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#i just luv art man!!
tshortik · 8 months
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I love you messy artstyle i love you visible brush strokes I love you textures and rough edges I love you imperfections I love you roughness and colour blobs I love you scratchy sketches and bold stylisation and dirt and imperfections I love you ugly and raw emotion!!!!! ❤️
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neon-ufo · 7 months
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August 2023
Month of rest and record high temperatures
Suffering. Aching wrist and oh my god it was so hot
I am not built for summer
Album of the month: - Song of the month: Songs that Make a Difference
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knifebaby3000 · 4 months
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the wind has carried us too far, it's blown the moon down
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ridl · 2 months
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she's ballin
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4suitedplayingcard · 12 days
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Here’s all the other memes that I sent in discord bye
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k8felge · 6 months
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trying 2 figure out how 2 draw him . . . 🤥
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milstrim · 1 year
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(’just in case you were an abusive asshole too’.)
@spagbol99​ you’ve got a lot to answer for
Bonus: this didn’t make the cut just due to comic things but i drew it so now you have to see it regardless
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boxwinebaddie · 1 month
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STAN HAS THAT K CHOKER RIGHT? DOES THAT MEAN KYLE HAS AN S NECKLACE? like he could totally stack his s necklace with his star of david one
aaaaaaaaa
you know i love a lil matchy-matchy moment~
and actually, i accumulated a lot of different asks actually, mostly, interestingly enough asking me about the same roundabout thing: if jersey wears rings, how he feels about jewelry, if he has any tattoos or other piercings, stuff of the like, etc.
but i never got around to answering those because i'm kind of a perfectionist and i get all worked up in my head about how i'm going to answer things because i want them to be perfect ( i keep trying to structure nsfw ask like it's a nine page research essay, smh ) buuut
basically, as we all know well, jersey is…Particular.
particularly abt himself and what is done to him/on him.
( okay, fair warning: the rest of this answer is very long and i just talk a lot about the former question about jersey/his attachments to material things and also physical-emotional things — people — you do not have to read all that...the short answer is yes, kyle does stack a stan 's' necklace with the star of david, i talk about it more at the end, but this intro part is a lot of exposition and information. so if your curiosity does not end there...perhaps i can further it below xx )
a lot of it ties into his ocd and this need to control every aspect of his life, not being able to put it in anyone elses hands but his own because he's scared of that improbability...that margin of error.
it keeps him up at night.
for that reason, even though he has a ton of health issues, diabetes, etc. he is extremely Defiant and Volatile in doctors offices. like, he will start throwing shit, rip ivs out of his arms, ask you to explain what you are giving him In Detail and will probably still refuse to take it.
tbh, the only reason he's taking any medication at all is because he really loves sheila and she is extremely worried about losing him </3
( jersey is a mommas boy, i said what i said! )
but he takes his own blood sugar, pricks his own fingers, runs all his own tests...he really does not trust anyone else w/ that kind of thing. which ties into piercings because he does...think that they're…lowkey, highkey *jersey vc* Hawt, i’m sorry; it's true.
i do think it's his...Thing.
the man really just wants a little hot topic emo boy accessory display for a boyfriend and he is right for that. cute, shiny, edgy. i respect it.
eye candy, arm candy, if you will?
( jersey is extremely partial to candy, ofc <3 )
and idk, maybe it's just a me thing, but to me, jerseykyle, specifically, is very conceptual and is intrigued by fashion and stuff, but because when he was overweight growing up, he was sort of just shoe-horned into all this oblong, ugly clothing, whatever would fit or they could afford. so he never really got to be able to wear things he wanted to, until about right now and it's been really liberating for him? idk? aaa
i love sleek, chic, dark academia, tired 1940s evil classics professor, thrift store couture jersey in his dollar store blazers and italian loafers. like my man is an off duty model, forreal. i am obsessed with him.
and actually he really Likes tattoos and piercings and dyed hair and thinks all the little rings are cool because you're like this living art form, this distinct individual, there's a uniqueness, a cool rebellion there he can’t create have within himself, so he combats/masks it as disgust and disinterest because he doesn't like to process his complicated feelings and also doesn't like forming attachments...especially...
...to things he's inexplicably Drawn to.
which is why, initially, upon even just bearing witness to raven of crimson dawn, kyle freaked out because he was like immediately Extremely Attracted to him because he checks all these little boxes in his brain, but his brain, of course, is corroded by mental illness and trauma, so he immediately projects extreme amounts of hostility in raven's direction because he is like you're all chaos and disorder, you're a mess, you throw caution to the wind, You’re Unpredictable.
when he’s actually obsessed w/ that capricious energy?
like he makes fun of stan for all his punk rock boy 'hood ornaments' and 'anarchical embellishments', but his heart starts racing every time stan winks at him and his little eyebrow piecing winks back, or he runs his tongue over that lip ring kyle got hyperfixated on, partially because it's pretty, which...rip, not even joking…
if stan comes out in the support rock, fuck a rockstar tank top, the tiny pants and sports that little lip ring chain thing that connects to the cuff on his ear...it does something seriously ( down ) bad to kyle's brain and stan is immediately getting Railed. soz if you were waiting for stan's autograph, hes gettin ky's all over his body. woops.
but!!! it's mostly bc stan had the courage and hedonism to put something through his lip and live with it. that he could get other piercings, get tattoos, let people handle him, put his life into someone else's hands, let them have control for a second, knowing they are executing the thing you want/need without you doing it...
it's literally All a control thing.
or rather, an inability to lose it.
because he's very particular, yeah, about what he likes and doesn't like, he won't wear any fabrics that itch or bother him, he won't buy something if the hem pisses him off, if he has to wear something he doesn't like, he will bitch and moan the entire day about it. and while it's good to have that level of self-assuredness, it's also kind of a self-preservation and self destructive coping mechanism for jerseykyle.
because he pushes everything out...
but doesn't let anything else in.
and a lot of that changes when raven/stan comes back into the picture, because when they were growing up, stan was this beautiful, glowing fixture of nonconformity, this pillar of strength that was twice as strong as he was, even though kyle was the fighter. because stan fought for self-acceptance and kyle fought for self-loathing.
and really...the reason why his ed developed in the first place was because gerald and society as a whole brainwashed him into hating himself and that people would only digest him if he was in small enough, beautiful, palatable enough pieces to eat so even though he acts out or throws punches: It’s All Within The Lines.
