes his thumb over your cheek. The unexpectedly tender gesture has all of your exhaustion and worries pouring out.

“Hey,” he breathes, gently cupping your face.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, crying into his hands. “I haven’t been well. Someone broke my lock, a-and stole my clothes, and-“

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay,” he soothes, stepping in close and wiping your face. “Someone stole from you?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply.

“I’ll get the door fixed, yeah? And replace what got taken.”

“Really?” you ask, a spark of hope returning to you.

“Of course, I hate to see such a pretty girl upset,” he answers, stroking your hair. He gives you a gentle smile, and you can’t help but give him a teary smile in response. “Now, run along inside. It’s cold out here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, sniffing and drying off the last of your tears. You turn back to the entrance and walk slowly, mulling over his words. Maybe somebody does care about you here.

“Get some rest, please,” he calls after you. “I can’t have my best girl so sad.”

You stifle a giggle as you trace your way back out of the maze, slightly delirious from the attention and unexpected tears. Maybe you really will get some sleep tonight.

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #barry keoghan #fanfiction #fanfic #hate yourself

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privitivium · 3 months

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I have a thing for aphrodisiacs...mind writing that with johnny joestar...? 😖

i dont mind at all, pal. idiot loser buys foreign candy. ahemhrm.

brattish subbot johnny joestar x soft domtop m

cw/c ;; unknowingly consuming drugs,,, brief overstim,,. disabled johnny - can still feel his genitals, frotting :p sorry for any mistakes

“come on johnny, what's the harm?!” you tease him, pinched fingers holding a piece of hard candy to the blondie's blue lipstick covered lips that you fancied yourself having a taste; arm slung around his shoulder in the comfort of your shared fancy hotel room you bought after making it to the checkpointㅡ

“my harm is that you bought that shit from a sketchy looking guy who had girls’ underwear stapled to his chest!” johnny complained, tossing you a glare from his side of the bed, partially shoving you away with a huff, “no one in their right mind would consume anything from a guy as suspicious as that. you're an idiot.” he mutters plainly, scrounging around in his bag to distract himself from the heat of your body next to his, leaning on himㅡ"well, i guess i am an idiot!” you huff, promptly crunching on the candy just to irritate him further.

“yes, i already know that..” johnny grits, rolling his shoulder back to shove your arm off him,. “you're probably gonna be poisoned. and then we're gonna leave you to be buried here, we don't wanna drag around dead weight.” he snickers at his own attempt at a joke, grinning.. “yeah, yeah.. i know how much you'd like that.” you stand abruptly, meandering toward the other side of the bed. a barrier of pillows placed by johnny, provided by the hotel, splitting the bed into two sides. you fiddle around with the nightstand, sucking on another smaller piece, before standing and making your way toward the windowㅡjohnny tensing at the sound of shuffling, trying to resist the urge to look at you in case you were already staring at him - the thought makes his heart palpitate a little harderㅡscribbling something in a miscellaneous notebook that wasn't for logging, thinking that he actually pissed you off,,,

now standing at the window of the shared room, overlooking the town as you suck dutifully on the candy - you didnt think it was sketch, the guy with panties stapled to his chest had a total assortment in his trenchcoat, and you saw a few other people buying off him before you!! he even had his own sign and a stall saying what he sells! you don't think its that bad.. an orange hard candy, rolling over your tongue.. tangy, sweet. yummy - before johnny joins you, rolling over and peeking out the window to see what was so fascinating to keep your gaze.. nothing too spectacular.. he side-eyes your tensed form, glancing down at the window sill and spotting a couple of tiny crumpled wrappers along the wood.. he figured you would have eaten them all already, but you seem to be pacing yourself... he hums faintly, curiosity piqued, seeing as they didn't seem to be taking effect if they were poisoned?? you were quite stupid in his eyes, taking candy from a stranger..

johnny purses his baby blue lips, hands in his lap before he was looking up at you;; “can I have one?” johnny held out his hand, eyes narrowed as he looked up at you, asking rather politely.. “jeez, alright, fine..” you huff as if it were the most tedious thing,,, a smile gracing your lips as you drop the paper wrapped candies into his awaiting palm, excited to share your treat with a man that expressed dislike for you..,,

