#I did trace the poses I’ll find the references again if anyone asks

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

I got a new tablet so!! Here’s some art of Storm and Xavier

#I did trace the poses I’ll find the references again if anyone asks #anyways it’s them <2 #my ocs <2 #oc storm #oc xavier #my art #<- I can finally have that tag!! #diamonds to dust misc #I should draw the rest of the gang too #the writing below their English names are their Chinese names. btw #not a transliteration- in pinyin Storm’s Chinese name is Xu Leiyu #and Xavier is Xu Xianyu #last name first name order btw #anyways to prevent the rant from getting too too long I will refrain from ranting #but if anyone asks me about these guys’s names I will love you forever

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 19

The plot fucking thickens.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop @scpdragon @wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: implied racism, religiously motivated violence, kidnapping

“So I heard you’re a civilian consultant for the FBI now?” Charissa said through the receiver. “That’s exciting. Are you being paid?” 

“Yeah, actually.” You sat up on the bed. “It isn’t a ton, but it’s enough to get by until I can go back to work.” 

She groaned. “Why would you want to come back to work here?”

“Well, for one,” You laughed. “I’d get to see my best friend in person.” 

“Are you sure you can’t give me just a little hint as to where you’re hiding out?” She pleaded. “No pressure, but you left your umbrella at the restaurant and it’s just been sitting in my car this whole time.” 

“Oh shit, I was wondering where that was.” You held the phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could reach for a Russian chocolate from Hannibal’s bedside table. You popped one through your lips and held it in your cheek. “Thanks dude.” 

You could hear the smirk on Charissa’s face. “So did you ever get the sommelier to call you?”

You wanted so badly to tell your best friend every juicy detail, but your acute paranoia held you back. You couldn’t risk putting making Hannibal and Will targets. But then again, it was Charissa. 

“You’d better not tell anyone about this or else I’ll sever your spine with my goddamn teeth.” You threatened. 

Your friend’s ears perked up. “Go on.” 

You looked around the room for any sign of Hannibal and to make sure Will hadn’t gotten home yet. When you knew the coast was clear, you cupped your hand over the speaker. “We totally just fucked.” 

Charissa pretended to be shocked. “Oh my god, I could have never seen that coming!” 

“But that’s not all.” You shushed her. “The guy that saved me from getting blown up, the FBI agent, I’m sleeping with him too!” 

“You slut!” She cursed, playfully. “I didn’t think you had it in you to sneak around.” 

“No, no!” You whispered. “That’s the best part! They’re into each other too. So we have, like, an agreement.” 

“Like a throuple?” 

“Not ‘like’ a throuple.” You corrected. “Just a throuple.” 

“Dayum, girl.” She said. “You truly have become the alpha female.” 

“Darling?” Hannibal called out from downstairs. He sounded worried.

“Is that him?” Charissa asked. “Are you with him right now?” 

“Okay, goodbye.” You said before abruptly ending the call. 

You descended the stairs and found him in the living room. “What’s wrong?” 

He said nothing, letting the television answer you. 

“At approximately six this evening, Evangelical pastor Calvin J. Armitage was arrested for firing the first shot in what would become a deadly shootout with the FBI.” The anchor said. “Entering the megachurch premises to ask questions about the still-open Baltimore Butcher case, Agent Crawford of the Behavioral Science Unit is on site for an exclusive interview.” 

Jack looked deeply shaken, and had blood stained all over his jacket. He drew in a deep breath before speaking. 

“Special agent Graham and I arrived at the church with the intention of asking Pastor Armitage about his relationship to Chase Mulvaney.” He began. “He was compliant to begin with, then became defensive. He then called the local police, claiming that a-” 

Jack paused, a look of slight disgust on his face for what he was about to say. 

“-A large black man posing as a federal agent was threatening him.” He finished. “He then held us at gunpoint until the police showed up. While I verified my identity to the chief, Pastor Armitage opened fire, shooting me once in the shoulder, then ran. Special Agent Graham went after him. Then both men disappeared. We believe Armitage is holding Graham hostage, but upon further inspection, we have seen no signs of either man in the church.” 

You covered your mouth with your fingertips, too afraid to acknowledge anything with words. Hannibal gently placed his hand on your leg and looked into your eyes.

"Listen to me, [F/N]." He said, desperation in his voice. "You need to tell me what you and Will figured out from the investigation, and fast. Any information at all could tell where he might have taken him."

"The Blue Ridge mountains." You answered with more certainty than was warranted. "He took Will to the mountains just like in Borrasca."

"That's over six hundred miles of land, not including altitude." Hannibal pointed out. 

You pressed your fingers to your temples in attempt to slow your thoughts. “You think I don’t know that?” 

“Please, just tell me anything about Chase that could narrow it down.” He pleaded. 

“He has a ministry.” You blurted out. “In the Blue Ridge Mountains. Something luxurious, meant for Christian women.” 

Hannibal bolted to the office to find his computer. “That’s a start. Keep going.” 

You snapped your fingers to try and kickstart your memory. “Chase is a narcissist, but not a creative one. He stole his title from NXIVM and his cult personality from Handmaid’s Tale. I think that means he doesn’t understand satire.” 

Hannibal’s fingers danced across the keyboard, filling the silent house with frantic clicking. “That also means the name of his ministry might be a thinly-veiled reference to something he doesn’t understand as well. What else?” 

You tugged at your hair. “I don’t know, how far could he have gotten in the last three hours?” 

“It doesn’t take very long to get from the city to the mountains.” Hannibal answered. “They could be anywhere by now.” 

You groaned. “We don’t have that kind of time. Hold on a minute, let me get my laptop.” 

Unsurprisingly, Chase had scrubbed the internet clean of every trace of himself. You were forced to read between the lines. You scoured every ex-fundamentalist forum you could find. You posted on every subreddit that had anything to do with evangelical ministries. You opened dozens of tabs with everything from a PDF of the Handmaid’s Tale to case files of class action lawsuits in Frederick County. 

Minutes turned into hours and the hours stacked up. You had to hit yourself in the face every time you felt yourself drifting off. 

“What are you doing?” Hannibal asked, after a particularly loud slap. 

“Trying to keep myself awake.” You said over a poorly-timed yawn. You knocked yourself against the temple a few more times. “Come on you sack of shit, wake up.” 

Hannibal snatched you by the wrist. "Stop that this instant."

"Why should I?" You said, on the verge of angry tears. "Will is probably fucking dead and it's my fault, so yeah, I'm a sack of shit."

"Don't say that." Hannibal tightened his grip on your wrist. "He's not dead and it is certainly not your fault."

"I can't sleep knowing Chase took him." You admitted. "I just can't."

Hannibal sat down next to you. He cupped your face in his hand and rolled the tears away from your cheeks.

Hannibal opened his computer. "We'll sleep in shifts. Send me everything you have so far. You'll sleep better knowing I'm looking for him."

"Fine." You said, dumping a handful of links into a document and sending it to his email. You decided to go to sleep right there on the couch with your laptop in arm's reach, so when your shift was up, you could get straight back to work. You drifted off to the ambient noises of Hannibal typing away.

You woke up to your text notification sound.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #the sommelier #will graham #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #will graham x you #hannibal x will #hannigram #hannigram x you

[lovelyirony]

morgan doesn’t have to be a hero. she just has to know the family that was. 

(or me ignoring everything about infinity war and endgame) 

Thinking about how Tony doesn’t tell Morgan everything about Iron Man. There are books, of course. A couple of children’s authors and illustrators thought it would be nice if the kids could see heroes on something else other than a news source that also talks about casualties and how much they actually lost. 

It’s nice for Tony, too. 

No one saw the wormhole. No one illustrates him falling out of the sky, body plummeting and seeing what the future would be. 

It’s Morgan’s favorite book, seeing the team defeat the “mean aliens.” Her eyes follow each hero. She likes Hulk the best. She likes tracing along the pages, asking “whozat” every two minutes or so. 

She finds the old armor in the garage when she’s in her “investigation” phase, and correlates it to the book. 

She doesn’t think that Iron Man is that cool. She wants the armor to be pink and green, so dad loses out on “cool points.” 

She finds the armor that he’s building for Pepper, because he’s still paranoid and worried and he wants her to be safe. 

He survived one house of his falling, and he’s not sure he’ll survive another one. 

Morgan asks about the picture at the kitchen, the one where Tony and Peter are posing for Peter’s official internship. 

“That’s...that’s your family,” Tony says, because he can just picture how excited Peter would be at having a little Morgan around, crawling everywhere. “His name is Peter.” 

He never refers to Peter in the past tense. He doesn’t know if it’s for Morgan’s benefit or his own. 

He tells her all about Spider-Man. “Spidey” becomes easier to pronounce, so they go with that. 

Sometimes mom finishes those stories while dad goes to get juice pops. 

(And look at the photo for a bit too long.) 

Morgan asks him where Spidey is, once. More than once. But the first time it was...it was painful. 

“Where is he?” Morgan asks. 

“He’s...” 

Tony doesn’t know what to say. He’s not gone. No, fuck that. Peter isn’t gone. But he’s not here, and Tony doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where anyone is. 

“He lives far away, so he would have to take a long time to get here,” Pepper says, smiling. “But now, we are going to travel for the kitchen for lunch! The menu today is carrots and celery with hummus, and some fresh fruit and a sandwich. What do we think?” 

“Is the fruit seasonal?” Tony asks, voice thready. “Points off if it’s out.” 

“You’re a nerd,” Pepper says. “Yes, it’s in season. Would you mind turning the washer on? I forgot to.” 

Tony nods, and Pepper grabs his hand, squeezing. 

He was so lucky to have her in his life. 

- 

And then the Avengers are reforming. Scott Lang, aka Ant-Man, aka the weirdest superhero name he’s ever heard, has a theory. 

About time travel. 

He said he didn’t Back to the Future think about it, but he totally Back to the Future thought about it. 

The problem is that it works. 

That’s not the real problem. No, it’s not a real problem at all. He thinks about everyone returning and it’s happy and good again, and- 

He’ll have to leave. 

He hasn’t forgotten Strange’s statement. 

Only one situation where this doesn’t fail. Where we don’t fail. 

And it has to be him. 

You don’t come back from something like that. 

Usually, anyway. 

Tony’s determined that he’s coming back. That everyone is coming back. 

The whole plot of Back to the Future goes as such: Marty’s life sucks, his parents’ lives are boring, and they’re not supposed to change the future. 

They do anyways. 

And it works. That’s the thing. Out of every single “time travel is dangerous” trope, Back to the Future still shows that sometimes some changes don’t affect the future badly, it just changes it. 

Tony knows that that can be done. It has to be done, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave Morgan. He already pinky-promised her that they’d make a picnic for her fifth birthday, and pinky-promises are the most binding contract he’s ever been a part of so far. 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it can’t be done. 

- 

He has to go with Steve to get a stone. He doesn’t necessarily like that because neither of them are subtle and they’re going to see his dad. 

Which is just gonna be a ball of a time. And Tony looks like Howard, just a few slight changes, but it’s undeniable. 

As long as no one connects the dots, he’ll be fine. 

They’re both like bulls in china shops. Neither has ever been out of the spotlight, and neither have been trained very well in the art of subterfuge. 

“What, SHIELD just decide to set you loose?” Tony hisses as they’re making an escape. 

“Oh and you didn’t have any time to learn?” Steve snaps back. “Let’s go.” 

- 

Natasha almost doesn’t return. Almost. Tony’s terrified to think of what would have been happened had she still been there. 

“Dumbass,” Clint mutters. “Thinking you could jump and we wouldn’t have done shit about it. You’re stupid.” 

Natasha just has a graceful smile on. 

“You’re not allowed to be the stupid Avenger all the time, Clint.” 

“Okay I accidentally blew up a microwave one time and suddenly-” 

Tony laughs. 

Genuinely laughs. 

It’s been a while since they’ve functioned like a team. Been a longer time since they’ve been one. 

- 

They get the stones. 

Hulk gets everyone back. Bruce gets everyone back. 

He’s confusing. 

But there he is, Peter. 

Tony hugs him, and he tears up, and god he’s so glad that Peter’s back. That everyone is back. 

It feels nice. 

But they still have a fight to finish and a glove to play hot potato with. 

- 

Thanos is still formidable. He’s still skilled, still has an entire army. 

Well...they’re not outmatched for long. 

Dr. Strange opens portals, leading a whole new mass of people to help. And Tony sees Danvers, which he has yet to talk to Rhodey about. God, Rhodey had been right about her being alive. 

But that’s not important. 

- 

He’s fighting one-on-one. 

Thanos is confident that he’s going to win. 

See, that’s the thing about Tony: he may not have been trained in subterfuge, but he knows all about flouting expectations. He knows that everyone had expected so many things of him that when he did anything out of the ordinary, no one paid attention. 

This is just like that. 

Thanos snaps, only it’s not enough this time. 

It’s not going to be like last time, with Peter panicking and people screaming and tragedy lining the news for years. 

No this time? It won’t work. 

Because this is the time where the hero wins against all odds and there’s a happy ending. He’s going to make it so, no matter how much of a toll this takes. He’s getting back to Morgan and Pepper no matter what it fucking takes. 

- 

Thanos is gone. His army dissolved. 

And he is satisfied. He’s tired, but happy. And he’s fairly sure that the glove has taken its toll on his body, but he hopes to god that he’ll be okay. 

Pepper is running her hands through his hair, telling him it’ll be okay, and asking anyone for help with transportation. 

There’s one person important that didn’t get blipped, and luckily, she’s a personal friend: Helen Cho. 

Sure, it’s time-intensive. 

Yes, Morgan is mad that daddy can’t read her a bedtime story. 

But...she gets to meet Peter, torture him with forty questions a minute, and Tony gets the use of his arm back. 

So it equals itself out. 

- 

The world, for now, doesn’t need a lot of superheroes. Everyone’s still settling down, no one wants anything but normal. 