or the confines, rather.
of the person he thinks people want him to be.
but, idk, i'm talking too much. basically, gist is, kyle has a hard time handing over control to other people/being vulnerable and the final piece to that is...permanence.
a piercing...a tattoo...is Permanent.
i mean, sure, they close up and you can get them removed, but you are irreconcilably changed and altered. you are different now.
anddddd sigh, the jersey can't say i love you ask strikes again! because jersey can't say i love you because it's handing over control, because it's vulnerable because it's...permanent and he has extremely deep-seated commitment issues because of all of that.
which means he rarely, if ever, makes said commitments.
so when he Does...
it's a very special thing indeed.
because jersey has no tattoos or piercings on his body.
save for the sun/moon one he got on his ring finger for stan ( i can never decide if i want jersey to have the sun tattoo because he is the sun or if he has the moon one so he can wear rae around with him )
*** ( i also think it's possible he might get little hebrew things for his mom or idk, something very important later...i'll think about it more )
and...One ear piercing.
i was going to go at this in more comical and dramatic way in an old post, but basically, i think kenny/bebe/craig someone basically joked about there being reduced earring piercings at claire's and they should take kyle because he's the only one without pierced ears and jersey gets really defensive about it and everyone's like ooooh! kyle's scared to get his ears pierced, so the competitive and aggressive side of him that hates to lose briefly outweighs the neurotic side and is like "fuck you!!! let's go right now! i'm not scared of anything!"
and he gets there, stan's with him, and he is...freaking out in the little plastic chair with some eight year old girl next to him ecstatically getting her ears pierced for her birthday, bc he's going to have to let someone...do something to him/inflict something on him.
( which actually, i think, is what is really beautiful about j.k and r.s' relationship and dynamic, is that jersey teaches raven that you can't just let people do things you don't want them to do to you just because you feel like you should ft. his sexual trauma and stan teaches kyle that it is okay to let other people in, to do reckless things, to allow yourself to feel and enjoy simple pleasures w/o fear. ft. his ocd
lmao, is there a branch in my eye again? y is it Watering )
and ravenstan is like, mi amor, they are just your ears, you will be okay, i will hold your hand…
everything will be fine, i swear. :’) <3
and he gets hyped up, ready to go, the 16 y/o piercing his ears tells him she'll count to three and pierce on one.
...and she pierces on Three.
i'm not sure if it's bc she pressed too soon or because she thought that if she surprised him, it might make him less nervous, but it does not!!!! kyle FREAKS out!!!! his ocd goes haywire and basically has a nervous breakdown at freaking /claires/ bc she pierced his ear before she SAID she would and destroys the confidence that he built up to let himself be vulnerable.
it seems like a Silly thing...but i think it says a lot, yknow?
and though it was a serious blow to his ego, kyle only has...one ear pierced because he panicked and could not get the second one done. and it, to this day, is one of the only asymmetrical things abt him. which, i actually think is important to him coping w/ his ocd
( similar to how kyle, sorry slight nsfw, having stan have to ask for things if he wants them, helps him, in a seemingly innocuous way, build confidence in himself/not let things just 'happen' to him without his consent ) because having only one ear pierced means he has to deal with being lopsided and that, everyday the earth doesn't crash into the sun...means that he's okay.
also a cute thing about the one ear piercing is that i think kyle wears like this cute little gold sun dangly one that has a similar ambiance to the sun and moon glasses chain charms? it's his signature.
and other than showering, sleeping, etc. he only really ever takes it out when raven is going off somewhere far away :( and he switches it with a little stan silver earring ( idk kyle feels very gold jewelry bc of his orange hair and stan feels v silver bc of his blue eyes and stuff ) and stan sometimes takes kyle's with him on tour...AAAAA i'm sad
on the subject of rings, since someone else asked me, kyle does not wear rings even though he does like them/they're pretty because they're heavy, they clank against his pen when he's writing, the sound pisses him off...but he wears stan's lil silver emo boy rings when he's away and gaslit himself into liking the sound because the sound it makes against his pen reminds him of the sound it makes when stan is excitedly scribbling song lyrics and singing to him aaaaa IM :(
WHERE WAS I GOING WITH THIS AGAIN?
oh, yeah.
extreme mental illness.
so jersey never makes adjustments or accommodations for anyone, and when he does it's a big deal...but really...
it's because Stan is a big deal to him.
stan is EVERYTHING to him.
and kyle thinks it's cute that at every show and every concert, stan always wears the little spicy k charm on his emo boy choker ( and got the little even spicier inner thigh tattoo w kyle's name on it...anyways )
so, he starts wearing a little s around his neck for stan.
which, initially, i'm sure you're like...oh God.
jersey making an adjustment to his very specific cartoon character outfit alignment of things he wears every day, things he wears at home, things he wears specifically when going out depending on the environment...this sounds like a recipe for disaster. this is a big change for him. he's gonna spin out or short circuit his brain.
but...really? it feels as easy as Breathing.
because for one of the first times in his life, kyle got something that he didn't just get for him, w/ selfish intentions or bc he needs to be in control...he got it...
to make stan happy. :)
and it does make him very, Very happy, indeed.
which is really funny to me because jersey is super annoying and just starts wearing it and pretends like he doesn't know what's going on bc he's bad at ~gestures~. so stan comes home, sees it and immediately is like *big stan eyes* 'what are you wearing??'
and kyle is like, ‘oh, this? i've had it forever, it's was just in the back of the closet. why? is it wrinkled or—‘ and stan is like 'no, dummy. the NECKLACE' and kyle, playing dumb, trying to act nonchalant because he's kind of embarrassed abt having emotions is like 'oh, that. y'know. just something i'm trying out...' and stan is like
'kyle broflovski, are you wearing a necklace with my initial on it????' and kyle is like 'alright, woah there, mr. celebrity. but not eeeeverything is about you, okay? that s could stand for anything.'
and stan is like *genuine heart eyes wowza because kyle is being annoying but stan loves dumb annoying kyle that's why he wears his lil possessive emo boy k charm on his choker everywhere* 'okay, well the k on mine stands for kiss me or kiss me kyle or whatever you want just, come and kiss me please' kshdlkshd <333 eWW
anyways...they're Gay. they're in love. they having matching tattoos and earrings and wear eachother's intials around their neck. nbd.
