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runa-falls · 9 months

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Soo, (reffing to fluffer ff) how do you think the boys would react if they couldn't request you because you're working with somebody else or if they see you working with someone else?

ooooh shitttttt 🫢 alright, let's explore that shall we?

a/n: uhhh….i’m so sorry that this took so long omg 😭 i love you nonnie, i just forgor~ i'm making a second part to this where they find out reader was an amateur porn star before she became a fluffer :3 it's mostly all smut ngl, so anyway...

cw: explicit smut w/ jake only.. sry marc/steven hoes (18+), jealous!marc [angst, fluff], soft!steven [fluff[, out-of-pocket!jake [straight smut], inaccurate depiction of sex work, dirty talk, not proof-read!!

w/c: 1.7k [my baddd]

Fluffing for Others:

Being a fluffer was your job before you met the boys and you continued to do it after. The thing is, after you met the boys, you were so busy working with them that your already limited work schedule had no space for other clients.

But occasionally, one of your earlier clients will request you months in advance for a big project, and you have no reason to decline them (that is, until the boys convince you to stop working).

Marc [slight angst, fluff]:

"Sorry baby, I can't make it Tuesday, I have another client--"

Marc was just telling you about his next production that's set to film in the next few days.

Of course, he springs the gig on you just as it's about to happen.

He always does this, assuming you'd be free, and happy to join him. He never gives you more than a week to prepare, and usually you're fine with it. But this time, you're busy.

"Wait, another client?" You nod, but he's still not getting it, like he can't believe his ears. "Like a different client? Like an 'outside of this body' client?" You sigh.

Of course, he's reacting like this.

"Yes Marc, an old friend called and booked me for the week. I put it on the joint calendar, didn't you see it?" His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words. "He's doing a movie length exclusive, so he called way in advance."

"But...but what about me?" He pouts -- literally pouts -- as he walks closer to you, backing you against the kitchen counter.

You raise a brow, "What about you?"

"What am I gonna do?" His hands hold you by the waist, pulling you close while he nuzzles his nose against your neck. He does this when he's trying to comfort himself -- buries his face against your body and holds you close.

He's so dramatic.

"Don't be so whiney, Marc. A girl's gotta work too." He hmphs in discontent as he hoists you onto the edge of the counter. You loop your arms around his neck easily and make him look at you. His soft brown eyes shyly meet yours, "I don't complain when you fuck your co-workers."

"That's--"

You send him a warning look, "I swear to god if you say it's different..."

"No, you're right, honey..." He's sheepish when he looks at you, realizing how his jealousy got the best of him once again. "I just...want you all to myself sometimes." You peck him on the cheek, then his jaw, then his neck, suppressing a smile as he leans into you with a sigh. He's so easy.

"I'm yours, baby." His hands squeeze at your waist at those words. He loves hearing you say that. Loves that you're here in his kitchen, always ready to receive his needy affection.

"So... are you free next week?"

You snort.

"Marc, you can't keep moving your productions for me. You could always find another back-up fluffer..."

"Not doing it without you." He mumbles, lips brushing against yours.

You lean into him and your noses nudge against each other. You're not quite kissing him, but when you're looking into his eyes like this, it feels just as intimate.

"Yeah, I'm free."

He grins, "Good. It's a date." He captures your lips in his and you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

---

Steven [fluff!]:

Telling Steven was pretty easy. He knew about it before you even told him, seeing it on the 'family calendar' that you forced each boy to join.

"You need a ride to production Monday? I could call you an early cab as we don't have a car and all. Don't want you to have to catch the bus."

Steven is lying next to you, having woken up in the body this morning. He's always been more of a morning person compared to the other boys, despite looking perpetually tired.

"Aw, thanks honey, but I'm fine. Their sending a company car since it's such a long filming schedule." You snuggle up closer to him, craving his warmth from the morning coolness that blows through the flat. He lets you settle against him, wrapping an arm around your torso.

"A company car? ...fancy."

"Anything is fancier than our usual walk and transit ride." You giggle against the thin fabric of his shirt, slightly muffling your words with how closely you cling to him.

Steven is dressed in Marc's pajamas: a tight undershirt and briefs, clothes you rarely get to see Steven in when he's fronting. Usually, he prefers looser clothing made of soft and comfy materials.

You can't complain though. Seeing Steven (unintentionally) show off his built body while acting all cozy and sweet makes you heat with want.

"You don't mind I'm working for other clients again?"

He tilts his head as if he's just now considering it.

"No, why would I? It's your job, just like how I have mine."

You pause, surprised by how cool he is with it.

"Oh...yeah."

“I actually thought you'd be doing this more often..." You look up at him, meeting his soft and sleepy gaze, "I mean, I thought everyone would be requesting you." He whispers, unsure if you'd appreciate his comments.

You hum, "I only had one company that hired me as a general assistant and only three regulars." You smile at him, remembering the first time you met him, "But then I met you guys, and you took over my whole life."

"...Then we met you, and now you're our life." Your heartbeat picks up at his words. It feels like something is squeezing at your chest in the most pleasant way possible.

Steven never realizes how poet and sweet he can be. You truly believe he just says whatever is on his mind.

"But you still work, and I still need to work..."

"You’re so beautiful, sweetheart, anyone would be lucky to be in your presence, let alone touched by you.”

You bite your bottom lip, hard.

How can he say such wonderful things? Make you feel so tender and loved that you could fall apart under his gentle gaze?

Intense emotions tighten in the back of your throat and all you can do is hold him closer, clutch him until he can feel what you're unable to voice.

"I love you, Steven. You know that right?" It's barely rasped out, but he hears it.

"Of course, darling." He pecks the top of your head, "You know I love you more, though."

A smile pulls at your lips, "Impossible. I love you so much you can't even comprehend it."

He chuckles before offering his rebuttal, "Well actually..."

---

Jake (NSFW 18+):

Jake took it as well as you thought he would...

His hand squeezes lightly at the sides of your throat, testing the waters as he continues to rapidly thrust into you. You wince as his fingers dig into the fresh bruises that he suckled into your skin earlier.

“Bet they wish they could fuck you like this...feel you quiver around their cock," You groan as he angles his cock to drag against the walls of your cunt, expertly nudging against that explosive spot inside of you. "But they can’t, because your mine, right honey?”

You nod wordlessly, barely able to comprehend what he said.

He buries himself deep inside of you with a huff and holds himself there until you're squirming under him. "Right?" He grits out, frustrated with your lack of response.

Your body shakes as his cock continues to press flush against the back of your cunt, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure all over. You feel so full, completely stretched, and filled to the brim; you can barely move without crying out.

"Yes, yes, please, Jake, I'm yours--"

He pulls out briefly before swiftly pushing back in and it feels like you had the wind knock out of you. "That's right, baby, take it. Show 'em who you belong to."

You shutter out breathes as he works himself into your body, holding you down so you can't move a muscle without him knowing. Sloppy sounds remind you just how needy you are for him, how much you love it when he treats you like this.

Jake lets you go and work for clients, but he'll be damned if you go without his mark on you. Without a physical reminder that you're his.

It's not that he doesn't trust you, he just doesn't trust them.

You're the perfect woman, someone he couldn't resist when he was just a client to you. So how can he be sure your other clients won't try to woo you like he did?

"Fuck, honey," He growls, grinding his hips against yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible so he can cum deep inside of you. "You're so good to me, letting me do this when you gotta be on set in an hour..."

Your head is tilted back, and eyes are closed tight as you desperately try to hold back your orgasm, waiting for him. You whine as he rubs your clit, legs trembling around him.

"Please, Jake, cum for me...c-cum inside..."

"You gonna keep it all in for me, baby? Keep me stuffed inside of you as you jerk some loser off?" You cry, clenching around him as he coos at you, unable to hold back anymore.

"Mm... that’s right, honey, let go. Go ahead, soak me." He grunts when he feels you flutter around him and pushes in deeper, enjoying how tight you get when he talks dirty to you.

You writhe pathetically under him as you ride out your high, whimpering as he sharply fucks a few last thrusts into you before painting your walls with warmth. He fills you so much it starts to drip out of you as he pulls out.

His fingers push it back in before anymore could escape and ruin the couch under you. He hums thoughtfully as he fingers you, making sure you're all filled up for the day.

"Looks like you're ready for work." His eyes drift over your lust bitten lips, the marks covering your neck, and the mess at the center. He smirks, proud of his work.

"Thanks, baby." You smile sweetly.

You really do have the best boyfriends in the world...

#anon #pornstar!moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockely #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant fluff #jake lockely smut #marc spector fluff #too many tags

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 14 days

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Hi Covey !! I hope you’re doing well :)

Girl, I read the Frank Zhang x daughter of Venus the other day and it was amazing it had me giggling all day I swear. So now I have to request a Frank Zhang x daughter of Athena head canons because I’m obsessed and I can’t get it out of my head. 😭

Thank you so much for the Jason x athena girl headcanon you wrote by the way I absolutely loved it. 🫶🏻

Take your time to write this! No pressure at all, if you don’t have time or simply don’t want to I completely understand ! 💞

⋆⭒˚.⋆ frank zhang x daughter of athena! reader hcs

content: frank zhang x daughter of athena! reader hcs warning: like, the smallest mention of injuries but super fluff frfr author's note: AHHHH I LOVE HOW THESE ENDED OMG OMG OMG OMG YALL ARE GONNA LOVE THIS!!! also, you, my dear leoswift23, are one of my fav little stalkers and i just love ya sweets!!!

ah yes, my favorite genre: war's son falls in love with war strategies daughter

power couple on the battle field and in the library frfr

study dates are a need not a want

frank always gets distracted by you though, barely getting any work done as he drools over his pretty and smart girlfriend

he noticed early on into your relationship that you didn't own bookmarks as someone who reads a ton of books

no matter what, you'd always have random stuff crammed into your books

recipes, (unused) teabags, and once an arrow that you stole from frank

so, he started buying them every time he saw one and just kept them on him

like how some bf's carry hair ties, this mfer got bookmarks on him like a GLOCK

and every time you start to look around for a ticket stub or apple core to shove into your book, he's proudly whipping out a bookmark and presenting it to you

also loves when you yap senselessly about the books youre reading

when it's late at night, and you're all snuggled up in bed and frank is struggling to fall alseep, he'll sneakily prompt you to yap

"hmmm, what was that book you were reading yesterday? the one with the yellow cover?"

