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joshym · 2 months

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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reivrze · 1 year

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𝒥 : enhypen's habits

PAIRING ! enhypen x gn!reader

GENRE ! big time fluff !!

A/N ! thought this idea would be cute :)

heeseung | 이희승

heeseung loves to rest his hand on your thighs when you’re sitting next to one another, he likes to rub his thumb on your leg, simply as a comforting move, not necessarily suggestive. it’s makes him feel protective of you, and if you’re in public, it’s his way to show that he’s dating you. he might even have fun with drawing little doodles (with his fingers) on your legs or tap his fingers to the beat of a song that’s been stuck on his mind recently.

rest of the members under the cut !

jongseong | 박종성

jay feels naturally protective over his partner, he’s the type to link your fingers whenever you guys are in public or around a lot of people. it’s his way to make sure you won’t get lost and he can keep an eye on you. his hands would be so soft, big in comparison to yours, comforting to hold basically.

jaeyun | 심재윤

jake is a human version of a golden retriever as we all know. jake has a habit to lay his head on you, whenever you’re around him. he’ll lay his head on your shoulder, your head, your lap, whatever is available. he finds you warm and soft, and it’s comforting for him to just relax on you. bonus point if you brush his hair with your hands when he’s laying his head on your lap, he could fall asleep.

sunghoon | 박성훈

sunghoon has a habit to use baby talk around you, doesn’t matter, if you’re older, younger, shorter or taller, you’re his baby. sunghoon likes to take care of his s/o and treats them preciously baby talk let’s him take care of you while still keeping his teasing habits. he likes to see you pout whenever he treats you like a baby.

a/n : he does this with the maknae line so i’m 99.99% sure he’d do it with his partner as well

sunoo | 김선우

sunoo has a habit of hugging you tightly whenever he gets excited, he’ll get super happy all of a sudden and just embrace you so firmly in attempt to share his happiness with you. it’s his way to express his joy and a small excuse to touch you in the fluffiest way ever. he might even add a small kiss before letting go, wether it be on your nose, your forehead or your lips. all of this while wearing the biggest smile of his face, brighter than the sun.

jungwon | 양정원

jungwon likes to play with your fingers, it’s an unconscious thing he does whenever you guys are together. he’ll be holding your hands and then subconsciously start playing with your fingers, not sure why he does it but it’s a little habit he’s grown since dating you. maybe it’s to deal with stress, whatever the reason, he finds it calming.

niki | 西村力

this boy loooooovesss teasing you, he likes to annoy you so much, it’s his daily routine. especially if you’re shorter or younger than him, good luck. if ever you can’t reach something from the top shelf, he’ll pretend to get it only to hold it even higher, while you helplessly try to get the object. And if you’re younger, he’ll use the fact that he’s older, even if it’s only a month difference, as an excuse to tease you to the max, if you tell him to stop.. “shut up, i’m older than you, you can’t tell me what to do”.

m.list !

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fox-guardian · 1 year

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I am still thinking so hard about artist Jon.

Like. It's a hobby for him, purely, he doesn't plan to make money off of it. It's just for fun. He doodled a bit in his free time and then took life drawing classes in uni because Georgie insisted he needed to get out and do something more than studying so he. Kept studying. But just art this time.

He would describe his style as a kind of realism, but its definitely stylized in colors at least, as he's impatient and goes for bolder colors for lighting pretty early in his process so he doesn't lose the feeling of the piece, especially if it never gets finished. He wants to keep the vibes, just in case he wants to go back to it, so he doesn't forget.

He kinda falls of drawing after he starts at the institute, but I think during season 4 he picks it up again to cope with. Everything. He's not using his fancy drawing supplies since he doesn't have them anymore, just office pens and pencils. It's a lot of Martin, of course. But also Tim. He wishes he could ask Melanie to describe Sasha for him so he could try to draw her too, but he figures that wouldn't go down very well. Besides, telling his coworkers he draws is too much vulnerability anyway. Sometimes he even draws The Admiral, but he doesn't often draw animals so it never does him justice in his eyes.

Then at the safehouse, he works up the nerve and asks if Martin could sit for him for a bit. He doesn't need to pose or anything, just stay right there, Martin, keep reading that book, just don't move too much for a while, the lighting is perfect, he needs to capture it. He needs to map it with pen and paper. His phone camera could never catch the golden light on Martin's hair, and besides, the photo could lie to him later. But muscle memory and scratches in paper are harder to change, surely. He needs to record the moment like this. Hold it to his heart. Feel it in his wrist as he swipes strands of hair across the page, in his shoulder as his arm arcs down the curve of Martin's stomach, in his fingertips as he smudges the pigment he bought from the local craft supply shop to form a reddened cheek.