but...in a very longwinded format, i hope this answers your question baby and hopefully some other questions you have abt jersey. i'm sorry that was a lot but i literally could talk about jersey forever, like he is so fascinating and bc he's our narrator and he's such an unreliable one, it's hard to understand how his brain works.
hope this helps. <3
uncle nina, keeper of the cryptid jersey whore-lore
#okay i am sorry#i know this barely answers your question#but i got a lot of similar questions#and i wanted to answer them in one big ask while i was feeling inspired so here is a bunch of jersey trauma lore#i hope it's fascinating i find it all super fascinating#because he presents like this perfectly in control orderly well maintained militant self-satisfying self gratified thing#but it's just a front for the fact that he's scared of change and is scared of not being in control or making mistakes#like he is put together but a breath away from falling apart#stan teaches him to sit down kyle teaches him to stand up#also sorry kyle having a fascination with edgy boy things and piercings and stuff in particular is kinda spicy to me#i luv him like he really is like that man is a satanic abomination and i want to do terrible horrible depraved things to him#like he really saw raven of crimson dawn and was like oy gevault i have never wanted to cut my lip open on anything#more than on that mans lip ring holy hell oh my god he is so shiny and ripped up and his makeup is so cool#he is a celebrity he has no original thought he doesnt think abt anything thats why he has all those tattoos and piercings#but also y do i want to trace my fingers down them every time i look at him he reveals himself more to me i want to learn more#kinsey scale gay 6 jerseykyle everyone but specifically for dramatic crybaby bisexual punk rock boys w/ piercings#which...i think is incredible bc i do not think people would expect that from kyle...but people also thinks he cannot feel#BUT HIM ADJUSTING HIS WELL REGIMENTED LIFE TO INCOPORATE STAN INTO IT I WANT TO SCREAM#HIM LEARNING TO LET OTHER PEOPLE DO STUFF FOR HIM AND BE OKAY WITH THEM HELPING HIM#I WANT TO START FUCKING SCREAMING I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS ALL DAY I LOVE JERSEYS CHAR DEV#ok final thot is he does sometimes do a gold jewelry ring moment or somethin if he's feeling like its important to the look#but they are very insignificant things for aesthetics easily taken off or removed...its the important stuff he has trouble w#and makes it all the more rewarding i think <3#ily jers#okay last last small thing as far as like getting little piercings and random fun tattoos goes i just think he doesnt want any#boring king ik minus the ocd and stuff he just likes all his stuff to be very a-line and crisp doesnt like massive statements#like my man Is the statement like he has beautiful luxiourous curly red hair and green eyes and his nose a modern art piece#its too busy for him its distracting and u know thats what u have a hot rockstar bf for so u can pretend 2 read ur book#but the plot of the book is tracing ur sbfs sexc hip tattoos and helping him decide what belly button ring hes gonna wear#you know!!! The Plot!!! which kyles eidetic mem comes back but he does get distracted looking at stan a lot help
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katrasining · 1 year
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAR 2D HUSBAND!!! 🧡🧡🧡
Here's a scene from Dark Swirl hehe
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mllemony · 1 month
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Guh. My oc Maya. Idk. What to caption
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Casually overthrows government, the gayest thing you could do for your gf (she thinks so)
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tropicreme · 2 years
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hi! below r examples of past kofis ive done :] make sure to provide refs + don’t be afraid to ask any questions! reblogs r appreciated 💚
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keeps-ache · 1 year
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things to do (that i decided need to be done at 11:52 a.m.);
find that black shirt with the good texture
how draw clothe?? figure out
organize that one playlist
write, if fortune is kind
find music to lose my mind to at 3 a.m. so i can actually write for once
reread old draft
start sketch
make new sketch, last one sucked
work on anatomy
stare at art i like until my brain melts and i absorb the Vibes
#just me hi#hiiiiii it's 11:57 now#//i have like 2 black shirts with nice stretchy textures and i luv them#one of them is tighter the other one's more drapey and they both feel very Gender to me :)#//holy shizzle how do people draw clothes like that. woah dude what th. woah man waoh#the answer is probably Real Life References but. auhghuh.#//the blu3 space playlist is a Mess (a mess that i haven't tried to listen to since the first/last time cuz the vibes were Disorganized if#u knoy wadda mean) so i Need to work on it buuuuttttttttttttttt#i dun wanna but also i really need to cuz i. well idk why but i'll figure that out later#//holy frizzle i haven't opened word in like. at least a minute [i t ' s b e e n l i k e t h r e e w e e k s-]#i really gotta get on that. [lays down and ignores the world AND my little fantasies]#really though new music that makes my entire system go 4000 mach always gets me making stuff lol#just gotta figure out how to concentrate that into pure undisturbable focus ;v;#//just remembered an older writing thing from like. idk when but i DO remember it was fun to write and i disappoint myself every time i#reread and it isn't finished </3#//art art ar ta rta rta ar ta rt ar tr ar ta r ta tra t a tr a t a tart ar t rat ar t art ar t art a rt a tr at ra ta#i'm so lukewarm to it right now auhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ;=;#didn't mean to put a = but ykno what#//how. how body ? i haven't studied the actual human form Ever and i feel like that fact stares me in the eyes every time i draw hbvka#//anyway. also [telepathically beaming Something at all the cool art i see]#that is all#it's 12:08 now lol i think my leetol Brayn is melting
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unable2sitstill · 7 months
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Repostober day 12: Sakfar sketch page ❤️
Ah, I just loved drawing this guy ❤️ His stupid lil elf ears and grumpy demeanor. Beginning of Fin and I's characters getting together (even before we got together 🤭)
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joonipertree · 5 months
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idea for the Boxer!Katsuki and Artist!Reader AU! What if, ON TOP OF a rly bad day w college and being overwhelmed w work, we lost our paints :( n we luv our paints so we cry, but katsuki’s there to make us feel better and get us a new set :3
Thank you so fucking much for this. Idk if you knew but I'm actually making a portfolio for art school and Ive been crying every other night because of how stressed I am and how much I feel like I'm a bad artist. So writing this was cathartic
Part 1, Part 2
Tags: Dom/sub undertones, reader acting out and Bakugo being stern, a peak of what kind of shit I want with older men hsjsjsj, fluff, hurt/comfort, soft katsuki
Katsuki was one of the last people you wanted to see when you're in a bad mood. And that might sound terrible but it's because you never wanted to show such a harsh, negative side of yourself to someone you cared about. You were very much a 'feel and then reappear more regulated' type of person. But Katsuki never let you go home on your own anymore, picking you and dropping you off even on days where he had something to do.