"oh, like yellow and blue or just yellow?"

"just yellow."

"that ones so good, frankie, you gotta read it. okay okay, so it's about-"

bro is snoring instantly

not bc youre boring or anything, but simply bc youre voice makes him sleepy

new hc: frank used to play hockey.

cmon he's canadian and the son of the god of like injuries or whatever

bro played hockey and he was BRUTAL with it frfr

he fr left kids bruised and crying and he's apologizing all canadian like lmao

so, for his birthday, you got the pair of you tickets to a game.

bros foaming at the mouth, excited to watch the bruins completely DOMINATE the toronto maple leaves (yes he's a fan of the boston hockey team, but that's completely unrelated to me MOVING ON-)

but then, the day comes, and he's foaming at the mouth for a different reason

you got you guys matching hockey jerseys and frank's new favorite view is you in a hockey jersey

you were basically drowning in it due to the size, but frank never took his hands off you the entire time you were that jersey

and you pretended to be obvious to this like you didn't mastermind all of it

well, athena always has a plan, duh

also i just feel that you two would get very passionate about the game really quickly

you didn't know how hockey worked an hour ago and now you're standing on your chair, screaming at refs and yelling at the players to hit harder, knock some teeth loose

and frank is drooling again lmao

and then during one of time outs (does hockey have those?? they do know stfu-)

you were stealing some of franks nachos when the people around you all started cheering, shoving at the two of you

instantly, ever the smart one out of the two of you, you darted your eyes up to where it read 'KISS CAM' and proudly showed you and frank

frank followed your eyes and instantly turned the color of a tomato

you laughed, rolling you eyes as you grabbed the collar of his jersey and pulled his lips into yours.

more cheers followed and you were sure the camera had moved off to torture some other couple as you tried to pull back from frank

but he didn't let you get far, basically tugging you into his lap, eager to keep his lips on yours

later, frank would scourer the internet and print out a photo of you guys on the kiss cam, putting it in a frame next to his bed

his favorite game with his favorite girl, what more could a guy ask for???

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #frank zhang x you #frank zhang x yn #pjo hoo toa #percy pjo #heroes of olympus

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wosowrites · 1 year

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Yellow Card Madness ( Katie McCabe x Reader )

Warnings: ⚠️Swearing⚠️

A/N: This one is just pure Katie madness. And also three posts today? Woah go me. It will not always be like this i’m just still on march break.

Prompt: Reader and Katie are dating, and reader gets her first red card ever, which leaves Katie slightly proud.

It was known to everyone that your girlfriend was the Yellow Card Queen, the Yellow Card Magnet, the Irish Messi, Katie McCard. All of these nicknames were used to describe her on a daily basis. Whereas people called you Arsenal’s Classic Canadian, the Softie, the Sunshine in the storm. You and Katie were polar opposites, but your relationship was perfect, and thrived on your differences. So when you got two consecutive yellows during a game against Chelsea, when you got your first red card ever, the gunners were in shock, and Katie couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of her girl.

Three and a half hours earlier:

You and Katie climbed out of thr gunners bus and entered Kingsmeadow stadium through the players entrance. You were walking behind Leah, and beside your girlfriend. Your face was stern, taking its firm look only during game days. Katie however, was smiling and lighthearted. Your rolls usually switched when you stepped onto the field.

You did your game day routine. Taped your wrist, put on the captains armband, walked onto the field and did a few keep ups. Soon enough, you were leading Arsenal out onto Kingsmeadow turf, Manu following behind you.

Today was just a season game, but because it was against Chelsea, every player on the pitch was aching for the win. Kickoff was quick, Arsenal started with the ball, and as the striker, you opted to pass the ball back to Leah, whose passes up field were spectacular. The game seemed to play out slowly, and when half time arrived, the score board still read 0-0.

"No card for you yet, Katie." You teased, tapping her ass lightly as you walked into the tunnel. "No goal for you yet." She teased back. "Hey! Not getting a card is good!" You said, pushing her slightly.

You both walked into the changing room, where Jonas gave a quick speech before giving you the floor. "Listen here, ladies. I know, we don’t need to win this game. The motivation is low. But we’re playing Chelsea right now! We’re playing class players, and we are class players. So let’s go out there, let’s score, let’s make more great saves. Manu, god I love you. Let’s make the same clearances, Leah, great work on the left. Let’s keep up with those runs down the line, Katie, Beth, amazing. as always. All you guys are doing great. we’re missing that goal. Let’s also avoid getting booked. C’mon Gunners!" You yell.

It was in the 56th minute that things went downhill. You were running down the middle and looked up to see Beth making a run. You passed the ball perfectly and then accelerated into the box. However, Beth got the ball taken by Millie Bright. You acted on instinct. Motivated by your own speech and wanting a goal so badly, you slid, clearly connecting with the ball before the lioness. But Millie tumbled to the ground, earning cries of "Ref! Come on!" From the Chelsea women and some of "No! That was nothing!" From the Gunners. But the second you were back on your feet, you saw the referee running towards you, brandishing a yellow card in the air. "Hey! Hey no way. Come on that was all ball!" You complained, walking towards the ref with your hands extended at your sides. "Don’t argue with me y/l/n." The referee said, writing your name on the back of the card.

Angry, and even more desperate for a goal, you stormed away from the referee. Leah patted you on the back, telling you it was okay, and Katie came over to you, looking at you with a wider smile that she ever had. "Don’t get booked guys." She mimicked.

You slapped her in the back of the head.

"Hey!" Katie yelled, positioning herself. "People are gonna edit that later."

Your luck came only ten minutes later due to Stina’s cross being blocked by Magda. Leah prepped herself for the corner and sent in the most perfectly weighted ball. You got the back of your head on it, flicking it into the back of the net.

"YEAH!!" You scream, running up to Leah and jumping in her arms. "YOUR PASSES GIRL!" You yelled, jumping down from her arms and shaking her slightly. Katie then came over, grabbing you and swinging you around, making you laugh. Your team congratulated you, hugged you and Jonas have you a big smile. You clapped at the Arsenal fans in the corner of the stadium who had been screaming loudly.

After that goal, Chelsea seemed to go rabid. They were constantly taking shots on Manu and the gunners couldn’t seem to get them out of their half. You played striker, but you were constantly at the edge of the box, trying to help clear incoming shots.

During a cross in by Erin Cuthbert, you jumped up in the air to clear the ball, your body smashing into Guro Reiten who was on the smaller side. The winter went tumbling to the ground, holding her side.

Your heart froze when you heard a whistle blow, and the angry ref stomping over to you. "No. No I did not do anything. We were both going for the ball and-" You started trying to defend yourself, Manu, Beth, Leah, Katie and Stina all hurrying towards the ref. "Get off my field." The referee simply said.

The woman showed a yellow, and then a red, pointing towards the players entrance.

Your face fell completely, feeling as though you had let down your team as captain. You knew a penalty would be awarded and that your team would have to play -1 for the next twenty minutes. You took off your One Love captains armband and handed it to Leah, who grabbed your head between her hands and tried to get you to hear her out. But her words seemed blurred, even when your girlfriend came up to you, you shrugged her off and walked into the changing room.

"FUCK!" you yelled, when you were in the locker room, smashing your fist into the wall in the least canadian way possible. You doubled over almost immediately, holding your knuckles in pain and groaning. A minute later, you heard the crowd erupt, knowing Chelsea had scored their penalty, probably thanks to Guro. You shrugged off your kit, jumping into the shower and washing yourself quickly, cursing your actions. Your first red card. You hated knowing you had one.

You heard the arsenal girls walk in the room as you pulled on your track suit. Your heart felt stiff, and for the first time ever, you were scared of being in the presence of your teammates. What if they were mad? You pulled out your phone and saw that the final score was 1-1. A tie. Better than a loss, so much worse than a win. You opened the door, your hair still dripping wet, your eyes red and your hands shaking.

You were met with every one of your teammates looking at you, but none of them looked mad. Katie was the first to come up to you, wrapping you in a hug and then pulling away to kiss you. "I’m so sorry guys I don’t know what happened. I just-" You started saying. "Don’t apologize." Beth started. "That ref was shit."

Murmurs of agreement echoed in the room, and Katie never left your side.

When you were home, and laying on Katie’s lap while watching The Last Of Us, Katie whispered something to you. "Can I tell you something weird?" She said, brushing her fingers through your hair. "Yeah." You answered, grazing your nails lazily on her bare thigh. "I was so proud of you when you got that red. Like… I was really turned on." Katie said. You let out one of your laughs, that sounded more like a bark. "You are so strange. But I love you." You told her, looking into her eyes. "I love you too."

#katie mccabe #chelsea fcw #arsenal fcw #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso fic #woso one shot

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lilikitsune18 · 1 month

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For your smiling critters au @neodracunyan

Sketches+ rambling abt this design under the cut

So I’m going to ramble a bit and explain some of the design choices.