And Martin's cheeks are red. After everything that's happened, all the distance, his heart wasn't prepared for the intimacy of sitting before the man he loves being lovingly analyzed and having his likeness put to paper. It's exciting and agonizing at the same time, feeling eyes on him for hours as Jon stares down every curve, maps out every freckle, mole, and blemish. And when Martin sees the final image as Jon sheepishly presents it to him, he cries. He remembers feeling the fear of statement givers as he read their stories, living it through the words written. It was kind of like that, only instead of fear, he felt the overwhelming love pressed into every line on the page. Every stroke, every smudge, even tucked into the negative space, filling him up until it couldn't be contained, and he burst into tears. (Which worried Jon greatly until Martin reassured him with a hug and a kiss.)

He doesn't ask Jon to stop drawing him. How could he, when it was always with such love behind it? Not to mention Jon was getting back in the swing of it, oiling his rusty skills, and he was so happy doing it. But he will admit it was mildly mortifying seeing their home fill up with so many portraits of him, steadily increasing in their flattering composition. Jon was drawing from his imagination now that he had memorized most of Martin's form, and it was getting out of hand. He once caught a glimpse of a work in progress of Martin lounging and being fed grapes by cherubs. Good lord.

#ramblings with major #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #artist!jon #this got out of hand. its fine. akdjsksjs

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theoldkyokodied · 10 months

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Introducing: The Adventures of Spider-Reel and Vinpool #1 - A collection of doodles and concept art for my friend Kaths Spidersona Spider-Reel and my very own deadpoolsona (deadsona? sonapool??) Vinpool :)

More info on them under the cut because i love all the ideas kath and me came up with:

Spider-Reel: In a universe where streaming services didn't kill the video rental business, after being bitten by a radioactive spider while changing out the film reel in a projector at their monthly secret cinema screenings of LGBTQ films, Spider-Reel begins their career as wise cracking and movie recommending protector of the city! Fighting not only cinematic villains but also the replacement of practical effects with awful looking CGI, bad working conditions and everything union-opposed in the film industry.

their appearance is an homage to old movies, sepia colored and flickering (as well as having the iconic burned in cue marks appearing from time to time) and you can always hear a projector running in the background when they are near. they also are animated slightly faster, to give the sort of old silent movie vibe of being shot with fewer frames but played at normal speed

Vinpool: their real origin story is not know to many, especially since it seems to be vins mission to have as many contradicting stories out there as possible. I'm not even gonna tell you the real one since it's pretty unremarkable. Basically if you know Wade, you know Vin. Except for when you don't! Hope that helps <3 Anyway, vinpool keeps everything pretty close to their chest and coats it in a thick layer of jokes and being puposfully annoying, cus we all know it hurts less to be called annoying when you are playing a character than when you are being genuine!

Spider-Reel & Vinpool: Together they host the annual "Golden-Spider" festival, where various CCTV Footage taken on the Spider Societies Premise gets nominated in different categories. The only one officially refusing to participate in this harmless little fun day activity is miguel of course, but lyla gladly accepts any award in his name

#spidersona #deadpoolsona #tehee that's kath and me!!#the original of that comic redraw is from Spider-man/Deadpool issue 6 iirc #miguel is also there. so is lyla :) its very funny to draw that. miguel would be so done with me i just know it #vinpool purposefully sneaking into miguels office to hang out with lyla #like get out of my way gay boy i'm about to get a smooch from your upgraded pixel chix assistant

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edzidolka · 4 months

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New TGMD doodles I made on Magma!

1 and 2 are based on my fantasy/steampunk story about adult Olivia who's looking for her mother. She met Ratigan. He's somekind of magical creature. All this concept is inspired by The Boy and the Heron trailer. I still havent't watched that movie, but yeah...it inspired me. Not only this, cuz other Ghibli movies too. Especially Princess Mononoke and Howl's Moving Castle.

I love these two characters so I wanted to make a story about them being besties xD ah...still working on Ratty's design.