So you trotted towards him with a scowl and no energy to fake anything and he noticed instantly, his own concerned scowl mirroring yours.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." You said and opened the door, closing it a bit too loudly. You cringed at the sound but buckled yourself in and turned away before the man got in the driver's seat.
"You're shit at lying."
"Fuck off."
Instant regret, a deep inhale from your part as you tensed.
Fuck.
His large hand came on your thigh and you stiffened, all he did was give it a warning squeeze before pulling away. The message was clear. 'Watch it'.
"I'm not willing to discipline you until I know nothing horrible happened but you do know I don't like that shit from you right?"
You said nothing.
"Give me an answer, doll."
"I'm an adult."
"Yeah, you are. And you're a smart one that knows that we have rules. That I'd be taking you over my lap if you talked like that."
Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away, not willing to turn your head to show him.
He knew anyways and he dropped the subject, starting the car and driving off.
Katsuki pulled to a stop at a place that wasn't anywhere near your apartment. You were confused as he got out of the car. Your eyes followed him just as he entered a boba shop.
Oh.
A couple minutes later, he came out with a drink for each of you. You remembered when he said that there just wasn't any point of it, that it seemed stupid and too sweet. But pretty soon, he had his own usual order, which was just Brown Sugar boba tea with the sweetness to a minimum.
Katsuki gave you the drink without even looking your way, sipping on his own. You stared at it for a total of ten seconds before timidly taking a sip. The sweetness broke you out of your sour mood, eyes blinking as you focused on the flavour of your favourite tea. The boba was chewy and soft and it grounded you a bit.
Only after you took a sip, did Katsuki start the car and drive.
When you reached home, the apartment the two of you had started sharing a month prior, Katsuki only gave you time to take off your shoes and put down your bag before he had you over his shoulder.
You struggled, hitting his back and asking him to let you go but he didn't listen...not even feeling it.
And when your ass plopped itself onto the couch, your attempt at running away failed when he easily manhandled you in place.
"I'm not patient enough to coax it out of you, so tell me why you're upset. I'll make it better."
You wanted to refuse but the tears were already dripping down your face.
"I'm so bad at art. I'm so f-fucking bad at it. I don't-" you sobbed and his arms were instantly around you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried into him.
"There's so many deadlines and so many things I have to do and nothing is working. And I don't even know if I'm cut out to be an artist. I'm not good enough, I was never good enough for it. I'm gonna fail-- Katsuki I'm so tired."
Your boyfriend rocked you back and forth, giving you kisses everywhere he could reach, on the side of your face and your head and your hair. And you let the tears fall, hiccuping violently and sobbing without restraint.
"I even lost my fucking paints and I can't live without them and I saved up for them and I'm just doing everything wrong."
You let Katsuki envelope you, squeeze you and warm your inside as you let it all out.
When your sobs died down, Katsuki didn't stop peppering kisses everywhere. It took him a second to speak.
"I didn't know shit about art. It all seemed like fancy, time consuming pictures to me. Hell, even now I don't know shit. But when I saw your art, I felt stuff I thought I didn't know how to feel. And that was the first time I realised that maybe life didn't have to be as shitty as it was. Maybe things didn't have to be ugly."
"When we went to those art galleries, yeah they were cool and pretty but not gonna lie, nothing ever left me speechless like your art did. And yeah...I'm biased as fuck, especially because I thought that the look in your eyes was the prettiest out of everything. That sounds cheesy as shit but you make me feel cheesy as shit."
You had stopped crying, left drained and nuzzled against Katsuki while you looked for an anchor to hold onto. And he held you.
"I like seeing you paint the most though, I like how you focus...I like how you curse under your breath, I like how you grin when something looks right, I like how you scan art supplies before you buy them. I like your paint stained hands and your paint water mugs even when I've accidently taken a sip from them. I like that how you laugh when I do that shit. I love that look of pride you have when you're done and staring at it.
It makes you happy so even if I don't understand the point of it, it means a lot to me because of that. So, whenever that thing stops being fun for you, and really stops being fun for you, I'll support you if you wanna stop. But I gotta keep seeing your work, baby, cuz it's like the inside of your head and it's really neat."
You let a few more tears drop, sniffling and looking into his eyes. There was no ingenuity, only pure emotion. And you let him kiss your tears away, you let him pat your head and you let him make you drink water and feed you.
Because it was never a burden for him to do those things, but a priveledge.
The very next day, the same set of paints were in your bag. Brand new and untouched. Along with three different watercolour paper books. 100% pure cotton, 350 gcm.
With a note that said 'you're still down for a spanking for that shitty mouth of yours. Don't make it a habit.'
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bettysupremacy · 2 years
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Who could be a more doting boyfriend?
Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader
Based off this request
Summary: 10 times Eddie Munson showed just how down bad he was.
Warnings: mentions of weed, food is brought up too, very very fluffy, Eddie down bad, sick! Reader for one, reader only in towel at one point, reader eats bacon in one, fem! Reader, tell me if I’ve forgotten any.
3.7k words because I luv u
Saccharine kisses were her favorite. The kind of kisses where he would ghost his lips over her skin, hovering, before planting a long sweet kiss to wherever he deemed most kissable at the moment.
She loved the way it never failed to make her stomach flip. The way it never failed to make her dizzy in the head and weak in the knees.
She loved that when it made her exhale wonky he’d look at her with this lovesick smile, before pressing more kisses around the area. Quicker, but non less full of love.
That’s why now, laying in bed, sick as a dog, she doesn’t have the strength to push him away. Thats why pawing at him uselessly, the only strength she’d managed earlier, had ceased.
“I’m gonna get you sick.” She whines.
They’re laying in her bed, intertwined like these are her last moments, like Eddie needs to get the most out of them.
Like a sad Victorian painting.
“I don’t care, Juliet, this world is a place I cannot live in without you.”
She scoffs, it coming out more like a cough than anything else. He pats her back as she coughs, letting her sit up to cover her mouth, and frowning when she shakes her head at the Gatorade he holds up for her.