This means a lot of superheroes have no idea what to do. 

But Morgan does. 

When dad gets back and is up for playing again (which took forever), Morgan asks to see the team. 

If dad is Iron Man, then it only makes sense that he knows all the other ones. And she has a lot of questions. 

The Avengers are a...a team. God, that’s about the only thing they can call themselves now. They used to be a family but everything’s changed and stilted and awkward. 

Morgan knows none of this. 

So ergo, she decides the most amazing thing ever for her fifth birthday party is to have a picnic with the whole team. Writes them invitations and everything, makes her mom trace out the words she wants to write so that it looks “extra fancy.” 

Tony’s never been one to deny Morgan something she really wants. 

“You sure you wanna handle this? You and Steve aren’t exactly on the best of terms, and I don’t think the team has actually talked.” 

“Well, no time like a five year old’s birthday party to get to catching up.” 

- 

It’s...something. 

Morgan is blissfully unaware and everyone makes so that she stays unaware. 

This involves some...awkward conversations. 

But mostly just making peace with the fact that life happened. 

And Natasha finally has another niece, even if she’s not named after her. 

“You still should’ve,” she jokes. 

“We were thinking about it, honest,” Pepper remarks dryly. “But hey, thanks for coming. Morgan’s very excited to learn how to ‘be a spy’ in her words.” 

Natasha grins. 

“I’ll have her taking out government officials in no time.” 

“Or just teaching her how to disarm dangerous people, thank you very much,” Tony says hurriedly. 

“Didn’t peg you to be the helicopter parent, Stark,” Clint says. 

“Oh trust me, he barely left the house when she was born,” Pepper says with a laugh. “And he would check everything. I had to convince him that Morgan did actually need to sleep in her crib.” 

“She would’ve been fine by us!” Tony defends weakly. “And besides, you said you did want an office space!” 

“Working in the sunroom is fine enough,” Pepper says. “And you forget that you offered to build me one, which is an offer you still haven’t done.” 

“I saved the world, you know.” 

“Oh, did you?” 

Tony grins, popping a grape into his mouth as he sees the scene unfold. 

Morgan’s having great fun showing everyone her little hideout, and where she goes on walks. 

She’s made friends with Peter and introducing him to her stuffed animals. 

Yeah. 

Life is good. 

#fix-it but not fix-it bc i'm just saying it's canon #endgame noncompliance #hehe :) #lovelyirony writes #morgan stark #tony stark #pepper potts #peter parker #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #steve and tony are like. u know when u have beef with someone but like. not the most important beef #but like enough so that you can't talk #so. you know. #also tony IS the helicopter parent #also i've never seen back to the future that whole line was just bc i looked it up on wikipedia

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 28: Display

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: M

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~1050

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Tied up. Stress position. Trafficking. Collars/leashes.

A/N: Another fun one! Possessive Kakashi is best Kakashi :)

~

Extraction missions are the worst, and nothing disgusts Kakashi more than having to blend in with this kind of crowd until he can find his mark. Worse still is the kind of market the crowd is in—the place specializes in “pets”, and not necessarily ones kept for pleasure, or at least… Not what Kakashi would think of as pleasure. But this sort of thing is legal in Grass, and as such Konoha can’t shut it down. Not without irrefutable evidence that the people here are doing internationally illegal acts: child trafficking, kidnapping, or possibly the suppression of a shinobi’s chakra with the use of certain seals.

This particular ring has been careful not to involve children, and they leave no trace of kidnapping if that is how they… stock up. Gods, the thought makes Kakashi throw up a little in his mouth.

But the last one… that was something they could prove, potentially. And why Kakashi is here, strolling through a marketplace of half-naked people on display, looking for one particular shinobi from Konoha with the exact skills to both tell if those illegal seals were in use and break through them if need be. Kakashi keeps a calm facade, but he’s livid.

If he’d known that Iruka had volunteered to do this…

Well, honestly, they would have fought (for probably about a week or so) and eventually Kakashi’s sure Iruka would have made him see why he was the perfect option to go undercover for gods knew how long, enduring the brand of slavery and torture in which the market specializes, and eventually Kakashi would have acquiesced under the condition that he be Iruka’s contact within the organization. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the mission came through while Kakashi was out of the village on an assassination and Tsunade had discussed the topic thoroughly with Iruka and the few other fūinjutsu specialists the village had. They had determined that Iruka was the best choice, sent him along with another chūnin for contact, and Kakashi hadn’t heard about the details of Iruka’s mission until a hawk brought back a bloody scroll with a few words on it.

Contact Compromised. Mission Complete. Extraction Needed.

Tsunade didn’t even try to keep Kakashi from going after Iruka, just gave him the specs of the mission and sent him off. Kakashi still had blood on his vest from the assassination, and he didn’t care.

He had somewhere to be; someone who needed him.

~

There.

Iruka is one of the many “pets” for sale—Kakashi keeps himself from snarling while other people look on with interest at the display the merchant is using him to put on. Iruka is on his knees with his arms behind his back, leaning back so his ankles and wrists are bound with the same length of rope. The pose puts heavy strain on his thighs, the muscles on display beneath the tiny shorts he wears—the only thing he’s wearing. Well, that’s not strictly true, but Kakashi is trying to stay calm so he very much doesn’t think about the merchant standing beside Iruka, holding the lead to a thick, black leather collar. The man pulls up harshly on the lead such that the ropes are taut and the collar bites into his neck and Kakashi clamps down on the killing intent immediately.

Unfortunately, Kakashi can’t break cover yet. He can’t kill this man while he holds Iruka’s life at the end of a leash.

Iruka’s sobbing, gasping for air, bare chest heaving—more people have stopped to watch, and when the man releases the tension in the lead and lets Iruka slump to sit back, they have the audacity to applaud quietly.

Kakashi doesn’t temper his chakra quick enough when he hears Iruka respond, “Thank you, Sir,” in a ragged, wrecked voice after that.

People look around, momentarily startled. Iruka glances up and catches Kakashi’s gaze; they share a brief, private, and best of all relieved smile. The crowd disperses, and the merchant frowns. It looks like he expected that show to grab someone’s attention—it certainly did, but the man won’t like the kind of attention Kakashi plans to give him.

Kakashi approaches him as nonchalantly as he can manage. “How much?” he asks.

“You’re interested? Of course you are!” The man gets ready to go into a sales pitch with Iruka at his feet, and Kakashi shakes his head.

Leans in.

Covertly presses a kunai into the man’s stomach.

The man pisses himself. Kakashi resists curling his lip at the smell.

“How. Much,” he says again.

“T-take him. He’s yours! My treat!”

“I know he’s mine. He knows he’s mine.” Kakashi glares at the man, “Did you?”

“I swear I didn’t! Just please—I-I have a wife and children, this is just business.”

“You made it more than business when you took a shinobi of Konohagakure; you made it my business when you took my partner.”

“Sir, I assure you, my merchandise comes to the market—”

“If you ever,” Kakashi hisses darkly, pressing further with the kunai to draw a whine, “refer to any person—especially my partner—as ‘merchandise’ again, I will personally make you—”

“Kakashi.”

He looks down at Iruka, who has kept his head down this whole time and now has a light flush over his nose; however he'll scold Kakashi for hurting and threatening the merchant, Iruka’s enjoying it right now. Whatever it happens to actually be; his tone, his words, his protectiveness.

Kakashi puts the kunai back in his sleeve and steps away from the merchant. The piss smell is really getting acrid. He sighs, leaving the threat hanging. “What do I need to do to take him out of here without anyone stopping me?”

“I’ll get his papers,” the man mutters, and then hands the leash to Kakashi before turning around to the stall behind him.

Kakashi holds the leash with disdain; the nausea is back again.

“Just a little longer,” Iruka says, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “Then I’m all yours.”

There are layers of meaning to that, and Kakashi hears all of them. He nods slightly, tightens his hold on the lead, and waits for the merchant to finish preparing the paperwork.

He’s going to enjoy destroying this place when they come back.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump28 #display #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #kakairu #my writing

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Waking Up Alone

This is for my anon who requested something angsty and fluffy with El Phantasmo- hope you enjoy! The idea is partially inspired by the Cowboy Junkies song "Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning". (I am the queen of sad lady songs, I swear.)

Pairing: El Phantasmo x OFC

Word count: 3.091

Content advisory: language, sexual references

Sun comes up, it’s Tuesday morning

Hits me straight in the eye

Guess you forgot to close the blind last night

Oh that’s right, I forgot, it was me

The morning sun feels like an assault on your eyes, punching its way through your delicate eyelids and right through into your nerves. Yeah, you definitely had a few too many drinks last night. Gin and tonic with the girls, which you hadn’t done in ages. It ended up with pitchers at the dive you’d been frequenting since you were too young to get into bars, the place that truly catered to everyone. Beer after liquor, never sicker; liquor before beer, in the clear. Why the hell had you switched from liquor to beer?

Doesn’t matter now, you think, wrestling yourself into a sitting position while protecting your eyes with a trembling hand. Wrestling yourself. You sigh a little as you consider the term that immediately springs to mind. You didn’t mention the breakup to the girls. It still feels too strange, too ephemeral. Were you ever really a couple anyway? You suppose that’s the crux of the problem. You didn’t know where you stood, so you’d estimated that you were somewhere it turned out you weren’t close to.

If Riley The Perfidious Bastard were around, he would have made sure to lower the Roman shade you’d fashioned out of an old curtain and some bamboo rods. He was always impressed at your ability to create homey touches from spare parts. Now that he’s not around, you realize how much you’d liked having your abilities praised.

If Riley were here, you’d also be waking up to the smell of coffee, the most wonderful thing in the world for someone in your condition. But there’s nothing. No rich, roasted scent, no happy, burbling noises from the machine in the kitchen. You have to get up and take care of it yourself, which you haven’t had to do in a long time. Goddammit.

You run one hand over the expanse of your king bed, the plump mattress extending almost all the way to the window. Sure, the thing took up most of the room but you didn’t care. The room was only going to be used for sleep anyway. Well, sleep and that other, delicious thing. That thing you missed so much. Well, you missed it the way that Riley had done it. If he was really gone, you were going to have a hell of a time finding someone who could make you want to spend all day in bed the way he had. You still hadn’t made your way back to the center of the bed. Somehow, your mind refused to accept that things were over. You were still making space for him.

With a dramatic effort that has no one to appreciate it, you heave yourself off the bed and make your way towards the kitchen. You’re halfway through the process of making coffee when you realize that you’re wearing one of his shirts, one of the ones with his logo emblazoned on it. You must have just reached for the first thing you could find when you got home and, of course, that would be something from the pile of shirts you’d made next to the bedroom door; shirts to be given to charity because you sure as hell didn’t want to look at them anymore. That pile had been sitting there for three weeks, the dried traces of angry tears still on every part of it, and you hadn’t gotten around to carrying everything to the donation bin less than a block away.

Coffee is more important than anything right now, so you focus on that. You also shove a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster oven. Bread and peanut butter will help ease the seething broth in your gut and allow you to concentrate on the day. Which would be even more useful if your day actually required concentration. Band practice had been pushed back to tomorrow because Kyle and Lily were off in the country visiting her parents. Sure, you could work on the guitar parts by yourself, but it’s not like there was anything to learn. You had a handful of gigs coming up in the next few weeks, mostly local, all focused on your last album. Practice was just a matter of making sure you all kept tight and maybe came up with some new ways to make the live experience a little different for people.

As autumn shifted closer to winter, it was always the quiet season. Students were running short on money, the weather became unpredictable, and going on the road became less and less lucrative the closer it got to the holidays. It was approaching that time of year when people started to nest rather than seek a mate. Or at least that’s how it was for most people. It just wasn’t that way for wrestlers dividing their time between North America and Japan. You cringe at how that thought makes you recall the fights you’d had in the last few days of your whatever the hell it was because apparently it wasn’t a relationship.

It’s a very different feeling than at the beginning of spring, when everything was starting to pick up, when you constantly felt excited about what the immediate future held, and when you’d agreed to go to a wrestling show because Nadia was doing makeup for it. You and Wendy had shown up already drunk and had taken advantage of Nadia’s invitation to come backstage.

You’d stolen beer from kraft services and watched Nadia attending to her work while you tried to distract her by making her laugh. You’d been surprisingly successful but she was such a pro that she had no problems. The women took the longest for her to do, but all the performers had to come in to make sure that they’re coloring and contouring was perfect for tv lighting and that was how you’d met him.

The two of you had locked eyes as soon as he came in the room and had remained that way as he settled into Nadia’s chair. You hadn’t been able to tear yourself away from those huge, shiny orbs with their saucy expression and despite your inebriated state, you could feel that stare lodging itself in your memory forever.

“This is El Phantasmo,” she giggled.

“He’s a what now?” you’d snorted in response, relishing the flare of indignation in his eyes.

“Are we letting just anyone back here now?” he snapped.

“These are my friends!” Nadia assured him, slurring her speech as she motioned to you and Wendy. You’d been feeding her the beer you’d purloined as well.

“Like I said. We’re letting just anyone in.”

At that, you’d given his seat a shove with your foot, despite the fact that Nadia had started to apply bronzer to his cheeks. He was left with a dark streak across one side of his face and nose, which had made you and Wendy crack up.

“Come on,” Nadia chided, “I need to make these guys look good.”

“Good luck with that,” you laughed.

The man you knew only as El Phantasmo flipped you off and you’d returned the gesture, swiveling on your seat a little so that your hips were thrust forward. It wasn’t that he was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen, far from it. But something about him just got to you. He had such an effect on you that even as you were mocking him, you let your body move and pose in ways that were intended to resonate with his basest masculine instincts.

You’d been captivated by the show, particularly by his display of athleticism, as well as his bratty defiance to what the audience wanted. You’d booed him with everything you had and you’d been so drawn to him that you’d had to restrain yourself from running to the ring and grabbing his pert ass right there.