“maybe it takes a while for the effects to kick in..” johnny snarks, yet pinches his fingers and tosses one of the hard candies in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hard sugar, not allowing himself to hum in delight at the taste… not allowing you the satisfaction of being right that it does taste good. “then we die together.”

you bit your tongue, refraining yourself from asking about his dreams, goals, and gyro;; settling on.. “ew.. how disgustingly romantic.” you hiss in distaste, face burning with bashfulness, trying to play it off as a warm feeling begins spreading along your loins… a-ah.. hrnn.. “i'm tired.” you complain, ignoring the growing problem in your pants, turning away from johnny and company ( window ), “wh-what?” he stutters, eyes widening in surprise as you shuffle away from him - did he do something? REALLY!? did he piss you off,,, watching in slight surprise as you put away the candy and yourself away.. johnny huffs softly, before rolling himself back over to his side… shoving the blankets out of the way and helping himself onto the bed. he had no other choice but to do as you were, feeling a little awkward to do anything else.. you, squirming around on the other side of the barrier - turning on your side so that it wouldn't be that prominent,,,, jesus, your body was on fire. sweaty. it was a few minutes after you suddenly jumped into bed,,, squirming around with a dick aching to be touched,,, body dripping in sweat. you shuffle around in the dim light, not trying to awaken johnny as you presume he's already fallen asleep,,, struggling to unbutton your shirt and face the ceiling - a slight tent visible, the bulkiness of the blanket not helping,,

johnny interrupts your writhing with an utter of your name with a slight grit, breathlessness to his voice - he was laying on his back, mimicking your position. not that you could see anyhow, you jolt, surprised to hear his voice - you could feel the itchiness of the pre-cum lathering your tip and fabric of your underwear,,, “quit your moving.. i can't sleep with you moving around like that.” he complains softly - your thighs rub together, before completely stilling.

“yes, sorry johnny.” you quip back mutely, whispering. another minute passes, and you were growing increasingly restless and annoyed. should you jerk off in the bathroom? that is obviously the best option right now, but you can't help yourself, laying on your back, hands fidgeting at your sides. the warmth, an ache in your cock to be touched… you trail your hands over your abdomen, trailing lower underneath the blanket while staring straight up at the ceilingㅡ“f/n.” johnny's voice breaks you of your stupor, calling out your name so faintly you'd think you hallucinated itㅡreminding you of how close you were on the bed, pillows as a barrier or notㅡ

“yes, johnny?” your voice cracks as you reply meekly, a stark contrast to how you were acting just before, hands stationed at your sides - thinking that you were caught trying to touch yourself. the blanket shifts over you and rubs against your tent... you- you couldn't handle it.. the warmth spreading to your face, overtaking your abdomen, almost as if you were downing a bottle of liquor of some kindㅡ

"i.. i need help.”

you sit upward, looking over the pillow barrier worriedly - ignoring your boner for the sake of pleasing johnny and to help with whatever he possibly needs and turning on the lightㅡcome to find out he was dealing with a problem himself, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling with a face flushed red in the dim light, breathing relatively heavily before he sits himself up, the blanket falling off of his chest to his lap where… yes you can obviously see a bit of a tent there…

“help?” you murmur meekly, staring at him - reaching out and touching on his arm without even meaning to do so - your erection throbs with a heartbeat. ew. “help with what?” you continue worriedly, hand grazing upwards toward his neck.

“you know what, you idiot..” he couldn't help but hiss affectionately, having a liking for insulting you, letting himself lean over the barrier of pillows, partially against you. “you're such a moron, how could you let yourself be subjected to your stupid candy-eating habits? now look where it got us.” johnny.. as smart as ever. totally. obviously, if you both feel the same way, it must have been.. of course, a sketchy ass guy would sell you.. that kind of weird things. he would continue to berate you - but he needed to feel you, now. now, as in.. inside him, or you.. his hand grazing over his bulge shamelessly, which your eyes follow dutifully - squeezing your thighs together.