The idea that these at some point were meant to be toys kinda lingered with me leading to the front plastic teeth and kind of innocent looking dogday seen in the side view. I like the idea that dogday (as eclipse hound or as himself) could use that to his advantage to lure unsuspecting people in. I also like the idea that as a sort of tell to the audience when he’s showing genuine emotions or not (perhaps good for interactions with the other Dark creatures. Like if they know that about his expressions then they can tell what he’s actually feeling. He’s kind of like an open book to those who know him) I also liked the idea of him having claws on his hands but choosing not to use them because it makes him feel uncivilized and dirty. He has the mask because the idea of him often working with catnap (yes I am working on a design for him too) and having it for protection against catnap’s sleeping gas and just continuing to wear it as eclipse hound even when he doesn’t need to because it freaks people out.(and he probably thinks that’s hilarious) His whole thing with his jaw unhinging to allow for more of his sharp teeth to show is actually a bit more complicated than it sounds. His sharp teeth actually extend and retract instead of interlocking with each other when his mouth is closed (his plastic teeth do not do this they are always out) so when he’s only showing his plastic teeth none of the sharps are extended. His lower jaw actually grows and expands itself to whatever size he wishes to open it to (kinda like how venom does) and more sharps extend themselves to fill whatever space is open. The only drawback to this is the larger he expands his jaw the longer it takes to contract back to its original size. So making his jaw super big isn’t really advisable (think like the toothy smiles he’s got in the ref take only a few minutes to contract while an expansion to the sun on his collar could take a few hours)

I could keep rambling about this design but I have a cat with a katana to draw so….. cya later I guess

And if you have questions about the design ask me I’d love to answer them!

#digital art #drawing #digital illustration #new drawing #poppy playtime #dogday #fanart #smiling critters au #smiling critters

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aphroditesswan · 9 months

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pink dolphin sunset

stoner suna rintarou x latina stoner reader

warnings : weed usage, mention of lighters and smoke cuz well,, it’s weed. implied underaged smoking also terrible google translate spanish cause i didn’t grow up latin i grew up filipino so i’m a no sabo kid 😭🙏

notes : book of life ref if u haven’t seen it go see it NOWWWWW. all lowercase is intended btw.

summary : suna had invited you on a date, just to lounge around and smoke in his car late at night and wow, how could you ever possibly refuse that offer??

genre : mostly fluff i think

suna was always plain faced. he always had this look in his eyes that could only be described as empty but not in the sad way, in the way that there simply wasn’t a thought behind those dark, almost beady eyes.

well, except for when he looked at you.

the eyes that showed nothing but boredom would suddenly soften at the mention of you, at the sight of you, at hearing your voice or even catching your eyes in a brief meaningless glance across the room.

you don’t even know how you got here. you’re sitting in the front seat of his car, some tory lanez song playing cause you shuffled his playlist, one he totallyyy didn’t make in advance for when this happened, talking and sharing a bong with a bowl that’s been packed maybe ten times.

it’s safe to say the both are high and throughly dumbed out. suna’s ignoring the vibrating messages from his pocket, only staring into your eyes as he holds the light to the bowl to light it up for you like any good man would do. you wait, sucking up the smoke once the time comes, throwing your head back to make a couple ‘o’s with the smoke. it’s the best you can do for now, a bit too focused on the lovesick eyes the man in the drivers seat is giving you.

it’s not his fault you’re nothing but perfection in his eyes, he can’t help but admire how nice you look sitting in the passenger seat of his sleek black challenger with the seat of his black fabric on the passenger seat covered with the fluffy thulian pink colored cushion he had bought just for you once you agreed to do this with him. he had been practically waiting, begging any and all gods above for this moment since he heard from your best friend and the annoying atsumu that you smoked.

he was so focused on your pretty face that he hadn’t noticed you took the lighter from him, taking another hit from the bong while he was distracted. as you went to take yet another hit, he snapped out of his daze and narrowed his eyes at you.

“aw come on, with all you’re smoking you owe me some weed. plus, it’s not your turn. hand it over, pretty.”

he held onto the bottom of the bong, smirking a bit as he gentle took it from you, searching the cup holders for the small lighter when he looked up and saw you holding it with your index and middle finger out to him. he snatched it, both of you rolling your eyes at the behavior of the other but really he was soooo entrances with you. he lit the bowl up, sucking up the smoke and inhaling, turning his head to blow it at you who blew straight air back at him and swatted his second hand smoke away.

“so you can blow all your smoke in my car but when I blow back at you, ‘s a problem?”

“I never said it was, estúpido. I just don’t want you blowing your dank ass smoke en mi cara.”

the side of your lips pulled into a small smirk as she leaned sideways toward you, smirking up at you as he tilted his head down.

“you know… I think ‘s sooooo nice hearin you speak spanish. can’t understand a think y’ say though.”

you stayed silent as you looked down at him with narrowed eyes, a giddy smile tugging at your lips upon hearing his words.

“mhm… go on…?”

“cocky now, are we sweetness? i’d say… you just sound sooo much more… magnetic. don’t get me wrong, hearing you speak normal is hypnotic in itself but something about the natural you voice when you speak spanish… it’s so much better.”

“maybe you should learn if you’re so desperate.”

“will that win you over? or was book of life too much for you to handle still.”

“He died for her!”

“n’ came back to life, pretty thing. I can’t do that. trust me, if I could I would for you, doll.”

“aw how sweet, hand me the bong.”

He chuckled a bit as he handed the bong back to you, the bowl nearly empty now. he lit it up, and you repeated the motions from earlier, except you blew it in his face this time.

“wowwww, how mature of you.”

“why thank you rin, i try.”

he takes it back from you yet again, setting down the now empty bong in a cup holder.

“sooo… what’s the plan?”

“ion know,, what you tryna do?”

he jokingly moves the drivers seat back, smirking a bit but behind it was a stupid, giddy smile. as he goes to put his hands behind his head, you hit him in the arm to which he breaks his front and laughs out loud, leaning away from you and holding his hit arm.

“ouch, that hurt you know. maybe you should be on volleyball instead of me, huh sweets?”

“i swear there’s something so wrong with you. estas absolutamente loco.”

“not my fault you’re so pretty.”

he shrugs, putting the seat back into its original position and his hands on the steering wheel as he stared at the small empty gas station a couple yards from the car. you two were parked at the very end of the small parking lot, music blasting and smoke spilling out of the slightly open windows of the small sleek black car.

maybe dates with the ever so “stoic” suna rintarou weren’t so bad.

FIRST FIC JITTERSSS AAAAA i gen hope you guys like it this is like my first fic in so long that i’m actually proud of and i hope this gets me more confident and helps me write more :DD

#suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarou x reader #suna fluff #suna x reader #suna haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintarou drabbles #suna rintarou headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #suna drabbles #suna headcanons #latina reader #fem reader #stoner reader #stoner suna #stoner haikyuu

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amalasdraws · 1 year

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Hello Amalas! I love your artworks coz they're so detailed and you can even make clutter look beautiful. I'd like to ask: what reference do you use for the background? Do you go outside and take pictures or sketch here and there? Do you use photo books? Internet? Coz everytime i look at your artworks in a bigger screen, it makes me feel like i'm transported to the place-- like i'm a passer-by or a fellow diner watching your character a few steps or tables away from where i am.

Awww thank you!! Okay This is gonna be a bit longer It’s a mix of a lot of things and a lot of the things around me. I not only love to draw cluttered places, but I also always kinda lived in lovely cluttered places. So a lot of inspiration is just taken from the things around me, my own memories, and the things I like.

My latest pic for example is something that is created by just an idea I have of a kitchen, based on things I know and things I’ve seen. I didn’t have a specific reference here.

I mostly always start with my characters and then very roughly sketch the room I have in mind around them.

And based on this I create my perspective lines and map out the space a bit clearer. Measure my distance with the perspective lines and create my surfaces.

And then I go into lineart. First for the surface only.

And when I have all my surfaces I only then go into my detailed clutter and add it all over time.

As said, this kitchen was fully made up and only really got shaped into form on my canvas.But I for example have a gas stove and one of those espresso cans at home, so just a quick walk into my kitchen allows me to look up certain items if I’m unsure how they look.

But there are also a couple of items by now that I have stored in my own personal mental library. When you look at my pieces closely there are a bunch of items that I have in several of them. Poles, electric cables, a certain type of window, stacked bowls and cups, soda cans, etc And those are all items that I can draw by now without any reference. And then there are some new items that I have to look up, so I mostly just do a quick google search to get an idea on how they look. For example this bedroom piece was created like the kitchen above and just based on an idea I had in mind, rooms I knew or saw somewhere and then just created out of my head. I started with a rough sketch

And then continued the same way as with the kitchen piece. But here I had some very typical late 90s items in mind, and as I could draw the bed, room, window, and some small details just out of my head, there were a couple of items I looked up on google to get the right look for them!

So I created a small library from pics I found on google and just put them on the side of my pic to have them as a ref.It doesn’t have to be a perfect ref. Just a good enough pic to give me an idea of how an item looks like.

Sometimes I have an idea of a room but want something specific and it should look more or less authentic so I go on a google search for similar places.I still like to create my own version but I look at certain structures and items that those places have and try to incorporate them into my piece

Like with this one for example. I just used some photos from google that gave me a good idea of a place like this.

Many of those items are still chosen from my mental library, but I also have some things I look up and some loose references.

Keep in mind that I’m doing this for some time now! And I build up my mental library and how I want to draw things over time! This is not something that comes over night. It takes time! And it comes by repeating things and drawing them over and over.