Instead, you’d made your way backstage again and insinuated yourself into the group that was going for drinks. You insisted that Nadia come along because Wendy had headed home as soon as the show was over. You wanted someone to hang out with so that it wasn’t totally obvious what and who you were there for. It didn’t really matter, though, because everyone was so friendly and most were so drunk that they didn’t care that they had no idea who you were.

You’d kept an eye on him for a while and then approached the bar when you saw him going for a refill, elbowing your way in so that you were right next to him, bumping his shoulder hard as you got to the bar.

“You wanna buy me a drink?” you crooned.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll buy you one.”

“Does that mean I have to hang out with you?”

“Yup. Besides, you know you want to.”

“I really don’t.”

He was laughing a little when you said it, and when you leaned over to scream your order at the bartender, ordering him a random drink since you hadn’t even bothered asking, he ran his hand down your back and gave your ass a quick slap. You’d smirked to yourself. You knew you’d seen the spark in his eyes.

“Riley,” he shouted right into your ear.

“Deaf now,” you shot back, pushing his drink at him. “You’re skinny for a wrestler.”

“Don’t need to bulk up when you’re as good as I am.”

“Anything else you’re good at?”

“Fucking women with big mouths until they can’t say anything but my name.”

The two of you had spent the night all over his apartment and, yeah, he’d lived up to his own hype. The sex had been outright feral, biting and clawing and animal-like noises until you were both too exhausted to move.

You thought about dropping a hint that you wanted to sleep there but since it was kind of obvious that this was a one-night thing, you’d waited a while then pulled your clothes back on to go. The two of you shared a surprisingly tender kiss at the door and when you made to leave, he’d looked surprised.

“You don’t want to exchange numbers or something?” He’d sounded legitimately surprised.

“Sure.”

You’d entered each other into your phones and you went home in a cab, reflecting that you did feel more of a connection than you’d realized at first.

Still, you held off calling him so as not to look desperate, but he’d called you a couple of days later. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to admit you were broke until your next royalty check cleared, you’d invited him over for dinner. The two of you had cooked some pasta together and drank a couple of bottles of wine and then tore into each other again, gradually making your way to your bed. Once again, it had been mind-blowing, but the real surprise came at the end of the night.

“Mind if I stay here?” he asked quietly.

You’d patted the pillows beside you and grinned. You’d drifted off thinking that, yes, this was something a little special and you’d woken up thinking the same thing.

Craving the crisp air on your reddened cheeks, you grab a sweater, jeans and boots and that wonderful alpaca poncho you’d found when you and Riley went to that farmer’s market. It was a weird thing to find in a place that was supposed to be all about food but it didn’t matter because it was soft and full of deep colours and even though it had been hotter than hell outside, you knew that you were going to get plenty of use from it once the weather turned colder. At the time, you thought that you’d still be going for walks and dinner and drinks with Riley.

As you get ready, your phone buzzes. Wendy sending you a message.

“Never let me do that again.”

You chuckle, remembering that however bad you got last night, she was the one who ended up trying to dance on the bar, refusing to acknowledge that she couldn’t climb up on it. You’ll all have a good laugh about it later but right now, you can’t deal with it. And the reason you can’t deal with it is because for a second, you’d hoped that it was him texting you.

Your body immediately knows where it wants to go, turning the first corner and heading for the hipster diner you eat from too often. They make a mean breakfast burrito but today, you limit yourself to one of those extra buttery croissants you love so much.

Joanne is working the counter, which is kind of remarkable since you remember running into her late into the night, but although her face is flushed the same as you, she’s smiling warmly at every customer.

“Hey there, lady,” she chuckles. “Still walking?”

“Barely. May I please have coffee and a croissant? And may I ask why Peter isn’t working this morning?”

She prepares your order, grinning. “Well he had some of the guys over to watch the game last night and it turns out he’s in worse shape than I am.”

“The bastard.”

“He was totally unconscious this morning. I hope he’s not dead because being a widow would suck.”

Everyone is in a relationship. Everyone you know is in love. It hurts a lot to think that one of those things is still true of you.

Things had gone to shit over an instagram post of all things. Him during a trip back to Japan, posing with a woman who looked straight out of a modelling agency. Immediately, you’d felt in your gut that something was off and although you hadn’t wanted to seem like you were scrutinizing his every movement, you’d been unable to hold back.

“Is something going on with you and that girl in the pictures with you?”

“Going on?” He’d seemed puzzled. “I mean, we hook up when I’m in Japan. No big deal.”

That’s where he had been wrong. It was a very big deal for you. The two of you hadn’t talked about your status but you realized that you had been assuming that because you’d been wrapped up in the romance of it all that he was too. Apparently not.

It had led to a huge fight, then another resentful exchange, and then he was back in Japan for a week. You hadn’t messaged him at all while he was gone. He didn’t contact you when he got back. You’d come home one day to find your spare set of keys in an envelope in your mailbox. No note, nothing. No request to get his set back from you. Giving someone a spare set of keys was supposed to mean something. How many women had keys to his place?

You ponder it glumly for the umpteenth time as you make your way back to the home that always feels strangely empty to you now. You’d been in the place for five years. He’d been coming around for five months and somehow it feels like he belonged there. You see a figure sitting on the front step of one of the buildings and for a second, you think it’s him, waiting for you to get home, like he used to before he had keys and could go in and surprise you with dinner, or flowers, or-

Then you realize that it actually is him, sitting on your step, drinking a beer and staring off into space. He doesn’t even look up when you come to a halt next to him.

“Dude, it’s nine in the morning. Are you starting early or finishing late?”

He shrugs without looking at you and after a long moment of silence, you sit down next to him. You tear the croissant in half and silently offer it to him but he shakes his head.

“For the love of god, eat something.”

He shakes his head again.

“Fine, become an alcoholic and drink yourself to death for all I care.” You bite into the delicious pastry, humming in satisfaction and finally he reaches over and takes the other half from you.

“Good boy.”

“Here’s the thing,” he says quietly. “I thought that since you’d never said anything, it meant that you had other guys in your life. All the guys I work with either lie to their wines and girlfriends or they just have these open things going on and I guess after a while it starts to seem like that’s the normal thing to do.”

“Well I never said that I was opposed to that. I never said that we couldn’t work something out. But you didn’t even give me the chance. You just carried on as if I didn’t even exist.”

“I didn’t, though.” For the first time, he turns to look at you. His eyes are red and swollen and something tells you that it isn’t from drinking. “I said that I’d hooked up with that girl and I had. In the past. Nothing happened when I was there last time.”

“Then why did you let me believe that something had?”

“I have no fucking idea. And that’s been killing me.”

With a heavy sigh, you reach out and place your hand on his. He immediately grabs hold.

“I think,” he says pensively, “that I felt nervous about telling you I was serious about you. I was nervous because I haven’t felt this serious about someone before. And when you got angry, I think I just flipped out and thought it meant that I was wrong.”

“Wrong for having feelings?”

“Wrong for thinking you did too.”

Your stomach flips and you tighten your hold on his hand.

“Well I did.”

He nods and stares off, his face twitching a little like he’s trying to keep from crying.

“I still do,” you tell him.

He turns and stares at you, big eyes surprised and hopeful.

“Really? Because I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “I know.”

“I miss you,” he whispers.

“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”

“Only if I can make it,” he grins. “You always put too much in.”

“Asshole,” you grunt, standing up and pulling him with you.

As you unlock the door, he leans in and plants a warm kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

The two of you enter your flat, hand in hand again.

#el phatasmo imagine #el phantasmo fanfic #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

[talatomaz]

the silent brothers | izzy lightwood x fray!reader

a/n: I may have projected a little but oh well 🤷🏽‍♀️ I’m actually really enjoying this so far and hopefully, I’ll continue with this

warnings: brief mentions of death

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | navigation | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii | pt.iii

reader is clary’s younger half-sister who learns about the shadow world at the same time clary does

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Ugh.”

Simon groaned as he lay down on the bed beside you.

After Izzy had marked a healing rune on you, Clary had expressed her interest in questioning Hodge, an ex-Circle member, but you had declined to join her and Jace.

The both of them were getting increasingly close whilst you and Clary seemed to be growing further and further apart. She supported your decision, not wanting to push you after your father’s murder, but you could tell she was still annoyed.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help find your mother - of course you did - but you had this feeling that whomever this Valentine person was, and why he wanted the Mortal Cup, was much more linked to Clary than it was you. And you learned the hard way to always trust your gut instincts.

So instead, you both agreed that you would let Clary and Jace question Hodge whilst Izzy would watch over you and Simon, or rather, ‘the mundane’ as Alec kept referring him to.

Currently, you and Simon were in one of the spare rooms in the Institute, which was glamoured to look like an abandoned Church but was actually the Shadowhunters New York HQ, and Izzy was making some breakfast which Jace had ominously warned you to stay away from.

“It’s been a hell of a day, Lewis.”

“You’re telling me.”

You sat up, resting on your elbows, “Oh, really? What have you been doing?“

Simon playfully pushed you when you failed to hide a snicker, “Shut up, Fray. This whole Shadowhunter thing has taken a toll on me.”

“You’re a mundane, Simon.”

“Shut up.” He repeated, but there was no harshness behind his tone.

“Hey, I’m just saying. I always knew you were a muggle.”

“Rude.” He said, swiping at your elbow so you fell back down on the pillow, making you both burst out laughing.

You and Simon always got along well.

Though he was Clary’s best friend, he was more like your big brother, even though he was less than a year older than you. The three of you had known each other for almost all of your lives. And despite you moving away, you and Simon still remained close. So, of course, he was there for you and Clary during this particularly bad time.

You lay beside each other as the silence encompassed the room. Though it was quiet, your mind was loud as you played through the day’s events in your head.

When you had woken up, you were in college, relatively care-free. Only bound by the ropes of education and nothing more.

But now, you were fatherless and practically motherless. You had lost your home, all your belongings too because your father had burned them to protect you from being traced, and on top of that, you found out that you were an angel.

It really had been one hell of a day.

“How are you, y/n?”

“I’m exhausted.” You answered. “My mind is spinning and I just want everything to stop.”

“I’m so sorry. About this. About your dad. About everything.”

“It’s okay. I’ll deal with it.“

Simon sat up and looked down at you.

“You need to learn to process it, not just deal with it. You’re allowed to cry and be upset, y/n.”

“Simon-“ You sighed.

“Yeah, I know, you don’t like to cry in front of anyone but you have to let yourself feel everything. You can cry in front of me and Clary. You know that.”

“Simon, just let it go. Please.” You said quietly, you didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Okay, but promise me you’ll talk to someone if you need to.”

When Simon raised his pinkie finger in the air, you laughed. You hadn’t done this for a while and it was a silly thing you did when you were kids but it was important. You raised your pinkie and locked it with his.

“Yes, I promise.”

Izzy smiled when she peeked through the door and saw you laughing with Simon. She had finished making breakfast a few minutes ago but had been standing outside the door, listening to you and Simon. She hadn’t meant to do it but this was the best way she could learn important information about you. After all, you, Clary and Simon were complete strangers and she needed to protect her family from any danger.

She was about to interrupt when she heard Simon mention her name.

“How do we know we can trust Izzy and the others? We should be going to Luke.”

“I know. And whilst I agree with you about that, I also trust Clary and if she says we can’t trust him, I need to believe in that judgement. At least for now. She’s all I have left.”

“Okay but just because we can’t trust Luke doesn’t mean we can trust these-these supposed angels-these Shadowhunters.”

Simon said exasperated.

“I get what you’re trying to say but they seem like good people and you know I have a sixth sense about these things and I’m never wrong. Besides, Clary and I are Shadowhunters. My dad is-was. I need to learn more about him. This is the only link I have left to him, Simon.” Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“Okay fine, but should we even let Clary be alone with Jace? We might need to protect her from him.”

“And why would Clary need protection from Jace?”

Your’s and Simon’s head turned to face the door where Izzy walked through holding a tray of food. She gently placed it on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and approached Simon.

“He’s the ultimate protector. I mean, hello, have you seen the guy?” She smirked as she got closer to Simon.

He leaned back, flustered in his usual Simon way. He adjusted his glasses and stumbled over his words as he tried to stand up but failed.

“Now, let’s eat.”

She said, grabbing a piece of toast. Simon politely declined whilst you grinned at his awkward composure.

“Y/N, you need to eat. When was the last time you had anything?”

You thought back to the cup of coffee you had had earlier and remembered that was the only thing you had consumed. And honestly, you were hungry. You picked up a piece of the, well, burnt toast and began eating. You managed to finish one slice before losing your appetite again so you washed it down with some water and sat back as Izzy started to ask you both questions about your life.

She wanted to know what life as a mundane was like and a bit about your family history. You revealed more than you usually would have but you weren’t sure why.

Simon looked like he was ready to hand over his life for her which you thought was unnecessary as Izzy looked like she could take care of herself.

But you could understand why.

She was stunning.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Valentine has her.”

Clary said, a mixture of anger and horror on her face.

During her conversation with Hodge, she’d learned that your mother was an ex-Circle member and that both of your early memories had more than likely been taken by a warlock, at your mother’s request.

Clary then had a vision of Dot at a club called “Pandemonium”. But, by the time you had geared up and arrived, she was gone. More than likely having been kidnapped by Valentine’s men.

When you all arrived back at the Institute deciding on what to do next, Jace had interrupted to suggest a dangerous option.

“I’m sorry, who are the Silent Brothers?” You asked, confused at Izzy and Alec’s outrage and downright refusal.

“They’re like superior Shadowhunters.” Jace explained.

“They possess the ability to recover memories.” Izzy continued.

“Yes and that process can kill you, so there’s that.” Alec finished, making you look wildly at Clary.

“Your bedside manner is abysmal.” Simon’s attempt at humour failed to make you laugh as your mind started to spiral with the possibility of losing Clary.

Alec, Izzy and Jace argued amongst themselves about the danger that it posed and that they should report to the Clave instead.