On 3rd canvas you can see my TGMD OC. I called her Lilith. She's...my broken baby. She's one of the greatest inventors in Mousedom. And...she hates Basil and wants to k*ll him. It's a long story. She got that golden armor and golden claws. It's her weapon! She's got pet raven. Oh! There in one doodle of Lilith and Irene. Irene is @mintsuwu 's OC! ❤️ Also in other doodle Lilith is holding Ratigan's hand. This hand (full character tbh) was made by @wisen-widdyarts ❤️

4 and 5 are random TGMD doodles. There are sketches or Ratigan ofc, new human Ratigan sketches, some random doodles, first ever doodle of Fidget! Also doodles of Olivia, Basil, Dawson and Ballerina!!! Even my sona xD

Enjoy!!!

#tgmd #art #artists on tumblr #sketch #doodle #fanart #disney #oc #digital art #original #personal #sona #disney's the great mouse detective #great mouse detective #the great mouse detective #basil of baker street #professor ratigan #olivia flaversham

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puddleorganism · 11 months

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Ok so we can all agree this crown is cursed as hell but what if…. werewolf curse

[Image ID: a digital drawing of ZombieCleo as a werewolf, which in my style is just a human-sized wolf.

She’s mostly orange with light tan-ish orange on her face, neck/chest, legs, and belly. She also has darker russet on her back, shoulders, tail tip, and ears. She has dark blue-grey ticking on her back behind her shoulders, tail tip, and ears.

They have a black nose and paw pads, and emerald green eyes. They have very thick flowy/slightly curly fur on their cheeks, neck, belly, elbows, paws, and tail. It forms an especially thick mane on their neck. Their tail is very long for a wolf, reaching even longer than their hind legs.

Their teeth are bared and their snout is wrinkled in a snarl.

They have a fairly small golden crown on their head, with a tall point in the front and a single emerald in the center. The background is stained-paper-textured beige with very simple gold filigree on the sides and corners.

/End ID]

Bonus doodles under the cut because I couldn’t decide on a pose

[Image ID: a series of simple digital sketches of the same character.

Top left: the wolf has their head bowed low and their shoulders are angled towards the viewer, while the rest of their body is about a three-fourths view.

Bottom left: the wolf is laying down with their paws crossed, their head angled haughtily up and to the left. The drawing is incomplete, cutting off at the hips/hind legs.

Top center: another drawing of the wolf laying down with her paws crossed. In this one, though, her head is angled down and to the right. Also, this one is finished, showing a huge tail half-curled.

Bottom center: the wolf walking to the left with her head bowed low, her right front leg in the process of stepping and showing off her toe beans. Her tail is held high.

Right: the wolf in a very dramatic pose like she’s taking a great leap. She’s got one paw tucked near her chest, while the other is raised high like she’s gonna smack something. Her mouth is wide open, showing off some huge canines. She’s twisting around so she’s mostly facing the viewer, but with her head and chest angled to the left and the lower half of her body angled to the right.

/End ID]

#sorry I’m insane about werewolves #anyway #art #zombiecleo #zombiecleo fanart #hermitcraft fanart #wolf #werewolf #I tried to give it a little bit of medieval flavor but it Did Not come across I just spent several hours drawing fur LMAO #I love this shitty ass tiny adorable cursed tiara #it’s so funny to me I love it #do y’all think the crown is compensating for something? /j

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bless-my-demons · 1 year

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Redamancy: Chapter Three

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None

Notes: So sorry last weekend’s chapter was late this week, I’m back to my regularly scheduled posting! I’m so excited so many of you like this series so far!!

Word Count: 1131

Series Masterlist

• January 25, 2005 • Forks High School •

Reader

My second day at Forks high school started much smoother than the first. It was pretty much uneventful until I decided to eat lunch alone outside on the picnic tables in the quad. It was an overcast day much like all the others and maybe a little chilly, but still decent enough since it wasn’t currently raining. It made for the perfect condition being that no one else really wanted to eat outside.

That is, until I spotted none other than Jasper Hale headed in my direction.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, pointing to the opposite end of the table I’m currently occupying.

“Not at all.” I respond, idly tidying my area self consciously.

“Sorry, sometimes it’s a little overwhelming inside and I come out here to get away.” He says by way of explanation, laying down the sketch pad he carried with him along with a few pencils and a smudge stick. “Mostly I just come out here to draw uninterrupted.” He sits and flips to an empty page, tilting it a little away from my view.