I also love to take photos and when I visit new places or see something I like I take photos. One because I love to take photos, but also as a future ref. And some of those photos I use as loose refs as in the examples above. And sometimes I even pretty much just redraw them. Because I really like the structure, or want that specific look or even specific place!

For example I took this photo when I was in New York and as the Aran and Tao story takes place in New York I really wanted to create a place like this! A structure and street similar to the photo.

And as you can see especially the train structure and street look is something I used for this drawing here

So long answer short

It’s a mix of things!I have a good mental library by now, I like to draw the things I know and the things around me, and when I go for a certain city, or street look I like to work based on photos I took by myself and use them as refs.

And taking photos also helped me a lot with my background drawings. It gave me an idea of how my irl 3d street view looks on a 2d photo, an idea for lines and angles, what works and what not, and what to look for in backgrounds, what I like in city scenes, and what I want to create. Google photos can be helpful refs, but I like to use them more loosely to only give my brain a reminder again on how a certain item or space looks like. When I really redraw something or stay close to my ref I like to take my own ref photo, so all is my work.

#amalas answers #how I draw backgrounds #drawing backgrounds #using references #long post #art references

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alkalinefrog · 11 months

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The Lights of Avalon

Chapter 9 - Into the Woods

“Then why did you wait until now to come meet me?” “There were always too many people around—I had to make sure you came here alone.” Jack narrowed his eyes. “Why do you need me alone?” “Don’t worry, I'm not gonna hurt you.” Jamie put on a serious expression and gave him a salute. “I’m here on important business!” “Oh, really?” Jack laughed. “And what sort of business is that?” Jamie put his necklace back on. He gestured to the woods. “To show you the magical world.”

Whoooooooo's ready for some Arthurian Magic?? Bonus points if you catch all the HTTYD book refs along with the King Arthur ones too!

Special thanks to @santathegrey for beta-ing, and @jjackfrost and @twiafom for dicking around with me as always!

And MORE FANART!!!

HUGE thank you to @tebia-sb for this awesome painting of Jack facing off Morgan Le Fay at the pier!!! It's so EPICCC

And another HUGE thank you to @bignostalgias for ALL THE ART both from the last chapter an inspired by the fic!!

Jack and Hiccup on the pier :'''D <3 <3 <3

Fishlegs carrying Sandy around :''''''''D

Tooth and Astrid sparring (included among a bunch of awesome drawings of Astrid's other girlfriends)

Astrid in full plate!!!!

VALKA in full plate AND cropped hair!!!!!!! (not technically tloa ((yet)) but you guys should look at it anyway)

Link to the fic's in the title, or you can click over here! AND if you hate reading, you can click over here to listen to Santa's podfic for this chapter!

HAVE FUN!!

#hijack #jack frost #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #how to train your dragon #rise of the guardians #frostcup #jackycup #fanfiction #ao3 #fic rec #the lights of avalon #tloa #I'll never make fun of Robin again :'''''D #this chapter's a bit under 12k words #sorry for the formatting on that last line of the preview tumblr won’t let me italicize the whole thing apparently lsdfakjklsdfj

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dino-fart · 1 year

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The Perfect Storm | Chapter 1: Lift Me Up

Continuation of This Request

Summary + Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Pairing: Namor x Female!Reader

Genre: Action, Tragedy, Adventure

Summary: You are T’Challa’s and Shuri’s sister, you are the adopted child of Queen Ramonda and King T'Chaka. You were gifted with the power of weather and storms. You left Wakanda to aide those in need of help but the news of T’Challa’s death brought you back to Wakanda. Tensions rise in the kingdom and you must aide your mother in keeping the peace. But when the Talokans come with the threat of war will you be able to stop them while protecting your family?

You felt your chest tighten when you saw the familiar sight of Wakanda. It was still as beautiful as you remembered. Only this time you couldn’t help but feel a sense of sorrow and dread. The jet landed on the platform and Aneka escorted you off of the jet. You took a deep breath and looked ahead to see your mother approach you.

“My child...” She opened her arms and you met her halfway and hugged her. “How long has it been? Three? Four years?” She gently rubbed your back.

“Yeah.” Was all you could say as you did your best not to let your tears fall.

“You look well.” Your mother smiled.

You smiled back and you could feel her warm hands cup your face and wipe your tears. It should be you wiping her tears away. “Queen Mother...” You said. Ramonda furrowed her brows at your words, you’d always called her mother.

Ramonda was about to question you when Akoye approached, “It is good to see you, princess. We have the preparations ready.”

You watched the general bow to you and felt a sense of unworthiness. You turned to Ramonda who took you by the hand and led you to your old room.

A few hours later, you walked behind the queen and the princess down the hall of Wakandans celebrating T’Challa’s life. You kept your head down the entire time, not feeling right being where you were but you knew T’Challa wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone. Ever the concerned older brother...He always texted you asking you if you ate, what you had been up to, and when you were coming to see him. You cursed yourself that you had been so hesitant to come back to Wakanda.

You couldn’t help but feel like you could’ve helped save him. Then again, what could the power of weather do to bring back the herb that was burned into extinction? If Shuri couldn’t recreate it, then all was lost. You now stood alongside Ramonda and Shuri and looked down at the coffin. You gently put your hand on the coffin then moved back when Shuri embraced it tightly, sobbing softly. You gently placed your hands on your sister’s shoulders and gently pulled her off. You watched the ship come and levitate the coffin away.

Now you sat in your old room, holding the picture of you, Shuri, and T’Challa. You heard your door open and turned to see Ramonda walk into your room. “I didn’t move anything in here...I knew you always said it was...How did you put it? Ah, an ‘organized’ mess.” Ramonda chuckled and you smiled at the memory. She sat next to you on the edge of the bed and grabbed your hand softly. “You are forbidden to call me Queen Mother ever again.” Ramonda gently rested your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry mom...” You said softly.

“You are my daughter no matter where you came from.”

“I know...”

“You know but you don’t believe.”

“I...” You had no rebuttal, for not being your blood mother, she knew you like an open book.

“Come with me to the beach, we need to get Shuri out of the lab and complete the ritual.”

You watched her leave your room and changed out of your funeral garb. You wore a blue sleeveless sun dress and tied your hair up in a messy bun and made your way to the beach.

Shuri embraced you softly when she finally saw you on the beach. You held her tightly and rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry for not being there.” You whispered. Shuri just gave you a smile, the poor girl seemed to have all the words taken from her. The three of you sat around the fire and you burned your funeral garb.

You listened to Shuri as she refused to burn the garb. The elephants charging off into the distance snapped you out of your thoughts. You watched the half-naked man adorned with jewelry with wings on his ankles fly across the water and toward the three of you. You watched the man land and your mother demanded to know who he was. “I have many names...My people call me Ku'ku'lkán...My enemies call me Namor.” The dark hair man said confidently.

He went on to talk about a scientist in his waters. You furrowed your brows at the demand to have her. Ramonda didn’t respond and you watched curiously when he set down the conch shell on the sand. “Leave my country!” Ramonda shouted. You stepped forward and your eyes began to glow.

The sound of thunder could be heard around you. Namor was about to respond to the queen when he heard the sound. He turned to see your glowing eyes and stepped back toward the waters. “No harm will come to Wakanda...So long as you get me the scientist.” Namor said finally and dove back into the water. Ramonda turned to you and your eyes glowed brighter.

Rain began to fall onto the ocean water. Unknown to Namor, the raindrops that hit the water would help you track his movements. “What can you see my child?” Ramonda gently put her hand on your shoulder. Shuri watched as well, not really believing in your powers not because she doubted you, it was just hard for her to understand.

“I...I can’t see anything anymore...He went too deep in the waters.” You blinked and your eyes went back to normal. “I’m sorry mother...”

“It’s alright...We must get back to Wakanda. I must call for the council.” Your mother grabbed you by the hand and you and Shuri followed her.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

#namor x reader #namor x you

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justlet-melive · 4 months

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here’s a question :3 uh do you have like any favourite anatomy or reference books/texts. or any tips for doing study’s??

sorry if this is like annoying or weird idk i’ve just been a little obsessed with your art lately. the way you capture shape and movement is so fantastic. you have such a talent for capturing characters personality through visual quirks too. idk like the way you draw ellie tlou is so specific. it’s not exactly on model but it’s kind of better lol. i can instantly tell most of what you need to know about her. same with your recent astarions like idk you’ve just managed to capture a real physicality about him that i think can be hard. idk i’m maybe biased but i think without any exposure to the game you could probably guess how he moves and sounds from your art.

idk uh sorry if this is worded weird i feel like i always do that LOL okay though anyways i adore your art it’s just so distinct. i’d eat it if i could. i’d honestly do a lot to capture even a fraction of the magic you’re creating. okay hope this message finds you well BYE

no need to feel self conscious about doing me a kindness in the form of gratifying to read, thoughtful observations of my fanart!!!!

thank you. very late response because i wanted to respond with some equally thoughtful advice and also let my ego calm down a bit, but..

im 'lazy' and like to keep drawing for fun as easy as possible. So i dont have any reference books hm... You obviously look at art and are able to relay to yourself and others what you saw and felt. thats the skill you should always indulge. looking at all kinds of things youre drawn to and observing why. best ref! (thanks again btw, best feeling being on the receiving end of that. to be... astarion voice: Seen in the Eyes of Another)