The Clave was essentially like the Shadowhunters’ Government and Justice System. And all Government agencies were sure to be working in their own interests and not the people’s. And you had a feeling that the Clave were no different.

“Unless someone can give me a better option, we’re doing it.” Clary said, making everyone look at you and her.

“Speak for yourself, I’m not doing it.”

“Y/N-“

“No, Clary. If you want to, fine, but I’m not.”

“Don’t you want our Mom back? Your memories?” Clary asked, raising her voice whilst everyone else remained silent.

“Of course, I want Mum back! But I don’t want to know what I’ve forgotten. I don’t need to-“

“Yes, you do. They’re important or else Mom wouldn’t have had a warlock take them from us.” Clary started to scold you before you shouted.

“Clary, for God’s sake, just shut up!”

Everyone stared at you and you started to blush at your outburst but still remained angry at Clary‘s carelessness.

“You’re so goddamn impulsive that you can’t see the danger in this situation. You could die! And then where would I be? My dad was just murdered, Mum’s been kidnapped by some maniac and now you want me to lose my sister too?”

When she remained silent, you saw tears forming in her eyes and, to your horror, you could feel yours doing the same.

“You think with your heart. Which I love about you. But you need to think with your head too. If you want to do it, whatever. But don’t force me to do it too.”

Then you walked away from the group and made your way to one of the only rooms you were familiar with.

“I’ll go after her.” Simon said, holding Clary’s arm in support.

“No, I’ll go. Might be better if it’s not any of you two right now. And I think I know where she’s gone anyways.” Izzy countered.

She didn’t wait for an answer and immediately followed after you.

She found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands.

You looked up as you heard the door open, surprised to see Izzy standing there. Well, it was her room after all.

After you had eaten breakfast earlier, you had learned that the supposed ‘guest’ room you were in was actually Izzy’s room. And, to be honest, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t made that assumption yourself as the room was elegant but also simple at the same time which suited her.

“Nice room choice.” She teased lightly, smirking when you blushed again.

“Sorry. This was the only room that I knew. I should have asked first.”

“Well, that would have ruined the roll you were on. You couldn’t exactly say ‘do what you want, Clary. Oh, can I just storm into your room, Izzy?’”

She said it in such a way that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Awh, see? There’s your beautiful smile.” Izzy commented and you felt yourself blush even harder.

You stood up, feeling uneasy that you were sitting down on her bed, and made your way to a pillar that stood in her room and leaned against it.

“I know Clary’s angry with me and I get it, I would be too. But she’s just jumping into things without thinking of the consequences.” You sighed.

“I know why she’s doing it. The moment she stops and has a moment to think, she’ll probably spiral so this is her way of managing that but she can’t just expect me to follow her. There’s just so much happening and I just need a moment to breathe.”

You explained, your head resting against the pillar with your eyes closed, trying to calm yourself.

“Are you expecting me to give you a pep talk or something?” Izzy joked.

“No, not really. Pep talks are overrated.” You shrugged.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself momentarily stunned because Izzy was no longer by the door, but was instead standing a few inches from you, staring at you intently.

“What?” You asked, your voice but a whisper.

“Nothing, you’re just very...intriguing.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Most definitely.” She smiled.

Then she moved closer and lifted her hand to push a few strands of hair behind your ear.

You held your breath as she did this.

It was such a gentle thing for her to do, and you weren’t sure how to feel.

“You were born to do this, y/n. You both were. This is your destiny. You got this.”

You nodded, biting your lip gently and you caught Izzy’s eyes flickering down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. It was only for a brief moment, but you had seen her and she knew you did too.

“Now, if you don’t want to get your memories back, that’s your choice and something you deserve to have because it’s one of the few things you have left. But we should still be there for Clary, in case she needs it.”

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Are you sure?”

Jace asked as everyone looked at you.

After your conversation with Izzy, you had agreed that you would support Clary in her decision to meet the Silent Brothers but you wouldn’t relent on your own. You would be there for her but you weren’t going to recover your own memories.

So you were all currently outside the City of Bones, where Izzy and Alec had agreed to keep watch and look after Simon whilst Jace and Clary would go inside.

“Yes. I’ll stay here.”

Though you hesitated for a moment, you quickly brought your sister in for a hug. Scared of what could happen if things didn’t go well.

“Be safe.”

“I will.” Clary whispered fiercely, holding you tight in her arms. When she pulled away, she smiled gently, “I’m sorry for trying to force you do this.”

“It’s okay, I get it. Go get Mum back.” You reciprocated her smile, gesturing for her to enter.

                ✧── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Woah, what happened?” Alec asked when Clary and Jace came running out of the dungeon, tears running down Clary’s face.

You quickly approached her and held onto her arms.

“What happened, Ry?”

“V-Valentine. H-He”

You looked at Jace in alarm, Clary wasn’t making any sense and you were beginning to worry.

“Valentine’s her father.”

Though you gasped, you weren’t entirely shocked. You had had a feeling that this was more connected to Clary than you.

Alec then began to scold Jace about Clary’s true intentions, making you lash out at him for the first time.

Since you had both arrived, Alec had been the most unwelcoming, and whilst you did understand his wariness, you didn’t appreciate him acting as if the two of you were as malicious as Clary’s father.

“Wait, where’s Simon? Where’s Izzy?” Clary interrupted, just now realising that they weren’t here.

You were about to explain how Simon had forgotten his phone in the van and how Izzy had decided to accompany him when the latter came running towards you all.

“He’s gone. I just left him for a minute because I heard something but when I came back, he was gone.”

You and Clary began to freak out and started to run in the direction she came from, calling for Simon.

“Is that the mundane’s name?”

You all turned around, looking up at the bridge and what you saw had your heart dropping to your stomach. Simon was being held upside down over a bridge, threateningly close to being dropped and falling to the ground.

“The mundane, unharmed, in exchange for the Mortal Cup. Tick-Tock, people.”

The pale man shouted before disappearing with Simon and another woman. Simon’s scream for help lingered as you looked at Clary and saw the same horror on her face that you were sure was on yours.

“Who the fuck was that?” You asked, looking at Izzy.

“Those were vampires.”

Dead Man’s Party ->

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters x reader #isabelle lightwood #isabelle lightwood x reader #izzy lightwood #izzy lightwood x reader #clary fairchild #clary fray #clary fray x reader #clary fairchild x reader #alec lightwood #alec lightwood x reader #jace herondale #jace herondale x reader #clary x jace #simon lewis #simon lewis x reader #malec #clizzy #clace #the mortal cup #the shadowhunter chronicles #c: isabelle lightwood #c: clary fairchild #c: shadowhunters #s: mine #c: the silent brothers

[maraudererasmut]

what kinds of things did you do when you were first practicing digital drawing? did you use reference images? where did you find them? anything you would recommend to a baby drawer with a short attention span for instructions?

Well, first and foremost, I’m gonna take a moment to do a little fangirl wiggle, because I’m a huge fan of your work! Thank you for messaging me! 

I’m gonna include a lot of info here, so bear with me! I’ll try to break it down so that it’s easy to understand, but if anyone ha any questions, feel free to ask!

The absolute most important thing for starting out drawing is practice. 

You’re going to hear it from everyone, everywhere, but it’s so very true. When I first started digital drawing, I made sure to use my tablet every single day. Now, that doesn’t mean I spend three hours each day trying to do something amazing; some days I only had a few minutes here and there, but I’d try to sketch something rough, something loose, maybe just a doodle. Maybe it’s a face one day, maybe it’s just a bunch of swirls and stars the next. It doesn’t matter what you draw, as long as you are developing the habit of drawing! No matter what it is you are doing, you’re learning! Playing with brushes to see how they feel on your new drawing program? Learning! Trying to see if one way of colouring is better than another? Learning! Drawing the same nose over and over and over again until you like what you see? Also learning!

Another key step to learning to draw is to identify what you like!

What does that mean? Well, look at other artists who inspire you! Why does their work appeal to you? What is it about their drawings that you LOVE? Once you realize what it is that makes something beautiful to you, you know what to practice and how to learn to adopt that into your own style!

@burdge is an excellent example for illustrating this. They are a fandom artist that has been around for so long, nearly every fandom artist I know has been inspired by them in one way or another!

So what is it about Burdge’s art that I love? I love the closeness that’s portrayed, and the softness. But those are very arbitrary things that are difficult to identify and even more challenging to implement. I love the noses. I love the proportions. I love the hairlines! I love the body movement! Those are things that are a bit easier to pick out and start practicing!

This leads so well into my next point:

It is okay to copy someone else’s work if it’s for practice!

Let’s break this one down, just to ensure that nobody accidentally misinterprets what I’m saying: It is okay to copy someone else’s work if it’s for practice. It is NOT okay to copy someone else’s work and post it, claiming it as your own! If you use a reference picture, generally speaking, most artists will post which reference they use, but I know that I often forget to do that as well! But using a reference picture is different than copying. 

When you copy someone’s work, what you’re really doing is working on identifying what you love about it. You’re practicing drawing in their style! And that’s totally fine! When you’re first starting out, it’s actually really helpful to be able to use someone else’ expertise and practice to guide you to draw something you love! A lot of people have it in their heads that copying = bad. And sometimes it does. But I think it’s important for new artists to get rid of that notion in their heads. Practice is practice. When you practice cooking, you copy other people’s recipes! You’re not going to post those recipes online and say you created them, but you CAN feed them to your friends and you CAN eat them yourself! And if you do post pictures of your food? You can say whose recipe you used and thank them for a great meal! 

We were all starting at one point, and every artist I know started by copying something. 

Use reference pictures! Use them liberally! References are helpful!

Yes, some artists are so good that they do not need reference pictures. That’s fine. Good for them! I’m very proud of them!

When you’re first starting out, you don’t have to worry about that! Don’t get into your own head and tell yourself “Real artists do XYZ, blah blah blah, etc.” None of that is helpful. Use whatever is available to help you improve!

Now the question is what actually makes good reference pictures? Well, everyone uses something a little different. Some people use faces of famous actors, some people use stock photos, some people use other people’s drawings that are specifically made for references! 

What do I do? I save every single photo I come across that inspires me into a folder. I have tons of folders labeled “Reference: Pose” or “Reference: Remus” or “Reference: Gay”. (That one is smut references. :3 )

I use blogs like @posereference and @fantasyartistreference, which I follow on here! I’ve gone through their content and saved photos that I think will inspire me in the future. Sometimes I don’t do anything with them. Sometimes I use them! 

I also take advantage of stock photos. That includes ones that adobe puts onto the internet as well as ones that other artists put! Senshi Stock on Deviant art is an excellent resource that has made a TON of photos available to artists to use for FREE! 

Google is also my friend! I like to google terms like “Couple Pose Reference” or “Couple Kissing”. If you include search terms like “pose reference” you often find that you get things specifically created for artists to use to help with poses!

Look at all the helpful poses! 

Now, this leads us to my next point:

How to use reference images

Everyone does this part differently, too! I’m going to show a few different examples. Let’s use this amazing reference sheet by @kibbi as our example!

Some people like to have their reference photo beside their drawing space, to use for them to look at, simply as a guide:

Some people like to have their pose reference in a layer beneath their actual drawing on a lower opacity so that they can trace right over it:

Often times, what you end up doing is using your traced sketch as your base for your drawing, with your actual drawing over top of it. Essentially, you’re using this time to identify what you DO like about the reference pose and what you DON’T like about it, and changing it!

See how different it’s looking already? I put my own style over top of it, but I used the pose as a reference because I really liked it!

((EDIT: I JUST REALIZED THAT I GAVE SIRIUS THREE ARMS. I AM SO SORRY, GUYS!!!!))

Side by side comparison for the curious:

Eventually, a time will come where you can do simple poses like this without the use of a reference. That’s amazing! You will be so proud of yourself! But if you still need to use references for complicated poses or foreshortening, remember not to beat yourself up about it. It is OKAY to use reference poses, and it is OKAY to take advantage of resources that are available to you! Just try to remember to cite your sources, just like we all did in school! :P

Practice Anatomy

Try doing things like figure drawing! Use sites like Quick Poses to give yourself a timed figure drawing session, if you’re up for it! The more you practice bodies and anatomy, the better you will get at drawing them! Don’t focus too much on anything being perfect; remember to say loose and just aim for general shapes and general proportions.

This isn’t the greatest example, because I didn’t do any dynamic poses, but here are some rough figure sketches:

See how loose I was? See how little I cared about it looking nice? That’s the best way to start a sketch! Just with loose scribbles!

The same thing can apply to faces:

Learn the rules, and then learn when to break them!

Just like writing, where you have “rules” for writing an essay, in drawing, you have rules for anatomy! But… I don’t always love to follow those rules. It’s important to understand human anatomy (if you plan to draw humans), and then figure out where you want things to be exaggerated in order to create your own style! Here’s an example:

The same rules apply to musculature! It’s important to understand what muscles go where and how they move in order to properly draw them consistently! However! That is something a bit more complicated that we can go into another time! I don’t think that would be included in my simple break-down of drawing!

And… last but not least…

Have fun!

You’d think this one would go without saying, but I’m going to specify it anyway. If you are NO LONGER enjoying drawing what you’re drawing, STOP. Don’t just draw humans because I told you to practice anatomy! If you’re not having fun, you’re going to grow to resent it, and we don’t want that! Draw whatever it is that you want! If you want to draw the same two men hugging over and over and over and over and over (Case in point: my entire blog), you do that! Ignore everything I said about knowing anatomy and about reference pictures and about anything! Just do exactly what makes you happy, nothing more and nothing less. Practicing should be fun, and the moment it’s no longer fun, you’ll begin to lose your passion. So… move on to something else that’s fun! Tired of drawing Wolfstar? (Pfff, that’s impossible, but okay). Move on to Drarry! Or to Linny! Or to a different fandom! Or to flowers! Or to still life! Or to whatever you think will bring back that spark!

Because that’s what drawing is all about. It’s just another form of expression and another way to have fun!