“I’ve got the flu, you dolt. I’m not dying.” He pulls her back down, rubbing at the arm she’s wrapped around his stomach.
She didn’t know wether she was cold or hot, but the goosebumps that rose on her arms, from his fingers dancing over her skin, chilled her deliciously.
“He says that though, right?” He asks.
“Romeo?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never read the play.”
He ponders this for a moment, tilting his head up, further into the faded grey of his old pillow case.
“What are you think-“
“Shh.”
She gives him an incredulous look, she could be dying for gods sake! Treat her with a little respect-
“O Romeo, Romeo, where..fore art thou Romeo?”
She looks up at him, head not lifting from its position on his chest, but a confused smile is playing on her lips.
“You’ve read it?”
“Well when you take senior year three times..”
“Oh, right.” She tilts her head back down, ear press into the warm skin above his steadily beating heart, as she curls around him.
He stops his fingers dance over her arms, only letting her frown momentarily, before they card their way through her wet hair. They work out small knots and kinks they hadn’t brushed out. He cranes his neck to press a long kiss on the top of her head.
“Did the shower make you feel better?” He murmurs against her hair.
“I don’t know.”
He sighs, knowing her too well to think that she’d admit his suggestion didn’t work. “I’ll go get the tv from the living room and wheel it in here, Kay?”
She nods, nasally voice making him frown. “Mkay.”
He gently removes himself from under her, making sure to pull the blankets back up before completely retracting.
“And the vapor rub. I’ll grab the vapor rub too.” His palms dig into his mattress as he hovers over her.
“God bless.”
He smiles at her, lips coming down to kiss hers affectionally. She kisses back before she realizes what she’s done.
“Do not kiss me, Edward, I know you’re not vaccinated.”
A deep groan leaves his lips as he walks away, into the living room for the TV and vapor rub.
“What is a desperate man to do?”
She can’t help but smile as she tucks herself into his freshly clean, for the first time in 2 years, sheets.
She rummages through his drawers, fingers making quick work of the unfolded clothes thrown in them.
“Eddie?” her voice drifts through his bedroom door, and into the kitchen, where he’s staring intently at the microwave.
He pushes his door open, weary as to where to put his eyes while his girlfriend is in nothing but a towel.
“Yes?”
“Do you know where my clothes are? I thought I left them in this drawer but..”
“Oh! Hold on!”
He goes back though his door, returning with a basket of laundry. It’s not fresh, nor warm to the touch, but it was definitely recently that it had been washed.
“You washed my clothes?”
“It was after you got sick,” he shrugs nonchalantly, cheeks tinging a shade, due to the way she smiles at him.
The smell of them wafting up into her face only deepens her already bright smile. She picks up her shirt, bringing it to her nose and inhaling.
“And you used-?”
The look on his face is downright bashful. “I remembered it was your favorite, so I picked you up some when I went shopping with Wayne.” He scratched his neck, “S’no big deal really.”
Her arms wrap around his neck, towel hanging on for its life.
“No, it is. Thank you, baby.”
Her fingers scratch his scalp lightly, digging into his curls and tugging gently. He feels like a dog being pet. Is this what they feel like? Lucky bastards.
He fears his leg may start kicking.
“You’re welcome.” He muffles into her neck, arms wrapped around her waist so that the towel doesn’t fall, “I’m glad you’re happy.”
She had called him from work, voice full of tears.
“My sweet girl, can’t you come home early?”
“Janie was supposed to come in today, but she flaked, so now I’m alone.”
“Come home, leave Austin and Marie to close today. No baby, we don’t need that money for the rent, enough cars needed fixing this week. I promise, come home- my home.”
So she did.
But trudging through Eddie and Wayne’s front door, he was nowhere to be found. His van was outside where it normally was, his shoes were haphazardly thrown in the direction of the front door - like they normally were, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Each shoe is toed off quietly, as she softly calls his name, not wanting to disturb Wayne’s weird sleep schedule. “Eddie?”
She’s scrubbing at her face, trying to get the tear tracks off.
“Eddie?”
She pads through the hall, into the bathroom where she can hear water running.
“What’s this?”
He looks up, panic stricken through his face.
“No, no, no. Go sit on the couch real quick.”
Nothing but hurt is read on her face. “What, why?”
He rushes up, cupping the back of her neck with his wet hand, while the other slides around her waist, pulling her closer.
“I did something for you.”
“You did?”
She peaks behind him into the dingy bathroom. He’s got the water running and her favorite soaps out displayed on the tub.
“No peaking!”
He uses the hand around her neck to push her face in his chest.
“You ran me a bath?” It’s muffled in his Megadeth shirt.
“Do you like it?”
“Is that your way of telling me I’m dirty?”
“What? No, no, no. I just thought that you might- uh, I thought that you might like it-?”
She laughs and he basks in it. Letting it cleanse and settle over him.
“I was joking, honey.”
He smiles, teeth poking through has he lets out breathless - relieved laughs.
“Go,” he skews his head toward the bathroom.
“But-“
“Go, I’m making dinner.”
“You’re making dinner? Baby.”
“I’m ordering from that Chinese place, the one across the street from the library,” He lets out another breathless laugh. “Go.”
“Oh, okay then.”
Something is stirring inside of her chest. Something warm and light. It muddles around, making her heart flutter and palms sweaty.
She’s never gotten a love letter before.
It’s not the most put together thing she’s ever seen, but it’s got to be her favorite. It’s small, but pink, and she could tell Eddie used his best handwriting for this. At the very end he signed it off with -E and a poorly drawn version of his guitar.
Where did he get pink paper?
She holds it in her hands like it’s gold, like it could tear at any moment, but two fingers pluck it out before she has the chance to read it a third time.
“Who wrote you up?” Rob asks suspiciously, eyeing the pink referral slip between her index and middle finger.
“No one-?”
Oh, that’s where he got it.
She tugs it from Robins fingers, flipping it so she could see the back - or what is actually known as the front of the paper.
Eddie Munson Grade 12 10/3/86
REASON FOR REFERRAL
-Cutting Class
-Lack of Cooperation
-Restless, Inattentive
ACTIONS TAKEN PRIOR TO REFERRAL
-Detained Student After School
PRESENT ACTION AND RECOMMENDATION(S)
-Student Regrets Incident, Cooperative
Robin reads the back as Y/N reads the front. He wrote her a love letter on the back of a referral slip?