I have studied (and continue to do so when i get the chance) figure drawing at my community college, which was a big leap. i ended up focusing a lot on the relationship between the ribcage/pelvis/flow of the spine at that time. still my favorite part of drawing lol. During my most recent artblock i started copying muscle anatomy pages from a Morpho book as a way to keep drawing without a proper fixation. which is great because i also love the weight of flesh :^D

if you'd like my 'woo-woo advice' it's to get lost in the process and less invested in the results. and never be embarrassed. it'll keep you drawing (behind every piece of successful fanart is a mountain of scrap drawings of Fictional Guy #2378 facing 3/4 left.) and its meditative!! cathartic? personally i like to have a song/playlist to keep up the emotion im trying to work out going throughout my drawing session. helps me tell if the expression im drawing feels 'right'

and on the topic of drawing off model--!! Anytime im onto a new character i do spend a few sessions tracing their proportions/copying their models. after i figure out more or less what about their original design makes that Character i like to lose the training wheels. artistic interpretation is more interesting for me to look at and create. and i think it frees you up to better convey a feeling. the more you draw something the more you settle into 'what works' but i never set out to draw the same way twice! usually never anyway

thank you again for taking time to observe my drawings, and relaying back what you saw and felt. it honestly makes my day(s) to the point i almost feel guilty about it

#i am not a succinct person #my real advice is just have the same fanart drawing hobby for ur entire life

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quibbs126 · 4 months

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I made Blueberry Ice Cream a new ref

I’m noticing that I tend to give BBIC basically the same pose each time. I need to stop that

Anyways so the description here is basically just me trying to describe him because someone asked me to, and I thought this info paired better with the new ref, so I copy/pasted it here

What I have is that he’s a magic blacksmith, who makes weapons and then enchants them with his magical know how. He’s around his mid 20s, so still pretty young and a bit naïve, and well as headstrong and reckless. He has a habit of not thinking things through, just going with his gut and what he thinks is the right decision, even when sometimes it’s really not, and he tends to underestimate potential consequences (and in other versions of him, these are what cause his ultimate downfall). He means well, it’s just that he doesn’t always think

In this new continuity where he exists in present day, he comes from a line of magic users, with one of his ancestors being the Cookie that founded the Blueberry Yogurt Academy. He became interested in being a blacksmith because he learned one of his other ancestors (the one right before the founder in fact), created a legendary magic sword, that being the Strawberry Jam Sword, but doesn’t really understand its malicious nature (as it seems this isn’t common knowledge) and saw this ancestor purely as someone to look up to, and so he aspired to be just like him, hoping to one day make something as great as he did. Unfortunately he doesn’t know the actual truth of the things that happened

And meanwhile there’s his son, Blueberry Yogurt. In my previous version of BBIC’s story, his son was that aforementioned founder, but now they just happen to share a name. As I’ve stated previously, Blueberry Ice Cream is around his mid 20s or so, and his son is around 4-5, so BBIC’s a relatively young dad; not the youngest, he wasn’t a teen parent or anything, but still. Blueberry Ice Cream’s handling things I’d say relatively well. He loves his son and tries to always be supportive of him, wanting him to live the best he can. I mean it’s not like these two are the most well off, since this is a single income household and BBIC’s still working mostly small time, but they’re doing fine. Having Blueberry Yogurt is something that generally grounds Blueberry Ice Cream, as he can’t just go and chase wild ideas, he has to think about his kid, so it helps him from being too impulsive, not that he isn’t still

I should probably talk about Blueberry Yogurt too. So as stated above, he’s a young boy, around 4-5, he’s very timid and also a bit of a crybaby, very much the opposite of his father. He generally prefers being around adults rather than kids his age, and seems to be more relaxed around them. But he has his strengths, being very perceptive and can sometimes have a better understanding of things than his dad (he’s also got some idea that the story his dad likes so much has more going on than he thinks). He’s interested in solely magic instead of blacksmithing, getting his hands on whatever magic books he can find to learn. Blueberry Ice Cream often buys him whatever magic books he can find since he knows it makes his son happy. He’d also like for his son to maybe toughen up a little, since he always gets scared by other kids, but he more considers it something for later, since he’s still little, maybe it’ll happen on its own

I’m not sure I have much else to say. Though to be honest, I’m coming back and writing the rest of this a couple days after I started, so I may have forgotten things. If I have, I’ll go and write them in here

Edit: I remembered some other stuff

So I’m not entirely sure where they’re living. Originally it was somewhere close to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, since BBIC would use the nearby dragons’ scales in his weapons, but now he’s in modern day and we’re not sure if the twin dragons are still around, I’m not sure where to put him. I suppose he could be living in Dragon City, though he certainly doesn’t fit in color wise

Another thing that relates to his character, I’m not entirely sure how to describe this, but he’s smart and dumb at the same time. Like he can be intelligent, and he’s very knowledgeable on magical things (since his family line’s all about magic), as well as probably weapons among other things, but he can be unaware and just generally and idiot at times. Again I don’t really know how to describe it. I don’t think “high intelligence, low wisdom” really applies to him

But yeah, that’s Blueberry Ice Cream

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oc #blueberry ice cream cookie #blueberry yogurt cookie #my ocs #my art

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hotdamnhunnam · 1 year

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Lies

A/N: Hiiiiii you guys 🤗 So I don’t intend to be *back* on tumblr actively the way I used to be, but this mofo Lin is inspiring the shit out of me, I just adoooore him, so of course I have to write a lil fic for him ✨ I’m not tagging my tag list or anything, just dropping this out in the world lol. Much love to you all! ❤️

Pairing: Lin Ford x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, face-fucking), some plot (but no spoilers for book or show), brief ref to blood (not reader’s or Lin’s tho), swearing, smoking, fluffity fluffin’ fluff, and sorry I can’t shake off the old habit of my clownass poet stuff 🤡 Word Count: ~5.2k

“You’ll probably write all this into a great big book someday. Like a love letter to Bombay.”

His blue eyes lift, from where he sits half-naked smoking a half-finished cigarette, out on the balcony of your apartment. Blink once and then lower again as he takes in the words you say.

Four stories down, the city hums to the calm rhythm of late evening: car horns honking just every so often rather than the afternoon constant, the soft croon of love songs, the closing of storefronts, handcarts plodding slowly towards home. The setting sun warms his bare skin as he leans back against the rail, casting in gold the whorls of metalwork that seem to him so frail because they aren’t caging him in and everything he lives and dreams is always relative to that dark place he’s been.

Almost everything at least. The almost is how he convinces himself that he’s free.

Lin cracks a half-smile and quits his cigarette although it isn’t finished yet. Joins you inside, leaves the door open to the balcony—open as you and he both like the door to be. Crosses the tiny room then stops to stand with the back pockets of his jeans pressed up against your desk, facing you where you’re half-reclining in your bed. “What makes you say that?”

Thoughts start drifting then because you’re such a mess. Drifting to how he’s fucked you up against that desk. And in this bed obviously. Out on that balcony, once in the middle of the night for all the stars above to see. So many times he’s fucked you right out of your head and in this moment those blue eyes are fucking you out of your body.

Makes you feel so fucking free.

“It’s something in the eyes,” you answer him, realizing in this instant that it’s how you know he writes. “It’s like… you don’t just look at things, or into them, or through them.”

Lin quirks up his brows and smirks a little bit, biting his bottom lip. “What do I do then?”

“I’m not sure if there’s a word for it. But I bet you would find the word, if it exists.”

“Or fake it if it doesn’t. Because fuck it. That’s half of what writing is.”

“Lies?” you laugh.

“Yeah and not even half—all words are lies, you know? They’re just so small. Words try to capture shit that’s honestly so big and sometimes infinite. The worst thing a writer can do is believe he’s succeeded.”

You wonder for a minute just how permanently stoned he is, from one too many visits with that godfather-philosopher of his. “So I was right—you do write? Even despite thinking you’re doomed to fail?”

His shrug tells you maybe because of it. Maybe failure has found its home deep in his bones and he’s drawn to whatever results in it.

Then he picks up his unbuttoned shirt from the chair where he’d tossed it some hours ago and digs into his pockets. He shows you the notes that he’s scrawled on spare napkins and looseleaf scraps over these past several months, which you both know he’s bound to stitch into a novel. You read them and can’t help but smile, and he looks—looks in that way of his you can’t describe at all. Thinks to himself that smile would burn the goddamn pages if he ever tried to write it in a book.

It almost makes him want to try, but that’s the part of him that’s drawn to what feels wrong. The part he used to think was strong. The part that he’s constantly fighting to deny.

“It’s lovely. All of it, honestly,” you praise his work as you tuck all the papers back into his pockets, relieved to have found that he wrote not so much about people he’d met; rather, these notes are focused on places and concepts. But the finished book is sure to feature characters, so you need him to make you a promise. “Just promise me something?”

You join him where he lies in bed, his sun-gold hair bright even deep in the night, halo upon his heavy head. At the sight it’s easy to forget that the sun past the window has set. He’s becoming your sun and a lot more than that, but you’re not sure if he knows it yet.

Then whisper your request, propping your chin against his chest and searching those infinite eyes for words that won’t ever exist. “Just… promise you won’t write me into it. Please?”

He won’t ask why. Any reply would be a lie.

Just nods, although it’s soft and weak, and it’s a promise that he’ll keep. He won’t write you into a single line, the string of lies that truth-seekers and soul-searchers the world over might someday call a literary masterpiece. You know more deeply than the aching love he makes tonight that he won’t write you into it. Not in words at least.

***************

The first time you lay eyes on Lindsay Ford you know right there and then you’d like to lay a lot more than your eyes on him.

He has wanted man written all over him. Even for a gora, as they call him, he sticks out like a sore thumb. Wanted in far more ways than one. A man worth wanting as a friend, or as a lover—maybe as a business partner or a customer—and then of course for some, a man who’s criminally wanted just in terms of what he’s running from.