“yeah.. yeah sure.. uh .. uh huh..” in a messy haze, you tore yourself away, body on autopilot as you yank the blankets and sheets away - tossing the pillows to the side. johnny,,, laid out in the middle, hair splayed out on the pillows to support his head,,, lazily rubbing in between his legs..,,, you didn't have it in you to speak, as you were in a rush to be bare as a cloudless sunny sky, rushing to help johnny as he so begged you in his own way, having sit up and began trying to lift them off before you gently move his hands away - tugging them off completely, pushing him back and climbing atop him - noting how pretty his dick was, flushed an angry red and pre-cum pearling.. you shudder, tensing.. before taking him in your arms, holding him in, chest to chest and rutting your slick bare cock against his, grunting in his neck and nibbling on his neck - before he was squirming to push you off before he came so easily - unable to voice his pleasure as he was breathless in such a short amount of time, “s-s’ enough..” he grunts, drool slipping down his chin which you eagerly lean inward and lap up, smearing blue lipstick along your face and his - “need y’.. you.. in.” he squirms, trying to push you away, trying to get you to go downward - which you excitedly follow - after nearly cumming on top of johnny's dick from merely rubbing yourselves togetherㅡ

before you found your oil lubed up fingers pumping into his writhing, whining form - one of his legs hiked up just so you could see your fingers disappearing inside him,,, so lewd. before you began complaining, that he needs to feel you inside him - not your fingers. yo-you're cock, which he's been obviously eyeing up with the way it's been positively fucking sobbing with cum,, you slide up behind him, spooning him from behind and shifting your arm underneath him, under his arm just to shove your digits in his mouth while you spread him open;; eager to direct yourself into him; eager to be inside - eager to feel something warm and fleshy squeezing on your cock, yet you take your time with your hand palming on the fat of his thigh - unable to take your eyes off of his lower back side like the hungry admiring pervert you are,,, “hurry up.” johnny hisses - embarrassed at his neediness as he fidgets with his fingers - before yours were shoved in his mouth. the urge to completely chomp your fingers off waiving, as he laps up the sweat accumulated,, before you slowly push upwards, hand keeping his leg upward for you to enter,,, tip pushing passed his previously stretched ring of muscle, nearly cumming after you bottom out inside him, his squeezing gummy walls tensing around your cock - whimpering into the nape of his neck, before willing yourself to fuck into him sloppily,,,

“y-you.. feel so good, johnny…” you murmur, your usually chipper voice broken down to a mere whisper. his heart fluttering at your raspy voice, breathless as you tell him how good he feels,,, biting on your fingers and lapping up hisㅡyour fluids that coated your digits,, pumping ever so softly into his mouth, barely noticeable..

“,, i love youu,,” you bumped your head against his, nuzzling your nose into his cheek while nestled deep inside him;; bodies dripping in sweat so disgustingly in the comfort of a soft, cozy bed with the blankets strewn about on the floor.. johnny was sure that your confession was only because of your idiocy and dumb brain overloaded with lust,,, but still,, he involuntarily echoes it to you in a gentle, fond manner... blaming it all on your stupid candy and idiocy,,,..

#jojo =͟͟͞͞★#johnny joestar x male reader #johnny joestar x m reader #x male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #x dom male reader #x top male reader #jojo's bizzare adventure x male reader #hoorayyyy!!!

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idoodlestuffsometimes · 1 year

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Hi, I just read through your Brother’s Keeper AU and I love it!! I was wondering what Eda thought of Lord Metanoy—if she thinks he’s faking it for propaganda purposes, or figured out that Belos is the one who hurt his brother, or thinks it’s something else entirely? And by extension, what does Luz think of him?

Brother's Keeper AU Story Post 13

Luz is still getting her bearings in this strange new world. Eda, meanwhile, has more pressing things to worry about, but she's suspicious of propaganda from the get-go.