ANYWAY! I know this was SUPER long! I hope it was at least somewhat helpful! I’m not an expert, not by any means, but I enjoy doing this, and I am still working on improving! If anyone has any more questions, shoot me a message!

#ask me things #ask me stuff #ask maraudererasmut #drawing guide #drawing tutorial #basic drawing tutorial #not even really a tutorial #Just... drawing stuff #my art #art how-to

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

~"Doctor can you tell me about that jar up there?" Perhaps it wasn't wise to ask so directly about the man's interests, but the lone jar set apart from the other meticulously arranged rows (when there was clearly space on the appropriate shelf) was distracting. Captivating, even.

((YESSSSSS))

His smiles meant nothing. No matter how wide a grin he gave or how many times he offered a comforting smile to another person it never changed his eyes. Those cold, dead eyes never lied, they never bothered reflecting the warmth that his lips feigned on a daily basis.

So when the question is posed and Daniel turns to look at what the other happened to be referring to the change on his features is close to catastrophic in its scope. Daniel’s gaze flicks upwards and then widens on the cylindrical jar, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks the longer he looks at it. Happiness didn’t cover it, nor did joy, no, that expression was closer to genuine elation. It lit up his entire face and it would’ve been tremendously handsome if not for the circumstances. It still was. There was no room for falsities in that smile; it was undeniably pure.

“Oh that~!!” Even his voice was brighter than it had been earlier; sounding almost like a child being asked about his favorite subject. A sentiment that wasn’t far off the mark, all told. “That one is very, very s p e c i a l.”

The tiles click faintly underfoot as Danny smoothly crosses the room towards the shelf burdened with rows and rows of meticulously arranged jars—some empty, most full of eyes in various conditions—and gently pulls the singular jar set upon the very top shelf down. He handled it with a palpable reverence, his fingers sliding slowly along the glass container as if he were stroking a lover’s skin rather than a mere object.

Daniel stands there for a moment with his head cocked slightly downwards, his eyes tracing the paths of two milky orbs as they moved sleepily in the liquid held inside. It was as if he’d forgotten all about the other person in the room with him. He had. Just for a moment, he had.

And then his sight regains focus and his chin lifts slightly. The smile from before was, while a bit calmer, dreamy even, still present upon his lips. It was a dangerously handsome thing, that smile. That gaze.

“These were the first ones…that actually meant something to me. They belonged to an old friend of mine…” He held the jar up now, still using both hands with the utmost of care, and watched as the topic of discussion bobbed gently. Watching the two of them blindly from the darkness. The eyes themselves were discolored; the blue that they had been was now ghostly, their predominate color long since given over to an opaqueness an opaqueness which had always been present in the owner but Daniel didn’t seem to mind that at all, which was strange. He didn’t seem to mind that his favorite color in all the world was slowly dissolving inside that jar, a thing that normally would’ve driven him into a state of almost exalted agitation.

“I used to HATE these eyes,” he confesses with a faint almost demure fluttering of his eyelashes as he looked downwards briefly, “—they unnerved me, in a way. The person they belonged to was a very cruel, hollow man. He stole many, many things from me. He tried to take everything from me—even this very place that we stand in now—but I stopped him. I regained what was mine, what was meant to be mine and mine alone.”

He finally lowers the jar and clasps it to his chest, both hands folded over it carefully.

“He wanted to s t e a l anything that made me happy. He wanted to be a part of something that he would never understand, something he would never appreciate—not like I do—so I took his eyes. It was the first time, the only time, I ever stopped him from doing what he wanted.”

A new expression ekes across his human features then, his own eyes now gaining a hint of sadness, maybe even guilt.

“These eyes will always be ugly. They’ll never be the ideal ones that I want but they do remind me that I’ll be able to find them and I won’t let anyone stop me—not now or ever again. These ugly, beautiful eyes are proof of that…even if they do eventually rot away. And when I do find them—those perfect eyes, eyes far more beautiful, far more true than these or anything within this room—I’ll put that jar right next to this one just so he can see them too. I want him to always know what he failed to take away from me. Not that he’d appreciate them, even now…haha.” If he could find it.

And when the day finally came when he saw the eyes he so desperately yearned to reclaim for and he couldn’t have them…? What t h e n?

Normal now, his composure regained Daniel walks back over and sets the jar containing Henry Myers’ eyes back onto the shelf. That was the most he’d spoken in…quite some time, but he wasn’t done just yet. Eventually sated with his brief reorganization of a few wayward jars the doctor pivots on his heel back towards the other one last time, a beaming smile now present on his face and his eyes firmly closed. A lie, that smile.

“If you ever touch that jar—even for just a second—I’ll kill you without hesitation. The only one who can destroy those eyes is me, do you understand? They’re mine so please leave them be.”

#;;content warning: eye trauma #eye trauma tw #;;ask response: ic danny #;;ask response: ic danny (verse: angels of death) #;;ask response: with squiggles #I know you had that specific hc in mind when you sent this in but I KNOW you also had a minute like 'it's the assistant's' lol #and no---this isn't meant to be shippy #anonymous

[grapeinacape-blog]

The Cold Hand, by Alex Goodwin

This story is entirely based on true events of the occurrences in Longstanton, from the dates of the 10th of April 2017, to the 24th of November 2017. The case can be followed through newspapers and is often referred to as the ‘High Street Dismemberment’.

As a quiet village, the happenings were kept to a minimum. Most people knew each other well and I was one of such villagers. The crime rates were low, maybe because it was such a small place, or maybe because it was such a slow town. There were dog walkers and day drinkers, as all places offer.

But when the murder happened, it’s like they went into limbo. It was on the news first thing Tuesday morning. A murder so horrible, it shocked everyone as to the lengths some people will go to. It was dramatically horrific, a dismembered body, all bloody as it lay for the world to see in the middle of High Street. Her head lay, like a ragdoll, mucky blonde hair covered her slim face, whilst her torso lay in the middle, on her back, chest torn out as if ravaged by a wild animal. But no animal, the report said, could have removed her legs so expertly, crossed them beneath her as though creating a symbol which beckoned a silent prayer, to a God that did not exist. For if He existed, He would not have let this happen.

Passers-by stared in horror. People screamed. The cameras could show no footage and the police were baffled. It took 4 days for her to be identified.

“Her name is Lisa Hightower, she’s 26 years old and is from Derby. She was visiting friends in the village. They were concerned when she didn’t return home, though had received a text stating she was staying with a gentleman that night and returning the next day. It is in both her and the public’s, best interest to find this gentleman and understand what he knows. If anyone saw any suspicious behaviour the night of the 9th of April, call us now. If you have seen this woman, let us know.”

After watching the report, viewers stayed to watch the image of a pretty woman on their screen. No longer mucky, her wavy blonde hair fell to her shoulders and her face was no longer obstructed. Slim cheeks, with a round chin and small nose. Tight lips stretched into a smile painted with red. Bright blue eyes that shone as she posed in front of the camera. She never thought it would end up here, not like this. She had dreams, like so many others do. She wished to be on the stage, acting and singing. She’d done a couple of hits in the musicals, back in Derby and had caught a bug for it.

She was a kind woman, she spared a moment for everyone, which is what ended her life in the end. She stopped to chat in the middle of anywhere she went. She was always smiling and just had such a pure heart. That’s why it was such a crime that she’d been taken, because what could the motive be if no one was out to get her? Did it mean that everyone was at risk of being ripped apart in the middle of the street?

The town was abuzz, all wondering who, or what, could have done something as cruel as this to such a bright young woman.

“Must be a sick man, that one. Some sickening fantasy to get into her pants, then rip her apart. Poor girl, she had her whole life ahead of her.”

“I’ll tell you what they should do, they should string him up. Hang him and cut him apart. Death penalty’s too good for him, I say.”

When a man was finally found, they found themselves eating their words. All talk, no play, apparently. This story is a difficult one to tell. It was as though the facts unravelled themselves before your very eyes in slow motion. Watching Detective Hall beg the public for information, to his grave announcement that the man in question had been found. Curled blonde hair was found in Joseph Mackenzie’s bed, clumps of it in his bag, along with a knife. Though apparently the end of the case, it seemed we would have no luck.

“Joseph Mackenzie has been found in his apartment. His time of death approximates to half an hour before that of Lisa Hightower. Though our main suspect, he has now been ruled out. Once again, we ask for any information as to their whereabouts that night. Lisa Hightower must have left the apartment.”

This shook the village even more. Many of them read between the lines. Not only had their main suspect been eliminated, but he was their only suspect. They were back to square one. Now, many of the followers of this investigation knew a few things about crime. They knew, that not only was this a horrible crime, but that no sane man could live with himself having destroyed not only one, but two people in this way. He’d have to come forward at some point or another.

Joseph was not found in the same way as Lisa. He was not bare, for the world to see, every part detached from the other. No, he was a break in the pattern, they said. Though, how a pattern could be established after one killing, is unusual. Joseph lay in his bed, as though sleeping. His ruffled hair in his eyes, his shirt strewn amongst the rest of his possessions on the ground. It was only when the duvet was pushed off him that they noticed the gaping hole where his stomach once lived.

On his bedside table was a picture of his four-year-old son, Samuel. It seemed clear to everyone that the murderer’s only intent was ruining lives and pulling people apart the most gruesome way possible. Again, the quiet village was thrown into limbo. People became scared to leave their houses. They were assured it was a one-time murder. But the locals weren’t convinced.

It took months before there were any developments, leaving months for people to return to their normal lives and all but forget the case that had shook them. There was no news from the police, until we watched as a man was dragged, kicking and screaming from the local pub. Greying hair, thin-framed glasses and the beginnings of a beer belly.

The officers in charge, had managed to trace the text that Lisa had sent, back to her location at the time. After finding this, they then managed to follow that trace. She’d had her location on the whole night. After drinking, she made her way back to Joseph’s apartment. She was there for approximately an hour, before leaving the flat and making her way towards Stevenson’s Road. Walking down it, it seemed Lucas was awake, inviting the girl in. She stood outside for an extended period of time, refusing to go in. With his wife away, maybe that was what encouraged the desperate plea for companionship. The phone followed her into the house eventually. And there it remained, down the back of the sofa. The murderer had then planted evidence both at Mackenzie’s residence and elsewhere to remove himself from the murder completely. But it hadn’t worked as well, as he’d hoped.

“Clever, isn’t it? That phone could’ve saved her life. That phone is bringing the darling the justice she deserves.”

Lucas refused to talk for weeks. He did not deny the charges, he was too scared to. He did not agree to ever meeting, nor tearing the young lady apart. He simply sat, tight lipped, staring at the wall.

“Lucas Bell, you’re being held here for the suspected murder of both Lisa Hightower and Joseph Mackenzie. Remind us of your whereabouts on the 9th of April.”

“I was at home.” The quiet voice replied, to the officer that sat opposite him.

“Anyone able to prove that?”

After a pause, Lucas had replied with a simple shake of his head.

His family had been away for the week and by being away they had permitted the murder of Lisa. Following his few answers, he lapsed back into a silence. There were no ‘no comments’, nor more movements of the head. He simply lost the urge to fight back.

He was charged with two accounts of murder. By the time the court date arrived, Lucas Bell was a sunken shell of a man. The growing beer belly had disappeared, and his clothes hung off him. His hair was all grey now, except for the few streaks of black that still remained. His face was hollow and when the jury met his eyes, there was nothing there. His lawyer tried, but Lucas gave him nothing to work with. He just stood there, staring.

It didn’t take too long for Lucas to be sentenced to life in prison.

“After one of the most horrific cases I have come across in my time here, there is no doubt that Lucas Bell must be found guilty on both accounts.”

Once again, the small village was stunned into silence. I don’t know, to this day, whether it was relief that this man was off the streets and serving time for such a horrid display of human nature. Or whether it was shock, that the man that lived so close to all of us, that drank our beer and bought our food, had been capable of something like that. A normal man, with a lovely wife, 2 children and a grandchild on the way.

In a way, that’s what all this was for, really. Lucas Bell exposed humans for what they are and in turn gave this village an entertainment. Now, even a year later, Lucas still hasn’t said anything. He is no longer a sunken man, but barely a man at all. Empty not only physically, but emotionally.

Blood stains the High Street, even when washed away. And blood stains a man’s hand, even when scrubbed away. Red, raw hands that remind him of the price he had to pay. Was it all worth it?

***

“’Alex Goodwin’s novel has hit the shelves like a tidal wave. It offers inner details of the tragedy that struck Longstanton. Experience dark interviews with the police and descriptions of the images that have been kept from the public eye. Now a bestseller, it’d be an absolute murder not to pick the book up today.’ I bet you were glowing from the response your story received.”

“It’s true, I was shocked by the amount of feedback I received on my work. I’d always written crime novels. My other work features fictional accounts, however. Such as ‘The End.’, ‘No Rest For the Wicked.’ But nothing worked as well as this did. I’d known for a while I should write a real-life account of a crime, but everything had been done. I needed something new, fresh and local.”

The recorders were switched off and I felt myself relax in my chair, as the assistant brought through my coffee.

“Can I get you anything else?”

Smiling up at the woman, I take a moment. That’s what it’s all about, really. Using this newfound hierarchy to see what I could have, if I really wanted it. And I did really want it.

“You know, for my story I used a research method of conflation of information that had been given by the officers, and Lisa’s family and friends.”

I let my hand brush across hers as I reach for the coffee. I’m certain her cheeks go pink, though I don’t need to look to check.

“Very clever, Mr Goodwin. We’ve just got a couple more questions, before we finish up here. Is that alright?”

“Of course, dear. And what are you doing once we’re finished?”

She doesn’t reply to that, leaving the room as I sip at my coffee, staring at the wall as I wait for the others to return with her. I don’t have to wait very long, though I’ve already drunk half my coffee now. The recorders are switched on again.

“How long had you been writing before ‘The Cold Hand’?”