On this fine day you catch a glimpse amidst the crowd of sandy hair swept back and gathered in a bun. Slung over one of his broad shoulders is a heavy bag that probably holds his every life possession. Through the pale cloth of his shirt his sweat is visible because no doubt the Bombay heat beats down even more brutally upon someone who’s always on the run.

You’re in no need of that distraction. So you tear your eyes away from him and go about your day. Later that afternoon fate throws his fine ass straight back at you anyway.

Now as you see him ambling absentmindedly along the road the fucker is about to get run over by a car, yet you can’t stop it from this distance—you’re too far. Someone else steps forward that instant, as you stare: a woman dressed in white with ravishing dark hair. Even from here you can just tell that she’s the type who would inspire countless writers to craft characters like her because she’s so much more remarkable than everything you are.

And sure enough this woman makes a mark on Lin; his gaze lights up as if he thinks he’s in the presence of an angel or a fallen fucking star.

Quite clearly smitten and already dreaming up the pretty lines that his poetic heart insists on being written.

So you take one last long look and then head home. You don’t belong in this man’s life because you’re not a fucking poem.

***************

It’s been weeks since that day. Out of sight, out of mind is a thing people say. It’s a lie. He’s inside your mind’s eye.

Your local chai shop is your favorite place to watch neighbors and strangers strolling by. You try to focus on their faces but you keep seeing his traces like the blue of the noon sky, not quite as blue as you might dream his gaze to be, though from the distance that had been in between you and him you couldn’t clearly see. Surely you’re better off that way because to have him anywhere in close proximity you’d probably fucking die.

You shut your eyes just for a second and envelop all your senses in the warm sweet spices wafting from your half-full cup of chai.

And when you open them he suddenly is all that you can see.

All you can hear as he asks if the fully empty seat across from you is free.

He’s standing here so fucking near and really really shouldn’t be.

You smile a silent yes, too stunned out of your wits to fucking speak. Too mesmerized at how his sweat glistens so brightly on the smooth skin of his neck down to the upper part of his half-exposed chest. Sweat has no business glistening like this and making you so weak.

It’s a small shop; of course the seat across from you had been the only open seat. And yet he didn’t have to stop. The chai in any other place would’ve been just as hot and sweet.

The thing is that he didn’t come here for the tea.

Having stared down at yours too long, biting your tongue, you glance up at him nervously.

He clearly sees your nerves but sees them in a way that makes them slowly start to fade. Something about his bay-blue gaze smoothes out the ends where they’re all frayed.

“I’m Lindsay by the way,” he takes the chance to say. “Or Lin for short. And yes I know the Hindi meaning of the word.”

The tongue-in-cheek response that slips off of your lips is far more forward than you’d ever have expected of yourself but so it goes. You wouldn’t say this to a man with a short penis but he’s far from such a man and you don’t doubt it. “Well then I suppose… you ought to know there’s nothing ‘short’ about it.”

Thus your thing with Lin begins.

And from that moment some small part of you already lives in fear of how it ends.

All afternoon the two of you talk over fresh roti and frothy cups of tea. You’re thinking more than half the time of just how good his lin would feel deep in your pussy.

Conversation flows so smoothly till it goes in the direction of a subject that you wouldn’t share so openly in any other circumstance—for several reasons your best practice is to keep this fact about yourself a secret or to lie whenever given half the chance. “My father works for the Australian embassy.”

You don’t tell him just what your father does exactly. Or what you do. But those words just hit him badly. Maybe lying would’ve been the better play for you, yet something when you’re with this man compels you to be just a little bit closer to true.

Even if it costs you the hope of knowing him and the loss burns you fucking brutally.

The ghastly pale shade that just fell across his face somehow still suits him fucking beautifully. Then again anything would; he can’t look anything but good. In any case you don’t ask questions that a wanted man could never answer truthfully. You just muse aloud ruefully. “I guess this means that you’d be better off not having anything to do with me.”

“Yeah, I would,” he says in a nervous half-laugh. Dead serious despite being amused at fate’s cruel joke so that’s what cuts the laugh in half. “I really would be.”

In that moment you can see so fucking clearly that the one thing this man needs most desperately in all the world is to be free. Like, fully free. If any man can ever be. You’re caught up in a life that threatens that for him; you’re bad for him. Look up at him and beg him silently—then just be done with me.

What you don’t know is that he sees the sweetest fucking kind of freedom in your eyes. He’s lost his appetite for chai and so he lies. “The thing is that I’m not done with this tea.”

***************

The first time you lay hands on Lindsay Ford you know right there and then that you’d lay down your life for him.

There’ve been so many cups of tea between the two of you in these past weeks, before you ever touch. A playful punch perhaps against his shirt-clad bicep in the chai shop when he cracks a joke that hits home just a little bit too much. The distant closeness of hello kisses on either cheek, and goodbye hugs and such.

But when your hands meet his bare skin, when he’s standing in front of you here in your room and tells himself he’s finally man enough to let you in… that’s when you know the way you truly feel for Lin.

Your eyes don’t linger on the color of the scars that streak his body since you’ve always been more focused on the wounds deeper within. The wounds that heal a little every day he spends with you and finds new hope of freedom from the prison of his sin.

The problem is he’s been conditioned to consider the escape itself a crime.

With whole truths and half-lies, you’re always finding new and better ways to reassure him otherwise. Tonight you place your palm softly against the skin above his heart as you gaze up into his eyes. “Has it been… a long time?”

Since he’s been with a woman? Since he’s felt anything other than alone?

Either way the answer is the same. It’s been so long. So fucking long.

“No,” he lies. Without shame. Knowing full well his body will tell you the truth even harder than it would have otherwise. Fuck you the better to spite his false tongue.

Yet his tongue sure as fuck doesn’t taste false to you. When you lean in to press your lips to his half-parted, first kiss fully open-hearted… when the kiss deepens and you can feel the wet heat of his tongue upon your own, making you moan as if for all your life till now you’d been alone… it tastes like nothing else you ever fucking knew.

There are no words for how it tastes or what it does to you. But you can tell from this first kiss he won’t let any of his self-hate claw its way through, cast its shadow on the way that he makes love to you.

He lays you down upon your bed, one hand cradling your head, the fingers of the other twined in yours. A soft smile plays about those lips that you just kissed, as if to ask whether a man like him should be allowed to feel such fucking bliss. He asks the universe. It answers, without words. Of fucking course.

Those smiling lips move down your neck and to the skin around your ear; your free hand tangles in the spun gold of his hair to hold him near. And fuck you’ve never smiled so much during sex or during anything. It’s fucking wild how much happiness you get from just the rhythm of his breathing. It’s the only sound you ever want to hear.

You hope those bright blonde bristles on his upper lip and chin will mark you up with rosy little burns across your tender skin. The scrape of them when he’s working his starved mouth on your tits feels like it has to be a sin. He leaves your nipples so damn stiff, that when he shifts, so he can kiss your gasping lips again and then your spit-slick chest rubs against his, you may have come undone already just like this, when the real fucking sex still has yet to begin.

And when it does you’re fucked in far more ways than one. Lin brings a whole other dimension to the meaning of undone.

You want this man to make sweet love to you tonight but also fuck you fucking filthy.

First thing you feel is the length of it when it finally springs free. The girth and weight and fucking strength of it just from the glossy tip pressed up against your pussy lips have seriously knocked you dizzy.

Pretty sure that shit won’t fit. But you’ll split all your insides open till you’re literally nothing but a hole for it.

Lin of course has other ideas though, for just how the night will go. Intense and passionate yet slow. He wants to ravage you for sure, and fuck you like a whore, but only in the ways that make you whole for it.

He doesn’t tell you that in words but still you know. There’s so much freedom in your eyes when he drives home between your thighs, and unlike all the other kinds of freedom built on fucking lies… this one is true and he won’t even have to sell his soul for it.

***************

Whenever you go down on Lin, it’s… it’s the closest thing that you’ve ever experienced to what infinite is.

It’s like the full scale of the universe collapses into mere inches and minutes.

Nothing mere about this though—not here when you’re gaping your throat to take his massive cock as deep as it will go. When your hands grasp onto the firm globes of his ass as if for dear life just to pull him ever closer while you suck and slurp and swallow. When your wide eyes glow with rapture as you thirst after his load until it has to fucking blow. You want this now and every day and night for all your life to follow.

These past days and nights you’ve tasted every inch of him till each became a mile. All the traces of self-hatred in the creases on that perfect fucking face of his that fade a little farther every time you make him smile.

And the sweat that you had seen—glistening on his neck that day when he first met you over chai and mesmerized you with that goddamn gorgeous sheen—you know now it tastes even better than it looks from all the nights you’ve licked him clean. The salt of sweat and tears and all of his regrets through all the years and then the bitter and the sweet of his release when you’re beneath him on your knees feed you so full it feels obscene.

Sometimes he fucks your filthy face because you begged him for it once. He goes all out and pounds your mouth like it’s a sloppy little cunt. He groans and grunts and grabs a firm hold of your skull and plows harder into your hole with every perfect push and pull until he pumps you full of everything your soul could ever want.

Release hits different for a man who’s on the run and it tastes different too. Takes on the taste of what it’s running to. He frees himself a little more, each time he pours himself into his dirty little whore. Tastes fresh as dew and real and true. And the one thing that he is most desperately longing to be free to do… is feel something for you. So long as he remains a prisoner of his own inner war, he can’t be free to feel this deep shit that’s already shaken him down to his core.

Till then he’ll just keep running to it. Maybe this shit ran him over from the day you met before he even knew it. Still he runs because for once he has something worth running for.

***************

“I win because I said it first.”

