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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Don't Speak 42

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Almost lost this chapter bc my computer went nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You hit delete chat in the conversation settings. You leave it just as blank as before and close out the app. Just like Dr. Kemp said to. He can’t be there right away but he has a better plan. You’re not good at those anyway.

All you have to do now is wait out Andy. He’ll be going to work come morning and you’ll be alone. Then you can take your things, the things that are really yours, and leave. Finally. You realise that’s exactly what you’ve been longing for. A way out.

The hard part is still ahead of you. Freedom is still just out of reach. You have to pretend that everything’s fine but you’re realising, you’ve been doing that for a while.

You shake off your nerves and roll the tears back behind your eyes. You can cry later. Even as your cheeks strain and your nose tingles, you resist. Not yet, not yet.

You finish tidying up the tablet, trying to leave it as you found it. With not much else than your drawings. You close the cover and bring it with you as you turn off the lights and head upstairs. You sop up the mess in the bathroom and leave it dark.

You hesitate to approach the bedroom. You hear Andy’s snores, low and steady. Your skin crawls. You enter and put the tablet on the small side table where you charge it. You hang the damp robe and face the bed.

For the first time in your life, you want to hurt someone. You’re not afraid of being the one hurt. You really want to hit him and kick him and just let out your fury on him. You can’t and you won’t. You’re not who he told you you are. And you’re not strong enough for that. You’re still too small, too weak.

So you near the bed and climb under the covers. You move slowly as you pull the duvet to your chin. He snorts, making you wince, and sidles up behind you as he wraps his arm around you. You go rigid but fight through the ice that threatens to encase you. He can’t know, he can’t know.

“Mmm, where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a bath,” you squeak, putting your hand over his. You want to rip him away but instead, you squeeze, holding him tighter. “Sorry.”

“Nmph,” he grumbles and nuzzles your crown, just as quickly drifting back into his rhythmic snores.

You exhale little by little. You close your eyes but just as quickly open again. You know you won’t sleep. You can’t. Not with him as good as on top of you. Not knowing what awaits you in the morning. But mostly, not with that needling guilt in the nape of your neck.

Amber.

You betrayed your own sister. You treated her like a villain. You demonised her. You ostracised her. You left her!

You don’t know if she can ever forgive you. You can’t blame her for that. Worse, you don’t think you’d let her forgive you. You don’t deserve it.

You feel brittle as you bite down on your cheeks. No crying, not yet, you remind yourself. For once, you have to do things right. You have to follow through. It’s up to you now.

🕊️

“I didn’t know you could make crepes,” Andy smiles as he cuts into the roll, compote fruit and syrup oozing out.

You do your best to mirror him, making a show of nibbling away at your own food.

“I found a recipe,” you tap your tablet, not far from you.

“That’s great. You’re… doing better.”

“I’m trying,” you assure him, “I hope it doesn’t make you late for work.”

“Hm? Oh, no, breakfast with you is worth it,” he pops a bit into his mouth and hums. You regret not spitting in it, repulsed by the thought when it came to you, but now, not so much.

He can sit there and lie to you. It makes it easier for you to do the same. He’s been lying this entire time. Making you feel like you’re a problem. A burden. No, you were a thing to be used. To be exploited. He never liked you, the girl he calls dove, he only liked what he could get out of you. And he got off on it.

He took Amber from you. He did that. Yes, you’re stupid for falling for it but he knew what he was doing. He lied to you. And you know exactly how he did it.

He took all that therapy and twisted it around on you. You wonder why he even bothers with Dr. Kemp when he’s not trying to change. More than the narcissist he branded your sister, he’s a psychopath. You found that on the internet too.

Bitter, angry, hateful. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never truly loathed anyone. Not even your grandfather. His fists were nothing compared to Andy’s emotional battering.

“Well, don’t let it get too cold. They get gummy,” you force a smile, only fed by the thought of what comes after. Of what you’re going to do when he leaves.

Run.

🕊️

When Andy leaves, you’re in the kitchen tidying up. You left all the dishes in a stack to make a convincing show for him. You’ll be busy all day scouring the skillet and the fruit stuck to the inside of the pot, along with your plates and the cutlery. Oh and the mess you made of the counters.

The door closes but you don’t break your charade right away. You give it ten minutes. Fifteen, just to be sure. Then you tiptoe down the hall and look out the window. The tire tracks are already snowed over.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. This is your chance. You spin and race upstairs.

You search the closet and the dresser, everywhere for the bag you brought there. It’s gone. Along with all the clothes from your old life. All that was you. Andy took them along with everything else.

Whatever. You grab a few pieces of the more practical slant; turtlenecks, some leggings, a pair of jeans. Socks and underwear. You work quickly, with intent. Just enough to get out, not a lot. Not too much. As little as you can. You don’t want to keep too much that will remind you of this place.

You rush back downstairs after you change. You grab your tablet and message Dr. Kemp, the chat log still blank. You delete each message once he responds. You can’t be too careful.

‘He’s gone. When can you get here?’

His reply isn’t long; ‘ten minutes, been waiting a block away.’

‘I’ll be outside.’

You close the cover of the tablet and stare at it. You hover it over the countertop but stop yourself. No, you earned this. It’s yours. Andy never did pay you for the painting. Not in full.

You hug the tablet and go to retrieve the bag you found in the front closet. A tote bag with faded floral print. You don’t wonder where it came from. You don’t want to think too hard about him or this place. They’ll soon be long gone.

You pull on your boots and your coat. That’s all he’s left you of your former existence. You don’t suspect you would have them for much longer if you stay. You shudder and grip the fabric handles of the bag.

You open the front door and step out into the drift. The snow floats down in fluffy flakes. As you step off the porch, it collects on your lashes. You make slow progress, lifting your knees high as the unshoveled walk makes each step a task. As you come up to the curb, a distant rumble comes from down the avenue.

You shield your eyes against the steady snowfall and squint. You think it’s Dr. Kemp. You’re not sure. When you saw his car, it was dark and you were more focused on other things.