“I get it, large crowds aren’t my thing either. Plus in the two days I’ve known Emmett I can already tell that he probably creates a hostile drawing environment.” I finish with a light chuckle, turning my attention toward the unfinished apple in my hand.

“You draw too?” He asks, eyebrows lifting as he begins a rough sketch on the blank paper.

“Oh heck no, I don’t have any artistic abilities like that, as much as I wish I did.” I frown, taking a bite of my apple.

“I didn’t think I had it in me either, but I took some classes, watched some videos online, and doodled around a lot. Finally got the hang of it although I still don’t really think I’m that good.” He trails off, concentrating on his pencil strokes. “It helps with the stress though, especially when there’s a lot going on.”

“That is… actually kind of neat. Having an outlet that’s also inspiring, creating art and it centering you in the process.” I muse out loud, watching a face beginning to take shape on his paper.

I’m about to ask who he’s drawing when the bell signaling the end of lunch rings out in the empty air surrounding us. I gather my trash and stand while he tucks his supplies away.

“Thanks for keeping me company today.” I tell him as I gaze into his beautifully golden eyes, not quite ready to part ways with him.

“Thanks for allowing me to disturb your peace and quiet.” And as if reading my mind, “Mind if I walk you to your next class?”

“Oh um, sure.” Trying not to seem too excited by the proposition of spending more time in this gorgeous boy’s presence. I tuck some loose strands of hair behind my ear and walk towards him.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” He announces, sweeping his arm in the direction of the main school building, a smirk on his lips.

I laugh and shake my head at his antics, a blush creeping up my cheeks as I walk past him in the direction of my economics class.

Ditching my trash in the trash can as we leave the quad, I miss the way he grins at the accomplishment of making me giggle. I also fail to notice the astounded looks of his adopted siblings as we pass them unaware of their presence through the windows of the cafeteria. Faces reflecting their shocked thoughts at seeing their brother openly flirting with a female compared to his normal stoic facade.

“How did you do it?” Emmett asks, leaning against the locker next to mine.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I ask, a little confused by his blunt question.

“You’ve been here less than a week and my brother is wrapped around your little finger.” He says, holding up his pinky to wiggle in my face.

I laugh and shut my locker, “Emmett, I’ve had all of like two interactions with Jasper, you’re looking into this a little too much.”

“He usually keeps to himself, this isn't the normal Jasper we’re talking about.” He falls into step slightly behind me on my way to the last class of the day, his large build not moving through the throng of students as quickly as I am.

I turn to look at my new friend, “I literally have no clue, it’s probably nothing Em!” My heart picking up speed at just the thought of Jasper. Is he actually interested in me? Is that what Emmett is getting at?

There’s no way, beautiful people like him don’t go for people like me.

I turn and leave Emmett behind in the hallway as students finish rushing through the halls, the tardy bell ringing.

American History, the class I share with Jasper Hale and it also happens to be the last class of the day. Unfortunately though, his assigned seat is on the other side of the room. At least it’s more forward than mine, leaving me to observe him for most of the class period without him seeing.

History is also my worst subject; whether it’s world or US history, I hate it all the same. So many mistakes and atrocities, I wish I could let it flow in one ear and out the other without having to remember it for tests.

Today though, I get the sense our teacher has had a difficult day since he’s decided to let us work together freely. Seeing as I don’t really know anyone yet, I’m forced to work alone.

As if he could feel my discomfort and irritation with the assignment, Jasper Hale appears at the edge of my peripheral vision, claiming the abandoned desk next to mine and turning a few heads of our classmates.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically hear it from across the room.” He mutters lowly without looking up from his worksheet.

“I’m thinking too loud?” I respond defensively as I cut him a look that would normally skin boys alive.

“Would you like some help or not, doll?” He asks, a grin sliding across his lips as his eyes meet mine in challenge.

“I-uh, I hate history.” I manage to blurt out, a little flustered that he so easily bypassed my frustrated facade without a blink.

“I do want that explanation eventually, but we have work to finish and only,” He breaks eye contact to glance at the clock above the board, “thirty seven minutes left before you’re on your own.”

“Alright Hale, what did you get for number four?” I deflate and accept his offer to save me from the misery of suffering through this stupid assignment alone.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #twilight fanfiction #twilight #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #bless-my-demons #redamancy series #slow burn #female reader insert

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fjordline · 9 months

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ok i've been thinking about how to answer The Color Asks for so long now. Once I start talking about colors I never stop, it seems. This is just me attempting to explain my personal thought process and not any universal rules or anything like that.