“He wrote you a love letter on the back of a referral slip? What’s next? A receipt from a drug deal?” She ignores the instant, drug deals don’t have receipts dipshit, thought that pops up.
“That’s so sweet! He wrote me a love letter on pink paper!” Robin can’t help the twitch of a smile on her lips. “You think he’ll write me more?”
“If he doesn’t I’ll jeopardize his business.” She slings her arm around Y/N’s shoulder.
“What are best friends for?”
“It’s too early, it’s too early.” She whines as Eddie pushes back her hair, pressing light kisses into it, while she wraps her arms tighter around his chest.
“I know, I know.”
The sun shines in through Eddie’s open windows, the red sheet nailed above the larger one casting a crimson hue over them.
They tangle in the bed sheets, languidly and lethargic, similar to the way they held each other when she had the flu.
“C’mon, baby you gotta wake up.”
She grumbles, hands snaking under his back, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin as his box fan blows on them. They settle and he smiles as she opens her eyes.
“Why’s your shirt on?” Her sleep raspy voice tugs multiple strings in his heart.
Eddie always slept shirtless.
“I’ve already been up, sweetheart.”
“You’ve already been up?”
He smiles down at her, pushing some hair from where it sticks to her forehead. “Mhm.”
She pushes up, arms caging Eddie’s chest, as she hovers over him.
“You’re wearing your kiss the mechanic apron.” she points out, like he wouldn’t have known.
“I am.”
“Did you make breakfast?”
He shrugs, “Get up and see.”
She whines, shaking her head, laying back down on him. “Carry me?”
He thinks about it for a moment, looking down at her droopy eyes and tapping her thigh. She wraps her legs around him and he sits up, letting her be carried in his arms to the kitchen.
She smiles, resting her head on his shoulder, as he murmurs “Needy, needy, girl.”, shuffling to get a better grip on her.
“You hungry?” He softly asks.
“I’m tired.”
“Oh, I know.”
The counter is cold against her thighs as he sets her down. She squirms sadly, and he can do nothing but smile affectionately at her.
The plate he hands her is paper and warm. He sets a napkin on her lap, before the plate, so it doesn’t burn her poor thighs. Though, her eyes are closed as he does this, hands messily wiping the sleep from her eyes, so she doesn’t see the food.
“Warm.”
“Very warm,” He nods. “Eat, baby.”
Pressing a fork into her hands, he gently tugs her hands away from the cruel work they were doing to her eyes.
“Bacon? You got me bacon?”
“Benny was giving slabs away for free, down at the diner.” He bends over and kisses her jaw.
“I love bacon.”
“I know.” His voice is nothing but teasing, though, she doesn’t mind.
“You cooked the bacon by yourself?” She sets her fork down, grabbing his hands, and inspecting his arms. “And you didn’t get popped by the oil?”
He flushes, “Wayne helped me. But I made everything else by myself!”
She looks down at the food fondly. Eggs cooked like she taught him when they first started dating. Toast unburnt. Wayne’s bacon.
Wayne’s bacon was so good.
“Go get a plate, I’m not eating without you.”
“On it.”
“Okay, hands like this.” He grips her fingers, smiling as she lets him bend them in the right places. “Yeah! Okay, now pluck the third string.”
She plucks it, and it comes out sounding significantly better then 10 minutes ago. “You’re doing it! I’m so proud of you.”
He attacks her cheek with kisses and she scrunches her nose, pulling away in feigned annoyance.
“Teach me to play I Have a Dream.”
“What?” He pulls back agast. “I’m teaching you to play guitar on sweetheart, and you want me to teach you to play ABBA?”
She giggles, laying her head in his neck. “Yes, please.”
“No, baby, I’m teaching you to play 2 Minutes to Midnight.”
“No,” There’s a whiny edge to her voice. “That song is so hard.”
“You could do it.”
“Only if you helped me.”
“Deal.”
He lifts the guitar back up, twisting her fingers to the right frets.
“This is going to be so metal.”
He laughs out loud.
“-and I told Robs to go to the front of the class and tell the teacher, but she didn’t wanna embarrass herself In front of the Nancy.”
Eddie nods along, leaning against the lockers. This isn’t a conversation he’s particularly interested in, but-
“I think they’d make a good couple, don’t you?”
“Who?”
“Robin and Nancy!”
“Rob and Nance? Totally.” He waves his hand, as if dismissing any thought that they wouldn’t be.
“I knew you’d think so.”
The halls are almost empty, dismissal bell rang 5 minutes ago, but when you don’t have a bus to catch you always have a little extra time to put your stuff away.
“Are you ready?” Eddie asks, watching her shove books in her locker that she refuses to take home.
“Almost,” She turns to Eddie, looking behind him. “I just thought I heard Rob and Nances voice. I guess I’m going cra-“
She stumbles, having slipped on something, even though she could’ve sworn there was nothing on the ground a minute ago.
“Woah baby, woah baby.” Eddie grips her arms tightly, but not cruelly. Just tight enough to keep her upright. “What was that?”
“Slipped on,” She looks down at the floor “My shoelace, I guess.”
“You guess? Baby, you gotta be careful.” He bends down to one knee, patting it lightly for her to put her foot on.
Her left hand is flat against the lockers for balance as he ties her shoe for her.
“You can’t have untied shoes, sweetheart. Y’could trip and hurt yourself.” She watches fondly as he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine, I just don’t want an injured girlfriend.” He finishes, patting her foot in approval.
“You wouldn’t love me if I was injured?”
He stands up, “Who said that?”
“You did!”
“I love you so much I wouldn’t be able to look at you, cause seeing you injured would make me so sad.”
“You wouldn’t take care of me?”
“I’d call mama Steve, I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He grabs her cheeks and presses a hard kiss to her mouth. “You’re welcome.”
Eddie’s room is dark like it normally is. His bong is next to him and his guitar is on his knee resting.
He loves nights like these.
He taps his knee rhythmically, slow, unlike his other songs. A power ballad if you will.
He’s been at this for hours. Strumming, tapping, and scribbling lyrics into a blank page of his math notebook.
Just as he pulls his pick out of his mouth again he hears a soft knock on his door. It’s probably just Wayne.