He rolls down the snow-carpeted road cautiously and pulls in the next driveway before turning around and coming up along the curb. He grins at you through the passenger window and the doors unlock with a loud thunk. You grab the handle and pull.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, doctor, I… thank you. I…”

“You sounded scared, how could I say no?”

You nod and look over your shoulder at the house.

“Let me deal with Andy when the time comes,” he insists, “come on, it’s hell out here. Get in.”

You nod and haul your bag onto the floor ahead of you and put the tablet on top. You stop yourself before you release the device. You look at Dr. Kemp. He stares.

“You alright?” He asks.

“I forgot something,” you say as you let go of the tablet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be two minutes,” you hold up as many fingers, “promise.”

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he assures with a smile, “I’ll be here.”

You take and breath and close the passenger door gently. You whip around and stumble back up the walk, stepping into the holes you left on your way out. You burst inside, not carrying for the melting snow you leave in your stead or the undone dishes, or anything about this place. There’s only one last thing that needs to be done.

You take the stairs two at a time as you complete your final chore. You barrel back down and don’t bother with a final goodbye as you head back out. For once, you feel accomplished. Like you’ve done something and you don’t give a heck what Andy feels.

You don’t look back, you just keep going. You falter but not from doubt, only the snow. You get back to the car and rip the door open, climbing in with a heave. You fall into the seat as you snap the door shut. You lean your head back and sigh.

“I’m ready to go now,” you say.

“Great,” he shifts into gear, “put your seat belt on, sweetheart, the roads are awful.”

You do as he says as you catch your breath. Your skin is buzzing from more than just the cold. You fold your hands as you try to settle your nerves.

“Good girl,” Dr. Kemp praises, “we’ll be home soon.”

🕊️

It’s real once you walk through the front door. You look around at the home decor and nearly fall apart. The stringent, almost sterile walls of Andy’s house haunt you. It’s only then, with something to compare them to, that you realise how much you dreaded them. How much you despised them.

You look around and take in every inch. The brown leather bench beside the door, a tall coat rack on the other side of the entryway, a mat for your snow laden boots, and a runner rug with the honey coloured curlicues on a deeper shade of brown. There’s a faint smell of cedar in the air.

“Ann made up the guest room for you,” he says, “and the kids are at school so they shouldn’t be a bother.”

You stop short, your hands on the collar of your coat. You look at him, dull with shock. Your cheeks tremble as you gulp.

“Ann… your…”

“My wife, yeah,” he says coolly, “she’s excited to meet you.”

“She is?” You blink, “I uh…” your eyes flit all around, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he intones, “really. She understands how vulnerable some of them a safe space.”

It’s like a slap in the face. You don’t know what you expected or why you expected it. He’s your doctor, you’re his patient, a crazy person. How did you forget that?

You glance down at his hand, his left hand. There’s a gold ring on his finger. It wasn’t there before. Not in your sessions, not at Thanksgiving. Never. Why wasn’t he with his family during the holidays?

“I thought I heard the door,” a woman appears from the other end of the hall, “oh, this must be her.”

You bat your lashes, fighting to hold yourself together. Don’t cry yet.

“Uh, hi,” you squeak as she struts down the hall.

“Hello, hon,” the tall blonde pulls you into a hug as you cower.

“Ann,” Kemp clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I forget–” she lets you go, “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

You only shake your head. Your eyes are dry and itchy. You can only look back at her before slowly glancing at Steve. Your cheeks twinge and your lips pinch. He never told you about her. Why would he?

You feel like your chest is empty. There’s an icy whirlwind inside of you, flowing through you, sending a shiver up your spine. This is the worst thing you've ever felt. What is it?

“Ann,” Kemp says, “she's had a long night.”

“Oh, of course, you take her up to the guest room,” she backs off, “you take your time, hon, do whatever you need to do.”

You nod and mouth a thank you, unable to get any noise out. She goes back the way she came and you turn, focusing on undoing your coat. What have you done?

“I guess I should've warned you, huh? What with your… issues,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Just let me know if it gets too crowded around here.”

“Okay,” you croak.

You bend to wiggle free of your boots. You don't know what to do. You just want to be alone.

He leads you through the house. Into a cozy front room and to a staircase curled up to the second floor. You follow behind him, the tote bag dangling from your grasp.

He opens a door as he faces you. You try to hide your emotions but you can barely keep from frowning. He rests his hand on the door frame.

“This is you. I'm down at the very end,” he points over his shoulder, “if you need anything…”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry? For…”

“Coming here.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn't say yes if it was a problem,” he coos as he reaches to caress your shoulder, “I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I don't make sure my patients are safe, huh?”

“I guess not,” you murmur.

“Look, you just get yourself situated. Try to relax. I know a lot's happened but you're strong. You can do this,” he leans in, “I believe in you.”

He kisses your forehead and you wince. His hand goes to your chin as he pulls away. You stare up at him.

“I meant it when I said you're special,” he hums.

“I…” you turn your head away from him, slipping free, “I need to lay down.”

“Sure,” he smirks and drops his hand, “I'll check in when I can.”

You turn into the bedroom, slouching through as you sense him behind you. You feel him watching, as if waiting for something. You refuse to look back.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he purrs, “you're exactly where you need to be.”

The door shuts and you gasp as the bag falls from your hand. What does he mean?

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #don't speak #steve kemp #fresh #au #library au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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factual-fantasy · 2 months

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22 ASKS!! :DD THANK YOU!! :} 🎉🎂🎉

GASPPP!! :DDD I'D LOVE TO!! :}} 💖💖

I've actually been thinking a lot about Louis and his story lately! Though, since drawing is rather taxing on me atm I haven't gotten around to making him a character study post.. Like I did for Cuttlefish.. BUT!! I have still made some story bits for him anyways! :DD 👇👇

I had this idea that he used to be an ordinary flavored cookie of some kind. And he used to live on land as this washed up fisherman that was really down on his luck.. he had lost his job, his home, his arm.. he had no friends.. no family.. nothing. He was really lost and alone..