“Oh, years. With no success of course.”

“You’re a young man, Alex. You had lots of your life ahead of you, why were you so desperate to get the fame now?”

“Good looks don’t get you everywhere.” I laugh.

It’s true. I think, truly, if looks got you anywhere at all, this woman would be a lot prettier than she is. And the man beside her wouldn’t be a balding middle-aged one, but a fit, toned young man.

“You like a good-looking person though, don’t you?” It comes off as an accusation, but I shrug it off.

“Who doesn’t?”

“And Lisa Hightower was one such woman.”

“She was very pretty, yes.”

Putting my coffee cup down I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well then, tell us again, if you can, Mr Goodwin, your whereabouts on the night of the 9th of April.”

“No comment.”

“Did you threaten Lucas Bell’s wife and family, so that he would take the fall?”

“No comment.”

“Why kill Lisa Hightower?”

“Why does anyone do anything, Inspector? I deserved my big break. And I got it.”

[fanficksandimagines]

“Sleepy head”- E.D.

A/N: when I started writing this one it was supposed to end within less than 500 words and was supposed to be only about lips (You’ll get what I’m talking about), but then I got another idea, and another one, and maybe like 5 other ideas as well. I really hope you’ll enjoy it because It took me over 5 hours to write and it’s 1am right now. I’ll read it over for mistakes tomorrow so bear with me please.

Word count: 4012

Ethan Dolan Imagine. 

(Arts and creations. Painting and photograph skills)

Warnings: noun.

Quote of the imagine:

 “ I was swimming in the purple clouds while the sun was setting.”

-With love Sammy

History class is always boring. I was scribbling some random doddles on the side of my note book. The lessons seemed to go on for hours. Miss Rosewoods talking about the American Revolution and founding fathers, a topic I knew better than anything from historical events. She kept talking and talking. Her voice calm and pretty quiet for a teacher, whenever she was talking it seemed like she was telling you a bed time story. Trying to get you to sleep. The grey dull sky outside wasn’t lighting up the situation either. I let out a yawn screeching my arms slightly. I turned my head to the side to look out of the window, just to see my crush, Ethan, sound asleep in his spot. He looked adorable and calm. His face looked as beautiful as ever. We sat at the very back of the class so I wasn’t scared that someone would see me looking at him. I let my gaze fall across his face, taking the moment I had to observe him this close. I’ve had a crush on this guy for almost 3 years and I still examine every detail of his face. “Now please write down the following years!” The teachers’ voice snapped me out of my daydream. “1775; 1776; 1777; ...” and she went on about it. I took notes for the next 5 minutes or so and then turned back to looking at Ethan. For some unexplained reason I couldn’t take my eyes off of his lips. They looked soft and kissable. Suddenly I turned my head back to my desk and put my pen away in my pencil case. I searched for my 9B pencil and took my small sketch book out of my bag. I turned my body slightly to the side. I looked at Ethan once again concentrating on his lips. I started drawing the contour of his lips just to take my eraser and erase it. I then looked at him once again and slowly traced the shape of his upper lip on the paper. It wasn’t easy to draw it as I wanted it. I tried again… and again… and again until it looked as close to being true as I could get it to. I took another glimpse of Ethan and started to draw the bottom lip, slowly dragging the pencil over the paper. I kept drawing his lips in my sketch book, adding texture and shadow. I wanted lean closer but I couldn’t. I kept catching glimpses, trying to shape Ethans lips as good as I could. I was so into the process that I couldn’t hear anything around me. The only sounds reaching my ears were the pencil scratching against the paper and Ethans’ soft snores.

“Ah-hem.” I heard Miss Rosewoods say standing next to me. I lifted my head up from my sketch book to look at her. “This is history class, not arts class.” She said her hands on her sides. “I know. My concentration works better when I’m drawing.” I defended myself hoping that she won’t ask me to prove it. “Really?” oh no. “In that case, who was the 1st treasury secretary of the united states?” she asked her voice clearly mocking me. “Hamilton.” I say simply. She looked slightly taken back. “Also, before he became the treasury secretary, he was a part of Hearts of Oak and studied military tactics. He fought in the revolutionary war. I heard everything you said Miss Rosewoods.” I said finishing my sentence with a smirk. “Alright.” She said defeated, turning to the side. “And Ethan is sleeping again.” She said more to herself. “Okay, back to the lesson!” She announced loudly and walked back to the front of the class. I checked the time, 15 more minutes till the lesson ends. Ugh. I turned my head to the side again glancing at Ethan who was still sleeping. I looked back at my drawing adding some more curves to his lips, making some lines darker and blending some other parts. Sooner than I thought the bell rang. Everyone started standing up and leaving the class. I gathered my book and notes and put them in my bag, my sketch book still opened on the table. I was putting my pencils back in the case when I noticed someone standing next to my table. I looked up to see Ethan, with the left side of his face a bit red from sleeping. He was looking at my drawing. “That’s awesome, Y/n. You have some mad skills.” He commented, making my cheeks flush rose pink. “Uh, thank you.” Those are your lips, by the way. Good to know that you like the drawing. I’ll go jump off of a cliff now, okay? Great, bye. “I actually wanted to ask you for help…” He started trailing off. I took my sketch book and put it in my bag closed. I pulled the zipper shut and stood up from my seat. “Wanted to ask what?” I felt my heartbeat quickening as I questioned. “We have math next right?” he asked letting me walk in front of him. I nodded while walking out of the class. We had the same schedule, so we were together in all of our classes. “I wanted to ask for a favor.” He kept talking as we walked through the hallway to our next class. “And that would be..?” I asked intrigued. “It’s for art class.” He started seemingly nervous. “Remember we had to pick out these pieces of paper that Mr. Kolinsky had prepared?” he asked. “Yeah, we had to pick the team of our next art work.” I remembered, mentally making a note to start working on it soon. “Yeah, those. I was wondering… uh… would you mind posing for my work?” he asked and I swear to god the whole world stopped, the sun wasn’t burning, the water on Uranus disappeared, the squirrel in Ice age movies suddenly got lucky, Snoop dog wasn’t high and the lost city of Atlantis wasn’t under the ocean, but up in the skies somewhere between clouds. Most importantly, my heart seemed to stop for a moment and forget about the butterfly feeling, the goddamn zoo was having a party in my stomach. “It’s just- I just have to draw a surreal work with a female as the main creation of the work and the other girls in our class are mean and I couldn’t really think of anyone else to ask, because drawing my sister would be weird for the idea and I- I. I mean if you don’t want to it’s completely fine. I’ll try to find someone else.” He rambled clearly nervous scratching the back of his neck. The air surrounding us was filled with tension, as I couldn’t manage to get out a word. On the inside I was screaming and jumping out of joy. I was swimming in purple clouds while the sun was setting. “So… uh…” he spells out. I snap out of my daydream quickly forcing my vocal cord to start working. “Yeah, sure. I’m down.” I speak. “Great.” He voices letting out a breath. We restart our walk to the math class. “So do you already have an idea for the work?” I question still feeling the hurricane of emotions. “Yeah. I just hope you’ll be okay with it.” Ethan let out a chuckle. “You might not know this about me, but I’m down for a lot of crazy things so I think it’ll be fine.” I informed him smiling proudly to myself, he turned his head to me and I could see his beautiful lips form a smile. While making our way down the crowded hallways we agreed to meet up on Saturday for his project. He also gave me his phone number so I could send in some suggestions on what I could wear, since his idea was specific. He resisted on informing me about the details, only explaining that we’ll be in the forest outside of the city. He was going to take photos of me that he would use as references for his finished project. Honestly I couldn’t believe I’ll be spending a whole day with just my crush.

That Sunday morning I woke up before my alarm even went off. A huge smile across face, as the sunlight was making its way through my window. I got out of my bed opening my laptop and turning it on. While it was loading I made my bed. I opened up Spotify and clicked play on my favorite playlist that I had made for myself. I took a pair of white underwear with me and walked in the bathroom. Turning the shower on I took off my pajamas and stepped under the warm running water. I let it run down my skin as I washed my hair. I rubbed the sopped up body spam slide across my slightly tanned skin leaving a trail of bubbles. I rinsed my hair and washed off the soap. Stepping out of the warmth my skin was introduced with the cold air of the bathroom as I wrapped myself in my towel. I walked back to my room humming to the song that was playing. I took my phone and checked for messages. Ethan had sent me a text. ‘I’ll pick you up at 11. Is that okay?’ it read. It was 9am so I had plenty of time to get ready keeping in mind that I never take long. ’11 it is.’ I sent back the corners of my lips pulling on a smile. I dried my hair, leaving it naturally straight as Ethan had asked. Packing spare clothing in my backpack, I danced around the room. Skipping down the stairs and in to the kitchen where mom was serving chocolate pancakes. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.” She said her face shining, reflecting my happiness like a mirror. “I’m helping out Ethan with his art project today. I already told you about it.” I reminded taking a bite. “Ethan, as in a guy named Ethan?” Dad looked up from his plate. “Yes.” I stated and he just looked in my eyes. Seeing my uplifting mood, he just shrugged and went back to eating his breakfast. After I finished my plate, I placed it in the dishwasher. Walking over to my mother I placed my hands on her shoulders. “You’ll have to help me with my dress.” I warned placing a kiss on her cheek and running back to my room. I put on a light make up, just like every day. I only used my foundation, brow pencil, eyeliner and mascara. Ethan asked to keep it simple, so I did. Mom came in my room after knocking. She helped with my blue flowy dress. It was really light shade of blue; in some lights it seemed even white. Mom tied the strings on the back as I smoothed the fabric with my hands. “You need to bring out your lips. Just a little.” She commented after looking at me for a moment. She walked in the bathroom and looked through my lipsticks taking one that was a pastel rose color. She came back in the room and gave it to me. I applied the lipstick completing the look. “Thanks mom.” I smiled at her and heard my phones notification signal going off. ‘I’m here.’ Ethans’ text read.

As we were driving to the spot he had in mind there was music playing in his car. Comfortable silence surrounding us. “I really like that dress.” He complimented taking a quick glance of me. “You were the one to choose it.” I reminded. “I know,” he chuckled,” but it really suits you.” I blushed slightly, smiling. When we finally arrived in the forest I looked around the area, it was really beautiful and quiet. No sound of cars driving by, only birds singing and somewhere further away, water bubbling. “How did you find this place?” I wondered looking around the trees. “Oh, this is not it. We’ll have to walk for like 5 minutes tops to be there.” He explained locking his car “Let’s go?” I nodded in response and followed his steps. “I kind of have the whole thing already planned out, but if you brainstorm some ideas just shoot it, we can make it all work.” Ethan announced keeping his eyes forwards. ”Alright.” I said holding the skirt up a little to not rip the dress. It took us less than 5 minutes to walk out of a forest to small clearing. The view in front of us was breath taking. Surreal even. There was an edge of a cliff in front of us a big rock placed close to it. Over the edge, you could see a water fall that came out of a hill falling down the height and hugging the rocks at the bottom, on the other side of the ally where the water went, the forest continued. I left my backpack by the trees walking closer to the clifs. “I hope you’re not scared of heights.” His voice echoed against the cliffs. “No.” I breathed still mesmerized by the view I was seeing. “Good. Cause I want you to sit on that rock.” He informed pointing at it. I walked over to it looking down. It was more than words could describe. “ How do you want me to sit?” I asked letting my eyes wonder around. “Just like this.” He said making me sit down with one leg resting on the rock bended in the knee and the other one straightened out touching the ground. The lifted leg peeking through the cut of the dress. “Now turn your body slightly, just like that.” He guided my body with his hands, turning my shoulder slightly more to the edge. He took one of my arms and placed it in my lap. Then he took my left arm and bended it, placing my fingers on my shoulder touching the edge of the dress. “Can you pull it ever so slightly so it looks like it’s being pulled but it’s not?” he asked and somehow I understood what he meant. His face was so lose to mine, I could examine his lips better than ever. “Good.” He whispered smiling. “Now turn your head to the right.” He demanded nicely. I did as he asked but apparently he meant it a bit differently. He placed his rough fingers on my chin and pushed it slightly more to the right, so my face would be facing straight to his camera that was placed on a tripod. “Perfect.” Ethan mumbled. “Now just keep a resting facial expression.” He added walking to his camera. He took a few photos and checked them. After that he made me change the pose, making me sit with both of my legs resting on the rock, uncovered from the lightly colored fabric. “Take off your shoes though.” He mentioned and I took them off throwing them to the side. My upper body was now facing the same way my legs were and my face was turned to the sky. Later we walked into the forest; there was a hidden field of wild violets. Obviously, Ethan made me lie in them. I was laying on my back, he fixed my hair and stood above me. Taking pictures only with my upper body being in frame. We talked through the photoshoot, making small talk here and there. When the day had half passed and we were already comfortable with each other’s company we talked about anything that came up in our minds, sharing secrets other didn’t even know and laughing about each other’s unfortunate stupid mistakes.

As the sun was slowly starting to set we had made our way to another side of the forest, next to a river that not too far away from us connected with a lake. “I have an idea.” I said taking my backpack off of my shoulders and checking it. “What are you searching for?” he asked confused. I checked if I had taken my spare clothing. I had a sweater and a pair of leggings with me. “We can take some photos of me in the water.” I suggested looking at the river. “Are you sure? I mean I don’t want you to get sick because of my art project.” He hesitated scanning the river and then me with his eyes. “Beauty is pain. I’ll deal with it.” I reassured smiling and walking to the river leaving my shoes by my bag. “It shouldn’t be.” I heard him disagree. I stepped in the surprisingly warm water and walked in until it was reaching the middle of my hip. I turned to the side already knowing how to pose. Ethan took the pictures as I kept moving slowly and posing. “Do you mind if I take the dress off?” I asked, I mean as he earlier implied, today was more of a photoshoot for me, meaning that most of the photos will be sent to me and one kept to him as a reference. “I mean it’s the same as a swim suit anyways.” I tried to insure that it would be normal in my opinion. “Sure. As long as you’re not getting naked, I’m fine with it.” He said checking the previous photos. I walked out of the water and took my dress off. “I’m pretty sure you won’t mind me being naked.” I joked walking back in the water, now deeper. It was reaching my abdomen. “You’re right, I wouldn’t, but taking pictures of that could get me in trouble, he kept the joke going. I let out a lough and stared posing again, now my body only covered in a white lace bra and underwear. I played with the water splashing it around. Ethan kept capturing the moments, with a smile on his face. Since the sunset was starting to play with the sky and the lake mirrored it we made our way there. I walked back in the water now in the lake and started posing again; Ethan took off his shoes and rolled up his jeans. He walked in the water to take some more pictures. After a while understanding that the sun is almost gone I let my knees bend and went under water. “Jeez. You scared me.” Ethan shouted as I came back up. “That was the point sleepy boy.” I laughed as I swam towards him and stood up.