AU MASTER POST

BEGINNING | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: A black and white pencil-sketched comic. PANEL ONE: Luz, Eda, and King, perched on Eda's shoulder, have stopped on their way down the street. Eda carries a sale banner draped over one arm and Luz is holding a box of random human knick-knacks. Luz reads one of the propaganda posters with a picture of Caleb hunched in his wheelchair, reading: "REMEMBER METANOY'S MADNESS, BEWARE THE DANGERS OF WILD MAGIC." "Eda, what is this supposed to mean, anyway?" asks Luz. "Who is this guy?" "Ah, that's just old Mad Metanoy, the emperor's brother." answers Eda. She gestures wildly, eyes sarcastically wide. "They say, he went CRAZY from wild magic." PANEL TWO: Eda picks her teeth, unimpressed, hand on her hip. "With all this dumb coven stuff, though," she says. "I say it's the WORLD that's gone crazy and maybe he's the only sane one." On top of her head bounces a pair of novelty spring-loaded googly eye glasses. PANEL THREE: Luz looks up at the poster, concerned. "Haha, insanity!" exclaims King off-panel. PANEL FOUR: Eda and King continue on their way. "Hey, Eda," says King, one hand to his cheek, "will YOU cast a wild magic curse to drive MY enemies to madness?" "Sure thing, pal." she replies. "I'll let you know once I figure out how." Luz follows after them. In the foreground, the propaganda poster remains. /End ID]

#The Owl House #TOH #eda the owl lady #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #king clawthorne #Caleb Wittebane #Brother's Keeper AU #doodle art #doodlereply #no inking this time! there was nothing complex or dramatic enough to warrant it and my rule for this au is fun over perfectionism 👍#and yes i'm still busy with commissions and new hire paperwork but i'm sick of it and did this instead. i am the peak of responsibility

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factual-fantasy · 4 days

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10 asks! Thank you!! :}} 🌞

AHEHEHE KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING LIKE A DORK AT THIS 😭😭💞🥺💖💖 THANK YOU SO MCUH!! I DO MY BEST TO MAKE THE EXPRESSIONS KF THE CHARACTERS READABLE AND DRIPPING WITJ EMOTION SO IM GLAD ITS WORKING!! :DD ✨💞✨💖✨

@gummysusie

Oh there's lots I'd be willing to eat if I had to! XDD

My memory ain't the best but off the top of my head-- I'm sure eating miltank meat wouldn't disturb me so much! :0

I like fish so there's a lot of those I'd be willing to try! Magikarp, uhhh those two grumpy fish that are either green/red or green/blue! I forgot the name..

Of course all of the food themed ones would be relatively no problem. Fidough, Milcery.. There's some bird ones that wouldn't be too upsetting too! XDD

As long as my brain relates them to earthly animals, I'm not too disturbed by the thought of eating them XD Im sure they have to eat pokemon in the actual pokemon universe! Where else do their meat based dishes come from? How else do they feed their carnivorous pokemon??

@girlsackthing

Not recently :(( but I'd like to pick it up again someday once I'm feeling better! :}}

@illogically-austere

Hey thanks for checking in, that means a lot 🥹

I'm hanging in there as best I can. I haven't eaten much but am getting plenty of water and rest! I'm hoping this horrible health trial thingy I've been going through is over soon <:}}

@sussyhahag

y a l i k e j a z z ?

@littlelightfish

Hey pal, I hope You're doing alright! Hang in there.. <:}}

I haven't worked much on Tuna's backstory recently.. but I imagined that his blood family was gone.. he lived on a ship with a real rotten crew that was horrible to him.

As for how he joined Seafoam's crew, I imagined that the crew rescued him somehow. Maybe Tuna's old crew attacked Seafoam's crew but he kicked their butts. Perhaps in all the chaos Tuna was left behind by "mistake", only for Foam to welcome him aboard?

Maybe his old crew got too intense and he ran, somehow running into Seafoam and he offered shelter? Or maybe his old ship sank and he was found by Seafoam..? Something along those lines-- XD

Anywho- thank you! Things are starting to look up for me, I'm hoping this journey is almost over! <:}}

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

"Seafoam's heart 🥰..... Metaphorically I mean-"

I would assume so! :0 Maybe a cookie like that already exists in the games!

Well that's hard to say.. I usually draw comics all in one pass. I sketch out the entire comic, and then I go back and draw all the line art, and then I go back and color it all in..

So in that sense 1 drawing for a comic could take days to complete. But if I were to focus on just one panel/drawing? I would guesstimate about 10-15 minutes :0

Now my name! My memory is a little foggy.. but one of my favorite things to do in drawing is to apply logic, reason and explanations for things.

For example, Captain Barnacles! He's a polar bear wearing a full suit and lives out in the Pacific Ocean. Obviously there's a lot that doesn't make sense about that- but mainly the fact that Barnacles would be way too hot!