“Hey, boy.” Wayne cracks the door open, checking to see if Eddie is decent. “I’m leavin now.”
Eddie checks his watch, humming in confirmation.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
Wayne nods. “You writing a new song?”
Eddie smiles at his uncles effort to make conversation.
“Yeah, for Y/N.”
Now it’s Wayne’s turn to smile. “She’ll like it.”
He could hear it through the walls? Eddie flushes.
“You think?”
“Yup.” Wayne puts a baseball cap on. “I like ‘er.”
He turns to leave, closing the door behind him, leaving Eddie in shock.
“I’m out!” He hears Wayne yell, before locking the door behind him.
“Bye!”
That was.. strange.
Her eyes hurt from reading, her back hurts from hunching over her bedroom desk, and her heart hurts from not accepting Eddie’s kisses.
This is one of the rare nights that she isn’t sleeping at Eddie’s, having to study for the math test tomorrow, but 20 minutes ago Eddie came in through the window, and she’s gotten no work done since.
It doesn’t really matter, due to the three hours of studying she got in before he came, but it’s still stressful nonetheless.
“Cmon baby, let’s go to bed.” Eddie’s Laying on her bed, flipping through a magazine.
“I can’t, I’ve gotta study.”
“Baby, you‘ve been studying since 9:30.”
“So? What time is it now?” She doesn’t look up from the equation.
“12:43? You gotta sleep at some point.”
Startled, she checks her watch, eyes widening when she realizes he’s right.
He’s getting up, tossing the magazine, and pulling her up outta the chair. He wraps his arms around her neck, kissing the top of her head a generous amount of times.
She whines pulling away, causing him to gasp in offense.
“What could I have possibly have done?”
“Want it on my lips.”
“Only if you promise to go to bed with me.” He bargains.
“Fine.”
He grabs her face and kisses her just the way she likes. Saccharine and sweet.
“Will you come to bed now?”
“Only because I love you.” She nods glumly.
He smiles playfully down at her. “Oh, but I love you more.”
They had been watching a movie.
A newer one, starring Micheal J. fox. It wasn’t wasn’t usually Eddie’s thing, but he had agreed for Steve.
He’d insisted that they watch it. “No! You don’t understand! He goes back in time to-“
“Don’t spoil it for them!” Robin rasps.
“I’m not, Rob, I’ve just gotta get them hooked.”
“You don’t hook someone by spoiling a major plot point?”
So here they were, under warm covers, watching a movie that neither of them particularly wanted to watch.
Candy was splayed out In front of them. Red vines, runts, nerds, and sour patch kids, getting dug into every couple minutes. And though Eddie had whined about Steve making them choose this, after the first opening scene he was hooked.
“Goddamn, did you see the way he flung into the wall?”
She had, but she also had seen the rope tied to his stomach.
“Did you see the rope around his stomach?”
Eddie laughs, his chest shaking under her as he looks away from the tv. “No, can we rewind?”
She was content with this. Even though she didn’t particularly enjoy the movie, Eddie did, and that was enough for her.
“Damn,” Eddie mumbles, staring intently at the screen. He’s got one arm hanging off the couch, joint between fingers, and the other rubbing up and down her spine.
They’d been in this position since the movie started, utterly comfortable.
Eddie’s trailer had the worst insulation, and even worse ac and heating, so this was nice. Eddie was always warm, a natural heater, so this was always nice.
Nothing strikes in his head as unusual, they lay like this every night, but something about the way her breathing was so even gave it away.
“Hey doc, you better back up, we don’t have any road to get up 88.” The pretty Lea Thompson is perched on Micheals lap as he gives his line.
“Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.” He drops his aluminum glasses over his eyes, starting the car.
Eddie’s hand lazily rises from her back and up to her head, hovering. “Sweetheart?” No answer, “Are you sleepy? Are you asleep?” still, no answer.
He cranes his neck to the side, trying to get any glimpse of his tired girl sleeping, stuffing out his joint in the process.
“The movie ended,” He whispers. “I think there’ll be a second one.”
No reaction. He sighs, letting his hand move back down and continue the work it was doing to her back. He can’t move or wake her, it would do too much to his poor heart.
She shuffles in her sleep, head leaning up towards Eddie. He holds his breath until she’s done, then he lets his nimble fingers work over her hairline. Brushing away stray hairs gently, letting his middle finger swoop down her nose, cupping her face gently, just to look at her.
He loves moments like these. Moments where he gets to stare at her so unapologetically. Moments where he gets to memorize every detail about her face, without her looking over and asking What are you looking at baby?
The slope of her nose, the way her eyelashes curl, the tilt of her mouth, the way her eyebrows furrow at something in her dream.
“You’re so pretty.” Is whispered from his mouth absentmindedly.
She can’t hear him, stuck in dreamland slaying monsters dutifully, traveling the world with Eddie, shopping with Max, or swinging bats with Steve.
He knows she can’t hear him, but it still feels necessary to say. It’s something he needs to say.
Her breathing intakes, it’s something sharp and shallow. For a moment he thinks she’s woken, but her pretty eyes haven’t opened.
“Sweetheart?” He whispers, but the quick breathing doesn’t stop. “Bad dream, hmm?”
He bends his neck down, holding her in his arms, and scattering multiple kisses over her hairline, trying to calm her.
Slowly her breathing calms again, and he lets sweet relief wash over him. He needs to get them to their bed.
Once he’s fixed her in his arms, he carry’s her to the room, gently setting her down in her spot and pulling up the covers.
He gets up to take his shirt off, but a warm hand stops him.
“Don’t leave.”
He frowns, ache dwelling in his chest at the thought. Climbing under the covers with her, he lets her cling onto him, “I’m not.”
Guess he’s sleeping with his shirt on tonight
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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months
Text
bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 27 all chapters
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WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘
-“I have a surprise for you.”
Hearing this fills you with what is perhaps a disproportionate amount of trepidation.
However…consider the source.
“Oh?”
“I wasn’t going to give it to you yet, but…I think I’d better.”
You are not sure what to think about this, so you remain silent.
He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs.
As you walk down the hallway you are filled with more and more apprehension, convincing yourself that there is some trick he’s pulling around the corner. He has been disappearing on and off, refusing to tell you where he was going, but vaguely hinting that he was cooking something up for you.