That night before he drove me home we went to a pizza place to eat. It was the best day ever. On Monday, after the lessons he gave me a CD. “Here are the photos. I hope you like them, I barely edited anything. There’s a lot of good stuff.” He informed handing it to me. “Thanks.” I smiled. It was safe to say that we became closer after that.

“Okay, so a month ago you all had to pick a mystery team for your art project. Finally all of you gave the works in before the last due date.” The teacher stated. “Thank you all for that. Some of the works are incredible, and I would like to applaud to Ethan specially this time. His work is truly amazing.” Mr. Kolinsky said and everyone applauded. No one had seen our works yet. We had to give them in before showing to anyone because the school was making a special event for it. Our works would be displayed in the local museum tonight. “Remember to come to the museum tonight to see your own works and appreciate the other works as well.

“What was your project about again?” I questioned Ethan as we were standing in the crowd of more than 20 students of our class and school that were involved in the project. “You’ll see. What was yours about?” he questioned back. “I had a “view of my dreams” to paint.” I smiled remembering my painting. “Oh, interesting.” He smiled back at me. We stood quietly as our teacher and principal did their talk telling everyone who had come to see how proud they were of us. “Well without any further hesitation, we welcome you to enjoy our student greatest works.” The principal smiled and people applauded.

I walked with Ethan by my side through the display hall. Seeing our classmate works, inspecting them and reading the titles and short explanations on what was the team of their projects. As I was lingering on a work by one of the girls I knew, Ethan had made his way to the next work. “Ou. A work by Y/n  y/l/n. “Only galaxies on my mind.”. The team of my project was to paint a view of my dreams. Here it is. My dream would be to hide in the hills with someone special, finding a waterfall and experiencing the millions of starts burning and lighting up the beautiful night sky.” He read out loud. I turned to him cringing ever so slightly. “Breathtaking.” He commented exploring the work with his eyes. “I could’ve done better.” I stood next to him criticizing. “Well, then next time this museum will be filled with only your paintings.” He added. “I want to see your work.” I whined changing the topic. I walked past him, taking his hand and dragging him through the hall. “What was the team?” I questioned as he made me stop. “It’s not important. Wait.” He said turning me so my back would be to him. He covered my eyes with his hands and guided me through the hall. “People are watching and thinking that we’re weird.” He giggled still holding his hands in front of my face. I laughed with him as we came to a stop. He uncovered my eyes. As I saw the painting my breath was taken away and left on the moon. He had painted the first picture he took. I had seen it before. Only the painting had some additional parts. Ethan had painted huge angel wings to my back and the light sunny sky from that day was replaced by a beautiful night sky with the moon shining. It looked so real, like a high quality picture, but my eyes took notice of the perplexed brush strokes and texture of the paint left on the canvas. My eyes slid over the painting multiple times before finally going to the annotation. “The angel that rules over heart.” Was the name of the painting. ”Created by Ethan Grant Dolan. The team of my project was to paint someone who I adore as a surreal creature, so I simply painted the girl I think is the most beautiful one in the world.”  I read the short annotation loudly, just like Ethan read mine. Only after reading it I realized what it meant. “I had to paint someone I adore as a surreal being.” He let the words slip out of his mouth freely as if he wasn’t in control of his lips anymore. I swear my heart had ripped through my skin and traveled to pluton and back by now. I turned to face Ethan. “Also, I wasn’t asleep in that history class. I pretended I was. I know that, that drawing I saw on your desk that day… those were my lips, right?” he asked looking in my eyes as I was already drowning in his hazel ones. “Yes.” I managed to get out. “You seemed to be struggling with that drawing.” He said taking a step closer. “Maybe I need to feel them, to draw them better.” The sudden confidence growing in my veins as my blood was racing. “There’s nothing holding you back.” he smirked taking another step closer to me, our faces incredibly close. I leaned in and as he mirrored my actions, our his soft plump lips touched mine and I swear I was swimming in the purple clouds while the sun was setting.

#ethan dolan imagine #Ethan dolan #Ethan grant dolan #Art #paintinng #photo #photography #imagine #text #writing #writer #dolan twins imagine #grayson dolan #artsy #fanfiction #skills #dress #pinterest #ethan grant dolan imagine #night #night sky #stars #angel #wings #galaxies #posing #photoshoot

[misssophiachase]

mini drabble idea, an art teacher is out sick so Caroline sweet-talks Klaus to fill in

Thanks luv! Such a great prompt. Hope you like my take : ) It’s a little NSFW, and became a bit of a mixture of TO Klaroline and my own storyline. Sorry it took so long, my computer was having a melt down. 

Mona Lisa Smile

“Caroline!,” he whined childishly, taking her by surprise and pinning her naked form beneath him possessively. “You cannot be seriously asking me this right now?”

They both led busy lives, but it was only 5am. Klaus considered that scared time with his Queen and his wolf-like appetite for her was more intense than ever at that point. 

“I thought it was the perfect opportunity, you’re always more amenable to my requests in bed.”

“Amenable to only you, love,” he growled against her skin, his lips attacking her neck with renewed fervour. Her skin felt like it was on fire as his movements increased. 

“I’m the principal of the school, Klaus,” she squealed, the feeling of his lips and hands massaging her thighs having its desired effect. “Which means I need to find an art teacher replacement and I can’t think of anyone more qualified than you.” 

“You’re trying to sweet talk me,” he teased, his mouth now firmly attached to her nipple, his tongue making its presence known. 

“Maybe,” she panted, bringing his head closer to her breasts, his impressive arousal pushing against her leg. 

“Say please,” he ordered. 

“Please,” she whimpered, unsure of how she was able to function and respond right now. He didn’t respond just entered her swiftly.  

His gaze were now focused on her, his finger tracing her pink lips as their rhythm and pace increased. “I’ll think about it.”

“You bastard,” she let out, her breath ragged. 

“But you still love me,” he smirked, leaning down and nipping at her lips playfully. His tongue was immersed in her hot mouth before she knew what was happening. 

Caroline took the opportunity to surprise him, flipping him so he was now underneath her. His dancing, blue eyes were telling Caroline that he didn’t really care. “I love it when you take control, love.” 

“Well, I am trying to negotiate here,” she drawled. “Do we have a deal?” He was thrusting into her more intensely now obviously trying to break her resolve, the only sounds in the room of their respective groans. 

“Not quite.”

“Unbelievable.” 

“I’m King of this town,” he huffed, his fingernails finding their way down her back. “I have important things to do.”

“Like terrorise people, fight with your siblings and throw a few ridiculous tantrums,” she shot back. “Do I need to do that thing you love?” Klaus immediately rallied as she writhed above him. Klaus had never seen anything more beautiful in his thousand-year life.  

“I’ll think about teaching your students if we pick up on that particular manoeuvre tonight when you pose for my very own life class,” he suggested, his left eyebrow cocked.  

“Life class,” she cried, her climax obviously close as she rocked back and forth. “Last time I checked the Mona Lisa wasn’t all that excited to be captured.”

“That’s a portrait sitting not life class but you obviously haven’t noticed that sly smirk she portrayed, just ask Leonardo Davinci what that was about.”

“Always have to thrown in that insufferable and ancient, good old days boasting, don’t you Mikaelson?”    

“Fine, life class is, think Rose and Jack,” he grunted as he thrust into her one last time, pulling her flush against his body. The fact he’d used a movie reference was obviously for her benefit, whether she actually registered it at that point was another thing.

She didn’t respond, well nothing in English, Aramaic or any other language Klaus knew - and he knew a lot of them. Her body was quaking all over as she fell into his arms, completely spent. 

It would have been ten minutes later when she first spoke. Caroline was tracing circles over his bare chest. “I lied, I know what life class is but I cannot believe you, of all people, used a Titanic reference. You always whinge when I want to watch that.” 

“That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me? And by the way, it’s not the best way to get me to fill in for your art class, love.”

“You were always going to do it,” she grinned, feathering kisses along his collar bone softly. “You pretend to be annoyed, we play fight and then kiss and make up.”

“Oh really? You think I’m that easy?”

“Pretty much but if you continue to deny my requests, I will have to tell Kol that you like Titanic.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled, flipping over so she was beneath him again. 

“Oh, I would,” she promised. “Unless you can convince me otherwise?”

“Is that a challenge?” Caroline didn’t respond just licked her pink lips teasingly. Klaus always did love a challenge.  

#mona lisa smile #klaroline drabbles #misssophiachase #thanks luv #great prompt #denielapple

[notdeadjusttrash-blog]

My Friend has been Falsely Accused of Tracing So I Will Defend Him

Okay I accidentally deleted the blog I posted this one because I’m a dumbass, so I’ll just repost it here even though I don’t use this blog anymore, but apparently I still have followers. Bless caches because I was able to get this back from google caches so I don’t have to retype everything. I added further evidence and refutes to claims that were not in my original post btw.

Anyways, I am making this post to help out my good friend @5ru9 aka Falco who has been recently accused of tracing/copy pasting other people’s / official art!

I’ve known Falco for over 3 years, and we’ve grown as artists together. Once in a while we give each other advice on art (thanks for the mech and armor advice and teaching me how you line and color!), but most of the time we just meme each other.

Anyways, a lot of people have pointed out that they’ve seen him livestream before, and he’s already posted some of his block outs and other wips as proof that he does not trace in his post here:

http://5ru9.tumblr.com/post/168277137427/hello-i-have-been-informed-about-a-callout-post

To further prove his claim with solid evidence, I shall present to you!

Times he’s asked for advice on his art, or I randomly decided to mention things I notice in his WIPs!

Exhibit A-1:

A Tenkai Knight he made up! I pointed out a few things I thought were awkward about the perspective in his WIP.

Exhibit A-2:

He started working on this way back in July and didn’t finish it until much later because he was working on several other pieces at the same time. I suggested lowering the eyebrows and drawing the eyes a bit narrower to get more of the playful expression he was aiming for. In his final piece here, you can see that Falco continued to refine the piece.

By the way! The reason he sometimes posts a lot of detailed artworks one shortly after the other is because he sometimes works on multiple pieces at once! And then finishes coloring them around the same time.

Exhibit A-3

Falco and I spent good time trying to figure out why he felt like something was wrong with his sketch! I thought maybe it was the trapezius and I decided to red line (or blue line i guess) it so it’d be easier for him to see approximately where i thought the line should go to fix it.

Exhibit A-4:

The gif-ing process turned white bg into blue… anyways! Falco showed me an early version of his Tenkai Knights OC that he eventually used in an April Fool’s joke to pass off as a new character in the series. He mastered the tenkai style enough that at first glance, people really did believe it was official! Like you had to get a good look to realize Shiyu was not really a real new character! Btw I had to go into my old twitter acc to find this…. (Edit: the gif wasn’t working bc it was too big so i had to make it smaller… and choppier and stuff to fit the mb max)

Well now that brings us into!!!

Exhibit B

Some of his old art!! (I’m so sorry falco i’ll be exposing your ancient art to ppl now)

Here you can see his progress from 2014 Tenkai fan art to early 2015! It starts looking more and more like the official art, which is what he was going for.

For reference, here’s what the character Ceylan Jones/Washizaki looks like:

I blocked out fan art by everyone except falco (which i marked) that shows up in this google search. Everything else is official art. The two fan arts by falco you see here are more recent, the angel one being from 2016 and the chicken one from 2017 (i think he also made a version with sonic instead of the chicken? lol). They’re both on his dA accounts btw! The 2017 one really looks like official art, doesn’t it? But it’s his artwork! He practiced a LOT to reach that point, and I hope the earlier arts I showed above this one are enough to convince you in his art progression! Side note: i only used images w/ceylan because 1. i’m biased because ceylan is my favorite character and 2. he drew ceylan a lot because ceylan is his favorite character Also you can see his handle change from s3iwashi to burningbraven. 5ru9 is is a pretty recent handle.

ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN IN THE TENKAI FANDOM FOR A WHILE CAN VOUCH FOR HIM!!!!!

And now for the last one,

Exhibit C

WHAT? WHO IS THIS???

This is my favorite character from a Chinese series called AOTU World! His name is Grey, or 格瑞。I commissioned Falco to draw Grey for me, and let me tell you it would be IMPOSSIBLE for him to have copied any of this. Why? Because the donghua is 3D and the manhua’s art is very inconsistent!

Let me show you the reference pictures I gave him to work with!

They’re all in my gdrive folder here: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1CqwH5KS-pHX0ZqLHQpoIZBi6W-gsU_Tz

This is all official art from the manhua, except the 3D model is from the donghua. Look at how inconsistent the references are! There’s no way he could have copy and pasted or traced this! Grey doesn’t even do this particular pose anywhere. lol. I told Falco “give him a cool sword pose”. (I’m sorry for being so vague, Falco! But it turned out great!!) The style he ended up drawing in was a mixture of all of them.

Btw!! here’s the blockout and the sketch he sent me before I sent my payment for the commission!! You can see his construction in the block out!! The arm construction and leg construction is light, but it’s there. You can also see the block out below the sketch. Notice he actually fixed the leg length from block out -> sketch?