Its around that time he was somehow welcomed aboard Seafoam's ship. It was just Seafoam, Octo and Ellie at the time. Louis found great comfort and security with this crew. He had never felt more welcome and wanted in his life.. This environment started to break down Louis' anxieties and depression overtime. Slowly turning him into the more jolly and boisterous Louis the crew knows him as today.

But things would take a seemingly bad turn when a curse befell Louis. Turning him into this half cookie, half crab beast. Louis' body had changed significantly, the biggest change being his huge crab arm. Now, most cookies would consider this ghastly new form to be what its intended to be. A curse.. But Louis.. actually didn't mind the changes. In fact, he liked his new body. Quite a lot! And though his new crab arm did cause him quite a bit of aches and pains.. and also took away his ability to swim.. he honestly considered it an upgrade!

Where before he had a missing arm and was completely useless in combat.. now he had this huge intimidating claw in its place! With his new found strength and power, he was a force to be reckoned with! Not only that, but he didn't see his new body as ugly, he thought he looked AWESOME! So he also got a major confidence boost too!

In present day, Louis is a confident, sociable, and all around happy person. And he gives all the credit to Seafoam and his crew for his new found zest for life! :}} ✨🦀💖✨

Anyways-- thank you for taking interest in Louis! :DD rn drawing is rather challenging for me, but I hope to draw him again someday soon! Maybe I can go back and make him his own character study post like I wanted to! 👀👀

I KNOWWW WAAAAAAA 😭😭😭💖💖💖💔💔💖

@pink088

XD Bibi would probably use it to make a cold glass or water for me🥺💖

And hey, thanks for the cake! :DD No doubt Cici will devour it XDD (Bibi allows it)

I suppose if I really wanted to I could learn how. But I don't want to turn my hobby into a job..

I made my first post on December 19th, 2018!! :00 That's roughly 4-5 years or so!

I use FireAlpaca! And I use a xp-pen 13.3 pro tablet ✨✨

As for that Undyne and Papyrus post.. The story behind it is, that Papyrus is from a different timeline. And in his original timeline.. Undyne is dead.. Now, this other Undyne knows that her Papyrus, the "real" Papyrus, is somewhere else in the underground. So this Papyrus is an imposter. She questions this imposter. "Who are you, and why do you look like Papyrus?" She waits for this imposter to answer.. But Papyrus has no words.. since his Undyne died, he hasn't heard her voice in a very long time... he's too shocked to speak..

I DO have a YouTube channel, and I was intending to make animations for it... but I lost my drive. Animations get stolen A LOT. And Animations take a ton of time to make. I was discouraged.. why would I spend so much time on something, if its more likely to be stolen?

Though I have been thinking about making sketch animatic memes... maybe once my health improves I could try to make one-

And hey! Don't worry about my arms, I can make several whether I'm feeling good or bad! :D

AND AAA THANK YOU!! :DD I'm glad you like him and noticed his eye details!! :}}}

(Post in question)

XDD Jangles is chaotic enough to sleep hanging upside down tho lets be real-

@yourstrulylightstar283 (In response to this post)

:DD Bibi gives his thanks!

@cudlycorncornsworthcoberson (In response to this post)

XDD I know right?? Another year has already come and gone, its crazy to think about! :00

And don't worry, I've been focusing all my energy on taking care of myself and drinking lots of water! 👍👍

Awe! Thank you so much!! :DD Right now the main thing I'm battling is my poor mental and physical health.. but I have high hopes that things will improve soon! :)))

@the-woomyverse (Post in question)

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you liked them!! :}}

As for Ludwig and Morton, unfortunately they don't have a lot of story built yet.. but I'm working on it! <:D

Ludwig is intended to be the eldest sibling, and heir to the throne. He's the "Prince of the Koopas". That post shows Ludwig seeming nervous.. and unsure. I'm experimenting with Ludwig taking his role as heir very seriously.. but its stressful. He feels like he's under a lot of pressure and has a loooot of responsibility to look forward to..

Though I'm kind'a going back on that a bit. The canon Ludwig seems pompous and a bit arrogant. Maybe I should keep some of that but in a positive way? I imagine that Bowser wouldn't force Ludwig to do this if he didn't want to. And I imagine that Kamek would have done very well to prepare Ludwig for his future kingly-hood.

What I mean by this is. I think a more.. confident, and level headed version of Ludwig would be appropriate. Rather than a pompous snob or a nervous wreck. He could be a young prince with a lot of wit and discipline. A price that is bound to make a fine king. 👑

For Morton I'm afraid there's even less story built for him 😭💔💔 Right now the main thing I'm experimenting with is Morton having some form of melanism. (Its a mutation where animals are born with excess pigment in their skin. Making their fur/hair/skin very dark/black when it otherwise would not have been.)

I could experiment with Morton not liking this aspect of himself..? Maybe it makes him feel out of place or insecure..? Though I doubt any of the individuals around him would have judged him or treated him differently at all for it.. even his siblings.

Idk, I just need some more time to think about him I suppose! <XDD Sorry!! 😭😭

Thank you!! :DD

@untitled-7613 (Post in question)

Thank you! :DD I'm glad you like them!! :}}

And Jimmy was a lovely gift, though I didn't create him! The factual fam is mostly intended to be made of characters that I can take credit for-

(Note- Jimmy was a nice gift, but please! I stand by only wanting comments <:} 💖💖)

@tallchest13-blog

Dawww, as far as I'm concerned, you've followed me twice! At least in spirit! XD

@couchwow

Hergn... but that takes efforttt... how about you tell me what you like about it first? :0

@neo-metalscottic

No problem!! :D And I wonder that about K Rool. I didn't actually realize that he would be very similar to Bowser.. hmm. Well, I'm thinking that even if he is close to Bowser in size, Bowser's got him beat by his fire breathing ability XDD And King/Big Koopa's overall could just be a tougher species-

As for the Super Stars, they have about the same status as the 1-Up Mushrooms. They are this extremely rare Power up that seems to only show up when its needed.