None of this is going to look very realistic at all. You need to exaggerate a little. That being said, having fundamental knowledge on how shadows and ligh tsources work is very useful. Know the rules before breaking them and all that.

Boiled down to its basics, what I think of is: if a lightsource is cold toned, make the highlight bright blue. if a light source is warm, make the highlight bright orange. Then contrast the light with a complementary shadow color that does not compete for dominance with the light. Or alternatively make the light source more neutral with a complimentary tone for the shaded areas and then add a highly saturated color in the deepest shadows. Having both a highly saturated light source and a shadow color will compete with each other, instead choose one to be the dominant and one to be the um. submissive i suppose.

Just using a random doodle from my sketchbook for the purpose of throwing some color on:

^^^ Here the midtones and the areas in the shade are predominantly of a low saturated cool blueish tone, while the highlight is stark and warm with orange and red light bouncing off. The orange and red hues you often see in skin that is lit by a strong light is called subsurface scattering (sss), one of the most important concepts in art IMO. It livens things up so much.

^^^Opposite from image 1, here the shaded area is a saturated golden color while the light source is a dull blue with hints of more vivid blue throughout. the blue balances the strong yellows and browns. Since the shaded area is bigger than the highlighted area, the subject matter could look quite monochromatic without the blue hints.

^^^Get wild with it. Lets say your highlight is blue toned: instead of just using a blue, introduce purple, teal, turquoise, ultramarine, cyan, etc around where the light is hitting. Add several light sources in different colors, make it not make sense, get crazy.

Though what is important above all else is that the image reads clearly. Unless you're doing abstract art then you'd probably want the audience to understand what they're looking at. That's where values come in, probably the number one cause of confusing pieces of art. If you can turn the painting black and white and still see the subject matter clearly then the values are good.

I find that i love using colors that most people find garish, especially when they're on their own, for small highlights and points of interest. When paired with other more neutral colors, a bright orange or a chartreuse etc can really brighten up a painting. And colors are never what they seem, the human eye will interpret colors differently depending on what color they are next to. Make full use of this.

Hope this long ass post helps anyone who is struggling with color, I know I used to struggle severely myself xoxo

#my art #long post #recovering from playing dark souls 2 for like 20 hours the past few days #i hate bitches who are like 'colorpick from my fursona ref if u want to draw her! do not get her colors wrong!'#maybe that would work if the fursona is always going to be standing in a white void but environments are going to change the colors #i also hate bitches who want to say that there is an objective worst color #there isnt. green gold/chartreuse/raw umber/pyrrol orange etc has done more for society than colorhaters ever will

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tumble-witch · 8 months

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Stranger you have got my attention

In this AU, does that mean Nino is more a reporter and Alya’s a DJ/rapper?

Hi! I always thought Nino is a bit more responsible and levelheaded than Alya, so his motivation will be something like "I need the people to know everything, this is really important to keep information available." Perhaps, he will lean more towards mindfulness and education when they figure out how akumas happen. Perhaps a Lofi Hip-Hop beats to chill and study to stream on the main page of the Beetleblog? (I didn't think about the blog name yet)

But he also is really admiring Golden Beetle for being the person who gets up despite it all and is perhaps..maybe.. -okay- really fanboying for him

I've been working on a doodle with my fave boy from this AU and I think it'll fit nicely in this ask. Nino will absolutely jump in when shit hits the fan

And Alya will be a bit of a happy-go-lucky gal with a lot of interest in filmmaking and sound design. I think it'll fit her to be more of a producer and montage enthusiast. She will probably make a lot of cool montages from Nino's footage and sometimes encourage him to get riskier shots

Also, since she has more time on her hands, she will absolutely try and get dirt on people who seem to be causing especially many akumas. And the super-villain. And Marinette's mom - my girlie deserves a vacation dammit!

But I'm not sure yet! So feel free to share your own ideas <3

#BREAD GIRL AU #ask #miraculous ladybug #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #the ladyblog #my sketch

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manwrre · 8 months

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It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.

They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.

Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.

The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.

Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.

Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.

Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.

Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.

Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.

His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.

The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.

Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.

And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.

So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.

This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.

When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.

He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.

Swallows.

Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.

Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.

Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.

The sun child.

Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.

And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.

So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.

Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.

He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.

Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.

Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.

Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.

Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.

It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.

Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.

Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.

Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.

He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.

The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,

it snaps.

Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”

And God, he’s so screwed.

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