You fear it’s something you don’t want at all, like a red room fully fitted with racks and restraints and hooks hanging from the ceiling. If he frames that as a gift you swear you will pull a Bertha, and burn this personal version of Thornfield Hall to the ground.
You do not like it, when he insists on covering your eyes as he walks you through a door close to your bedroom upstairs. By the time you take three steps into the room you have damn near worked yourself into a lather, a fine trembling running through your limbs.
“Shh, baby, you’re going to like this,” he assures you, which is no real assurance at all.
Five more steps before he stops you, removing his hands with a flourish.
Your heart leaps to your throat.
Floor to ceiling windows let in a flood of morning light to the room. There is a big table, and copious shelves, and…an easel.
You realize he has made you an art studio.
Your feet move forward of their own volition, taking in the various boxes stacked on the table and the shelves. They’re art supplies, and you recognize brand names that you could hardly afford on your barista’s salary. Sennelier. Windsor and Newton pigments, top tier. Fine brushes from France and Germany that cost fifty dollars a piece. Tablets in every size and every tooth of Canson paper.
“Oh. My. God.”
“You…like it?”
He almost sounds vulnerable in that moment, which is entirely ridiculous.
You imagine how you would have reacted, if your relationship had been normal. You would have thrown your arms around his neck, showered him with kisses.
This studio is everything you’ve ever dreamed of having, as an artist.
As it is…he is buying your complacency, if not your love, trying to distract you from your situation with expensive trappings and let’s face it—adult arts and crafts.  
It hurts.
And yet, you know you’d better fucking say something, or Mr. Nice Wick is going to flee the scene.
“How did you know?” you ask, fingering a box of brand-new oil pastels. “It’s perfect in every way.”
You are trying your best to sound happy about it, but your throat is tight, and you know he’s going to get mad about it any second now.
He couldn't have surprised you more, if he'd stood on tiptoe and performed a pirouette, as when he simply gathers you into his arms. 
“I had help from the owner of the art supply store,” he admits. “Pretty sure they'll be sending me a Christmas card for the rest of my life.” 
You laugh at that, settling into the hollow at the base of his throat. It feels so good, just to be held like this. A part of you cautions not to trust it—but most of you is so exhausted from living on edge, you just take the comfort at face value. 
“Did you go to Mr. Morton’s shop?” you ask, referring to the local art stop in town. You don’t know why this gives life to a glimmer of hope in you. It’s not like the kind old man would have any reason to suspect you’re here, with John Wick, just because the mysterious newcomer suddenly had a yen to buy out the store of all its art supplies.
“No, I went a little farther afield.”
Almost as though he was covering his tracks.
“Oh.” You cannot conceal the note of disappointment in your tone. “John…” You muster your courage for the next question, hoping you won’t blow the day all to shit, but you suddenly need to know. “Am I a missing person?”
He presses his lips to your forehead, and speaks quietly against your skin. “Technically, no. A friend of mine will ping your passport entry at JFK soon. You’ll tender your resignation with regrets at the coffee house. I’ll have your little apartment cleaned out. You don’t need it anymore.”
He really did think all this through. You digest the details of his Machiavellian plan rather distantly, as though you are on the outside watching from above. He has orchestrated your disappearance masterfully, but also in a way that won’t raise questions with authorities should you happen to resurface in his company. In a twisted way this gives you a sliver of hope, that maybe he doesn’t intend to keep you locked away forever.
A fool’s optimism, perhaps, but at the moment it’s all you have.
“Where’s my phone?”
“At the bottom of the Grand Canal, I’m afraid.”
“That’s littering.”
He just snorts in answer. You find that you regret the fact that all your photos are lost. You never did back them up on the cloud. How strange, that such a record of your life could be erased with the destruction of one electronic device.
Talking about this doesn’t seem to scuttle his mood, so it gives you the courage to ask, “Can I come in here whenever I want?”
You are so hopeful in your request that you sense him war with himself, in the end unable to outright say no. “If you're a good girl,” he qualifies with his lips still on your forehead. 
Hiding beneath his chin, you grind your teeth at this caveat, but don't voice aloud any of the pithy comebacks that come to mind. 
 Then you notice your sketchbook from Italy is sitting on the worktable, along with your custom bound copy of Jane Eyre.
After everything, you’re not sure why seeing it there, knowing it had been in his hands, makes your heart skitter in your chest. He follows your gaze, a dark eyebrow lifting. It is filled with sketches of him from before you met up in Venice. The whole fucking thing is practically a confession of the grinding longing you'd felt for him, in the first couple weeks after you left. You can’t deny it now, but you can choose not to acknowledge it aloud.
He stares you down, clearly hoping for…something. A confession, perhaps, or at least an admission. You feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun, fixed with that gaze. But you hold fast, and in the end he sighs. “I’m going to go clean up breakfast,” he tells you. “Have fun with your new toys.”
He kisses your forehead before quitting the room, and once again you fancy that if one were to squint, you could almost mistake the two of you for a normal couple.
-He actually leaves you to your own devices until darkness begins to fill the trees beyond the window.   
By the time he comes to collect you he has changed into a black button down and dark jeans. It suits him to his bare toes, and inwardly you sigh. Why does this devil of a man have to be so goddamned handsome?
“So, what has my little artist made today?”
You are loathe to admit, the answer is nothing.
You opened every box, gazed at the pastels and paints and pencils longingly. And yet with charcoal in hand the fine white paper taunted you, inspiration an illusive thing.
You had no idea what you wanted to draw, or paint, or make. The past week has been so jarring, you would think you would be bursting with something, but all you draw is a blank. 
You shrug, curled up in the comfy chair by the easel, your drawing pad open in front of you. He takes the seat opposite, regarding you quizzically.
“You don’t like it in here?”
“I love it,” you assure him, and its no complacent lie. “I just…have been soaking it in.”
“Hmm.”
You can tell that he’s disappointed, and your treacherous heart skips a beat.
You failed to turn on any lights, as the sun is setting. John flicks on a single lamp on the side table, washing his one side in a dramatic glow. It is as though something clicks into place, as you look upon him. Your dark angel, your sinister lover, your obsessive captor, a man you should hate, but you are drawn to him like a moth to the flame.
Perhaps now, he shall also be your muse. Was ever there a man better suited to embody the mysteries of Caravaggian shadow?
“Don’t move,” you say softly, and begin to draw.
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