I've been experimenting with the toad people worshiping 1-Ups and the Delfino people worshiping Super Stars. These bizarre and wonderous powerups that are strongly tied to the prophecy and what not. They're also related to how Peach and Daisy became royalty..

Its a lot of complicated word spaghetti atm but the point I'm getting at- is that there is definitely more than one! And they are so powerful and so.. seemingly sentient, that they are seen as almost.. like.. these holy beings that bring about future events.

I haven't rambled about all that biz yet becuase I cant find proper words to figure out what I'm even thinking <XD Gonna need some more time on that one!--

And yes yes yes! The Commander is still around, and AWWW!! Is he really?? :DD That's so sweet! Thank you so much!! :}} I haven't thought much about what role he's played in raising the Koopalings, though I really should. While he isn't there to actually help raise them, he's always been around as they've grown up. Whether it be following Kamek around or doing some kind of work around the palace.

When it comes to Bowser returning injured.. I wonder. part of me thinks that he wouldn't return right away, so maybe his injury wasn't seen by the Commander. But the news of his defeat would certainly be bone chilling. Commander would be more tense around the palace. And probably extends his night watches a bit longer in an attempt to better protect the Koopalings..

On the last note, Yes! I do plan to redesign him once again XD or at least update him a little- Though drawing is very challenging for me atm.. so that'll have to wait a while!.. <XDD

@littlelightfish

WAAAA THIS ASK GAVE ME LIFFFEEEE!!😭😭💖💖💖 NO ITS NOT TOO INTENSE THE ONLY THING THAT IS INTENSE IS MY PURE JOY AT READING THIS OVER AND OVER WAAAHG THANK YOU SO MUVHCHH!!!💖💖💖💖😭😭💖💖

As for your questions! <XD --I've been thinking more about Tuna's character over the past few days and this got me thinking even more! :D

I imagined that when Tuna started out he was a real brat. Not super great to be around. He had some bottled up stuff for sure and was real rebellious and resistant to authority figures. Nobody was really willing to deal with his crap and always pushed back, which just made him more bratty.. for a while Seafoam wasn't sure what he was gonna do with this kid..

But then he reached some kind of middle ground with Ellie.

I have several ideas in mind for how this could go.. but I'll ramble about this one first- XDD

Ellie has thick skin and could tolerate the snarky remarks he made. She also didn't push back, even through she very easily could have. She knows that this kid has some serious inner battles and he doesn't need her snapping back at him.

And like some of the things you mentioned, it started out with Tuna just bumming around in the kitchen. Since Ellie could tolerate him she never kicked him out. Making the kitchen kind'a like a space where he could.. "get away" from the rest of the crew, in a sense..

Ellie was the first person to crack that outer shell of his. Providing him a consistent source of comfort, with her food and the quiet kitchen.

After some time the snarky remarks or comments would slow down.. over time he just resorts to standing around and watching her cook. Getting closer and closer.. eventually asking questions. "What are ye makin..?" "..what's that do..?" She would always reply genuinely. And as gently as she could considering her usual monotone voice <XD

Eventually it turns into "..where'd you learn to cook?" "..how long have you known Octo..?" "..do you trust Cuttlefish.?"

She could say kind things about the crew which gets Tuna to lighten up around them. "Octo seems mean but actually he's just blah blah blah..." Next time he interacts with Octo he's less tense. "Seafoam is genuinely as kind as he seems. If ye can trust anyone, its him." He starts listening to Seafoam more..

These interactions would continue to develop more and more. I don't know if he'd ever be able to help her cook anything- considering how strict she is about it <XDD But although I have several more ideas for this, I like this idea of Ellie really softening him up over time..

WAAHDH WALL OF TEXT--- Thank you again so much!!! :DD It makes my heart very happy to hear that you love Tuna and Ellie so much!! 🥰🥰

(Sorry for not being able to transfer your cookie gifs to this post! <:0)

Hmm.. that makes me wonder if the cookie run characters have.. cookies. Like, small cookies that THEY eat.

Something tells me they don't.. Which makes me think that seeing someone eat a normal cookie would still be horrifying! <XDD

@mrslilysnow

Awe! Thank you so much! :DD Such a pleasant and wholesome message to read, truly. :}}

I'm working out my feelings with the fandom.. tbh I think I'm just in a place where my emotions are all outa whack. And I'm just avoiding anything and everything that upsets me. 💔

I'm sure in a few weeks when I get my health back on track I'll feel better about the Octonauts fandom. Perhaps I'll even return with more updated designs! XD

@radicalrainbow

:DDD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I'm so glad to hear that!! :}}}

And huh.. its been a while since I've drawn the FNAF string beans hasn't it? Once I can get my health back on track I should draw them again! <XDD

@lampylamperson

Blue!💙💙 :DD Specifically shades similar to what ever this one is XDD 👇👇

:000....... FISH! :DD

@canonickero

SLJFKSJF THAT DISCRIPTION OF THE PIC XDDD JHASKDEJHV

And thank you! This makes me feel a lot better XDD

@beryl-shade

I think the cookie run games have cake/dog things..? I'm assuming the crews pet would be one of those :00

As for the names you've suggested, I love Patty, Pretzel, Muffin and Cornbread XDD such great names! :DD

#my response #factual fam #bibi #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #octonauts #undertale #deltarune #super mario bros

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rfxiii · 6 months

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Love your writing sm🩷 could you possibly write something for the main three with a artistic s/o like their home is covered in their work (specificly paintings)

(This is such a cute request! I can honestly see all of them being so enamored seeing their S/O’s art 💕)

TW: none

Trevor, Michael, and Franklin with an artistic S/O:

Trevor Philips:

He doesn’t understand a bit of it. But he loves it! He’s a fairly on the nose guy. If your art doesn’t practically spell out what you’re trying to say, he probably won’t get it. But he appreciates the effort you put toward it, nonetheless.