ARGUMENTS AGAINST SPECIFIC ACCUSATIONS

LOOK, thte actual drawing doesn’t even match the sprites that closely. Pay attention to the collar especially. The whole frankensteining the image and then painting over it thing is just way more effort than drawing it himself. They don’t even match that well in the overlays. Like wow it’s such a crime to try and stay on model.

WHO WOULD EVEN NEED TO TRACE A MOUTH LIKE THAT? IT’S SO EASY TO DRAW. I CAN DRAW IT PERFECTLY JUST BY LOOKING AT IT. (well i AM an animator so I also do style mimicking)

Doesn’t the fact that you have to edit the sprites to match his artwork prove that you’re just a tryhard in making up fake evidence and not a tryhard enough at art since you think it’s so impossible for people to draw characters on model?

Yes he referenced the broom and possibly the heels from this image, but your overlays for the leg and arms are disingenuous and you know it. The leg positions are different, and the overlay doesn’t even match up. Face tracing also makes no sense. You literally stretched the mouth to try and make it fit but it still doesn’t fit. Do you really think it’s that hard to draw mouths and eyes in the DR style? DR faces are really simple to emulate. Also you fool, if you follow Falco’s artwork enough, you’d realize the way he draws bodies is actually rather consistent even as he does different styles. Especially when it comes to hands. His way of drawing hands is how I recognize his art and know right away it’s his art and not official art or a trace (also his coloring style). The heels he drew are also reminiscient of how he typically draws shoes/feet. he draws them bulkier. The other art has dainty heels. At most he referenced how backside works because he’s used to drawing sneakers.

Also come on, if all you referenced from an image was a broom because you liked the style (his is also clearly drawn by himself since you can’t overlay it on the other one. like i said he mostly used the style as a reference for how-to-broom) and you referenced pieces from many other images, are you going to list every single thing you referenced? While yeah it’d be nice to, it’s a little ridiculous to expect all 5-20 references whenever they post the image. It’s a thing where, if someone asks, you’d tell them, but it’s too much to list all of it. This isn’t a 20 page thesis.

If it’s such a crime, then holy shit sue all those people who parody other people’s comics and sue everyone who dares!!! to ever draw something remotely similar to someone else. Dang.

Art doesn’t live in a vacuum.

Okay, this one is just plain stupid. You distorted the sprite to match it up with his, but what would be the point for him to distort it just to trace? Also if he traced, can you explain the rest of the fingers that are drawn nicely but clearly different from the sprite? Also the thumbs don’t even match up. His faces more downward while the sprite is facing more forward. Also explain the turned body in Falco’s sketch, then!! And the hair! OH WAIT YOU CAN’T EXPLAIN IT BY ANY OTHER WAY THAN HE DREW IT HIMSELF!!! BECAUSE NO SPRITES MATCH IT AND YOU CAN’T FIND ANY SPRITES TO DISTORT ENOUGH TO EVEN GET CLOSE TO MAKING FAKE EVIDENCE FOR IT.

By the way, the style he drew it in is closer to the drv3 than this sprite. while it’s pretty much the same style as the older games, drv3′s art is more refined than the older games. Falco’s art is also more refined as you can see. (wow not only did falco’s art improved from back when we first met; even professional artists improve. shocker. /s)

Dude what the hell? The overlays don’t even match up even ifi you tried to frankenstein them. And these are really common poses at really common angles, and once again, must every single thing we reference from be listed in the description of every place we post an image? Let me just list all 30 videos and 50 images i used as reference for one of my prints. jfc.

As for the saihara animation based on the digimon opening animation? It was pretty clear to everyone that it’s some kind of parody. Many people when making parody animations don’t mention the original video either?? It’s a fun thing for fans of the franchise to recognize the reference themselves. Yes he could have said it was the digimon opening on the description, but at least he didn’t say he thought of the idea himself? And if you talk to him about the animation, he will openly tell you it’s from digimon. And the fact that you think it’s a trace despite how much the overlays do NOT work out is practically proof that you’re just doing this maliciously and hoping that saying he traces enough with shoddy evidence will make people believe you.

ALSO PEOPLE LITERALLY TRACE ANIMATIONS TO MAKE PARODIES OF, DOWN THE STYLE WHERE ALL THEY CHANGE IS THE HAIR AND OUTFIT, AND YET SOMETHING WITH DIFFERENCES EVEN DOWN TO THE STYLE LIKE THIS IS SOMETHING YOU THINK IS A TRACE? Do you need a new pair of glasses?

I was gonna ignore this one because it was the same as a lot of the others, but you literally erased Falco’s face line so it would match the sprite, and you covered the bigger boobs Falco gave her, and totally ignored that the angle doesn’t even match properly. Like you covered parts of his sketch in your overlay just to make it look more like it matches, but if you actually fucking overlayed it correctly, even with squashing it, it won’t fit. (Also sorry to point this out Falco, but the circles on your goggle lenses are too small compared to the sprite; Maybe if you actually traced like this person claims you’re doing, they’d be perfectly like the sprite. OH BUT WAIT YOU DREW IT YOURSELF SO OF COURSE THERE’S SOME DIFFERENCES. JUST LIKE HOW EVEN THOUGH ALL YOUR OTHER WORKS ARE REALLY CLOSE TO THE STYLE AND PRETTY MUCH ON MODEL, THEY’RE NOT EXACTLY THE SAME WITH THE SPRITES! SHOCKER...!)

HOLY FUCK. I already pointed out and gave evidence that Falco started on the Nier Automata drawing waaaaaaay before he posted the actual picture. The 2 sketches are sketches! They don’t take a super long time. I busted out 10 inktobers in 1 day. (thumbnails of my artwork below)

Look I even even lined and colored 5 fairly detailed chibis in 1 day (i did the sketches earlier though. btw i hand drew the plaid on ray. it was annoying)

At the moment I have 5 wips. They’ll likely all be done around the same time. I know Falco often has multiple wips as well, and sometimes he also finishes some of them close to each other. Some artists (like my friend Fish) can pump out extremely detailed paintings in less than a day. WOW some artists can draw at a fairly fast rate. WHO KNEW? (manga artists in weekly magazines pump out 15-20 pages of manga in a week)

He’s still developing a style; he’s mostly doing style mimics of series he likes in the mean time.

At the moment he’s mostly experimenting with the drv3 style, but he was practicing p5 earlier. By the way, he DESIGNED a phantom outfit for mishima. Who the heck would he copy that from? He made it up because he loved mishima and wanted to make him part of the gang in some AU fan art. Mishima doesn’t have artwork like this for him to trace, so it should be obvious it’s his own work.

And the pokemon and crash bandicoot ones are actually not that close. The pokemon one looks like a good attempt at imitating the pokemon style, but since he hasn’t practiced it enough, you can tell it’s a little off model because, well, he drew it himself and doesn’t practice the pokemon style a lot. Same with the crash one. Had it been a trace, with his level of control over his lines (which you can’t refute), it would have been much closer.

And you act like it’s a crime to imitate others’ art style. It’s really not. What is wrong with you? Do you want to slow down animation production by only letting the character designer draw everything? Or do you want animation where the art has 0 semblance of consistency because all the artists draw in vastly different styles? lol. What do you have against artists that try to stay on model?

LOL THIS IS ONE IS SO STUPID WHERE DO I EVEN START?

Oh, I KNOW. Why don’t I do that same pose with my own hands?

IT’S A MIDDLE FINGER, YOU IDIOT.

Just because YOU don’t know basic anatomy and can’t tell a middle finger from a pinky, doesn’t mean everyone else is as incompetent as you. He wasn’t doing the rock-on hand pose (sry idk if that pose actually has a name lol), and he’s drawn the rock-on hand pose properly before.

Closing statement

I believe I covered a lot of things and provided a lot of evidence here that Falco and his other friends did not cover in his defense against the false accusations.

I even added more counter arguments in this repost because apparently my original post wasn’t enough to convince people.

Perhaps the person calling him out meant well (no, I doubt it because they made a new side blog just to diss him because they knew if they did it on their actual blog, they’d be called out for being a jerk), but they did not do enough digging to find out if their claims were true or not (and they probably know well enough that they MADE UP THEIR EVIDENCE).

If you’re going to make a call out post, please make triple sure sure of everything before you accuse people. Talk to them first. Talk to those who know them too.

Many jobs require you to be able to draw characters exactly in the style given. Animators for example! There are multiple animators working on one series, and they all need the skill to draw consistently! Some games also have teams that need to be able to draw in the same style so they don’t have to leave everything up to one person. Comic artists often have assistants that help them draw background characters, but those background characters can’t be too different from the main style either.

As for the people who believed the call out post before, it’s perfectly understandable. I am also guilty of falling for similar posts in the past. Due to that, I decided it was best to double check before retweeting (i say retweet because i use twitter far more than tumblr these days. heck i almost never post anything on this blog) things, and if i wasn’t sure, I would just leave it be.

I hope my post was able to convince you on Falco’s innocence and all his hard work. And if you already believed him but checked out this post anyways… Thanks! ObligatoryPleaseWatchAotuWorld.

And again:

Art does NOT exist in a vacuum. All artists are influenced by each other and MANY artists, especially professionals, use a lot of references, whether it be from photographers, their own pictures, others’ artwork, life, or whatever. We all use many different resources. If you’re going to say that’s wrong, you just dismissed millions of artists in the world.

[dat-town]

The Bonnie to my Clyde

Characters: Min Yoongi & You

Setting: Bonnie and Clyde AU (sort of)

Warning: very lightly implied sexual content, some dark themes

Summary:  “He saw the darkness in her beauty. She saw the beauty in his darkness.”

Words: 974

The motel smelled like hypo, dust and tears. Just like any other unknown, cheap, run-down place where nobody asked where you came from but took the money and shut up. It was exactly what you two needed: a quiet hideout when your names were useless and your faces were nothing more than a shadow on the tiles.

You giggled unstoppably as you jumped on the crappy mattress. The worn bed cracked under your weight and screeched wailfully but it couldn’t hold you back. You laughed wildly with your head thrown back. The joyful melody was contagious but it stuck in your throat when you caught your companion staring, his dark and hungry eyes tracing your features. You looked right back into the black abyss without fear and with a tempting curve on your lips.

Yoongi - known by the world as Suga, a dreaded criminal – didn’t take his eyes off of you as he clicked the old suitcase he had in one hand open. You sat up so you could see it better and gasped delightfully when the case displayed its content full of dirty money: today’s big catch. You looked up adoringly with huge doe eyes while he smelled some bills and threw them into the air casually as if they didn’t mean more to him than a piece of burning paper. He decorated the bed with them carefully like others do with rose petals.

“Lie down.”

It wasn’t a question or request, he demanded authoritatively for you to pose in the middle of his artwork and you gladly did as he asked. How could anyone say no when he looked at you the same way as an aesthete would appreciate a billion-worth masterpiece? Like he wanted to engrave the picture into his memory to never forget it: the sight of a fallen angel in a pool of bloodied money. What would your parents say if they knew that their naive and innocent daughter was gone? That a liar, a thief, a murderer fell in love with her, killed her and fell in love even more, even harder? He tore you down to pieces and built you up once again, creating someone new who people only referred as Sugar Baby.

Newspapers wrote about your pair, called you the Shadow Couple, people whispered dirty things, they knew nothing but they were right about one thing: you were spoiled rotten by Suga, the mastermind behind all of your grandiose plans. He was the executive, the one armed with the weapon and knowledge to get anything you wanted while you were a siren, the best kind of sweet distraction. His one and only partner in crime.

“What do you want, baby? A diamond ring? A vacation to Rome? Just ask, I’ll give it to you.” He crawled above you, caging your fragile figure between his arms and his breath left hot spots on your swan neck as his raspy voice made you shiver. He probably heard you gasping for air even without properly touching you and smirked at his massive effect on you. Still now. Even after playing the same game over and over again, your answer was still the same:

“You. Only you.”

Your cold fingers entangled in his dark locks pulling him closer by the neck until your breaths fanned over each other's face and your dilated pupils bored into one another. Then, it was hungry and desperate and too much spit and teeth but neither of you complained. You both loved just the way you lived: rushed and for the sake of adrenaline but genuinely with all you had.

Do you trust me enough to get killed? Yoongi asked you once out of mere curiosity as he was staring out of the window of another motel in another city with a cigarette in his mouth. You sat up in the bed pulling the blanket tighter around your naked frame and replied without hesitation: yes.

Yoongi’s life was a dangerous game all the time, every job was a Russian roulette but the ride was much more enjoyable since he had you. From the very first moment he laid his eyes on you, the next rich young girl waiting to be robbed, he just knew that you were different, you were more… something else. But he didn't dare to hope to find another dark soul that identifies his own vicious insides. Yet, under the cover of such pretty facade, you were just as evil and stole his heart mercilessly with no intention of giving back. What could he do? He stole your heart in exchange and painted it black with his own sick desires.

People can get high on so many things: alcohol, smoke, drugs, you… His fingers twitched for a cig and a lighter most of the time except when he couldn't take his hands off of your body. They kept roaming because he could never get enough of your taste. To him, you were just as addictive as the worst kind of psychoactive drugs. You were a bomb ready to explode, a war on the verge of breaking out, a gun waiting to be fired. Still, he made it clear that he was willing to die for you every single night.

“I love you.” you pulled the trigger and he smiled at you wickedly. The words like bullets bit hard into his flesh as the echo of deafening silence surrounded you. He didn’t say anything but used your body as a canvas to write his own confession in love bites all over it. He claimed you, marked his territory like a predator and you had never enjoyed anything more than being his prey.

By the end of the night, the motel smelled like money, smoke and sex. Just like any other stop on the map of your twisted kind of love story.

#bonnie and clyde au #crime au #bts drabble #agust d #suga drabble #suga fanfic #yoongi #i blame it on watching agust d mvs again #stories #drabble collection