So I remedy this by making my version of Barnacles have very short fur, a special diet that thins out his blubber, and a special suit that helps keep him cool! It's not perfect obviously but it helps make him living out in the Pacific seem more reasonable. Which is what I love to do, and how I thought of my name! Applying fact to fantasy, Factual Fantasy!

Hm, Bibi's worst fear.. that would have to be something bad happening to me or any of the fam I'd assume <XD

Nothing bad actually happened to Red, that nightmare just manifested because she loves/worries about him so much 🥺💞 Like a mother having dreams about their children getting hurt. Nothing exactly happened to cause it, but they just worry about their babies so much that those dreams happen sometimes..

And lastly, thank you! It's looking good that I might finally get out of this pit. So my spirits are high! :}}

@beryl-shade (sorry for the late response! <:D)

He typically will not allow it 😅 I originally had a drawing idea for this ask but I dont have the strength to get to my PC so I can just explain it!-

I imagined Octo and some of the crew all tied to chairs with some other pirates taunting them. Octo looks very bored and very unintimidated.

Well one of the pirates makes the mistake of grabbing one of Octos tentacles and twirling it around. Octo immediately reacts and uses the other tentacles on his head to restrain his hand and start choking the guy-

The rest of the crew is just laughing and calling that pirate an idiot while he continues to struggle to get away from the angry Octo 🤣

Now on the other hand, if he gets a joking pat on the head from Seafoam? Or if Red is up on his shoulders and he pulls on Octo's hair by mistake? Eh, whatever he doesn't mind much. : '

#my response #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs

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ozzgin · 9 months

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[Baki Masterlist]

Yandere! Kaiou Retsu x Artist! Reader

You open the door to the Shinshinkai Dojo and greet some of the men in the hall with a nod.

"You're here earlier than usual." One of them comments as you pass by.

"Yeah, the last lecture was cancelled and I had no other plans", you respond with a smile.

"You know it's getting serious when your free time is turned into training time. That's how it was for me!" the man lets out a hearty laugh.

"No way, I'm not made for this." You wave your hand in dismissal. "I'm just going with the flow and seeing where that takes me."

You go on your way, ruminating over the brief exchange. It's been a few months since you began taking karate lessons at the Dojo. You still remember Katsumi's perplexed expression as you stood before him, handing over the sign up papers.

"A-are you sure? The sparring can get quite rough and you're... well... uh..."

"You advertise it as perfect for self defense. Who needs it more, the buff pal over there or this short college student that can't even sketch in the park without being harassed by perverts?"

You slap the papers on the table with a loud thud. The man blushes slightly, realizing the irony.

"I apologize. You're entirely right." He scans over the form. "Evening classes. That's when I teach, actually! Looking forward to seeing you, then."

After the first few weeks of mostly standard workout in order to build stamina, you started learning the basics. Katsumi was greatly surprised and equally impressed by your unexpected skill. Turns out you weren't half bad at this! And so he suggested you show up more often, because he wanted to see how your newly discovered talent would develop in time.

As thankful as you are for his support, you find the whole ordeal rather funny. You don't have any intention of becoming some professional fighter. You're an artist and plan to remain one for the indefinite future. The little karate hobby serves as your dose of healthy activity and as the occasional inspiration, since you particularly enjoy recreating the human body and its intricacies on paper or in clay.

"Oh, (Y/N)!" Katsumi spots you and gestures for you to come over. Your nostalgic daydreaming has been interrupted. "Remember when I said that it helps to expand your knowledge? I have just the person for that." He places a hand on your back and guides you further into one of the main rooms.

"Here she is, Retsu-san. You might not believe it at first, neither did I, but I guarantee you she has a lot of potential."

You bow slightly to the stranger in front of you and he silently returns the gesture. He seems mildly awkward about the encounter.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I follow. What is this about?" you ask, somewhat confused. The deep stare of the long haired man intimidates you, so you avoid it by throwing quick glances at Katsumi instead.

"Would you be interested in learning Chinese Kenpo? This is Kaiou Retsu. He'll be joining us at the Dojo for a while. I thought you could use some variety."