He’d love to do Jackson Pollock-esque splatter painting with you. Take him outside, set up some canvases, and just let him throw shit and make a mess of paint. You’ll both probably end up with more paint on yourselves than on the canvas.

Will criticize art you’ve bought like he’s a professional. He has no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s always so confident about it. But art you’ve made, he talks about it like it should be worth a million dollars.

Would absolutely be the “oh, you paint? Paint me then!” type of guy. He will not stop until you’ve at least done a small sketch of him.

Michael De Santa:

He has more appreciation for art and your artistic eye than Trevor. That being said, he still has no idea what he’s talking about. He’ll learn to parrot things you’ve said in passing though to fake like he gets it though.

Loves to sit back in silence and watch you draw/paint/etc. He could sit back for hours watching you with your whole focus on the canvas. He honestly thinks you’ve never looked more perfect than when you’re focused on something you love like this.

He takes note of any new project you’re working on, or any new additions to the collection of your works on the wall. He’s the first to point it out and compliment you on it.

He’ll buy you expensive paints, good canvases, the newest tablet if you’re into digital art. He’ll even try to get your art put up in galleries. He’s your biggest supporter, always.

Franklin Clinton:

He used to draw on his binders or in the margins of his pages during school, and he and Lamar used to do graffiti down at the tracks on the parked trains and on nearby abandoned buildings. He’s not as into art as you are. But he does have some talent and would love to work alongside you while you’re drawing/painting.

He’d ask to hang some of your paintings in his house. He puts them up in places where they’re the main focal point. It lets him brag to people who ask where he got them- then he can proudly say that you made it.

He’s actually really eager to learn from you. If you want to show him how to paint or draw, he’ll sit there for hours listening to you. But, he’ll want to return the favor by showing you how to do graffiti art.

He wouldn’t ask you to paint him. But he’s super handsome, so how could you not want to? So, even if you could just take his picture and paint him from that reference, he’ll offer to sit the whole time for you. He’d literally do anything you asked if it made you happy.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #franklin clinton #gta x reader #x reader #/reader #franklin clinton/reader #franklin clinton x reader #michael de santa/reader #michael de santa x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader

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nerves-nebula · 2 months

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Art school doesn’t really teach you how to draw btw most of us did most of that learning before we got here. You can definitely learn more important stuff once you’re here and having access to seasoned professionals helps but almost all of us are here cuz we’re hungry for MORE. but like it’s hard to not be at least partially self taught when so much good art & drawing information is just. Out there.

Art school mostly just forces you to practice a lot, gives you access to resources you might never have otherwise (like laser cutters and clean studios and paper guillotines) and gets you in contact with other artists. Which is great, but the focus is mostly improving the skills you have, not teaching you the very basics.

Then again I go to one of the best & most competitive art colleges in the USA so idk my experiences aren’t universal. it’s just weird to me when I see people act like art is inaccessible because art school costs a shit ton like… I drew almost exclusively with cheap graphite pencils until I was like 14. My first tablet cost 30 dollars & I used a free drawing program until I’d gotten the hang of things. Some of my best illustrations are still ones I did in order to get *into* college.

You don’t need college if your goal with art is to just make art.

Anyway I need to get out of bed so I’m gonna try to motivate myself by pounding a baja blast

#nnstuff #rambling #art college

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shana340artblog · 1 month

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Hey evereyone... I'm gonna get promoted.. so expect less artwork from me I'm sorry! I'm gonna have a lot more responsibilites and more time there. This isn't a dream job btw its just one that gets me by. Alot of people said congrats to me but it just doesn't really feel like a celebration for other than getting a bigger pay.. Commissions are still in the works if anyone is wondering! Please be patient!

It was a tough decision for me to make but as things are right now its not the best and lately i haven't been able to just get on my tablet and draw cause i am always tired and theres no motivation. Maybe I needed a break from it possibly but its definitely not a good time for that to happen so i am trying to get the commissions as soon as possible so please just hang on.

#ramblings

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screwpinecaprice · 5 months

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My 2023 drawing summary! ✨

Links to the featured drawings:

jan | feb | mar | apr | may | jun | jul | aug | sep | oct | nov | dec

Barely remember the year to be honest. Just a lot of work and chores. Lol

Just some ramblings under the cut.

Let's see...

Achieved start of the year goals

Didn't fulfill my last year's goal of making commissions a full time job. I mean, I did for a little bit while but it's still not the right time yet.

Though what I did unexpectedly accomplish is that my fear of cockroaches had decreased. We had a family of house shrews this year (usually we had mice) and I learned they mainly eat insects. I still like to avoid killing the few huntsman spiders we have hanging around so the next big insect available would normally be a roach. So I'd bonk one if I find one (instead of immediately bolting out the room) so I can feed the shrews. I mean cockroaches, specially the American cockroach, still freaks me the heck out. But, like, it's shrew food.

Oh, also bought a display tab. I'll always be grateful to the Ko-fi supporters for reaching this goal! I'm still in the middle finding my rhythm with the tablet. Considering getting a paperlike screen protector to minimize the glass texture.

2024 goal

A new laptop of course. My ideapad is in the cusps of dying. 😭

I don't feel that productive in the drawing department this year. :/ My current day job does pay a little higher than my commissions and ko-fi requests combined... But I really don't fill fulfilled when I make less drawings. Let's see if I can make commissions a full time job this year. Or at least try to see if I can make my top source of income drawing related.

There are other goals I hope to accomplish this year, but these are the main drawing related ones.