Lin waggles his adorably disheveled head, hair straggled from the several hours he just spent wrecking the bed, as he declares his little victory and keeps insisting on it while you laugh until it hurts.

You’re set to burst. The motherfucker won’t stop tickling your sides till tears are falling from your eyes.

“But they’re just words! All words are lies…!” you playfully clap back at him and slap one of his thighs.

He finally stops tickling you, settling down snuggled up sweetly in his bed so he can tease you with a cheeky little coo. “That means those words were a lie too. So if that statement was a lie then at least some words must be true.”

“I am not going to philosophize with you.”

At that he laughs and lands a kiss upon the corner of your pout, wagging his head again and sticking his tongue out. “That’s what a sore loser would say.”

This wicked bastard is dead set on getting you to say touché, but you won’t let him win today. “Words are just words. I loved you first. I’ve told you that I fucking loved you from the day your fine ass landed in Bombay.”

“No, you just told me that you saw me and already knew someday you had to have my cock inside of you.”

“So, just a very classy way to say I love you.”

“Oh, so classy…” he lets out another laugh and it’s so free and full of all the stars strung out across the galaxy, flung out much farther than the eye can see. Holds far more fire than the sun rising above you.

I love you.

Sun shines the same regardless of who said it first. Words are just words. And it’s a good thing they were spoken on this day, because tomorrow all the hands of fate at work here in Bombay… are set to do their fucking worst.

***************

His name is Lindsay Ford.

His name is Lin because that’s how you came to know him and to love him though some part of you had known deep down the name was probably fake. Made no mistake. Yet even so it was an instinct you ignored. For after all a name is just another word.

All words are lies.

You shut your eyes. Replay the treachery that your close colleague in the embassy risked his life to record. Of all the words in all the world these were the worst you’d ever heard.

Your father sits across from you and folds his hands, as the recording carries on. That snakelike voice had been his second in command. He knows by now the throat from which it sounds was slit just before dawn.

Not the first snake you’d ever slaughtered.

“The boss doesn’t know that the bastard he’s after—” at this he can’t help but erupt into laughter: “he’s fucking the boss’s daughter.”

The boss clenches his jaw. As if for anyone to fuck you has to be against the law.

“It’s him, I know it’s him. I passed right by him once some months ago when I had business in that shithole Pentridge Prison. It’s the same damn face I saw.”

“We’ll if you’re certain, then we’ll just—”

“No, listen, listen: he’s too… valuable to simply arrest.”

This had been how the conversation went, between the traitor and your trusted friend: the friend who had recorded it, so that he could report it. While the snake spoke he just listened, and replied only enough to act as if he was on board with it. The snake thought he’d convince him in the end.

“This is an advantageous man. He’s an escaped convict with some steep fucking price on him; our boss and everybody at the embassy and the Aussie authorities, okay, and some of the local police, and all the underbelly enemies this motherfucker made here in Bombay, all of them want him—and on top of all of this apparently he’s worth something to Abdel Khader Fucking Khan.”

“So what do you propose we do?”

“If it’s so obvious to me, it should be obvious to you. We do him dirty. And the boss’s pretty little daughter too. They’re valuable to each other, and to others; most importantly he’s worth something to Khader. And the slut is worth a whole lot to her father. We’ll work undercover—boss won’t have a clue that we’re the ones who got her. You know the big fat Bombay racket of ransom and blackmail and threats. We’ll just crack it and win at whatever the fuck we can get.”

Eventually your father has heard enough. If you hadn’t already shown him proof of death he’d be paying a personal visit to this piece of shit to rip his head clean off.

After a few moments of silence, he studies your face to assess how affected you were by the kill. Your heart’s still too young to have gone numb to cold-blooded violence. The murder was righteous and leaves you no guilt, but it’ll be a while longer before you get over the blood that you’ve spilled.

Your father offers you a tissue—though your eyes are dry it’s just a natural habit that he has with you, when you’re working through issues—and pours you a glass of tea. “Did you take care of it yourself so that I’d grant the favor you’re about to ask of me?”

He asks lightheartedly, half-jokingly thanks to how well he knows you, and it is partially true. You know him well too. And you know just what his answer has to be.

Once years ago, he had entreated you to promise him you’d leave this life behind before you ran the risk of falling in too deep. You hadn’t made the promise though; you weren’t sure whether it was one that you could keep. You took the leap, and now you’ve fallen in as deep as you could go. Your father knew the choice was yours but he had never wanted you to be a part of this corrupt embassy caught up in the crime that cuts across this sweeping city where the price is always steep, especially when it feels cheap.

Yet in Bombay this is the only kind of life you’ve ever known, and this infinite living breathing poem of a city is your home. Where you were born and raised and loved and lived a life that’s full and free and all your own. There is no other place on earth you’d rather roam.

You couldn’t make the promise to your father then but now the time has come.

He’ll make a vow, right here and now—against all reason and all sense because he knows you need this desperately—to let the man called Lindsay Ford live and be free, as if the embassy had never learned of his identity.

He’ll make that promise if you make yours. And you will of course. Not in the spirit of some sort of quid pro quo, and not because you feel in any way pressured or forced; it’s just the way shit has to go. The unintelligible order of the universe. Your father loves you and he can’t live with himself if he grants clemency to such a wanted man—a dangerous man, one all the wrong kinds of people would find an advantageous man—knowing that your life is entwined with Lin’s and then… and then another snake happens. Or worse. The blood that’s spilled next time could very well be yours. Love comes with fear and that’s it’s curse.

For all your life from this day forth you’ll live in fear for Lindsay Ford: fear that his past caught up to him at last and got him killed or captured.

On this day, you’ll do your part to make that tragedy less likely, even if only just slightly, once you finally depart Bombay… but you’ll be powerless against whatever comes after.

You won’t be here. You’ll be off someplace faraway with a heart full of love and fear. Far more of each than you’d have thought you could afford.

With a heart full of Lindsay Ford.

***************

You tell him the whole truth because he deserves nothing less, and because he would fuck it right out of you anyway if you had tried. Taste it off of your lips and trace it through the cloth of your dress, through the skin that it sheathes, and through everything deeper beneath. Take the truth from the places he reaches inside. When he makes love to you this last time he knows you never lied.

He can only be free if you free yourself of him. The two of you can’t run away—the promise you had made to your father today isn’t just that you’re leaving Bombay. He had asked you to promise to steer clear of Lin because otherwise you’ll end up dead on account of how fiercely you love him.

In any other circumstances, you would have taken your chances—and your father would have blessed it—it’s your choice after all whom to love and die for. And yet it was your father’s choice whether or not to grant the illegal and potentially lethal favor you’d requested. He granted it only on the condition that your life wouldn’t be more at risk if he did; that was the peace of mind that he rightfully needed, and why wasn’t hard to decipher.

And so… this is just how it goes. Your head fights it a bit though. Your heart somehow knows.

Lin resists it at first; you had figured he would. His head looks like it’s going to burst. Tries to figure out some way to hold onto you for reasons that are honest and good, or at least that aren’t selfish and wrong. But until he met you he had been nothing other than selfish and wrong for so long. So damn long…

He realizes tonight more than ever before, that he isn’t that man anymore. That he’s no longer locked in the prison of his inner war.

For now all you can do, is just love him through one last release, into you, and then maybe he’ll finally have peace, to let you go without losing sight of the love for which his heart still beats that’s still worth running for. And still will be long after you’ve gone out the door.

Even after it closes, the doors to both his heart and yours will be open because of this love and he knows this. Open as you and he both like the door to be. Love set him free.

He lets you go knowing that every time he wakes to the sunrise it’s you he’ll see.

Someday you’ll see his great big book up on a shelf, and smile to yourself. Knowing that he’s alive and well then you’ll no longer be afraid. Before you left you had reminded him to keep the little promise he had made.

He will. Lin isn’t one to make a promise he can only half-fulfill.

But you’ll be there through all the dark and all the light—between and behind and inside every line that he’ll write. The sun itself shines just as bright in day or night. Survives the shifting of the skies. Half the world watches as it dies, the other half watches it rise. The whole of it is fire that no man could ever kill. That was the kind of wholeness he would find when he sought freedom in your eyes. And holds it still. Freedom to love until his heart has had its fill.

He won’t write you into his book, but you’ll be there to see for anyone who dares to really look.

Whether or not all words are lies, no matter what they can still mean things that are true… or fucking try to.

So he tries. And all the while, with a full heart and a whole smile, he writes for you.

***************

Much love and I hope you enjoyed this! 💖

Masterlist

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castleclerics · 7 months

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possible origin for the idea of edward creel from the og inspo: montauk project, and other parallels

edward creel truthers pls listen to this part of this interview i’m gonna throw up

if you don't know, this is Preston Nichols, who wrote the book “The Montauk Project: an Experiment in Time” which is where the conspiracy that inspired ST originated from. in this interview he’s talking about Al Bielek, who was also involved with Montauk and their experiments for ref.