"Shouldn't you be asking him if he's willing to teach rookies like me?" you wonder if this poor man had his services offered against his will.

"It is my great pleasure to spread the knowledge of this ancient art. I only ask that you treat it with respect and don't take it lightly." Retsu straightens his back and looks ahead, in no particular direction.

Ah, how embarrassing. He can't even look at her properly. He wishes he could drag Katsumi out in the hallway and whack some common sense into him. The least he could've done was to let him know who to expect.

Obviously he's seen women before. He's been out of the temple for a long time now. So why is he acting so strange all of a sudden? Katsumi was very secretive about his new favorite student and refused to give him any details besides "you won't regret it". He anticipated anything but this. He's especially baffled at his own reaction meeting (Y/N).

All he can do now is to pray that he isn't so obvious in just how flustered this woman has gotten him. He wonders if Katsumi went through the same nervousness when he first met you. He secretly peeks at the young man and notices how relaxed he seems to be next to you. Yeah, perhaps he just needs a little time. Then he can treat you with the same confidence, too.

***

"What matters the most here is actually the placement of the foot. If it's slightly tilted the wrong way, you lose all support and everything else falls apart. A good kick needs an equally good grounding."

Retsu is in his comfort zone. For a mere moment, he can forget his audience and focus on his technique. This is what he does best. Still concentrated, he unbuttons his shirt and throws it aside, as this is how he usually fights.

"Find the weak point depending on your opponent's stance, and quickly make your move before they've got it figured out."

He demonstrates the attack, followed by a few skillful jumps as he returns to his initial spot. He checks to see if you've been following his instructions, a prideful smile plastered on his face. Your eyes are wide, mouth slightly open in shameless marvel. His smile immediately vanishes and is replaced by an embarrassed frown. Why are you looking at him like that? It's one of the most basic moves he can think of.

You suddenly clap your hands together and lower your head in a begging posture. The way his body bends and folds in such a fluid, continuous way, the way his muscles contract rhythmically in a calculated vigor... This man is not only a master of martial arts, but your newly found muse.

"Please excuse my rudeness, but I really can't think of a better way to put it. Might I be allowed to sketch you during your training? I really wish I could capture your artistry."

You shyly glance up, worried you may have angered the Chinese man. He's covering his face with one hand and you tense up, unsure of how to proceed. Should you apologize? Then you manage to discern the deep blush that's taken over his face.

He must calm down at once. He's inhaling deeply, attempting to regulate his breathing. He can feel the vibration of his heart slamming into his chest at great speed. Truly, how happy your words made him. And this brings him to the abrupt realization that he will never be like Katsumi around you.

It's been a little under a month since he's met you, and the slightest interaction coming from you makes his whole composure collapse into shambles. All the feelings and thoughts are now avalanching over, burying him and making him unable to let a single word out. It could very well be that he's in love with you, but it's a frightful, rabid adoration that trickles out of his grasp, as if it could escape from his control at any moment. It's a terrifying discovery for someone that so values their discipline.

"If it's too troublesome, you can forget about it. I got too excited. To be honest, I've been using you as a reference for some time now, but it felt wrong not to tell you about it."

You crouch down to your backpack and hesitantly pull out a notebook with pages sticking out. You peel open the covers and spread some of the papers onto the ground, for a better view.

Retsu squats down with you and gazes over the detailed pencil works, partly distracted. He'd appreciate your anatomical accuracy if it wasn't for his presently feverish state. He places your hands between his and analyzes them. What a difference. Dainty, fragile and yet powerful enough to win Katsumi's respect. Nonetheless of insignificant size compared to his large, calloused and weathered palms. To think that you've been watching him the same way he's been watching you all this time. Perhaps for somewhat different reasons. How would you react if you knew? What would you think of someone like him?

"Umm..." you swallow dryly as you attempt to break the silence. You can almost hear a faint ringing in your ears.

What if you were to reject his confession? It wouldn't be the first time he's faced defeat. Retsu is however unsure if he'd be willing to accept it this time. He looks at you with newly found resolve. No matter what, he'll do what it takes to become a man worthy of your love. If only he could remain your inspiration forever.

#baki #baki the grappler #retsu kaioh #baki x reader #kaiou retsu #retsu x reader #yandere #yandere baki

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