Regarding commissions

There will be some adjustments to the background prices in regular commissions. Because, like, I shouldn't price it lower than the base price if I spent as much time drawing it. Lol

I think I'll rate Ko-fi doodle requests based on what the piece literally contain instead of basing on the amount of time spent drawing the request. It'll make things simpler specially with comics. I'll make a post about the changes when I decide on the settled rates

#Still used the template from last year's summary #my shiz #drawing summary #2023 #On the July one you might notice the link shows it's uploaded on August. But I did draw it on July but had to refrain from posting it then.#The huntsman spider guys do creeps me. But they eat cockroaches and I HATE cockroaches.#My fear of cockroaches is bad enough that I can detect one scurrying on my peripheral vision better than any other moving object.#We used to have a cat that is so bad at catching mice but specializes in catching roaches. RIP my calico baby. 😔#2023 summary #Btw are Asian House Shrews fine if they eat cat food? Not sure if they took some but I spilled some kibble #and later there were little crunchy noises among the squeaking.#Oh man. I realized it's a little tricky to give exact rates to my comic Ko-fi requests.

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sour-sweets · 2 months

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//angst, jjk, gojo and geto but it’s a horrible ending so read at your own risk lol

“suguru come help me with this” satoru was tangled up in Christmas lights, his body twitching from the itchy material on his exposed skin and his face sprouting a deep frown as he struggled.

“What have you gotten yourself into my love” Sugur’s voice never failed to strike his partner and have his heart hammering, a warm blush crawled up satoru’s face. He looked shyly at the floor before meeting his husband's eyes. “I was trying to woo you and decorate the tree all by myself”.

Suguru couldn't help but laugh and draw closer to the grown man covered in fluffy red streamers, “here” and with a few tugs satoru was free and bunched up in strong arms, his husband's hair tickling parts of his face as his neck was peppered with soft kisses.

“All better?” The question hangs in the air until satoru pulls away to dramatically swoon at suguru.

“My heroo, I dont what i'd be without you” and satoru moves in quickly to steal a kiss and giggle against his husband’s lips. Suguru breathes through his nose before resting his forehead against satoru’s.

“I love you” the words sweetly slip from satoru’s lips but there's no answer, the warm atmosphere is gone and there’s a heavy burn in his chest as he pulls away from the limp body coddled against him. Satoru gasps, his eyes wide before dimming as he remembers his reality. “oh” and before he can get too emotional he picks himself up and breathes, hands gripping his own arms as he shuts his eyes and calms his brain.

His eyes open, a disheveled megumi greeting him as his concerned voice filled the room. “was it another bad dream?” his question triggers a headache and gojo quickly tugs his lips into a smirk.

“Worried about me fushi” he teases, eyes still squeezed tight under his mask as he cooled his tone to speak. “pftt whatever, you were just making weird noises”.

Each word rings through the older man's ears, gojo dampened, his teeth clamping to hold back the bile in his throat.

“I’m fine, why are you listening to me sleep anyway, kinda creepy” and hes hoping megumi takes the bait and leaves him the fuck alone, but the conversation continued.

“I was making sure you didn't take too many-”

“Too many what!?” Gojo doesn’t mean to snap, he never does.

It gets quiet,

Gojo sighs, opens his mouth to apologize but megumi beats him to it, “I was the one that found you…I had to watch them haul your half dead body while shoko rushed around panicking and confused at 4 in the fucking morning, dont you care about what your doing to us” theres more silence but the tension in the air thickens, megumi cant control his breathing, feeling like he needs to keep screaming but knows its useless.

“it's just sleeping pills” and gojo’s voice is hollow as he still sprouts a painted look. It gets quite again, the air sticky and making them both itch. Megumi is tired, gojo is at his limit, which will always be ironic to him.

“Stop saying it like you didn't almost di-”

“It’s the only way I can see Sug-” and before he could unravel, another calloused palm tugs at the rope in his throat, he shuts his mouth. Megumi waits, his stare hopeful, but he knows better.

He leaves.

Gojo swallows hours later, finally feeling enough to will his body over to his nightstand, he pops the cap before grabbing a tablet to dry swallow. He curls into himself and shuts his eyes.

fin.

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #megumi fushiguro #satosugu #angst #wip

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cyberphuck · 8 months

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The Human Voices Project

So I have a very very dear friend who has been blind since birth. They're actually pretty good at being blind-- they have a Masters in Eyeball Science, live independently, and make amazing art (by pressing their face so hard against the drawing surface to see it that they used to get sores on their cheeks!). They have also gone through a lot of shit-- some of it, but not all, due to being a disabled trans person-- and though they have been trying their hardest to keep a smile on their face, they live in a place where they have few in-person friends, accessible social spaces are hard to get to (or don't exist, or cost too much), and sometimes they don't have the energy to go out at all. They use a screen reader to hang out on tumblr and on discord etc, but one time, after a DnD session over voice chat, they told me that it was always so quiet in their apartment after the session was over, and that it was nice to hear real people talking. That stuck with me. Last week I started asking friends and family to record themselves talking-- about anything. My older brother and his wife told funny stories about crazy things they'd done. My friend who loves the circus arts described a particular act that they loved. Dad told a story of his own, and Seb and I recorded ourselves trading banter while he played Mario Kart. People read stories, read poems, described what they saw while on a jog through their neighborhood. A whole bunch of people, just talking, so that my blind friend could listen to a real human voice whenever they wanted-- not a polished podcast, not a sponsored youtube video, but a regular person.

I uploaded this first batch of audio files to a google drive folder and sent it over to my buddy. They loved it! They downloaded all the files to their phone so they could listen whenever they wanted. And I thought, there must be more people who want to tell stories about their lives, or talk about their favorite subject, or read poems that mean something to them.

If you have a way to record a digital audio file (most smartphones and tablets have a native recording app) and would like to participate in the Human Voices Project, you can send an audio file to thehumanvoicesproject (at) gmail [dot] com.

Guidelines: mp3 is the *preferred* format because it'll play on most devices without having to have a special app. If you send me something other than an mp3 I can convert it, but I would appreciate it if you converted it on your own.

most subjects are okay; the only thing that's absolutely a no is talking about or describing guts, innards, or viscera. Try to *avoid* explicitly describing abuse (of anyone, including animals), and if you're reading a story or poem, let me know if it's in the public domain or not so I can make sure to put those in a different folder.

you can introduce yourself if you want but you don't have to.

the recordings I've gotten are usually between 3 and 5 minutes long, but I also recorded myself reading a short story at 20 mins, and a friend talked about not knowing how to swim for 90 seconds, so any length is fine.