(I DO NOT KNOW WHY ET IS COVERING HIS FACE DONT ASK ME)

EDWARD?? NEW FAMILY????? GET ME OYUT OF HERE ,

(he also explains a lot of timeline stuff in there if u wanna look but it's hard to copy word for word bc he veers off a lot lmao)

i already knew about the Montauk MK-Ultra relations but only now am i finally relating all the experiments with time to all the time fuckery in this show

so Al claimed his name was actually Edward Cameron and to be one of the missing crewmen from “The Philadelphia Experiment” aka "Project Rainbow". here's some backstory:

so when this ship vanished it was said that a green or blue fog took it's place. which is so funny especially because what i believe the ST fog to be is a visual representation of when a timeline or dimension switch happens. and Al claimed he slipped through time at random and landed in 1983 at Camp Hero because of the vanishing ship.

like Vecna's victims get dragged to a different plane of existence or timeline when he has a hold on them (hence why they are no longer in their physical bodies) so cue the blue-green fog.

and at camp hero they did a lot of experiments with broadcasting to new alternate realities and time experiments. Duncan Cameron was used for these and they started to realize he could manifest objects outside the current time and they would appear hours or days later. which falls in line with ST. we see objects changing places especially right after some weird time-related thing just happened.

for example Joyce always "misplacing" her keys after shit happens to Will the night before, or Will's walkie falling in the bathroom but being right by his feet on the field.

eventually Duncan could open an aperture and they started abducting boys aged 10-16 to send through the portal (probably what Preston is talking about in that interview)

*cough cough Brenner controlling Henry or whoever tf to commit mass murder maybe who knows*

and their first training mission was always sending them way back in time to a world in ruins and without life.

RAAAAAAAAAARARRARARARDRFDFDHSHF

Preston also claimed there was a large on-site library of videotapes for every mission

so that's cool

last fun thing is that this video of Preston is interesting because he has this sound room in his house and he lays down and listens to the swan lake theme and says this is the same recording they played at Montauk "for the matrix or the background of the transmissions(?)"

he also has lights set up that flicker with the frequencies of the music yayyy

bro it just reminds me of Victor with DALDOM and he says vague stuff about how your you can travel to different places mentally by doing this and he sees weird activity like people appearing out of nowhere LIKE SHUT UPPPPP

i think i covered everything all this digging was from months ago and i didn't take notes like an idiot so i had to research it all over again so i hope i didn't miss anything i originally wanted to include but this shit is wild !!!!

#edward creel #henry creel #the montauk project #vecna #stranger things #project montauk #stranger things parallels

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tamberlanecomic · 7 months

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September Newsletter

Happy September! Here’s an update of everything that’s going on behind-the-scenes.

Kickstarter Status

The book is pretty much our entire focus at the moment and is moving right along. Right now I am focusing on editing and laying out annotations while Ari is fine-tuning the comic pages for print within the safety margins. Once the annotations are done, I’ll be re-laying out the Q&A section, then adding Trissol and Growl, and then judging how much space we have left for other goodies.

I also have some exciting news to share: We’ve officially signed on with Lakeshore Printing and Publishing/Artron! This is the printer we will be going with to make the books, and the support and care I’ve received from them so far has been absolutely phenomenal, better than other printers I’ve used before.

As we speak, they’re sending me samples of ribbons and H&T (head and tail) bands, which are the ribbon that goes along the edge of where the paper meets the spine in a hardcover book. This is one of those details you don’t usually think about but it makes a huge difference in the finished product, and I’m thrilled to be able to have that element of control in making these books extra special for you!

Health Update

In between working on the book, comic, and other duties, I’ve been back at the doctor. I have my very own Dr. House (with less illegal action, lol!) helping me try to pin down all of my many, many symptoms to see if we can circle in on diagnoses. My appointments have included blood draws, biopsies, and consultations, so needless to say, it’s been a bit of a busy month!

I have also been doing more treatments to alleviate my fibro symptoms, which does take time away from work. As always, thank you for your patience with me. I know I don’t have to apologize, but it helps knowing I have a supportive community of friends and fans while I deal with all of this.

Tamberlane News

I have two pages in the pipeline at the moment, but to give you something while you’re waiting, I’m going to be posting the thumbnails and sketched pages to Patreon for $10+ patrons to look at while these pages are being completed. If you’re not already a patron and want to see these when they’re shared, be sure to sign up!

Become A Patron

New Art

Patreon pieces are being worked on, apologies for the slowness! Here’s one I just completed for Demonchilde999:

I also took some personal time in between projects to make a new ref sheet for myself:

That’s pretty much it for now, though I’m sure I’ll be sharing any breaking Kickstarter book news when I have it. Hope you have a wonderful month ahead!

#Indie comic #Indie Creator #Web Comic #Art #Illustration #Digital Art #Cute #Animals #furry #furry art #furry community #fantasy #adorable #Tamberlane Comic

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paintedkinzy-88 · 2 years

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Ink lowkey looks like a tie dye disaster sometimes and I’m okay with this.

Also hello, I became Even Smarter and actually made use of my 5 dragon based information books for this, with all their many diagrams. In other words, his skeleton is more accurate to what I wanted than what I have for Nightmare OR Dream’s ref sheets _(」∠ ､ﾝ､)_

That doesn’t mean their refs are inaccurate or anything. I just don’t like how I did Dream’s ribs or Nightmare’s spine. XD

Ink, God of Creativity

Full Dragon Form Reference

Half Dragon Form Reference (WIP)

Dragon Breath:

Acidic Ink

A dark, saliva-like liquid in Ink’s mouth that burns to the touch. He’s able to spit it at a distance semi-successfully, but he finds it’s far more effective to just gather it up in his mouth and bite, locking his jaw to both hold onto the victim and continuously burn them directly in the wound. He doesn’t often use this in a fight, because he finds it to be a little too vicious for him. It’s usually only used when he is lost to pure instincts and desperate to correct his side of the Balance. He has found other uses for it, though, like burning through things (branches, metal poles, thin doors, etc), disposing of trash, or even random artistic purposes.

The ink is able to burn through most material, though it won’t continue doing so forever as it does quickly dissipate. It cannot hurt his own bones or ecto, unless he doesn’t wash it off for a few hours. Even then, it’s a very slight burning sensation — nowhere close to the damage it deals to others.

General Abilities:

• Ink keeps all of his usual abilities:

- Creating paint/ink attacks

- Creating objects out of said paint/ink

- Traveling and teleporting via ink puddles

• Flight (though his landing isn’t always great)

• Longer jumps (very useful in the Doodle Sphere)

• Typical physical attacks, like clawing, biting, wrapping around someone, or ramming with his horns.

Hoard:

As planned by the same “beings” that fated them to be dragons of the Balances, Ink’s hoard was supposed to be the AUs. This would have strengthened his role as the Protector and the God of Creation, therefore benefiting his Balance. However, as Destruction is also necessary, Ink would have had to constantly deal with the pain of losing his hoard.

Error changed this fate without Ink’s knowledge. After they’d mostly befriended each other and established a truce between their own Balance, he purposefully influenced Ink’s hoarding instincts by spontaneously gifting him random art supplies. This was usually just anything he could pick up from worlds he was destroying, but there were definitely more considerate occasions where he’d hunt down something Ink mentioned he was interested in. This was incredibly meaningful to Ink, and it eventually turned into his hoarding item.

Ink very well can make his own supplies, but he finds it much more satisfying to get them himself (or get them from Error, who, even after Ink said he’d established his hoard, continues to bring supplies for him). He often steals from worlds he’s passing through, or occasionally takes small things like pencils and paper from friends’ homes. He leaves his hoard anywhere he trusts, which so far has only been his own home, the Anti-Void, Dream’s home, and (briefly) the empty remains of X-Tale. Not included here are the pieces of artwork he gives to people he trusts, which would still count as a part of his hoard, but a part he’s more willing to share.

Extra Info:

• Ink is the only one out of the six shifters who gained his role as the God of Creation before becoming a shifter. Truthfully, he and Error are the only ones that had to become a shifter in the first place — the others just came into existence like that.

• Though it’s never been officially talked about, both Ink and Error are well aware that all the knitting and sewing supplies in the Anti-Void are a part of Ink’s hoard. He doesn’t use them, he doesn’t take them (unless asking), but they are hoard, and Error constantly finds them buried under canvases, sketchbooks, and palettes. With the amount of times he’s watched Ink literally toss brushes into his fabric boxes right in front of him, Error’s just given up on trying to keep it all organized.

• Ink is likely the most cat-like out of them all. He’s hopped into boxes, batted at something dangling in his reach, sleeps in any and all positions, and will get onto anything he thinks will hold him.

• XGaster had never seen a shifter before. He did not know how they worked, nor did he really care to think it through, especially in the moment. When he used Overwrite on Ink, he wasn’t entirely correct in how to properly adjust his code into being a shifter. This makes Ink just a little different from the others. More specifically, this is why the process of shifting between forms for him is so broken and painful.

- Truthfully, XGaster would have fixed that for him when he got out of the vial. He wants everything to be perfect, afterall. No matter how many times he has to try for it. He never gets the chance to do so, though.

• When overwhelmed or upset, Ink often runs away to an unknown or empty AU to curl up and wait for his colors to fade away. He doesn’t usually talk to anyone about what’s bugging him, because he thinks as the Protector and God he should be able to handle anything. However, this is partially also because of XGaster using his rambling against him, both verbally and physically, thus instilling a fear he doesn’t fully know about that his friends will betray him and use his insecurities against him. He’s currently working on it. But for now, Error is the only one he truly talks to.

• If you really took the time to learn what each and every color, shade, and tint stood for, you could tell exactly what Ink was feeling based on his ecto alone. This is very helpful when he’s trying to hide something — any hints of blues, cyan, or purples are great indicators that he’s Not Okay. Usually, he’s seen in varying shades of pinks, yellows, and greens, constantly mixing and swirling around within his magic.

• He truly does care for Cross, despite the soldier really disliking Ink.

#I’ll add onto this as the story progresses #or when people give new and great ideas as y’all usually do #… or later when I realize I forgot something important and need to edit anyway #but for now this is a great start! XD #undertale #undertale multiverse #dragon balance au #undertale fanart #ink sans #ink!sans #undertale au #inktale #inktale sans #dragon au #reference sheet #character ref sheet

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