Right now the google drive folder containing the audio files is private. I might make it a public thing someday, but as for right now it's still a thing for my friend, to fill up the silence and brighten their day. Thank you so much to the people who've already contributed, and thanks also to all those who'll contribute in the future!

#human voices project

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papabay · 2 months

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hi papabay!! your art is SO BEAUTIFUL! quick question, do you use an ipad at all for art? if so, any tips? i've been trying to get the hang of drawing on procreate on my ipad but it's so different than what i'm used to (paper and pencil xD)

Thankyou so much anon!! ;___; You are so incredibly kind! I actually do use an ipad along with procreate! ^^ I totally get that, I've had mine for 3 years and still trying to get use to it after using a drawing tablet on my laptop for almost 10+ years! There are a few things that might make it more comfortable though! You can look into getting a screen protector called paperlike that is designed to feel like you are drawing on paper! You could also look into finding different brush packs that look and feel traditional. In fact I love the sketchy results of using paper and pencil, so I actually love using a brush called "Derwent" that is a default brush in procreate! But there are so many free brushes out there that if you do a little digging around I am sure you can eventually find something you feel most comfy with!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Don't Speak 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Oh, Andrew.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You pull on a sweatshirt, your favourite lilac one with the frayed cuffs. You listen to the hallway before you come out of the guestroom. You sneak over across to rinse your face with cold water, trying to prepare yourself to face your cowardice. You have an apology ready, but it changes each time you recite it in your head.

You're still foggy. Your limbs are full of sand and your stomach is scraped dry. As you approach the top of the stairs, a wave of vertigo spins you. You latch onto the railing and steady the room. Your descent is cautious and sluggish. With each step, you want just as much to go back and hide in bed.

You won't. You can't. You want to change so change.

You follow the scent of coffee to the kitchen, the soft noise of porcelain assuring you of his presence. Andy's back is to you, his shoulder blades straining his shirt, as he pours himself a cup from the metal carafe. You don't know if he hears you as he leans a hand on the counter and takes a long sip.

"Andy," you squeak and a jolt of surprise tense his body.

He turns to you, wiping a droplet from his beard, the cup in his other hand. You give a sheepish frown and wring your hands. You teeth your lower lip as you measure your words, only to find the scale at zero. They're all gone.

"I'm sorry," you let your rehearsed speech float away, "can I make breakfast?"

It always made Amber happy when you tried. A meal, or a tiny chore, it always brightened her right up. So maybe it would work with him. To show him you're not entirely worthless.

His throat bobs and he shrugs, “of course you can, but I can help if you–”

“No, please, I can do it. You said… pancakes?”

His face softens and he dips his chin just slightly, “sure. Pancakes are good.”

“Right, uh, oh, I don’t have my tablet. I was going to look up a recipe…”

“It’s fine, I have some old cook books,” he sets his coffee on the island and goes to a deep draw set below a thinner one. He pulls out a hardcover book, “mom left em behind when she… passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he puts it on the counter, “I can pull everything out if–”

“Please, I think… I think I can find everything. You can go sit down.”

“Hmm, well, what if I’d rather stay and hang out?”

The lightness in his tone reassures you. He doesn’t sound mad anymore. Maybe he just needed his coffee.

“That’s okay, I guess,” you say.

You near the counter and pull the book close. You open it and check the table of contents. Pancakes, pg. 17. You flip through and read the first ingredient. Flour.

Andy leans over and peeks as you search the kitchen with your eyes. He smiles and backs up, popping open a cupboard. There you see the flower among several other containers.

You come around and as you get close, he reaches to take the bag of flour down from the second shelf. It’s only that act which makes you realises you wouldn’t be able to get it yourself. He hands it over and you thank him. You hug the bag, the powder dusting out the top.

“Andy,” you teeter on your heels.

He tilts his head, let a brow furrow, “what?”

“Are you still mad?”

His mouth slants and he chuckles softly, “I wasn’t mad. I worry. That’s it.”

You look down. He sounded and looked mad, but maybe you misinterpreted. You sniff as you notice the flour on your shirt and you quickly spin away. You put the bag on the counter and look down at your sweatshirt, trying to dust it off. It’s not a big deal, you’re going to be cooking anyway.

You give up and go back to the book. You turn back as Andy knowingly pulls down the baking soda. You take it from him but as you do, he catches your sleeve. He pinches the frayed cuff. You tug, freeing yourself and hiding the loose threads behind your other arm.

“Cute sweater,” he comments, “too bad.”

“It’s fine,” you set down the cylinder and fold in the sleeves, hiding the tatters, “see?”

“Mmm, yeah,” he doesn’t sound convinced, “it’s a nice colour. A bit big on you.”

“I don’t mind,” you insist as you go to the fridge and slide out the tray of eggs, “really. I make due.”

“Ah, well… ever think of not making due? Maybe spending some of that money you’ve earned?”

“One day, maybe,” you say evasively as you take out the carton of milk before you return to the island, “did you want blueberries?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He crosses the tile and you cower as he reaches past you. He grabs his cup and sips from the brim. He pulls it away from his mouth and hums, “I love blueberries.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “thanks, honey.”

He leans in, just a little, and for a moment, your chest seizes. What is he doing? You swear he’s going to– He detaches and strides past you, “hope you don’t mind if I catch up on the news,” he chirps over his shoulder, “I know you’ll do a great job. I can’t wait to enjoy those pancakes.”

“Mhmm,” you issue a fragile hum, jittering from the close call. Was it really that or are you just overthinking again?

🕊️

You try to tidy up as the pancakes cook. You roll up the top of the flour bag and place it neatly under the cupboard for Andy to put back. You wipe away the powder left on the counter and a few stray specks of batter. As you rinse out the cloth, you smell burning.

You go back to the pan and flip the pancakes, only to find them black on the bottom. Oh no. You huff and toss them out. Start again. You have more than enough batter.

You use the spatula to balance the pancakes and dump them in the bin, letting the lid down. As you turn back, you hit the handle of the pan and it flips, knocking into the glass bowl of batter. You try to catch the pan as the bowl shatters and you cry out as the heat tortures your hand.

The cacophony of glass and metal and you shriek reverberates around you. You stare at the batter expanding in a large pool across the floor and whimper. Oh no, you’ve spoiled it all.

You stand with your hands out, burnt and thrumming. Andy appears in the archway as you can only sputter mindlessly. He carefully steps around the mess and takes you by the arm, turning you towards the sink. He doesn’t say a word as he flips on the hot water and forces your hands under the cool stream.

You murmur as you let him. It feels nice. You’re shaking, eyes welling, as you see the torment in your flesh, and feel it even deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out.

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head as he keeps your hands under the flow, “accidents happen.”

“I– I burnt them and when I turned–”

He hushes you, cradling your hands in his large ones. He’s gentle as he keeps you in place, until you’re suitably numbed. He shifts you away as he shuts off the faucet and grabs a handle down. He lightly lays it over your hands.

“I’ll clean up the mess–”

“You won’t,” he insists,” you’ll sit down and let me clean up your hands, get some salve on them, and wrap them up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you, don’t be,” he repeats, “sit, okay?”

You nod as he pulls out one of the tall chairs. He helps you up with a hand on your elbow and he backs away, unbothered by the cluster of glass and batter at his feet. He leaves you and you sob. You can’t do anything right, can you?

He returns and drags a chair over. You watch silently, castigated, as he sets to work. He applies a cooling cream to the burns across your palms and fingers, carefully wrapping them up. As you wince, he apologises. You wiggle your nose, barely holding back tears.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I'll clean up and then we can order something–”

“I’m sorry,” you hang your head, “I tried…” you pull your hands back, resting them daintily in your lap, “can I lay down?”

“Honey, you should stay up and eat. You promised me you’d eat, right?”

You nod, refusing to look at him.

“Alright, so you stay out here and I’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” you agree in a tiny voice.

He sighs, “I’m not doing this to hurt you, you know? If you’re not going to take care of yourself, someone has to.” He stands and gathers up the remnants of the bandages and the tube of salve. “I can’t, if you don’t let me.”

“I’m sorry,” you echo once more.

He says nothing. You can tell by his posture he’s irritated. You look down at the chaos you’ve wrecked. You wouldn’t be surprised if he sent you back to Amber, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to take you back. Especially after yesterday.

🕊️

Andy orders in and you sit at the table glumly. He places a container before you and flips the tops. Inside, there is a stack of pancakes, a small container of butter, and another of syrup. You say thank you and stare. Your stomach is a volcano, waiting to erupt.

You grab the butter and struggle to pop off the lid. You take the plastic knife and struggle to scoop out the creamy butter. Andy puts his container close and takes the chair next to yours. He turns in his seat and takes the knife and cup from you.

“Here,” he butters up each pancake and pours the syrup over.

You can only watch. You feel like a child. He cuts up your pancakes and hands you back the fork.

“Got it?” He asks.

You nod. He turns to his own food as hold the fork awkwardly and jab at the fluffy squares. You sop up as much syrup as you can and nibble along the edge. He starts on his own pile, quiet as you languish in the lull.

“You okay?” He speaks at last.

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes those things happen. Let’s just move past it.”

“I know,” you mutter and chew.

“I’m just happy to have someone to spend my Saturday with. Usually… it’s just me, you know?”

You nod and finish the small square, letting your fork rest on the side of the container. He glances over and leans in, pressing his arm to yours.

“And you’re good company," he adds.

🕊️

You only eat half your breakfast. Andy accepts it with an air of disappointment but lets you go. You sit in the garage for almost an hour, staring at the canvas. You don’t know why it’s so hard. You have it all in your head but it just won’t come out. As it is, your hands make it impossible to do much.

After a while, you head back inside. Andy’s in the living room, the TV crackling with whatever sport he’s watching. He doesn’t look back as you pass the doorway. Good.

You retreat upstairs and tiptoe down to the guest room. You take out a pair of pajamas and take your towel with you across the hall. You close the door and flip the lock over. Maybe you should’ve asked but you figure it’s not too much trouble, not as much as bothering Andy. It’s his weekend, he deserves to enjoy it.

You turn on the faucet and watch the tub fill before you get undressed. You leave your fresh clothes on the closest corner of the counter and put the others on the opposite end. You take the cupcake soap with you and the fluffy pink loofah.

The water is hotter than you expect. You stand for a little before you can lower yourself. You look at the bluetooth speaker suctioned to the tile and step close, trying to find the buttons. You’ll have to bring your tablet in next time and see if you can pair it up.

You sit and sink into the heat. You always found baths to be relaxing. When your anxiety was bad, you could just forget. You should’ve brought a book but you let the regret slip away. You close your eyes and recline, the steam dampening your skin.

As you feel the water cool, you sit up and lather with the loofah and soap. You stand to get the rest of your body, the scent sugary but strong. You turn, trying to reach your back and hear a click as you do. You spin and face the door, facing Andy as he stands dumbfounded with his hand on the handle.

You drop down with a splash, hiding behind the wall of the tub. You cling to it, horrified. Why didn’t you close the curtain? You thought…

“...I locked the door…” you quaver.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes it doesn’t catch,” he says dully, his eyes transfixed on you.

He shakes himself and finally looks away. You hide behind your hand, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He stutters and backs away.

“Sorry, uh, I’m sorry, dove, I didn’t… know…” He pivots stunted, his hand still on the door, and he pulls it shut as he leaves.

You stay as you are, staring at the door, heart beating furiously. You can’t believe what’s just happened. You just want to go shrivel up in bed and never come out. Never again.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #don't speak #au #library au #defending jacob

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